Trying to be ruthless in the face of beauty.
This is a very bad chapter in my opinion. Very badly written and whatnot, but I don't feel like deleting six thousand words at the moment...
So I know I was meant to name this after a Morrissey song, but my Placebo fangirlishness took over and...well...y’know...
The next chapter after this will be rated NC-17. It does not feature a lot of gore, but...look, if you haven't read a lot of torture fics, I would recommend you don't read it. Trust me, you'll think I'm one sick fuck after it.
Oh yeah, and I just came to the conclusion that I'm actually pretty good at cliffhangers ya think?
First of the Gang to Die
Frank quivered nervously as he stood outside his husband’s art study.
Gerard had locked himself inside the room since his fuse burnt out precisely twelve hours ago. After screeching at his men and the man who tortured his niece, he had stormed up to the private room and slammed the door. Ray-or Don Toro, as he was now being referred to as-had quickly informed Iero he was visibly shaking with rage, burning with anger. The boy was shaking now-he didn’t want to irritate his husband any further. Poking Gerard Way with a stick was like begging for suicide.
“Gerard?” He asked nervously, wringing his hands behind his back. “Gee? Are you in there?”
The twenty four year old shook violently when he heard thumping heavy footsteps nearing him. It wasn’t exactly that he feared Gerard-just when he was angry, and Frank had never seen him as indignantly raged as today. Louis had thrown up after the torturing of Warner. Frank had been assured he did not want to know what had been done to the rapist; too grisly for him to handle.
The door swung open with a bang. Gerard glared at his husband.
“What do you want,” he said coldly, no inch of love or admiration in his tone. He might have been talking to an enemy.
“It’s night time,” the rabbit squeaked, quaking. “And it’s dark, and lonely. Christa said she and Ray would look after Luciana for a night.” His voice cracked-he hated this feeling of unknown grudging. “I miss you.”
Gerard said nothing.
“Don’t be mad, Gee,” he pleaded weakly. “Please. I hate it when you’re angry.” He snuffled and rested against the hard chest opposite him, hoping he wouldn’t be pushed away-he wasn’t. “And they left ages ago. I’m getting scared, Gerard.” His eyes squeezed shut and he took fistfuls of Gerard’s shirt material. “Please. I’ve been having the memories again,” he cried, heart snapping slowly.“I want you, Gee.”
“Memories?” Gerard questioned ever-so-quietly. Rape seemed to be the only thing on his mind right now; two very close members of his family (joined and immediate) had been subjected to the act. “About...him?”
“Uh huh,” he whispered, nuzzling into him. “It hurts, Gerard. The shadows are scary and everything I hear makes me jump. Please.” He snuggled below his neck, and nearly gasped with steady relief when he was cuddled back. “Make me feel safe, Gee.”
Way took him by the hand and lead him into the chamber, shutting the door behind him carelessly. He only realized how harsh and insensitive he was being when his rabbit let out a small cry at the sudden noise.
“Gerard!” He shrieked suddenly, embracing him tightly, tears streaking his cheeks. “Don’t let him do it, Gee, don’t let him!”
Gerard sat down and inspected the boy before him, eye travelling slowly up and down his silhouette, before finally ordering:
“Take off your clothes.”
Frank whimpered a little, eyes wide and apprehensive.
“Did I molfucking stutter?” He spat, and his boy began weeping silently. “Strip down to your boxers.”
The young man began to unbutton his shit, utterly dejected and humiliated, sniffing and gasping for breath. He shrugged it from his shoulders and then pushed his trousers down his legs-still slightly bruised and yellowed from the beating he had received several months ago. Ugly shades of ginger and yellow swirled along his waist, his back, his legs. He shook violently, never meeting the gangster’s eye.
Gerard pushed him against a wall, and Frank cried out in sudden, shocked pain.
“Every inch of you is mine, you understand that?” Their eyes locked together; the lighter pair penetrated the hazel. The rabbit was crying ever so softly, salty tears trickling his cheeks. “Every single fucking inch. I own you and ain’t no one else gets to see you like this.”
Frank swallowed hard, nodding vigorously. Gerard’s grip did not weaken. Then he sucked in a deep breath, squeaking meekly.
