Author's Note: Wow, 12 chapters x.x And I've run out of things to say about them! So here it is, Chapter 12 :)
I had learned to neither love nor hate the sexual exchanges I made with strangers. I took the pleasure, I gave them theirs, and I took the money. It was all easy enough, once I got past matters of pride and morals and set aside any personal feelings whether they were friendly or otherwise. The whole point was to just not care, and as it had already been demonstrated, I could do perfectly well with not caring. For a while.
There was always something that could make my emotions rise to the surface, always something to madden and impassion me, making me act without thought. Usually that something was Near; he had a wretched skill in utterly destroying every bit of self control I managed to exercise. But in this case, it happened to be Rod. I already had no small amount of dislike for the man, and before I had forced myself to tolerate him for the sake of business. It was much the same now, only I had grown up a bit since the last time we had a little tryst. This time, I was perfectly eager to get my share fair of fun as well.
It was almost a contest, a battle of wills and endurance. But of course, everything was a contest for me. So there it was, no lubricant, no build-up, just rough and dirty. He bit at my neck as I scratched his back and smiled, even though I was half out of my head with the pain and pleasure and was almost screaming. I suppose he must have noticed that I was trying to hold back for the sake of the others not hearing me and preserving my already fragile dignity, for he got me up off the couch and had me reposition, so I could bend over face down and crush my head into a pillow to muffle my noise.
"Scream as loud as you want to," he said, and gave me plenty of encouragement to do so. I'd thought I was long past being so vocal, but it was different with Rod. He didn't have a problem pushing me past my limits, even if those limits had expanded since last we'd done this. There was no way I was going to tell him to stop; this was my chance to redeem myself for all my whimpering the last time. But damn, I knew I'd be sore after this.
"Is it too much? Huh?" he said, his breath hot on my ear. "You know, pain is your body warning you it can't take it…you seem to be getting a pretty loud message."
"Fuck that," I said, speaking with my teeth clenched tight, turning my head away from the pillow so he could understand me. "That's bullshit. That's not what my body is telling me."
"Oh really?" he slammed me so hard I didn't even have time to cover my face again before I yelled. Damn, I could imagine myself having bruises when this was over. "What's it telling you then?"
"Pain…is a sign of weakness leaving the body," I said. I guess I lost an awful lot of weakness then, and I don't know how long it lasted. It all faded into one big confusing mix of overwhelming sensation, the agony and ecstasy becoming one perfect and all consuming high that made my eyes roll back in my head. I had nothing left in me when it was over. I just lay still and quieted my breathing.
"Will it ruin the leather?" I mumbled, as I sat up wavering and tried to get myself back together. Rod was already dressed. Damn the man, nothing kept him down for long did it?
"It should be fine," he said. "I've done this before. You'll find that our world is one of many pleasures. I keep women around for the sake of reputation, but I'll keep you around for the sake of fun."
"I'm worth more than just fun, Rod," I said sharply. "I'm not your toy. If you want to fuck every now and then fine, but that's not what I'm here for."
He waved his hand dismissively. "Of course, of course. I know you're plenty valuable. I think this'll work out well."
I nodded. "It's good business." And I shook his hand, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
…
I quit my job at the casino. After all, I wouldn't need it anymore. Marcus was disappointed to see me go but didn't protest, and offered to let me keep the apartment without having to pay back the rest of what I owed him. But I let him have it instead, and within days I'd had my things moved into the mafia headquarters, where I would have my own room. Not many of the men actually lived there. Not even Rod did, as he had a big house of his own. Besides me, only two other men, some of those lowest in rank, actually lived full time in headquarters. But there was always higher ranking members of the family who stayed there through the night as well, to keep an eye on the place.
Rod refused to have me made a member of the family immediately. He wanted to wait, to see how things went with the late De Luca's family, and to give the other members of his own family time to get used to me. Besides that, I could tell he was still questioning if I was capable. He had to be able to trust me fully before he let me be a part of this, and I didn't blame him for that. Fortunately my presence went over relatively well with the rest of the family. The men were tolerant of me, and though they made their snide remarks and taunted, they didn't try anything with me. I wasn't sure if that was Rod's influence or otherwise.
