Gilded Agony

by K. A. Merikan

  “Is that barn at the Northern side of the property usable? Like, could a horse be kept there?” Mark asked.

  Domenico frowned at Mark. “A horse?”

  Fuck. Diego hadn’t mentioned it. Mark made a surprised face. “I just assumed the one I saw was his.”

  Nero dropped onto the sofa next to Domenico, seemingly unfazed after yet another rejection, though he pulled out a clean handkerchief and pressed it to the small wound on his palm. “That horse is so well-behaved too. You can fuck in the saddle.”

  “It can stay where it is,” Diego said, approaching Mark in slow yet elegant steps.

  Mark tried to avoid the thoughts of Nero fucking Diego, and turned around, making a small gesture with his hand for the man to follow him. He needed to establish some boundaries and fast.

  Diego’s heavy, confident footsteps followed him out of the room, getting louder and more pronounced with each second. On his nape, Mark sensed the heat of that dark gaze, and he could almost feel Diego’s confident fingers once more pressing into the places where he’d left behind bruises on Mark’s body.

  “This is a kitchen you’re free to use, and Natalia can prepare something for you as well if you ask.” Mark pointed to a door they passed.

  “Like those cupcakes you had with you yesterday?”

  It seemed that Diego was set on reminding Mark of what they’d done. The fucker had eaten three of the cupcakes before Mark could as much as catch his breath after their first round of fucking.

  “No, Seth made those.”

  “Who’s Seth?”

  Mark calculated in his mind, but there was no point hiding it. Anyone else in the house would have told him, and Seth would most likely be hosting their guests tonight unless he’d be throwing a hissy fit.

  “Toro’s husband. He might be cooking this evening actually.”

  Diego hummed. “So… he’s a domesticated type then?” he asked, walking so close behind Mark his hot breath tickled Mark’s neck. Every crook of the corridor, every second of the endless way through the overgrown monster of a building made Mark’s stomach cramp more intensely.

  He glanced back into Diego’s eyes. “You could say that, I guess. He grows his own vegetables and has a bunch of chickens. Though I doubt you’ll see much of him.”

  “Doesn’t he live here?” Diego asked, and when Mark stopped by the room meant for their guest, Diego was half a step too close. His cologne penetrated Mark’s nose, the heat of his body an immediate callback to last night.

  But nothing would be happening.

  “He lives in a more private part of the property. I advise you not to get too interested unless you want more than your face smashed into a table.” There. A little reminder that Diego wasn’t all that.

  The hand squeezing around Mark’s neck should have set off warning bells, but something about it, about the heat of Diego’s palm and the tone of his voice made Mark’s defenses drop. Instead of delivering a punch to Diego’s gut, he allowed Diego to push him against the door, unable to protest the kiss when Diego put pressure on his Adam’s apple.

  Fuck.

  He opened his lips despite knowing he shouldn’t. To make it all more confusing, he gently pressed on Diego’s chest as if to push him away, yet let his tongue slide between Diego’s lips.

  The lock clicked. They burst into the clean-smelling room.

  Maybe one more time.

  Chapter 6 - Seth

  In the evening of December 23rd, when Domenico opened their house to a select group of people to celebrate Christmas, Seth felt obligated to radiate good humor and be the perfect host. Shards of Domenico’s words from earlier were still stuck deep in his flesh, and every movement caused the fresh wounds to bleed, but he gritted his teeth and smiled, knowing he needed to represent their family well.

  Domenico had barely said a word to him since he’d come back home minutes from the scheduled start of the party, but the moment their first guest crossed the threshold—he turned into the embodiment of hospitality and led the way to the dining room, where the soiree was being hosted. There was a wide smile on his face, he was talkative, and even gave Seth a playful kiss on the cheek, to which Seth responded with an adequate amount of laughter, because they were both equally fake tonight.

  Unlike the private Christmas Eve dinner planned for tomorrow, this one was for their closest associates, which this year meant an evening of headache. It was a sausage fest of queer men—Miguel could claim whatever he wanted but that awkward wrestling boner had been pretty telling. Crazy fucker Nero Moreno was present as well, constantly moving seats to follow Miguel, whose butt also graced a variety of chairs around the room as he not-so-discreetly fled Nero’s attention. If Seth didn’t know better, he’d consider it very misguided flirting.