“Even if you fucked me,” he hiccupped, sucking his lip piercing as his husband glared at him, “I’d still love you, Gerard.” He sobbed hopelessly; wet, empty gasps from his chest. “Forever and uh-uh-always, Gee.” He hugged the boss tightly, broken and beat. “No fucking tonight, please Gerard, it hurts and I don’t wanna be your punching bag. I know you’re annoyed because of Luciana-and I am too, but please...don’t take it out on me.” The last syllable was a lone whisper. “I just wanted a hug, Gee. I’m sorry, Don de la Via.” He hung his head and bit his lip. “I’m so sorry.”
The murmur of his honorary name in his husband’s soft, quiet tone made Gerard snap back into reality.
You better get on your knees right fucking now, the little voice in the back of his head warned slowly, and beg for his fucking forgiveness. You just made the most beautiful, sweetest, most amazing person in the world cry because of you losing your goddamned temper (again? How many times is it this week, Gerard?) and now he’s saying he’d love you (how he does even now is a mystery) even if you raped him? He’s been torn apart, you selfish, narcissistic bastard; he’s been starved and beaten and raped-and now you’re acting like James molfucking Romano to him, threatening him and close to beating. You talk about respect-you just cussed at him and told the poor kid to take off his clothes, when you know he gets upset about that-how fucking respectful is that shit? He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you, Way. You should thank whatever God is up there that he stays with your Mafia ass. He could do a whole lot fucking better than being married to Gerard motherfucking Way. So you hug him right now. You take him in your arms and tell him you love him, kiss him all over and treat him like he deserves. Be soft with him, you cunt-he’s an actual human being, not one of your fucking possessions, and he’s been treated so badly. Make love to him, Gerard. Stop this self-indulgent bullshit and love him.
“Baby,” he whispered, letting him drop down and Frank snuggled against him. “My darling. I am so, so sorry.” He slowly sank down to hug his lover’s legs-Frank was so short that it meant the killer’s head rested against his waist. “I cannot apologize enough for what I just did to you. I was angry and frustrated about those bastards injuring you and Luciana-but that was no excuse to be so rude to you. You deserve so much better than that, sugar pop. Please forgive me, Frank.”
“O-okay,” he lisped, a little surprised at the sudden turn around. “Can we...cuddle downstairs?” Gerard was pressing gentle kisses all along his bare thighs-it was extremely distracting. “Please?”
The Don continued to nip at his pale skin, moving his lips against the soft flesh, pity and adoration coursing through his veins as he worked at Frank. He finally reached the matching pair of lips and meshed them together, pulling their hips together to align.
“Course we can,” he replied. His tone softened as they embraced. “How...how is she?”
“Luci?” Gerard nodded curtly, eyes closed. “Better, Gee, way better. She was joking and playing around with me earlier, I think it’s just the pain that gets her sometimes.” Before Way could open his mouth, Frank clapped his palm over his lips. “Please don’t blame yourself, Gee. I know you get pissed because you think it’s your fault and stuff-“
“It is my fault,” he growled. “It’s my fault those monsters brutalized her-and you-“ he sucked in deeply, and Frank, ever appropriate, pressed their lips together quickly. “I promised I’d look after her,” he whispered, dewy drops falling from his nose. “And I fucked it up. I promised I’d look after you too.” His tone was harsh...but also repentant and sad, like a kid. “And I didn’t. Warner was right. What can I tell her when she asks of her father?”
“She loves you, Gerard,” seemed to suffice the hushed answer. “She loves you a whole lot. She always talks about you, and wants to be like you-she’s only talked about him once,” he swore. “Mostly it’s about you, or me, or Ray or Christa or what she’s learning in school, or maybe Alicia.” Then, bearing in mind the oath he had taken a year ago and the respect paid to his husband’s line of work, he added: “Besides, she’d probably understand. ‘My skin will burn’ and all that.”
This is the pledge mafia members make when they join la cosa
“How do you do that?” Gerard questioned as they rocked together slowly, and the rabbit wore a small, shy smile. “How do you just make everything better like that? I do not know one other person on this planet who can cheer up the Don of the Way family like you can.”
“Because I’m awesome,” Frank said as his lips inched closer and closer to his husband’s. “I thought that was pretty obvious.”
“Mmmm...it is.” He broke the kiss and Frank whined. “Are we gonna molest each other up here in this freezing art study or go downstairs and snuggle?”
“Molest! Molest! Molest!” Frank chanted, giggling. “I think we should take a vote.”
“Alright.” Gerard raised his hand. “I vote cuddling.”
