In It for Life Ch. 22

In It For Life

22.

"You know," Don started without any preamble, "I thought you two would get sick of each other after spending so much time together."

"It was only a week," Francesco said. Karl was leaning against the mantelpiece. To anyone watching him swirling the ice cubes in his tumbler with seemingly relaxed ease, he was the perfect picture of calm. But Francesco wasn't the kind to let himself fooled easily. Karl was tense, his eyes on Don, waiting for the next move.

"When I was your age," Don commented, "I was fucking a different pussy every night. Whores were gagging on my cock like there was no tomorrow and no next meal." He laughed at his own joke.

Neither Francesco, nor Karl, laughed.

"We're not into pussies," Francesco said frankly.

To his surprise, Don palmed his crotch suggestively. "No, you're into cocks. How was it, Francesco? To take all those cocks in you?"

"The fuck you're talking about?" Karl spat and straightened up.

Don smirked and reached inside the pocket of his suit jacket. He threw his phone at Karl, who caught it deftly. "Just press play. You'll see what your husband," he said while pinning Francesco down with a cold stare, "is truly capable of."

Francesco froze. Was that it? That was the game? Why end it so soon? He pushed himself off the sofa to reach for the phone in Karl's hand, but Don caught him and pulled him back with a harsh laugh. "What is it, Francesco?" he drawled. "Did you think I'd let the two of you go unpunished after making me look like a fucking schmuck in front of everyone?"

He made a move to get up again, but Don turned and pressed one hand against the base of his throat while snaking the other arm behind his back. "Easy," Don said in a false sugary voice. "You two took an oath. How about letting Karl know all the truth about you?"

If he was to win this, he needed to be smart. Francesco relaxed in Don's grip and even crossed his legs like he had not a single worry in the world. He watched Karl's face twisting in anger and bitter disappointment. "I've done worse before," he said casually. "Karl knows who I am. Why do you think his choice of endearment for me is either bitch or whore?" He let it all sink in while staring Don in the eyes and then added, "Daddy."

An appreciative smirk welcomed his bravado.

"The fuck is this?" Karl held the phone with its screen toward Francesco.

He didn't need to look long to know that it was that dreaded video. "Daddy here," he said, "thought of an effective way to convince me to let go of your dick. If you don't want to watch that till the end, let me give you some spoilers. After all that cock I got, I still wanted yours. Then daddy decided we should get married."

Karl stared at him, wide-eyed, his face pale despite his recent tan. "You knew?" he whispered angrily. "You were... what? Part of it?"

Francesco jolted when Karl suddenly threw the phone against the mantelpiece with so much force that bits and pieces flew everywhere. He sighed, pretending he wasn't impressed by that outburst.

"You didn't say a fucking thing," Karl accused him, his fists clenched tightly, ready to fight.

"Hard to say anything when daddy-in-law made sure I was choking on his dick," Francesco replied in kind.

Karl staggered as if he had been hit by a physical blow. "What?"

Francesco crossed his arms. If he went down, he'd take the crazy asshole with him. "Yeah, you heard right. Feel free not to believe me. I don't care. But your amazing dad," he said the words through his teeth, "told me he would let your unit gangbang you and turn you into their cum dump unless I played nice with him. His words, not mine. He's good with those." He looked at Don, hoping to see that cold façade breaking, at least a little. But no, instead, the same expression of smugness and unveiled admiration met him. "Fucking politicians," he added.

Karl growled, taking them both by surprise. "Fucking fucker," he bellowed and rushed toward them.

Francesco pulled his knees close to his chest and buried his face into his elbows, knowing fully well that he didn't have time to run. He braced for the hit that would follow, but when nothing happened, he looked up in time to see Don barely dodging his son's fist in time.

The asshole jumped from the sofa, ready to fight. Karl rushed to him blindly, and Francesco now understood the horrifying lengths to which Don was willing to go to humiliate his son. Karl landed a punch to the belly, and Don grunted while taking a step back, but Karl didn't have time to gloat because his legs were swiftly cut from under him.

Francesco didn't wait. He jumped to his feet and rammed into Don's shoulder, making him lose his balance. Next thing he knew, he was promptly face-slapped. "You little bitch," Don sneered. "Stay the fuck out of it."

"Can't do," Francesco spat. "You made me part of the family, daddy."

Karl was already back on his feet. Some of his initial anger was gone, so his honed battle instincts were back. He was light on his feet, observing his dad and calculating his next move.

Don, however, seemed to have gained back his sanity, or at least some of it. He laughed and straightened his clothes. "Fine, fine, you little faggots. Karl, if you enjoy fucking this cum dumpster so much, that's your choice. I was expecting a lot more from you."