However, there was one among them who especially despised me. That would be one of the other men who lived in the headquarters full time, Jack Neylon. He was nothing but a low ranking Uomini D'onore, a "man of honor", or in other words, a soldier, the lowest rank one could have while still actually being part of the family. Of course Jack wasn't happy with that position, especially after all his years of service to Rod. Jack wanted more, he was hoping to be the right hand man, he wanted to be the Consigliere. It was altogether a stupid dream of him to have; he wasn't nearly intelligent enough to be a counselor to The Boss, and Rod knew that well. The thing that made Jack hate me was that he was seeing clearly how I was working my up to that very position. As the weeks went by, slowly turning to the first month, then the second, Jack was not blind to the fact that Rod kept me close by his side, that the two of us spoke in low voices and discussed things he didn't tell the others.
After the first few times Rod asked for my opinions on things, his confidence in me grew. When he discussed finances, I was able to give him good advice, and when he took it and realized it worked well, he began trusting me with more. The hierarchy rankings here was not as clear as it would have been in, say, the real Italian mafia, but they were still there. The position of Consigliere was currently filled by two men, Glen and Rashual, but I was moving toward it swiftly. Though I was still, officially, little more than an associate and Rod had not even sworn me into the family, I was already climbing the ranks.
It was understandable that Jack hated me because of that. The man was jealous, a perfectly normal and human emotion, but I savored seeing that in him, his desire to be in my place. At times I wore a smug smile around him, taunting without really meaning to be. For weeks, two months in total, he took my presence in silence. He watched and glared, but he didn't threaten me.
And in the end, it wasn't Jack who brought about Rod's anger over the tension between us.
Every two weeks Rod conducted a meeting with a select few of the family, the higher ranking men, myself, and three of the soldiers, Jack included. Any problems were to be discussed, any worries, thoughts, anything. Rod knew it was important to keep peace among his family, especially since they didn't have the respectable bond of a certain country's blood among them. These men were descended from all reaches of the world, so of course there was bound to be tension. Rod saw to it that such things were kept carefully in check, and these meetings were just one of those ways.
Of course it was unfair that from the very beginning I was allowed to sit in on these meetings and listen to what was said, giving my own opinions whenever I felt like it and whispering advice in Rod's ear. The other men took this injustice in silence; Jack took it with anger and mumbled curses and hating looks, but he too was quiet…that is until the fourth meeting, when Rod brought up the matter of De Luca's family.
"The new Don De Luca," he said, "The late Tony De Luca's son, is seeking vengeance for his father's murder. As I suspected, our family is being blamed." I felt the eyes of many in the room look to me briefly, then away. I lounged on the couch with my feet up on the table, nibbling at a chocolate bar thoughtfully, and ignored them. "They're asking a high price of compensation. Money, rights to the city, and two of our casinos - " Rod always referred to everything he owned not as "my" but "our" " - or, we hand over the real killer to prove our innocence if we continue to be so insistent that it was not one of our own. Therefore, at this point, it looks as if the matter will come down to a war-"
"Why should it?" Jack spoke up sharply, and I looked at him in surprise. I rarely heard him speak. "Just give them the damn boy. Why do we have this sudden need to protect him? He isn't one of us!"
There were some mumbles of agreement. Rod stayed calm as ever. "Mello is indeed one of us Mr. Neylon. Though it's true he hasn't been sworn in, he's a part of this. Betrayal is a disgusting thing. We don't do such things here."
Jack faded instantly back into silence, and I couldn't help it. A smirk spread across my face. "Too bad Jack," I said, and his eyes settled on me like smoldering coals. It was thrilling, having this power already. "No luck today."
Apparently Rod didn't approve of my words or my gloating look. He called my name so sharply it startled me, and as I turned my face to look at him, he caught me with a backhand across the face, so hard it knocked me to the floor. I swore at him automatically, though I managed to keep enough of my self-control to avoid jumping right back up and punching him square in the face.
"Gentlemen," he said, as I got to my feet indignantly and gave him an I-hope-you-die glare. "We are a family here are we not? We do not harbor strife or disrespect among ourselves." He gaze fell upon me heavily, first, then Jack second. The response was in agreement, immediate and unanimous, save from me. I excused myself from the room immediately, leaving to, as Rod later put it, "sulk".
I wasn't used to having a solid authority like Rod. Even in Wammy's House, orders from Roger or the teachers weren't really considered orders. There wasn't much discipline and there wasn't much reinforcement. So suddenly here I was in this setting, having to be respectful and…and…obedient. It wasn't easy for me, and Rod had a fight on his hands as he tried to get me into a more cooperative state of mind. The two of us had conflicting, stubborn personalities, like two magnets of the same sort trying to be forced together. Both of us had our stubborn pride, the want to lead, the refusal to comply with demands. But of course, one or the other of us had to give in, and I realized that was me. I would probably get myself shot otherwise.
