Ezmere woke to the soothing feeling of someone dabbing at his forehead with a wet cloth. He felt feverish and sticky. Marleen must have been trying to bring down his temperature. He could feel her arms around him and he shifted in her embrace.
"Thank you," he said drowsily.
"You're welcome, my dear boy."
Ezmere's eyes shot open and he scrambled back when his gaze was met with Frollo, not Marleen.
"What?" he panted. "Where am I…" He trailed off as he saw the grey stone of Notre Dame. He was still on the roof. His wound, not one to be ignored, throbbed painfully making him screw his eyes shut and hunch his shoulders.
Frollo's touch returned and the rag continued to stroke his face.
Ezmere staggered to his feet and lurched away. "Leave me alone!"
He collided with the wall and clutched at it, his blood falling in crimson lines over each brick. This part of the wall came only to his waist and he realized this was where he had sat with Quasimodo all those days ago.
The view was still as beautiful as it had been then but it was as if he was seeing it through someone else's eyes. He looked to the left and saw distant fires eating away every trace that the gypsies had ever been in Paris.
His grip on the stones tightened. Soon the flames would be doing the same to him. There would be no proof that he'd even existed. After all, bones burn.
He looked down and was surprised to find that his clothing still remained on his body despite Frollo having ample opportunity to disrobe him. "So, did you do it then?" he asked after awkwardly clearing his throat.
"Do what?"
He gave a vague wave of his hand. "Whatever it was you were going to do to me."
Frollo rose and he looked to Ezmere in shock. "You think I would take you while you slept?"
"I don't know!" Ezmere cried. "You're not above torturing innocent women so how the hell should I know that raping someone while they're unconscious crosses your moral lines!"
He turned away and bit his lip as the dagger in his side throbbed again.
A hand came to rest on his shoulder and he stiffened. Frollo stood very close behind him and placed a gentle kiss on his neck. "Do you hate me, Ezmere?"
"Yes," he answered instantly.
More kisses. "Why?"
He couldn't contain a pained laugh. "Why do you think?"
"Because in your eyes, I am cruel," Frollo whispered. He grabbed Ezmere's hips and made him turn so they were facing each other then he ran his lips along Ezmere's jaw and nuzzled his neck.
Ezmere's ears burned red. "You are cruel in everyone's eyes."
"And what if I decided to spare your life?"
That took him by surprise. "You'd let me leave with Abella?"
"No…" Frollo admitted. "But you could stay here with me. You would convert and be baptized. You would become a christian. A man of God."
He took hold of Ezmere's arm and kissed the inside of his wrist. "These would have to go," he said as he slid Ezmere's gold bracelets off and tossed them over the side of the building.
The same was done to his earring and rings and Ezmere watched them fall until they hit the ground with soft jingles. He felt naked without them.
"And you'd have to stop dressing like a heathen." Frollo tugged Ezmere's shirt off over his head and stepped back to admire his chest.
Ezmere grimaced but didn't try to stop him. There was no point.
"Yes," Frollo breathed. He placed his fingers on Ezmere's collar bones then traced over them with a feathered touch. He went over every line of muscle, every inch of skin and while Ezmere wanted to look away, he kept his gaze locked on Frollo, trying to make him uncomfortable, trying to force him to realize that his actions were despicable.
"Yes," Frollo panted, oblivious to Ezmere's struggle. "When I see you like this, I see someone who can be saved, someone who must cast away his old life and start anew. You must be born again, Ezmere. I can help you." He began examining the knife wound. It was a grizzly sight but he took it in stride. "I can have the finest healers in France at your side in an instant. I can give you everything… But you must give yourself to me, completely. From this day forward you would never leave my side."
This was a part of Frollo that Ezmere hadn't seen before. The mania was still the same but he was almost… loving? Ezmere wondered what would happen if he said yes. Would he be able to spare himself this torture and escape once Frollo's guard was down? He studied the man before him, trying to determine the odds of that happening.