Karl still held his fists high, protecting his face. "Like what?"

"Like kicking the whore out of the house and asking for a divorce," Don said calmly. "Put your fists down, boy. If you insist on punching me, you won't like what I'm going to do to the two of you."

"And if I did ask for a divorce, what then?" Karl asked. "All that show you put on for me and Cesco would turn into some bad shit for you, too."

Don shrugged. "I wouldn't let you have your divorce. I'm surprised that you choose to live like this without me forcing you. Because Karl, sonny boy, you'll live with your little whore knowing that he doesn't give two fucks about you. And fucks are his specialty."

"You forced him. I don't buy whatever shit you're trying to sell," Karl hissed.

"Yeah, maybe, so he says," Don said with a strange smile. "Or I can show you other homemade clips in which he comes like the little whore he is while I'm wrecking his ass. He's good at begging for cock, your husband. I even had him on your wedding night. Not much of a virginal bride, I can tell you that," he added with a harsh laugh. "Now I have to take my leave. Too bad I can't be a fly on the wall and listen to what you have to say to each other. But I think I already know what that will be, so no loss for me."

Don left without another word or even a look back. A deadly silence fell over the room.

Francesco barely dared to look at Karl. They had stood together, but what about now?

Karl rushed out of the room. Francesco was quick on his heels. "Karl, wait," he begged.

"Don't fucking touch me," Karl warned him as he walked up the stairs. "I won't be responsible for what I'm going to do if you dare to do that."

Francesco stopped. His heart sank as a door slammed upstairs. Fuck. The one thing he had been afraid of, it had just happened. And it was maybe not as bad as he thought it would be, but it was still fucking bad.

Of course Karl would look at it as a big fucking betrayal. But there was much at stake, wasn't it? Don had left his poisoned gifts by their doorsteps and now they had to live with them. What a fucking mess.

He walked out of the house. It was maybe stupid to go to Morgan at a time like this, but he didn't know what to do. The door to the guesthouse opened before he could knock.

"I know everything," Morgan told him while holding the door open for him to walk inside.

"Karl's never going to forgive me," he said.

Morgan patted his shoulder and gestured for him to take a seat. The small kitchen looked neat. Francesco didn't care for it, or anything else, but he accepted the glass of water Morgan gave him. Only then he realized that his hands were trembling.

"It doesn't mean that he'll stop caring about you," Morgan said as he sat across from him and watched him.

Francesco let out a humorless laugh. "I have no idea if that counts for something if we don't talk to each other anymore."

"It counts," Morgan contradicted him.

"Why did he do it? Why come out with all that shit now? Wasn't it too soon?"

Morgan offered him a sympathetic shake of the head. "If I knew what that man is thinking all the time, I'd probably be rich or dead."

Francesco sighed. Taking a few sips of water had calmed his nerves a bit, but the reality of what had just happened was starting to sink in. "He wants to destroy Karl. Why?"

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Have you heard that one?" Morgan shook his head again. "Don's a strange breed. But Karl is his blood, and that means he'll survive."

"What about me?" Francesco asked.

"You'll live, too. You know you're a survivor, Francesco."

"Is this how we're going to be from now on? Strangers?" He looked out the window. The new house seemed abandoned and lifeless, its lightless windows like closed eyes.

"I'll talk to him."

"Don't tell him that you knew or anything like that. He's going to stop trusting you, too."

"Karl knows better than to ask me what I know or don't know. He'll listen to what I have to say, though."

"And what are you going to tell him?" Francesco stared at Morgan, trying to understand the man. "It's too damaged now, whatever it is we had."

"That's not true. It was just a stress test. Karl has lived through worse with a dad like that. Don't you think?"

"I cannot know for sure, but I guess." It was easy for Morgan to keep his cool like that. He didn't have an angry husband locked inside his room. "Can I just stay here, with you?"

To his surprise, Morgan shook his head. "No. It's not your mess, you didn't cause it, but it's on you to mend it and make it right. I know how you feel, but you have to go back into the house and get Karl to talk to you. At least sleep in the same bed. He might not like it and he might send you away, but that doesn't mean that you should stop trying."

Francesco buried his face into the crook of his elbows as he leaned on the table. "I guess you have a point." He stood and dragged his feet on his way out.

Morgan stopped him. "Don is weird about you."

"Weird how?"

"Weird like in liking you a bit too much."

"If that's how he treats people he likes, I wonder what happens to his enemies. I wouldn't want to be that."

Morgan threw him a sympathetic look. "You're right about that."

tbc