  Dr. Quincy, whom Domenico had shipped over all the way from the U.S., was here too, perfect white smile in place. Alongside Mark, he seemed to belong to the bisexual minority, though he was way more interested in playing doctor with all kinds of bodies than men or women per se. Even though he was a real surgeon. Without a licence, but still.

  They were all at least two shots in, and more liquor would flow, so the dress code was ‘no guns’. Though Seth wasn’t sure if Domenico wasn’t secretly chugging water. The decorations glinted, shone, and sparkled all around them, screaming Christmas so loudly Seth could have almost forgotten they were in the middle of a jungle, far away from home. Still, there were little things to remind him of that, like the fact not all the foods tasted quite right because of substituting ingredients, or that it was much hotter than in their home country at this time of the year.

  But most isolating of all was the language Seth barely understood, and which everyone else kept slipping into. As the only one who didn’t speak it, Seth kept zoning out every now and again. Domenico made no efforts to translate or include him in any way, which stung even more than usual, since it was Seth who’d prepared the feast for everyone.

  “I like it here. Never been better, actually,” Quincy said in English, leaning back in the chair. He wore a geeky T-shirt that pretended to be a Christmas sweater, and a Santa hat stuck low on his bald head. He looked much more youthful than his forty-five years and would be the kind of doctor even the most conservative of parents would gladly entrust their child to.

  Unless they knew of his hobby.

  “He’s saying that because I’m paying him good money,” Domenico explained, munching on raisins while Seth topped up everyone’s alcohol. The maids who worked in the main house would have gladly served them drinks for a reasonable amount of cash, but Seth actually liked hosting people, and Domenico was content to exclude women from his gay boys club.

  “I do like the job security,” Quincy said and spread his arms before grabbing his next drink, some of which spilled onto the table. If anyone on the property needed stitches tonight, Seth was already sorry for them.

  Once again left behind by Miguel, who moved to the seat next to Mark, Nero transferred his attention to the doctor. “In my experience the only thing a cartel can secure for you is eventual death,” he said, showing off his shark-like grin.

  Miguel must have forgotten his eternal feud with Nero, because he actually grabbed his glass and made a silent toast. Though it was impossible to tell whether he was doing it to express agreement with Nero’s words or to celebrate the ugly bruise swelling the flesh under Nero’s eye.

  Quincy shrugged. “Toro allows me to do whatever I want as long as I’m there when needed. I won’t be fired or have my licence revoked because I go a little bit crazy and take a lover to play at the hospital.”

  Domenico snorted so rapidly he almost spilled his drink. “Do you even hear yourself? Your co-worker found you cutting someone’s crotch in the ob-gyn ward!”

  “The room wasn’t in use at the time, and it was in my time off. What was really the harm?”

  “Your wife divorcing you?” Miguel asked point-blank, meeting Quincy’s eyes with a dead gaze.

  The
doctor’s shoulders fell. “There’s that.”

  Seth had heard this story many times before, but it never ceased to freak him out. “And the guy liked that? You making cuts on his dick?”

  Quincy shook his head. “Toro’s exaggerating. I was just using needles. How much different is that from acupuncture?”

  Miguel downed his drink. “Very different.”

  Nero’s eyes fixed on Quincy’s so intensely Seth felt his tongue dry out from the buzzing tension in the air. “How deep do you push them in?”

  Quincy swallowed audibly and leaned forward ever-so-slightly. “Depends, but I can do more than most men in my position, since I have medical knowledge and experience.”

  Miguel glanced at Nero in silent challenge, but spoke to Quincy. “Why don’t you show him?”

  Nero grinned. “Why? You wanna watch me struggle at his mercy?” he asked Miguel but he’d already reached across the table and taken Quincy’s hand, massaging the chestnut flesh.

  Domenico rolled his eyes and fake-vomited, amused by the alcohol-fueled flirting. “I’ll pass.”

  Miguel shrugged. “I’d watch.”