Already, Frollo's eyes were alight with anticipation. He knew that either way he was going to win but was letting Ezmere decide the manner in which the victory came.
Ezmere shifted against the bricks and finally broke his silence. "I have often thought of your God and his teachings. I believe that if I were ever to choose a deity, it would be him."
Frollo began to smile.
"But," Ezmere continued. "I would never allow a man as vile as yourself to influence my decision. Nor will I let you change me and groom me like a dog to fit your own standards of goodness."
The smile began to fade.
Ezmere pushed off the wall and flung out his hand as he spoke with passionate hatred. "The choice you have presented me with is not a choice at all. Will I surrender only my body, or will I hand you my entire soul?"
He looked again at the burning camp. The sight strengthened his resolve. "You may take my body but my soul will remain my own. And when I burn, my fate will no longer be in your hands. I'm not so foolish as to delude myself with hopes of heaven but should I go to hell, I'll at least have the satisfaction of knowing I'll see you again."
Over the course of his speech, Frollo's face had morphed back to an expression Ezmere was more familiar with, sneering condescension.
"So be it," he said stiffly, then he pounced. He rushed Ezmere and grabbed his shoulders, maneuvering him so his back was to a higher part of the wall. He had nowhere to go.
Frollo's lips began devouring Ezmere's own and his hands roamed freely across the younger man's body. Ezmere yelled in rage as one was sent between his thighs.
"Oh Ezmere," Frollo groaned, between kisses. "Why must you be so stubborn? We could have such a life together."
Ezmere screwed up his face and stared at the sky. He couldn't fight back, he couldn't let Abella be hurt.
Frollo began touching him through his pants in the hopes of a reaction other than hatred but Ezmere was so infuriated that he hardly felt it.
"Come," Frollo whispered into his ear. "Give in to me… Let me love you…"
This continued on for several minutes until Ezmere could hardly think straight anymore.
Frollo was sickeningly patient with him.
Soon the hatred, fear and pleasure Ezmere was feeling was blinding. He was human after all. Had anyone else been touching him in such a way, he most likely would have been kissing them back but he managed to push all that aside and choke out, "Go to hell."
Frollo pressed their bodies together and his hand, no longer content to be above clothing, slid beneath the waist of Ezmere's pants.
"Oh Blessed Maria…" he sighed as his fingers stroked Ezmere up and down.
Ezmere bit down so violently on his cheek that blood flooded his mouth. Think of something else, he told himself. Anything else. Think of Abella.
Abella with her forest of dark hair… Her glowing skin and flashing eyes. It could have been her hand doing these things to him. He couldn't help it. A light moan passed his lips.
Frollo chuckled lowly and applied more pressure.
The sound tore Ezmere's mind from Abella and he jerked violently as he remembered what was happening. He quickly pushed the image of her away. That wasn't going to work…
He thought next of the bells. It would be dawn soon. Would the city even wake without them?
Frollo sensed the shift. "No. Don't do this," he grunted as Ezmere fell silent once more. "Think of me. Think of me, Ezmere."
He shoved his tongue down Ezmere's throat and his rubbing increased in speed. His other hand roamed over Ezmere's chest, his back, his ass. Nothing was spared but still Ezmere's eyes were screwed shut as he fought desperately to deny Frollo.
"Would you like to feel me?" Frollo panted in his ear.
Ezmere tried to back away but there was nowhere for him to go. "Fuck you," he snapped.
Frollo laughed and grabbed Ezmere's hand and rubbed it against his own erection. "Do you feel how badly I want you? Do you feel my need?"
With the last bit of sarcasm he could muster, Ezmere gave Frollo a level gaze and said, "I've seen rats with bigger cocks than yours."
Frollo hit him and sensing he wasn't going to get what he wanted this way, he stepped back and commanded, "Get on your knees."
"No," Ezmere said before he could stop himself.
Frollo sneered and laughed, "Oh yes, that's right. How did you put it?" He adopted an accent very much like Ezmere's and said, "I'll never go to my knees!"