I was especially thankful during this time that I could be charming when I wanted to be, as it helped me out immensely. After the incident with Jack during the meeting, Rod scolded me so severely one would think I was his son, not his business partner. In short, he wasn't going to tolerate me being disrespectful to his family. I had to realize my place and be respectful to those above me; that is, everyone. I loathed him treating me like a child, but that was to be expected I suppose; they all did it. Most of them were at least twice my age anyway. It wasn't surprising that many of them disliked me, but after that I did my best to charm them. I was as sickeningly humble and respectful as I could possibly manage, and thankfully it worked. By the time three months had passed, most of them had adopted me as a sort of little brother. Though, going off Rod's influence, some of them weren't averse to ogling my ass whenever they got the chance.
During these first few months with the family, I still kept in contact with Halle. Not much was happening for her. She was waiting, as I was, for Near to come out into the open at last. He would most likely need to assemble a group and get the backing of a government. Why? So Kira would take notice of course. Only when Near came out into the open would Kira be forced out too, in order to meet the challenge.
…
The months leading up to my seventeenth birthday passed remarkably fast. In no time it seemed, I was waking up on December 13th, the clock at my bedside reading 9:03 am. I usually kept late nights and slept in, a habit I'd picked up while still working at the casino, where all the action took place after dark and I would sometimes be up for the whole night. Those all-night activities were no longer required of me – Rod had thus far been respectful enough to keep his distance – but the habit still stuck. So there I was, lying in bed in the headquarters of Vegas's biggest mafia Boss…and I was finally seventeen years old.
Huh. I could finally legally see an R-rated movie in theaters without a parent or guardian. It actually made me laugh.
I hadn't expected the others to know about it, but I suppose I should have. They were all too nosy for their own good and it was my real birth date on my license even though the ID itself was a fake. So they all knew, even those who didn't want to know – like Jack. As soon as I was out of my room I was bombarded by more teasing remarks than ever. To them, this was the "big 2 0" for me, since according to my ID I was no longer a teenager at last. I managed to fend them off by simply ignoring them on the way to the kitchen, but unfortunately that was the room in which the majority of them were gathered for breakfast. In a way it felt good, just to have so many people know and care enough to say something, even if it was just teasing. I was beginning to understand why this big mess of people was actually called a "family". But before I could get too fully caught up in all that sap, Rod caught me as I was rinsing out a bowl in the sink and slapped my ass sharply, hard enough to make me yelp and get the others laughing.
"You can count on nineteen more of those," he said to me, and then, louder, to the rest of them, "From anyone who wants to give them."
"Shit Rod, don't say that, I'm not a kid," I said, but it was too late for my disapproval, not that it mattered anyway. Maybe it's needless to point out, but no one else in the family dared to speak to Rod the way I did. For one thing they all called him the Boss, even when he wasn't around, and swearing at him was out of the question. I could get away with that though, simply because he favored me.
But then, I was the only one among us who had to tolerate the use of a wretched pet name on a daily basis. I was still "kitten" far more than I was "Mello", and I certainly didn't see him calling any of the others "bunny" or "puppy". So in truth, I had every right to swear at him. My nickname was vile anyway.
"Why do you still call me that?" I asked irritably one evening. Several of us were seated watching the news, something about some bombing on the other side of the world, and he'd just called me kitten for about the twelfth time that hour. He looked over at me, as if surprised by my question.
"It suits you," he said, and left it at that, as if that answer should satisfy me. I frowned, snapping off a piece from my chocolate bar.
"It doesn't at all," I said. "How on earth am I like a fuzzy baby cat? Besides, that name is vile; it makes me sound like a whore."
Roy, seated nearby, chuckled, and I shot him a glare over my shoulder. But Rod was laughing softly as well. "I certainly find it suiting," he said, and looked me over thoughtfully. "You're cute, like a kitten, but I've told you that before. You're independent and bitchy." Damn him being so blunt. "You're vain as hell, you're constantly grooming."
"Does he lick himself too?" said Jose, laughing at me from across the room. I was about to snap something nasty at him, but Rod cut me off.
"He would," he said, and I easily got the implication. That is, I would if he told me to. "Getting the picture now? Any objections?"
"I'm not cute," I particularly snarled, my face flushed and angry as I glared.
"You forgot something else Boss," said Crivelli, who was the only true Italian in the whole family, and even he was only half. "He has claws, like a little cat. Though he isn't sure how to use them yet."
"Ah, yeah, he does," said Rod, nodding in agreement. "He can still only do annoying things, like scratching furniture."