  Seth got up, hoping to miss the spectacle. “I’ll get us some more drinks.” He didn’t miss Mark squinting at him. Whatever. The ungrateful brat ate as much as Domenico, and was surely waiting for dessert, so who was he to judge Seth?

  The large kitchen welcomed him with the silent hum of the AC—spacious, clean, and private. No one would disturb him here, so he didn’t bother with switching on the light and poured himself a glass of wine. From his favorite spot by the breakfast table, the dark garden beyond twin glass doors seemed enchanted, peaceful, and so very unlike the loud conversations fifty percent of which Seth couldn’t understand.

  The doorbell announced the arrival of their final guest, and was followed by even more noise that he wanted to distance himself from, even if for just a few more minutes. But curiosity won, so he set aside the half-finished glass. Because unlike what Mark implied, he could in fact stop himself.

  He walked into the corridor with a jug of fresh juice and a bottle of vodka, eager to spot the ‘Moreno man’ Domenico had mentioned before. While unaware of the purpose of their guest’s visit or his position within the cartel, Seth didn’t want to miss one of the very few events that livened up the boredom of his daily life.

  In the hall by the main entrance, Seth spotted a tall form facing Domenico. The man’s hair was shoulder-length and wavy, his forearms thick, and he carried himself with the kind of energy that betrayed confidence.

  Their eyes met, the stranger stopping halfway through a head-shake to stare at Seth and send him a handsome smile. Seth smiled back and put the drinks on a side table as Domenico approached him with the man. Dressed in jeans and a tightly-fitting black tank top, the new arrival meant to either appear extremely casual, or show off his impressive shoulders. Possibly both. Seth wondered if their party had gained a straight addition.

  “Seth, this is Diego. Diego, my husband Seth,” Domenico said, and it did slightly tickle Seth’s ego to hear Domenico say it with such pride. He now resented himself for the stupid argument he’d caused earlier. He should have stayed out from where he wasn’t wanted. Domenico stroking the small of his back only added to the sense of guilt.

  Seth smiled and squeezed Diego’s hand, noticing the little details that made the man handsome—the dark eyes, full lips, and the stubble peppered all over his cheeks. The vivid bruise down the side of his forehead and temple made him look like the tomcat with half an ear chewed off in a fight he’d won rather than a beaten dog.

  The finger, reaching all the way to his wrist and stroking it discreetly during the handshake, threw Seth off guard. The way Diego tickled the sensitive flesh just above the vein was suggestive enough for Seth to understand the man wanted much more than a handshake. Not straight then.

  When their hands parted, Seth was left unable to comprehend the audacity of Diego touching him right under Domenico Acerbi’s nose. And he had no idea how to feel about it either, too shocked to laugh it off or to mention it at all. He could barely remember the last time someone dared to hit on him.

  Domenico pulled Seth close for a brief kiss that finally didn’t feel forced. Their eyes met too, and Seth practically melted at the warmth and pride in Domenico’s gaze.

  “Everything you’ll have today was made by Seth. He’s a fantastic chef.”

  “Nero Moreno told me all about that,” Diego said, still watching Seth with a gaze that screamed desire. Oblivious to their guest’s silent flirting, Domenico leaned in for another kiss.

  Seth felt as if he’d stepped into a different realm. Did this man have a death wish? To make things even clearer for Diego, he put his arms around Domenico and combed his fingers through the silky long hair. He craved his husband’s approval and attention so badly that no argument could keep him away for long. Sometimes it made him feel needy, but how could he not be if their relationship was the fire fueling his life?

  “You like my food that much?” Seth asked, tugging on Dom’s hand and leading him to the dining room. For once, he had a sincere smile for Nero, but the scene he saw made his expression melt.

  Nero’s reddish brown torso was bare, the caiman tattoos and scale-like scarifications shamelessly on display. There was an odd glint in his eyes—soft, as if he were gasping in pleasure, not pain, despite there being a long column of needles reeved through his skin, starting above his nipple and running up his pec. The dark skin was noticeably paler where it stretched above the steel insertions, but even though there was no blood to be seen, Seth’s knees went softer.

