Gilded Agony

by K. A. Merikan

  Domenico couldn’t help but grunt in appreciation. “You want to jerk off, don’t you? Not tonight,” he said, shuddering with anticipation.

  Seth whimpered and dug his fingers into the flesh of Domenico’s thighs. He’d never been patient, so just thinking about keeping him on a leash like this had Domenico’s desire spiking.

  Dom gave a breathless laugh and pulled Seth in, plunging his dick halfway into the waiting mouth. The greedy, smacking sound made by Seth’s lips had him moaning softly. A shudder went through Seth in answer, and he twisted his hips, as if trying to get the tiniest bit of relief through squeezing his thighs against his groin.

  After so many years together, Domenico knew Seth’s favorite way to give head was to have his mouth ravaged, so that was exactly what Dom intended to give him. He couldn’t wait to see those pretty lips dripping with spunk, red skin, Seth’s eyes dazed with excitement.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll feed you. And I’ll shut you up so thoroughly, you won’t be able to beg even if you’d want to,” Domenico rasped, shifting in the seat to thrust his hips up with greater ease. His eyes were on Seth’s, which never stopped watching him, even when deeper thrusts made him tear up.

  The garden door slammed against the wall so unexpectedly Domenico clenched his fist in Seth’s hair to keep himself inside his happy bubble. Mark stood in the doorway, his chest working frantically, as if he’d sprinted here. He did not look away from Dom.

  “I’m sorry, but this really can’t wait. We have to go now,” he said, lifting his hands defensively.

  Domenico pulled his dick out of Seth’s mouth and cradled the flushing face to his stomach without thinking. His heart thumped so loudly he could hear it as if its sounds were coming from outside his body. The throbbing of his own cock was practically a memory at this point, arousal roughly tattered by the intrusion.

  “Have you never heard of knocking?”

  “I didn’t think you’d be fucking in the living room,” Mark said with such annoyance as if it was him who had to let go of a glorious blowjob. Maybe it was his revenge for yesterday.

  Seth sighed deeply against Dom, but then plopped down to his ass. Couldn’t Dom have one peaceful evening with his beautiful husband? Was that so much to ask? It seemed that lately Seth remained always just that little bit out of reach.

  He looked between Mark and Seth, for once confused with what he was supposed to do. Getting his hands on the thieves meant honor. Security. Staying for that bit longer meant reconnecting with the man he loved.

  Seth slowly got up and gave him a wet kiss that only made Domenico long for more. “It’s okay. Go do what you need to do.” He shrugged, and yet despite his words, every single hair on Dom’s body bristled to attention. Seth was never quite this pliant. He couldn’t recognize all the details yet, but something was wrong in this perfect picture he was expected to leave.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can. That’s a promise,” he said, regretfully tucking himself in. His hand gravitated to the table, where he’d left his Beretta earlier. It marked the passage from his private life to work.

  Mark stared at the abundance of food that remained after the feast, but if there was no time for blowjobs, there sure as fuck was no time for focaccia for Mark.

  “Diego says he found a new lead,” Mark said as soon as Dom joined him.

  Chapter 13 - Mark

  The thick, damp leaves slapped Mark’s face as he followed Diego uphill, barely keeping up with their guide’s pace. There might have been a path here at some point, but the unforgiving jungle had since taken over, obscuring any traces of human presence with overgrowth. The sky seemed lower every time Mark looked up, struggling to feed his lungs on the thick air. The dome of leaves enclosed the three of them in a condensation trap where every step posed a risk and every sound sent a shiver down Mark’s spine.

  In the dark, far away from the safety of El Encanto’s human zoo, the surrounding jungle had come alive, booming with cries and full of tiny sounds that could be either meaningless or warn of imminent danger. That was the worst thing about leaving the familiarity of the town behind. Not the sweat that made his shirt cling to skin. Not the mud under his feet, but the knowledge that among the harmless noises, a wild cat could have been stalking them all along.

  “How can a whole camp of people move so quickly that there was no time to find Miguel?” Mark grumbled to Domenico, who made his way forward with a determined expression on his face, as if he were one of the hungry jungle beasts, desperate to catch his prey.