“I vote molesting, and then it’s a sudden death so we’re deadlocked-“
“Uh uh, Don of the Famiglia, my vote overrules all,” Gerard declared, picking Frank up and slinging him over his shoulder, deaf to the protests and gleeful squeaks. “Cuddling; HO!”
“That’s only in the Mafia-we’re not in it now-we’re married-“
“Nice try, bunny, but in between us I got the muscles and the whole violence thing going on, so...”
They descended the stairs together, Frank’s main view restricted to the steps and Gerard’s legs, the mobster humming tunelessly to himself as they did. When he stopped-as they approached the kitchen, lit by candles-Frank pulled at his shirt, the material coming untucked from his belt. His olive skin on show, the boy grinned and ran his fingertips along the jutting spine.
“Hey, I thought we agreed on no molesting?”
“Can’t help it,” the younger responded, Gerard’s fingers drumming along the inside of his knees. “You’re so warm, Gee, so gorgeous...”
Way let his husband down gently as they walked into the kitchen, and the twenty four year old noticed with satisfaction he had begun humming again. The Don cornered him and pressed kisses into his scalp.
“What you wanna eat, baby?” He purred, silky sexiness exuding from his tone. Frank nearly fainted from the sound of it. “Or drink?”
“You don’t have to-“
“You’ve had such a stressful week, sugar pop,” he murmured into his ear. “You’ve been so good to Luciana, and you’ve been studying every night, as well as generally being married to me...c’mon, honey bunch. Let me treat you real nice.”
The boy nodded slowly, unsure. Then he glanced around the epic kitchen.
“Hot chocolate,” he decided. “With marshmallows. And biscuits.”
Gerard hitched him up by the waist and pushed him onto the counter in a sitting position, legs hovering over the edge of the black granite. Gerard stood between them, hand tugging at his lover’s belt.
“Yo, Frankie...” his eye swept along the boy’s form, drinking in every aspect to the twenty four year old. “I gotta question for you.”
The boy nodded to show he was listening faithfully.
“I’m meanta have my kinda...medical thing soon.” Frank nodded again, forehead tipping to Gerard’s. “And...I don’t want some fucking know-it-all fifteen year old prick shoving his finger up my ass.” The wicked grin. “I was wondering if you’d do it.”
Frank’s reaction was not what Gerard had anticipated.
“Really?!” His eyes lit up as he clapped his hands. “You’d let me examine you?”
“Yeah. What, you gonna molest me or something?”
“Oh, no!” He lisped sincerely, orbs huge and honest. “I’ll be so good, Gerard, I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.” He grinned. “This is awesome, Gerard!”
He chuckled as he poured out the boiling water into separate mugs.
“So cute.” The smirk adorned his thin lips. “Can’t wait to play doctor with you, baby doll. Gonna be a little ball of nerves, ain’t’cha?”
“Do the other men get checked up too?” The boy asked, choosing to ignore the last question.
“Yeah, but only I get you, obviously,” he breathed. Frank bit his lip-it was so hard to resist the soft purrs of authority directed at him. “My baby...” suddenly his smile was wiped off his face. “No fuckin shots.”
“No shots,” Frank confirmed as they carried on to the living room-Gerard bore the food and Frank simply skipped by his side. He pushed the door open with his foot and they went in. Way settles down and pulled his boy on top of him, licking up cream from his drink. The twenty nine year old gulped from a mug of steaming coffee and commented:
“Shit, that’s good.”
The television was switched on and the midnight news flashed upon the screen. A man with a dire look and thick, black glasses stared at the couple, kissing and snuggling with each other.
“This is the twelve o’ clock news with Walter Duranty. Good evening.”
“In the headlines tonight;” his beady black eyes darted down to the sheets of thin paper in his hands. “President Taft has declared that a major cut is being made to all payments within the civil service. An expected shedding of thirty million dollars will be saved by the government, who earlier described the situation as ‘regrettable but necessary. A planned strike has been organized by members of the Civil Union including workers in the Inglewood medical center.” He said the name of the city in a disgusted sneer. “Police officers have made a statement that the planned action will be stopped.”
“Inglewood,” the rabbit smiled, pointing at the screen. “That’s where I from.” A meaningful pause.“Gee?”
“You know the way you’re like...Italian-American?” Gerard nodded-hot breath rushed down the delicate neck of the other. “Where are you...like, from?”
“Palermo,” was the answer. “You ever heard of Sicily?” Frank nodded. “Yeah, it’s there.”