I think they liked it when they got me worked up enough to go stomping off to my room. It amused them to no end, and once Rod actually kept me captive in such a state, so I had to go through my whole fit of temper in front of the others. That's not to say I still threw tantrums, exactly…I just got too angry for my own good and said nasty things. But that, to them, was entertainment.
Apparently, I was just endless amusement for them. Somehow, no matter how hard I tried, I ended up letting my emotions control me and did something stupid. At least they were pleased about it.
Such as it was on that very night December 13th, my 17th birthday. Rod had actually spent most of the day away with some of the other men, trying to see if things could be sorted out with the De Luca family. Because of their hatred towards Rod's family the drug suppliers and other family associates were getting leery of us lest they bring down De Luca's wrath upon themselves. So Rod had to go out and insure he kept their loyalty, or, as he put it, "break a few arms". Such excursions as those I was not allowed on, considering I was the cause of it all. Even my daily outings were now especially restricted. Rod didn't want all his precious information to go out with me because of a well aimed bullet if I was spotted by the wrong eyes on the street. Unfortunately, the true description of the late De Luca's killer had somehow gotten out to his family. I suspected Jack as the snitch, since I'd been sure no one had seen me kill him, but I couldn't prove anything.
The meetings hadn't exactly gone as planned. In some cases, not even large bribes of money could convince old associates to stay on with Rod. The De Luca's themselves had agreed to meet with Rod at noon, but they had sent only a lowly soldier to deliver their impossible demands – that I be given over along with a payment of 1.5 million – who paid with his life once his duty had been fulfilled. Rod returned to headquarters frustrated and by no means in a good mood, getting out his prized tequila and passing filled cups around with a grim expression. He had his women under his arms, remaining stony faced as they attempted to lift his mood a bit. I was perfectly content with my spot on the opposite arm of the couch from Rod, nibbling at my chocolate and sipping iced water in between bites, that is until I saw just what was going on. Everyone else in the room had a glass of tequila save me; I hadn't even been offered one.
It wasn't that I was especially keen on drinking. I liked the occasional glass of red wine, sure, but I'd never had any interest in those beverages with high alcohol content. I'd heard plenty of times about the effects of it anyway. What was the point of poisoning your body with a substance to make you act like an idiot?
But in this case, it was a clear separation from me and the rest of the family. Yes, I had yet to be sworn in as a member. But I still wanted to be treated as one. I didn't want to be looked down upon or thought of as less than the rest of them.
"I'll have a glass, Rod," I said, perfectly casual. I wondered if he'd pull any "you're underage" crap, but it was no surprise when he didn't. The man was in the mafia after all; it wasn't as if he actually regarded the law. He poured a glass for me, but paused just before handing it over. He stared at me for several long moments, lounging upon the couch as he was, and unslung his arms from around the women's shoulders. He swirled the tequila in the glass meant for me, then motioned me over with his hand.
I wasn't so well in his graces that I would refuse a command from him, especially one issued in utter silence with such an expression upon his face. I folded the silver foil back over my chocolate and got to my feet, coming over to stand in front of him. He reached up with one hand and grabbed hold of my collar, pulling me down onto my knees at his feet. He took a mouthful from the glass, then leaned down, and pressed his lips against mine.
It was far from what I'd expected, but I didn't protest against it. The closer I was to Rod the better in this case, and as long as he favored me I knew I would be well off. Of course it crossed my mind what the other men would think of me, but I couldn't dwell on that now. I felt tequila dripping down my chin, but for the most part it went as Rod had doubtlessly intended it to, from his mouth to mine. I could hardly bear the taste of it burning in my mouth, and I swallowed hurriedly. There were a few chuckles of amusement, probably at my obvious disgust, but I quickly reverted back to my careless expression, as if what Rod had done was in no way surprising and was in fact perfectly normal. As if that tequila hadn't been the vilest thing I'd ever tasted in my life.
Rod slid his fingers back through my hair, getting a tight grip on it before he spoke to me. "How was it?" he said.
"Tolerable," I said. "Not mad."
A little grin broke through that angry expression of his. "Was it now? Would like more?"
"Yes, if I could just have the cup-"
"What fun are cups?" he said, and kissed me again, this time without any of the beverage to give me. I expected his roughness; he was taking out his frustration on me, getting the satisfaction from me that he couldn't get from the women. I had never asked, but I guessed it was because dominating a male was in a way more impressive or at least more empowering than dominating a female. I didn't think it could be simplified down to just "Rod was gay". It was more of a fetish, at least that's what I thought.