Ezmere glared at him through a haze of pain and he knew they were both remembering the first time they'd met.
"You humiliated me that day," Frollo said, his even words just barely covering his anger. "But I think things will go differently this time around." He let Ezmere go and took a step towards the ladder. "Jackson, cut her again."
Ezmere's head snapped up. "No!" But it was too late and Abella's scream echoed up through the bells to the roof. This time there was another voice and he recognized it as Quasimodo's.
"Master! What's happening?"
Ezmere stumbled past Frollo and shouted, "Quasi! Help us!"
Frollo twisted the blade in Ezmere's side sending him reeling back. "Disregard that, Quasimodo! You are not to interfere. I will be down shortly." He rounded on Ezmere and hissed, "Did I not make it clear that you were to obey me? Abella can suffer for hours as far as I'm concerned and she will if you do not get on your knees."
A muscle in Ezmere's jaw twitched. A great battle taking place in his mind. The word no was on his lips but the fear in his eyes gave him away.
"I will give you one last chance," Frollo said dangerously. "Or Abella will soon find herself with a wound to match yours, only Jackson isn't as precise as I am… The odds that she'll die instantly..." He trailed off and shook his head in mock dismay then stalked over to Ezmere with light, ghostly footsteps. "Now, Ezmere. Get… On… Your… Knees…"
Ezmere's blood was pumping so loudly through his body that he didn't actually hear the last four words but he knew what was said. His mind was screaming for him to do it, to get on his damned knees, while his body was threatening to fling itself off the wall before letting Frollo have his way.
And yet his love for Abella was, shockingly, stronger than his inherent stubbornness. He would do whatever Frollo wanted and she would go free. Perhaps he was being naïve, believing that Frollo would let her go, but that was the prayer that he clung to as he took a shaky breath and tried to bend his knees.
That was the first time he noticed how far gone his body was. His legs were locked. He couldn't move.
Seeing his struggle, Frollo came up behind him and kicked in the backs of his legs.
Ezmere cried out as he crumpled and fell forward, his arms catching him at the last second. The dagger visibly shifted and he clamped a hand on it, forcing it to stay in place. Exhaustion was seeping through his limbs. He wanted to collapse.
A light trickle of rain began to fall from the sky, coating the struggling pair in a light mist.
Frollo's breathing was erratic with anticipation as he waited to see what Ezmere would do. Would he fall or would he get up?
Ezmere drew on the last reserves of his stubbornness and strength. He wouldn't fall. He wouldn't lay still and silent for Frollo's pleasure. He would not.
He took an enormous, shuddering breath then used his free hand to push himself up. It was a desperate motion and his head rolled limply as he righted himself. He was on his knees.
Frollo's eyes burned with crazed victory and he basked in Ezmere's helplessness. It was over. He'd won. Ezmere was on his knees. He began undressing himself.
Ezmere bowed his head in shame. Why couldn't the man have done all this when he was unconscious? The dull terror of knowing what was to come was nauseating. Sweat poured freely down his forehead and he felt like he was already burning for his sins. He almost laughed when he realized he might have fallen to his knees anyways. He had nothing left…
He saw Frollo's bare feet enter his field of vision. "This is how I will remember you," the man said as he stepped forward and caressed Ezmere's face.
Ezmere looked at him through watering eyes.
"Proud… Strong…" Frollo gently raised Ezmere's face to his own and placed a claiming and possessive kiss upon his lips. "And mine." He ran the pad of his thumb across Ezmere's lower lip. "Completely mine."
"I'm not yours," Ezmere whispered, his voice trembling.
Frollo raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you?" And to punctuate his point, he thrust into Ezmere's mouth.
Ezmere couldn't breathe. He was choking and gasping for air and almost being knocked over with every one of Frollo's wild thrusts.