“Is it nice?” The boy asked, chewing a partially melted marshmallow. It dripped down his neck and the boss sucked at him. “Is it pretty?” He bit his lip. “I wanna go to Italy with you.”
“It’s very beautiful,” Gerard muttered, and he seemed to blush a little. “Warm and sandy. Beaches and stuff,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s in the south. We won’t be going there.”
“Oh...” the boy said breathily, blushing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude, I just wanted to know-“
“It’s not your fault, darling,” Gerard confirmed. “It’s just...Palermo is extremely poverty-striken and under-developed. “
Frank looked at him blankly.
“Poor, baby doll. It’s dirt poor.”
Iero gasped a little at his lover’s shamed utterance. Meanwhile, Walter in the background declared how the Klan had lynched an innocent farmer in Georgia.
“But you’re...you’re so rich, and fancy and stuff.” Way laughed nervously and ran his fingers through his hair. “And smart. You weren’t poor.”
“I wasn’t poor-my family was.” He sucked at his cheek. “My grandfather grew up in Palermo, and he was very poor.”
“Was he real smart and stuff?”
“No,” Gerard whispered, bowing his head. “He was a farmer.”
“Oh.” Frank nuzzled against the boss and cautiously licked his collarbone. “Did he move to America?”
“When he was twenty, I believe-eighteen seventy nine. His brother was then shot by Marshall Romano. This sparked a deadly and disgusting feud between the Way and Romano families. He was Don for thirty years before my father took over.” He looked directly into Frank’s eyes. “He had no English and no education.”
Frank gazed up at him.
“What did he have?”
Gerard smiled wryly.
“A dream. The American dream.”
And now we have ended up with smut. Well this is evidence I am just the worst writer to ever walk the planet
“Okay sugar pop,” Gerard said to the room containing himself and his husband. “How’re you gonna attack me first?”
The Don of the Way family smirked as he sat in the smouldering room, cigarette in one hand as his boy smiled nervously down at him. They were in their bedroom on a miserable Thursday evening; the day after Boxing Day. Gerard was perched on the bed, grinning wickedly, hands on knees. The twenty four year old smiled politely back at him, fixing the instruments required for examining his gangster.
“I just have to ask you questions first,” he said, biting his lip. “Is that okay?”
“Course it is,” Gerard replied as his husband sat next to him on their four-poster. His hand (the one with all four fingers and thumb) began to tease and press into Frank’s thigh, who gasped a little. “Come straddle me, babe.”
Frank clambered onto his thighs and situated his notes between his chest and the other’s abdomen. He held a fountain pen and began to scribble-name of patient, date of birth, place of birth, prior medical conditions. His tongue slid between his teeth as he concentrated, and his husband laughed quietly.
“What?” The boy asked fearfully. “Am I doing something wrong?”
“No, no, baby,” he purred back. “Just that you focus so hard when you write.” He pointed at Frank’s neat print that took effort and practice. “’s cute.”
“Oh,” he said softly, and began to write again. He looked up at Gerard again. “Do any chronic illnesses run in your family? Diabetes, cystic fibrosis, asthma?”
“Nope. Only severed limbs and missing fingers and such,” the gangster replied happily.
“Okay...hmm...what will I say your employment is?” He murmured, tapping his pen against his forehead. “I know, I’ll just say you’re an artist...is that okay, Gee?”
“Mmm, artist, I like that,” he breathed, scanning his medic’s sheet for authentication. “Hmmm...Gerard Arthur Way...April ninth nineteen-oh-five...Palermo, Italy...yeah, babe, all good there.” The smirk made its return. “What else, bunny rabbit?”
“Do you drink and or smoke?” He smiled a little. “That’s a yes for both, then.” Gerard nodded and laughed, offering him a puff. The minute he realized what he was doing-or rather who he was doing it to-he apologized instantly and the arm dropped to his side. “Do you know your height and weight?”
“Five eleven, one eighty five.”
“Thank you.” Frank wrote it down again, carefully dotting all i’s and crossing all t’s. A light pink touched his nose when he read the next question. “Oh...oh no...”
“What is it?” Gerard asked, grabbing the sheet from him. “Ooooh, I wonder what Doctor Iero has been saying about me!”
“’Is the patient sexually active?’” He spoke softly, laced with lust. His jewelled hand had a grip on his husband’s little ass. “God...you’d know, wouldn’t you, baby...go on, write it down...write it down and bite your lip like you always do, so fucking hot...”