  Dom’s features were sharp in the glow of his flashlight. He wouldn’t complain, not after sacrificing his moment with Seth for this, but Mark could see his anger and frustration in the light twitch of his eyelid.

  Domenico opened his mouth to speak, but then the beam swung, for a moment drowning them in shadows when Dom’s entire body dropped with a loud smack of the mud. Mark held his breath, but when he turned his own flashlight Dom’s way it became clear he’d slipped, and having to choose between releasing his firearm and light source to grab a branch, meant that the flashlight needed to land in the mud.

  Sweat beaded on Domenico’s forehead, keeping stray black strands stuck to his skin as he glared at Mark with his features set. They were both thinking the same thing. That neither of them was dressed appropriately for a climb through the wild, because their guide had forgotten to mention where exactly they were going. That three men wouldn’t be enough to intercept a large group who knew their way through the jungle. That a survey trip wasn’t good enough if the thieves were indeed able to move so fast.

  Diego had fucked up hard, but at this point complaining would have only slowed them down. They could still hope to take people hostage and gain leverage that way.

  “So you and Seth made up?” Mark asked before he could bite his tongue. He was still bitter over last night’s events, and seeing the massive bruise on Seth’s face had only added to the sense of unfairness. Why was Domenico allowed to bend rules whenever he deemed it appropriate, but Mark had to follow them like a sheep?

  Something true flashed through Domenico’s guarded features, but it was gone before Mark could recognize it for what it was.

  “He doesn’t want to fight,” Domenico said in the end and picked up his flashlight from the mud. He must have given up on his clothes, because he wiped off the dirt at the front of his pants.

  Mark was right behind him when they climbed a passage so narrow only one person could squeeze through it at a time. “Doesn’t want to or doesn’t really have the skill?”

  Seth claimed to be training, but would that really be of any use in the kind of jobs Mark was doing with Dom? Highly doubtful.

  Domenico stopped between the rock and the tree, blocking Mark’s way. His shoulders were set so rigidly he could have used them to crush stones. When Domenico finally spoke, his voice walked the edge between anger and frustration. “Are you really doing this right now? Seth’s perfectly capable of landing a punch. He chooses to take care of us at home, so that we actually have a home in this strange fucking place.”

  Hell yes, Mark would be doing this now if it meant he’d get a breather from climbing the fucking muddy hill. “If he’s so capable, why is only his face bruised, huh? And that home is paid for with the money we make.”

  Domenico’s face twisted into deep grooves and hardened like cooling lava. “Maybe you should move out then if you care so little for all the things Seth does for you? Maybe you should just employ someone to take care of your apartment and see how that makes you feel. To have a house, but not a home.”

  Mark let the beam of light flash into Domenico’s eyes, to annoy him that bit more. “We already have maids. And his food is great, but you can buy food. And don’t tell me to move out, because someone needs to look out for him.”

  Domenico dropped his flashlight, but as Mark’s eyes followed the falling beam, sudden heat spread over his cheek and jaw when they collided with Dom’s palm. The buzz in his head prevented him
from connecting the dots at first, and instead of lashing right back at Dom, Mark stared back at him with shock twisting his gut.

  In the shadow, surrounded by green hell, Domenico’s face was that of a wild demon that belonged here. “How dare you? If it wasn’t for him, you’d be dead by now. I didn’t want to pick you up. He convinced me. I didn’t want to go back for you, but again, Seth convinced me otherwise. It’s because of him that you haven’t ended up as some sicko’s fucktoy. So he is different from me and you. So what?”

  The truth behind Dom’s words stung more than his slap. The shame of where Mark had come from would never wear off, no matter how tough he became, or how much money he made. “Why’d you hit him then? It’s not okay!” He was glad for the darkness, because his cheeks felt hot and his eyes stung.

  Domenico’s teeth gritted so loudly the sound penetrated Mark’s brain and made him physically unable to keep from shuddering as he watched Dom pick up the flashlight again.