"Ezmere…" Frollo panted, the name rolling off his tongue rapturously. His moans were full of longing and his face had been transformed by awe. "Oh Ezmere… My angel of hellfire …" His fingers were tangled in endless dark curls and he used his grip to guide Ezmere's head. "Touch me," he groaned. "I'll have Abella's wounds treated. I'll force Quasimodo to leave with her. If you do this, I'll never see her again, I swear it."
Ezmere tried to speak but Frollo was still in his mouth, yet it seemed even the slightest movement sent Frollo into a wild state of ecstasy.
"Yes, Ezmere! Pleasure me and she'll have the life she's always dreamed of! I swear it on the Lord God most high!"
All Ezmere could think about was the longing in Quasimodo's eyes when she'd looked out over the city. All of her questions, her burning curiosity!
But he knew her fear was enough that she would not leave unless Frollo made her go. She would be scared but Abella would keep her safe, they would look out for each other. Marleen would take her in and they would live wherever they pleased, go wherever they pleased. She would finally be out there in the world that she loved and yet had never been able to be a part of.
Tears were falling rapidly down Ezmere's face, tears that he had no power to stop. He realized there was nothing for it now. He was going to die whether he did this or not. It was his last chance to help his friends.
And so with shaking hands, he reached out and grabbed the back of Frollo's thighs, anchoring him in place. Black, acidic self-loathing flooded his heart as he began to suck. He had only done this once before but he knew he did it well. His teeth ran along the underside of the cock in his mouth and he swirled his tongue against everything in reach.
Frollo had almost fallen over when he'd started moving but Ezmere held him steady. The only upside was that the man was now in the thralls of a pleasure so deep that he was incapable of speaking and Ezmere was spared his lecherous words. He made no sounds but deep, gurgling grunts of satisfaction as he bucked his hips into Ezmere's mouth.
Ezmere closed his eyes and thought of home. He hoped Marleen and Abella would take Quasimodo to the ocean. His best memories were of summers spent on the coast of the Atlantic. Sometimes it was just him and Marleen, other times they'd been part of a larger group but either way, he'd been happy.
He was pulled from his memories as Frollo's grunts turned to shouts and then to screams. His thrusting reached a frenzied climax.
Ezmere prayed desperately for it to end, for the man to finally finish and his prayer was answered as with one last bellowing roar, Frollo came undone. His fingers spasmed in Ezmere's hair and he doubled over, still thrusting as much as he could, then he gave a soft, groaning sigh and only then did his motions slow.
A warm, salty fluid flooded Ezmere's mouth and he almost choked to death as Frollo would not leave his mouth until he had been forced to taste every drop of white hot pleasure. Only then did he pull free and a gagging Ezmere spat as much as he could onto the ground.
He felt thoroughly sickened. How Abella had endured this for a month, he didn't know.
Frollo staggered back and leaned against the wall for support, his face slack with ecstasy.
Ezmere realized that if ever he were to run, now would be the time but he couldn't get his legs to move. He tried to stand, but only collapsed onto his side.
The dagger had been so jolted and aggravated by Frollo's movements that the blood on the ground had turned from drips to a puddle.
Fat drops of rain hit the red, sending it splashing on the bricks. Ezmere stared at his blood, entranced. He might not even make it to the stake if he were to die right here. No matter how precisely the action was done, a stabbing was a stabbing.
He tried once more to get up, but his body was absolutely done. A terrible cold began creeping through his veins and he dimly realized that he was dying. The thought filled him with a thrill of dread.
Several people were screaming. He blinked groggily, searching for the source. One of them must have been Abella. Was she being hurt again?
One word fell from his lips. "Why?"
Frollo limped to his side. "Fear not, her screams do not come from pain, at least not a physical one. She cries because she knows that you now belong to me. But you should be proud, you did your job well. You ensured both their safety."
Ezmere's breathing was becoming strained and he hardly felt it when Frollo grabbed him beneath the arms and hauled him upright.
"What are you doing?" he whispered as he was taken back to the edge of the wall.