“Gerard,” he gasped as his belt was tugged at. “Don’t...don’t tease, Gerard...” the gangster sucked at his neck, unbuttoning Frank’s thin shirt. One hand found his left nipple and twisted the hard nub-his rabbit mewled and writhed, eyes sliding shut. Dammit-he was getting distracted. “I’m meant to be fucking examining you...”
“Oh well then, I apologize,” the boss said airily with a wave of the hand. “Carry on.”
“No no, you’re meant to be examining me, after all,” Gerard said, smirking, knowing he was torturing the boy. “Please excuse me and continue your work.”
“You’re a bastard, Gerard.”
The Italian-American cackled.
“It’s so sweet when you cuss.”
“See?” He hugged the twenty four year old tightly, who was scowling. “So cute.”
“Fine.” Frank glanced at the sheet, trying desperately trying not to smile. “Stand up and take off your shirt.”
Gerard smirked wider than Frank had ever seen before. The boy simply stood back, waiting for the innuendo.
“You are absolutely loving this, aren’t you?” The younger questioned quietly, getting out a stethoscope to avoid Way’s sinful simper. “Such a pervert.”
“Only around you,” the older supplied, slipping his shirt off to reveal his torso-his husband reminded himself firmly not to act in a sexualized manner. It didn’t work. “Look at you, you’re drooling over me.”
“No-no I’m not!” He tried to refute, but his eyes were indeed locked to Gerard’s abdomen, mouth slightly open. “I just-I have to look at you-“ his voice broke into squeaks as the Don laughed dastardly. “Not-like that-I’m just doing my job-“
“Think your dick might disagree with ya there,” he grinned, and Iero shrieked as he glanced down to see the tent pitched in his trousers. “My Lord, Doctor Iero, are you coming on to me?”
“I just-no wait-“
“I’m a happily married man,” the gangster murmured into his ear, lips still stretched. “Baby...take off your trousers...let me have a good look at you.”
I like how like 87% of whenever I try to do a normal part it ends up as smut
“Gee,” he breathed. The voice Gerard was using to coax him was so low, such a deep drawl, dripping with desire. “Please...oh...I have to-“ the ringed, evil fingers dug into his ass cheeks; he groaned from the base of his throat, feeling himself swell. “I have to write a report on this afterwards-“
“Too late.” His pants were around his ankles. Oh no. “Ohh...I must say, Frank...your choice of undergarments is extremely satisfactory.”
Frank flushed scarlet. He was wearing skin-tight black boxers, clinging to his skin, cupping and drawing to him in all the right places.
“Gerarddddd...” he moaned as his backside was probed and teased, writhing in the gangster’s arms. “You’re meant to be the one getting undressed-not me-we can have sex later-“
“Why put off to tomorrow what you can do today?” He sucked his ear lobe, biting and nipping at the cartilage. “Fine...but I’m going to molest you during this, just so ya know.”
“Okay.” Frank pressed the circle of the scope over his left nipple, listening carefully to the beats filtrating his ear drum. Way held him close to his chest, hands gripping him tightly. “You have a healthy heart-rate, anyway, and you seem to be fit enough,” he commented, pointing at Gerard’s muscles. “Do you work out?”
“Used ta.” He shrugged. “Then I realized food tastes better than being healthy.”
“Okay...” scribble scribble scribble dot. “Let me check your eyes.” He bit his lip. “You’re gonna have to bend down, since-“
“You can’t reach?” A scowl and a reluctant nod. “So precious.”
Way got to his knees and wound his arms around his husband, who sighed as he was pressed right up to the mobster.
“Okay, follow the light wherever it goes, alright?” He switched on the little lamp and held it from Gerard’s functioning, green muscle. The light reflected the vessels and streamed along the retina. “Up...down...left, right...good. Now up again...awesome. You have twenty twenty in that eye.”
“Now, the other eye...” Gerard looked a little troubled. “Just do what you can, Gee, and tell me what you can see.” He held up the light to his pupil, a black swirl in a pool of hazy red. “Is that too strong?”
“Is what too strong?”
“Oh.” He bit his lip and kneeled down as well-Gerard tipped his head downward so that Frank could read him. “Can you look up for me, please?”
“I can’t, sugar pop. I can’t move it on my own.”
“Oh,” he said breathily again. “Is the sight defunct?”
Gerard smiled, chuckling quietly. “I’m in the Mafia, sweetie. Us killers are fairly dim.”