  “You need to stop seeing him as weak. He’s not a woman. He can punch me back. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

  Mark pursed his lips and passed Dom, making sure he pushed him with the shoulder on the way. After such a long time with them, he still failed to understand how it all worked between Domenico and Seth. He used to think he did, that they were two cogs of a well-oiled machine, but lately it seemed the mechanism has gone out of sync.

  Seth lived in his separate world. A world with chickens, cocktails, and playing with Angelica. Even now, with such a massive issue on their hands, Mark wasn’t allowed to discuss their job with him. If Seth really was still as tough as Domenico claimed, why was he treated like a snowflake that would melt the second it hit the ground?

  Mark had seen Seth kill with his own eyes. He’d seen Seth not only punch a sandbag with the fury of a charging bull, but people too. Could someone really change so much in two years? That seemed to be the case here, and yet Mark couldn’t shake the feeling that what was going on in their house wasn’t right. It was fake. All they needed to do was scratch the glossy paint to see the rough brick underneath.

  The need to be as far from Domenico as possible pumped strength into Mark’s muscles and sent him uphill, toward the flicker of Diego’s flashlight, which at this point was barely visible in the tightly-woven fabric of the jungle. Leaving behind Domenico’s lies, bitterness, and scowling face, Mark shone his flashlight at his feet and sought out the safest, least slippery spots to place them. Step after step, his thigh muscles burned more, but he moved on.

  “This is a good workout,” he said to Diego, putting on a fake smile for the man. Fucking him was yet another way to show Domenico that he did whatever he chose to when off work.

  A still figure on the very top of the hill, Diego switched off his flashlight as soon as Mark caught up with him. “Is it? I didn’t think you two would struggle so much.”

  Mark snorted and pushed back some of the hair that had fallen on his face. “We’re not exactly wearing the right shoes for this. Do you wanna get tired together once we’re done here?”

  Diego’s thick shoulders lowered slightly. “I keep forgetting you’re city rats. Maybe I should have asked someone else to join me after all.”

  Mark shook his head and finally joined Diego, taking slow breaths to avoid showing how exhausted he was. “After three years here I don’t consider myself a city rat any longer. I could probably teach you how to wear a tie though.” He laughed and slid his hand to Diego’s lower back. This kind of back and forth was typical for dealing with him. Diego always tried to have the upper hand, and following yesterday’s argument with Domenico, Mark was desperate to prove to himself that he wasn’t just being used.

  He kinda wanted to irritate Domenico right now, and Diego would be the perfect tool for that purpose. If Mark played his cards right, the two of them could be making out by the time Domenico dragged his ass up there.

  Diego’s fingers closed around Mark’s wrist almost too hard, and when he turned his head, strands of hair slapped Mark’s cheek. “Where do you think you’re putting that hand, boy?”

  “I bet you’d prefer it lower.” Mark grinned, but Diego wouldn’t let go of his wrist, which was beyond frustrating. They’d been pushing and pulling since before Christmas, and throughout that time Diego had refused to even suck him off, let alone bottom or do anything that could bruise his fragile macho ego. And to make things worse, he seemed to always manage to manipulate Mark with his smell, his touch, and his skillful hands.

  “Take it away, or I’m gonna break it. Learn your place.”

  Mark frowned, more startled than by the slap he’d received only minutes ago. “And where exactly is ‘my place’?” But heat flushed his cheeks again because he knew exactly what Diego was saying and hated it with all his heart. Did this fucker really think he was somehow better than him?

  Diego watched him in the dark before finally letting go and walking up to a large tree growing near the edge of the cliff. Only then, standing at the top of the hill Mark realized how steep it was on its other side. Were it darker, were he less vigilant and he might have missed the black void opening a couple of steps away from him. Trees on either side of the narrow ravine bent toward it while still clinging to the damp ground where it gave way to naked rocks that formed steep walls leading deep into nothingness. He couldn't say how far the bottom of the crack in the ground was, but he wouldn’t dare drop a stone in to find out.

  When he followed Diego, led like a goddamn dog on a leash of his own need to prove something, the cool air blew into his face from the toothless mouth below.

  Diego looked at him. “Do you need to ask? You showed me what kind of man you are the night we met.”