The other men had been a witness to Rod groping me before, but this intimacy was yet unviewed and I was therefore slightly uncomfortable. But I went with it, too experienced to do otherwise. I did hear a few shuffling feet, some of the men quietly and politely leaving the room, but it seemed that the majority of them stayed. The women were certainly looking intrigued, that was for certain.
Still holding my hair in his grip, Rod brought the glass to my mouth himself, and I had to swallow it quickly to avoid it overflowing my mouth. At times I nearly choked, but I managed to down the entire glass within a matter of seconds, difficult as it was. The feeling it left me with was odd and heady, a strange sensation that I couldn't quite shake off. Rod's hand left my hair, instead trailing down and unzipping my shirt. I let him without a single protest, shivering and allowing a little smile of anticipation to come over my face as his cool hands stroked over my chest.
But Rod went no further, at least not right away. He sat back again, and began refilling my glass, though his eyes were no longer on me. Instead they scoured the room, settling most steadily on the eagerest faces there.
"James, would you like him?" he said, when his eyes lit upon the face of the second youngest member besides myself, an almost-thirty man with ginger hair and an expression that belayed his interest in what had transpired between Rod and I. There was a brief hesitation, then the man nodded silently. Rod looked back to me.
"Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused us?" he said, and his voice sounded strange to my ears. He leaned down close to me again, not continuing to speak until I had gulped down another glass full of tequila. It was definite now; something strange was going on with my head, and the liquid had been easier to bear this time. I shook my head, trying to clear it of the odd feelings, but Rod took it as a "no" to his question.
"You may be worth plenty, kitten," he said. "But you have yet to prove any real loyalty to us. This is a family here, can you understand that? You are not yet part of it. You're smart," his fingers grasped my chin, tipping my head back to stare at the ceiling, giving me the feeling of vulnerability with my throat so exposed, "But you still owe us plenty. We aren't going to get out of this mess with De Luca's family easily. It's costing me a lot already to be protecting you, when you aren't even one of us yet. Wouldn't you say you've acquired quite a dept with us?"
"Suppose…suppose I have," I said, my voice slightly strained with my throat being stretched at that angle. Rod gave no response, but he must have motioned over James, because the next thing I knew the man was kissing me on the mouth, his tongue snaking across my lips. I found myself strangely so willing to have him; I even opened my mouth for him automatically. I couldn't find it in me anymore to care who was watching. Everyone in the room was suddenly looking awfully appealing anyway. Damn, what was this?
I wanted more touching and I was being demanding, guiding James' hand down to my crotch and trying to take control, however sloppy and drunken my movements were. The man was slow, hesitant, as if he wasn't quite sure…what's wrong with you bastard, haven't you ever fucked a guy before?
Shit, I was never this desperate! Only by myself, alone, did I allow myself to give in so fully and so quickly. The drink…it had to have been the drink, and it couldn't have been just alcohol. Had they drugged it?
I could hardly make sense of my own thoughts anymore. They were there, but they were faint and wrapped in thick fog, and it was as if they had no real weight or meaning. I felt more hands on me, another mouth licking along my skin, nipping lightly with teeth. My clothes loosened and were pulled away; I didn't care anymore. My eyes were closed and all I could feel was need, desperate lust and desire, my eyes closed as my toes curled and my breath came out in pants. My rosary's beads slid across my chest, tangling with groping hands. The one solid thought I managed was that I hoped they didn't break it, that they didn't snap whatever it was within that held those beads together and send them scattering across the floor. Without thought and without hope they would be, utterly lost without a thing to hold them together, to sanity…
What was I saying? I couldn't describe beads that way, that wasn't right somehow…
I felt as if I was drowning, with so many hands stroking me and other voices joining mine with gasping breaths, sweat and saliva mixing on my skin. Somehow there was chocolate in my mouth, and piece broken off and set upon my tongue. Or had I done that myself? Were my eyes really open, while my mind went off and lost itself? Was I really moving, was I really on my feet, unable to keep track of whose lips were on my mouth now and whose dick my hand was stroking? It all became a tumultuous storm, with no room nor time nor sense for thought, nothing but the lust, the ecstasy, and the bittersweet feel of all this. It was so sweet and wonderful, the feelings of pleasure rushing through my body, and yet within me something hurt unmercifully, with all the harshness of vinegar burning down my throat.
In that last bit, where vinegar is mentioned, I had in mind Balsamic vinegar. According to Wikipedia, the sweetness of it is meant to cover the tart flavor, and it is a "sweet and sour" vinegar.