“Can you...can you see at all, around the corners?”
“Varies. Sometimes I can and other times I can’t.”
“Gee...you’re seriously hurt here.” He passed his fingertip under his eyes; the jade followed, but the red stayed still and lifeless. “There’s a little red thing inside your eye-that’s an infection.” He opened the lid carefully and gently, peering deeply. “That could spread to your other eye and make you fully blind.”
“Oh. Should I rip it out?”
“No!” He replied, shocked. “No-that could really injure you-and why would you take out your own eye, Gerard?” The made man shrugged. “That would hurt you so much, Gee. You need to get that out, babe.” He backtracked. “Safely. Like a procedure.” He looked away a little. “I can do it for you if you want me to.”
“Would I...” Gerard swallowed. “I’d only have one eye?”
Frank nodded, chewing his lip.
“I’m sorry, Gerard.” He slipped from his knees onto the floor. “I can’t do anything for it, it’s too infected and hurt and stuff. And if you don’t get it removed it could rot your frontal lobe, your brain.” He paused. “It’s all my fault. I should have done this earlier.”
“Of course it’s not your fault, it’s mine,” he murmured, pulling Frank up again. “How soon can you do it?”
“I could do it now if you’d like. I just have to get some stuff from downstairs.” He noticed Gerard had become a little uptight, stiff. “I’ll be so gentle, Gee. I promise. You can trust me. I trust you when we snuggle, even though it’s so hard.” He kissed the pallid cheek. “So you can trust me.”
“No shots,” Gerard repeated. “I ain’t having no injections.”
“But Gee,” he breathed quickly, “you need to have anaesthesia, I can’t-“
“Awake,” he said firmly. “I’ll be awake when you do it.”
Frank bowed his head. “Are you sure?”
“Okay.” They kissed again. “Be back in a minute, Gee.”
Frank left the room and returned moments later, laden with medical implements like scalpels and tourniquets. He settled back in between Gerard’s knees and pulled rubber gloves up his arms, smiling up at his lover.
“Feeling confident, Doctor Iero?”
“Not Doctor Iero,” he said, shaking his head. “Doctor de la Via.”
“Your married name. Very nice.” He tried to grin, but the sickly sight of the needle made him queasy. “Sit in my lap, Frankie. I’m gonna fucking scream and I need your little neck to bite into.”
“Okay.” He sat on him, holding a scalpel in one hand and a little looking-glass in the other. He pulled a cigar from his pocket. “I brought you this because it’s gonna hurt and I don’t...” he sucked his lip and regarded the murderer. “I don’t like seeing you in pain.”
“I ain’t no molfucking pansy,” Gerard spat,indignant. “I ain’t ever in pain, I am in-de-fucking-structable, ain’t nothin or no one can fuckin hurt me.”
There was a short silence.
“Please no shouting, Gee,” he squeaked, rubbing his eyes. “I’m just trying to help you.” The rabbit hiccupped and bit his lip. “I don’t want you to be sick. I just wanna make you feel better.”
Gerard sighed as his stomach twisted and wretched with guilt. The voices in his head screeched at him as his boy cried softly.
“Honey, I’m sorry,” he whispered, cuddling him. “I’m such a cunt, I just lose my temper awful quick and you know how much of a bitch I get sometimes.” He ran his fingers through the chocolate hair and kissed him all over. “Did I upset you, baby?”
Frank nodded and nuzzled against him, eyes watering.
“Ohh pet, Gerard’s such a bastard, isn’t he?” More soft kisses of affection. “You’re so perfect, darling, I know you’re being good to me, so good. I’m so sorry, Frank. Don’t cry, baby. I hate to think I made you cry.”
“Am I-“ he gasped for breath and Gerard massaged his chest. “Am I still your bunny rabbit?”
“You always are, babe,” he replied, feeling truly repulsive. “I love you so much, I just got angry for a minute, sugar pop.” He pressed his lips to Frank’s; he was trembling and pale after being given out to. “I ain’t like James, bunny. I know I have a short temper but I didn’t mean that, gorgeous. I feel like shit now that I said that. Please, please, for like the fifth time today, forgive me, sweetheart.”
Frank nodded, still quaking from the outburst, and dabbed alcohol along Gerard’s eye, the gangster watching him all the while. The boy chewed his lip as his lover began to caress him gently-no one ever treated the twenty four year old with such cautious, respectful love.