  Quincy offered him a reassuring smile. “It’s all good. I’m a doctor.”

  Nero laughed, but the sound died on his lips when his eyes followed yet another needle, which Quincy’s capable latex-sheathed hands guided through the vulnerable flesh.

  Diego watched, his lips twisting into a scowl. “Will that help you forget the aching cheekbone?”

  Nero’s gaze flickered Diego’s way, but he didn’t seem offended. Nothing could offend Nero Moreno, in Seth’s experience.

  “There’s only one medicine for my aching face, and that’s your dick between my teeth.”

  Miguel sat in silence, watching needle after needle pushed into Nero’s skin. He was probably enjoying himself as he’d expressed his disgust with Nero too many times to count.

  Mark perked up in his seat and pinned Diego with his gaze. “How does it feel? The teeth.”

  Seth’s eyebrows went up. “Mark. Nero’s sitting right there.”

  Mark challenged him with his gaze. “So? I’m asking an honest question.”

  Seth waved his hand, settling his eyes back on Diego, because Nero and needles were not sights he was particularly fond of.

  Diego smirked. “I’m not putting my dick anywhere near there,” he said and leaned over to flick one of the needles with his fingers. Nero twitched, discomfort passing through his features.

  “You’re welcome to try, Mark. Equal opportunities and all that. You’ve grown up enough,” Nero hissed.

  “No,” Domenico barked.

  Mark snorted, but Quincy took a better look into Nero’s mouth. “I’d try it,” the doctor said with a weird smirk that made Seth casually walk over behind Domenico’s chair to rub his shoulders.

  Dom’s hand squeezed on his like a vice. Who knew, maybe Domenico Acerbi found the one thing that scared him? A dick-shredding mouth.

  Nero grinned and leaned in, pressing his lips to Quincy’s. It was super fucking weird and yet oddly hot, with Quincy’s gloved fingers gently tapping the needles as they kissed. Nero’s body twisted, pressing closer to Quincy, and the shudders trailing through his flesh in answer to the nudging hand could be both an expression of pain and pleasure.

  “Get a room,” Diego said curtly as he sat in a vacant chair and helped himself to some of the roasted pork.

  Domenico’s muscles relaxed when Quincy started taking out the needles after
a hushed conversation with Nero.

  “To be fair, I still understand this more than that guy who comes to Deseo and asks girls to cuff him to the bed and tickle him until he comes. Fucking pervert.”

  Mark shrugged. “Is that so bad though? Tania says it’s her easiest money. And feet can be kinda cute.”

  Domenico’s scowl deepened until it became so comical Seth wasn’t sure whether he was serious or not.

  Miguel growled into his glass of whisky. “You are all obsessed. Aren’t there any other topics?”

  Mark grinned at him. “Like what? Limited editions of LEGO sets?”

  “Fuck you,” Miguel said, and his expression became a storm cloud about to hail.

  The quality of discussion didn’t improve after that, but those fragments that Seth could understand were rather amusing. To Domenico’s credit, he did try to translate and periodically reminded their guests that Seth didn’t speak much Spanish, but some of the rapid exchanges were impossible to halt.

  “So, what are you going to do with the Lungs activists once we find them? Hang them off trees along the main street?” Diego asked with amusement, but the somber expression on Nero’s face made Seth stiffen. It wasn’t often that Nero Moreno dropped his evil clown facade.

  “Whatever it takes to protect other transports and the Moreno reputation. I haven’t seen my father so furious in a long time.”

  Domenico pressed his lips into a pale line and played with his meat on the plate. “We can’t disappoint him then, can we?” he asked before glancing at Seth with a soft smile. “How about you get the dessert ready?”

  Seth stalled for a moment, thrown off by the change of topic, but he understood the message loud and clear. When serious conversation was about to start, Seth became an obstacle. A tiny bit of him died, but it was surely something he didn’t need, like tonsils or the appendix.

  “Sure.” He got up and stroked Domenico’s shoulder on his way out. He took his time, but the discussion switched to Spanish anyway, which felt like getting a door slammed in his face. Maybe it was for the better? Maybe he shouldn’t keep pushing his fingers into that door frame?