"I only require one more thing of you, my angel. Put your arms on the wall. You must hold yourself up. Bend over."
Ezmere made a noise like a groan and a sob but he steadied himself first on one shaking arm then the other.
Paris was spread out below them under the pale light of a rising sun, shining through the clouds.
He tried to look behind him to see what Frollo was doing but Frollo wouldn't let him turn.
"Look out at the city. It's beautiful, isn't it?" Frollo crooned as he kissed Ezmere's spine and then a scar on his left shoulder. "You're beautiful, Ezmere. You're so beautiful. How I wish you had the strength to dance for me..."
There was a terrible crashing sound from the room below, followed by more screams and grunts but Frollo didn't seem to notice.
"I'm going to take this out," he said, reaching around for the handle of the dagger. "You won't burn, my dear boy. When I've finished with you, when I've claimed you in every possible way, you'll die here in my arms."
Ezmere's shoulders were shaking but he didn't say a word, not even when Frollo ripped the dagger out. It came free with a sickening squelch and hit the ground next to them with a dull clatter.
Blood was falling in earnest now but neither of them made any effort to stop it. Ezmere knew he would take bleeding out over burning any day. Flashes of his hellish dream crept into his mind and his teeth began chattering in cold and fear. The demons were coming for him.
"Relax, Ezmere," Frollo whispered, running his hands over his back.
Ezmere couldn't help himself. He was ridiculously afraid. "Please don't do this..." he choked out.
"Hush…"
Ezmere swallowed a sob as he felt Frollo's fingers start to tug at his pants but then the fingers hesitated. The seconds began to trickle by and still Frollo did not move.
Ezmere could hardly breathe, his shaking reached such a violent peak that he could hardly stay upright. He could feel Frollo watching him.
Then he heard Frollo mutter, "Saints above, what have I done…"
Suddenly, he was helping Ezmere to the ground.
"What are you doing?" Ezmere groaned, trying to lift his head but he was so spent that he could not even accomplish that small task.
"Quiet. Save your strength."
Frollo quickly threw on his robe to cover his nakedness then picked up the dagger that had so recently been buried in Ezmere's side and began cutting long strips of cloth from the hem.
"No!" Ezmere protested as Frollo began wrapping them around his torso.
Frollo exhaled violently and cried, "Silence, you stubborn boy! Put pressure on the wound! We have little time!"
Ezmere's head was full of thick fog and he had no idea what Frollo's intentions could be. The only thing he knew was that he did not want to live in a world where he belonged to him.
Frollo growled when Ezmere didn't move a muscle and so he placed his own hands on the seeping wound and pressed down to contain the blood.
"How can you value your life so little? Do you not fear death?"
Ezmere grunted and gripped Frollo's wrist. "No more than I fear you."
Frollo's lip curled in annoyance but he still did not move his hands. "And what if I offered to free them?"
"Who?"
"The gypsies captured tonight. You heard the screams. I'd wager I have over fifty of your people waiting to hang. If your own life means nothing to you, think of theirs. Think of the people you could save, the families you could reunite. Agree to stay with me and I'll let them all go."
He continued speaking but Ezmere couldn't hear him anymore because as much as he might try to deny it, he did fear death. Already he could feel a terrible cold creeping up his legs, edging ever closer to his heart.
Blinding demons of fire danced in his mind. He didn't want to die.
"Think of Abella. Your death would break her. Let me save you."
Abella… Marleen…
The cold was at his waist. If he died now he would never see them again.
That thought filled him with more dread than Frollo ever could.
"Do it," he gasped, before he could lose his nerve.
"Do you agree to my conditions?"
Conditions? Ezmere's vision was going dark. "Yes," he slurred, without truly knowing what he was saying.
"Very well."
Ezmere felt Frollo's arms slide under him and he was lifted from the blood soaked stone.
Abella's screams of misery tore through his ears. Her despair ushered him into a trance and he floated somewhere between unconsciousness and death, unable to comfort her or even say goodbye.