“So sorry, bunny.” He bowed to his husband-a sign of submission and contrition. “Please, Frank. Please don’t be upset. I love you more than anything in the world. I am so, so sorry.”
The boy giggled shakily and brushed his fingers through the platinum white tufts. He bent down to kiss Gerard’s hair multiple times.
“I’ll forgive you anytime,” he said quietly as the killer nipped at his inner legs. “I love you.” The reply stated similar reason. “Should we start now?”
“Sure.” He stretched back up and flicked his eyes open. “Lemme molest you while you do.”
Frank lifted the lid of the eye and peered into the murky muscle, the red strings of blood vessels appearing raw and prominent. The boy let his hands travel up to his lover’s tanned, toned back, little fingers dipping in and out of tiny bullet holes.
“This is gonna hurt, Gee,” he muttered as the boss lit up. “Talk to me.”
“’Bout what, baby doll?” He asked as he blew puff rings from his nose.
“About being in the Mafia,” Frank replied dreamily, and his husband chuckled.
“My whole life, ya mean?”
“Uh huh.” He readied the scalpel, wiping off the sharp knife and slipping it under the hood of the socket. “Tell me about the beginning.”
“Well...I was fifteen when my father made me join.” He didn’t seem to be in too much pain as Frank dipped the blade under the muscle. “He came down the stairs, real fuckin wasted, when I was just sitting at the table, ya know? I say something like ‘mornin’ and then he just fumbles for his gun, looks at me all confused-like and shot me in the shoulder, just like dat.” He cocked his finger and thumb. “Fuckin crazy sonuvabitch.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Kinda like burning pain or something. I’d been beaten and hit before, so it wasn’t entirely new ta me.” He jabbed his thumb to his back. “Got bruises and cuts all along me. A course now I’m all numbed up, and I probly got lead poisonin or something...” he chuckled, and then winced when his pain shot through his cheeks, burning suddenly. He grit his teeth, nearly splitting the cigar, and groaned silently.
“Gee,” Frank whispered, mopping up scarlet from his cheek and pressing a white cloth to the weeping orb. “You can scream if you want.”
Gerard’s eyes flickered as he struggled to contain his agony.
“La Cosa Nostra...does not...tolerate...weakness.”
“But you’re only with me now,” Frank lisped, pushing his lip out. “I won’t tell anyone, Gerard.”
The gangster paused to take a breath. Then:
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” He screamed, writhing in anguish and fourteen years worth of suffering. “FUCK FUCK FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK-UGH-FUCK-“ he screeched, panting. “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, FUCKING KILL ME NOW-“
He bit into his fist to save the screams and rocked in his sitting position. Frank leaned against him and let his lips brush against his collarbone, his neck, right up to the matching mouth.
“I know it hurts, Gee,” he whispered, tears streaming down his cheek. “I know you must hate it so much.”
Way didn’t dare open his eyes. The seething, burning pain in his right socket was stinging so badly it coursed through his brain, shooting through his veins. It took him a moment to realize he no longer had an eyeball in there.
“Yes,” Frank replied quietly, snuffling. “I had taken it out when your cigar rubbed against your cheek and you stiffened and stuff.”
in case i didn't make that bit clear enough basically Gerard got burned by the cigar and thought it was his eye
“You did it that quickly?” The Don was impressed, even though he was writhing in pain. “You just ripped out my eye in five seconds?”
“Not...ripped...” he breathed, cleaning up his husband. “I tried to be as gentle as I could, just...” he pouted. “I hurt you.”
“No, babe, you didn’t, I just-that was my fault, stabbing myself with my own damn cigar.” The pair smiled at each other; Gerard grinning and Frank smiling shyly. “That’s...holy shit, Frank, you’re really talented. That was real gentle, sugar, you were excellent.” He opened his left eye-he could now only see half of the room, half of Frank-it felt more strange than anything. He couldn’t even stretch open his right. “So strange.”
“Does it hurt a lot?” The rabbit questioned, nervous. “I probably did something wrong.”
“No,” Gerard responded, reaching for a mirror-his reflection was like a Halloween mask, socket sewed shut neatly, stitches straight and even-six across his lid. “No, honey, you did everything right.” He looked up at his lover. “Thank you, Frank. I didn’t know you were so skilled.”
The twenty four year old shrugged and blushed.
“I just-oh-I did-thank you,” he gushed, cleaning implements and putting them back in their respective cases. He looked at Gerard, uncertain but flashes of excitement gleaming in his hazel eyes. “Do you...do you think I’m good?”