  Even Mark’s ears felt hot. “Aren’t you on call for Nero’s dick?” he growled.

  Diego’s face was set in stone. His fingers twitched, hair floating slightly with the breeze as he took a single step toward Mark. “Nero Moreno is a bottomless hole. Everyone can have a piece, so why not me?”

  Mark crossed his arms on his chest, only feeling more uncomfortable by the second. “You won’t have another piece of me ever again, so you might as well fall back on that freak.”

  Diego’s face twitched, and within one long step, he was standing in Mark’s personal space, backing him closer to the edge of the cliff. The cold fingers of the breeze tickled Mark under the shirt, as if he were inches away from the void.

  In that moment, Diego seemed to tower over him, that tiny bit taller, and much broader in the shoulders and torso than Mark, he was a barrier between Mark and safety.

  “What do I need you for if I’m already fucking your daddy?”

  “No you’re not!” came out of Mark’s mouth along with pure shock at Diego even suggesting such a thing. He pushed Diego back, eager to open a way from the cliff edge. What was this bullshit about? Domenico had told Mark Diego watched Seth too intensely for his taste, but making claims like this seemed too dumb even for a man with Diego’s megalomania.

  The light in Diego’s hand flickered, first spearing Mark’s eyes with an unexpectedly bright beam, then turning off to leave him in confusing darkness. The explosion of pain that came next added yet another layer to the spiraling shapes left behind by the sudden change in illumination. His head became heavy as a stone dragging him under the surface, to the bottom of the waterless void of the ravine.

  Air refused to enter his lungs, so the only noise Mark made was a soundless yelp as he bent in half, grabbing Diego’s leg in the last moment before the fall. Mark was in a directionless limbo, but rocks and dirt tumbling down behind him were enough of a clue for him to desperately grip at the first thing he could find.

  “You’re dead, motherfucker! Dead!” he snarled the moment he could breathe again. Mark reached for his gun, but it wasn’t there. His mind went blank for a moment as hot wet drops drizzled down his face from where his eye throbbed with pain.

  Domenico’s voice came to him like from the depths of a well, dull and echo
ing too far away. His hand kept searching for the familiar feel of metal, but his holster—or was he completely missing it in the blur that his mind became—was empty.

  Diego’s hands were hard, much rougher than they were when the two of them had fucked. They smelled of moss and wood, but remained softer than the sharp rocks digging into Mark’s knees and cutting them through clothes.

  Only now, when Mark’s head rolled in the mud, pressed down by a force he wasn’t able to resist, could he shout.

  “Domenico! D-dom!” he cried out, voice breaking when a dull weight smashed into his face over and over until it reached deep, breaking past bone and punching something inside Mark’s head that shouldn’t have ever been touched by anyone.

  He tried to scream but only managed a grunt. The darkness of the ravine called out with an invitation. If he only accepted, he wouldn’t have to suffer. The promise of comforting softness somewhere down in the warm moss, far away from the flashlight being smashed into his skull time and time again, overpowered his whole body.

  He let go of Diego.

  He’d been hurt many times before, but now he understood what dying felt like.

  A kick sent him down a slope and he didn’t resist, numb from the searing pain that overpowered his every sense. And then, for a breathless moment, he was weightless, floating through the air until gunshots resonated from damp rock and woke him up from the nightmare. Sucking in air as if he’d had his head forced underwater for too long, he grabbed at whatever was close enough. Mud, roots, vines? He wasn’t even sure, but he knew he wasn’t ready to die!

  “Dom!” he yelled, and his mouth filled with dirt and the taste of his own blood.

  Something slim and rough scratched at the flesh of his palms until they burned, but he held on even when his weight pulled him down, deeper into the ravine that now seemed like the eternally open jaws of some prehistoric monster hidden away in the depths of the jungle. Gravity yanked on Mark’s joints with such ferocity it felt like he was about to leave his arms up here and drop to his death without them. But despite the powerful ache in one of Mark’s elbows that soon turned into a dull sensation, he stayed where he was—in the air like a fish taken out of water to dry.