“Amazing. I was willing to pull it right out, Frankie.” The other giggled. “How long have you been doing that?”
“I guess since I was seventeen or something. J...James was out all the time and I found some books and just started reading them. Practicing all the stuff.” He bit his lip and sucked in. “I got good ‘cause I had lots of cuts and bruises and stuff.” He gazed at Way. “From...from the stuff he did to me.”
“Beating you?” Gerard asked sharply, so sharply that the boy flinched and squeaked. “And taking advantage of you?”
This next bit is very intense and horrible.
“He was bigger than me,” the younger lisped. “Six four and strong and...” he gasped for breath, flushing bright pink. “And eleven inches. It hurt.” A sniff. “He’d make me bleed by just teasing me.”
“Teasing you?” He murmured softly, and the boy nodded, soft suckling sounds coming from his mouth. “How...how do you mean, baby?”
“Like...what we do, but so-so horrible,” Frank whispered, eyes downward. “He’d come in, drunk and stuff-even though he said he didn’t drink!” He squeaked, eyes large and damp. “He stunk of booze, and he was always way more cruel when he was wasted.” Gerard kissed his nose; the urge to shower his pet with affection was overpowering. “And he’d do stuff...not beating...just...touching me and stuff. I’d beg him not to, but he wouldn’t stop. It was awful.” He shook violently. “He’d chain me up and do stuff and I couldn’t fight back. He called me his little bitch.” Iero gulped. “His own little slut.”
“Ess...ess and emm?” (S&M) Gerard muttered softly. His husband cried out at the name. “Baby, that’s terrible.” He paused, wanting to know more for the sake of knowing it, but not wanting to freak out or upset his lover. “He...he touched you?”
“He used get mad ‘cause I wouldn’t be hard for him, like he was for me.” He rubbed his eyes for the twentieth time-Gerard brought his hands away gently. “He’d...he’d...do this...” he slumped down the gangster’s lap so that their hips brushed together. The weaker one flinched at the minute contact. “Then he’d just grab me. In...in the place you’re only allowed to touch.” Another short stop. “Below my belt.”
Gerard’s cold, black heart surged with pity and concern. All this time they had talked about the term ‘molesting’ in such a jokey manner. His boy had been abused in such a way and Way hadn’t asked.
The Don bushed his fingertips against the fabric of Frank’s jeans. The boy cried out at memories circling his mind.
“There?” Don de la Via breathed, the room totally silent apart from Frank’s whimpers. “He touch you there, baby?”
“Not as gentle as that,” the rabbit whispered, weak cries straining in his voice. “Not...as soft as that.”
“Harder?”A sucking of the lip. A nod. “He’d hurt you like that?”
“He’d hurt me in every way,” the twenty four year old spoke quietly. “That’s why I said I knew you were in a lot of pain.” He snuffled. “Burning hurts.”
“Oh sweetie,” Gerard cooed, encircling spots on his back. “Poor baby.”
“But...the worst was when he’d shout at me, or call me mean names.” He burst into fresh, hot, pricking tears. “Like a cunt or a bitch or useless.” He squeezed the tissue in his hand. “He said my only talent was fucking.” He cried out again and again-weak little gasps of ‘oh!’ “And that I wasn’t even good at that!”
“Frankie, oh sugar,” was the comfort back. “Fuck that shit, baby, you’re perfect, you got that? Fucking flawless.” He pressed his jewelled hands into his back. “You ain’t got one fucking fault.”
“My first orgasm was with you, Gerard,” he said so quietly. “I never...came for him. Just with you.” The boy entwined their hands and pressed them lightly to the area below his belt buckle. “People always ask me if I think you being around me and hugging me and holding my hand constantly is annoying. Or if it looks dumb that I sit in your lap.” He hiccupped and met his look. “But I love it so much. Because...because I like belonging to you, being protected by you. And how you call me nice names and treat me so good, and how you respect me and talk about loving me, and make everything better, and you never hurt me-“ he burst into tears again, tears of joy. “And I just love you so much, Gerard. I want to die with you, I wanna be yours forever.” They were wrapped up in each other, heads on shoulders.
They would stay like that for hours, hours upon end, neither sleeping. They remained in the position until Gerard looked up to see the gleaming grin of Marcus Romano staring back at him.
“Yo.” Romano nodded at both of them. “Gay boys. Get up.”