Guns n' Boys Book 1 Part 1 (20 page)

“So far, it’s me fucking
you.”

“I’m warning you... stay
the
fuck
away,” hissed Seth before rushing out of the restroom to be instantly
swallowed by the thud of techno music. Now where was the bar? He could still
taste the fucking dick in his mouth! And right now, it made him want to puke.
He found the bar in the middle of the dance floor and gruffly took his place in
the queue for drinks. Predictably, he soon smelled Domenico’s cologne. At least
the fucker was keeping his mouth shut.

Seth ordered three
different shots, not even caring much what was in them, and couldn’t wait to
down the first one as soon as possible. Maybe it would be acid and burn his
throat clean?

“You asked for it.”
Domenico’s breath tickled his bare neck. “You’d suck anyone, so why are you
pissed off about it being me?”

Seth could feel his
cheeks going aflame again. He felt dirty. “’Cause I wanted an anonymous suck!
Is that a crime now?” He pushed Dom back and downed the next shot. This one was
red on top and pink on the bottom. Not that it made any difference in light of
his goal of getting shit-faced.

“It is when you’re in
potential danger.” Domenico smirked, leaning against the tiny high table Seth
was drinking at. It might have looked like they were flirting. Like Dom was
chatting him up to lead him to the parking lot, bend him over the hood of his
ridiculously expensive black limo, and fuck his ass. Except that Seth was
totally fucked already.

“You want a drink?”

“No. I need to make sure
no one gives you some nasty infection. You can never know with these people.”
And with that, he made a broad gesture with his arm, indicating the
unsuspecting patrons.

“Well too bad, you’re
getting one anyway,” Seth spat and emptied his last drink straight into
Domenico’s face. Dom didn’t flinch, didn’t try to avoid it. He just squeezed
his eyes shut, and then fished out a clean fabric handkerchief and used it to
dry his face.

Seth grinned at the
sight. He’d have preferred to see Domenico more angry, but this had to do. His
smile faltered the moment Domenico moved, slamming his fist right into Seth’s
solar plexus. He choked, fell back, and suddenly didn’t know what was the difference
between the floor and the ceiling. Domenico was over him, yanking him up into a
standing position.

“Fucking dog," Dom
growled, with his fangs bared.

Seth could barely catch
his breath, managing only to put his hands on Domenico’s arms in a measly attempt
to push him away. He was gasping in pain. The world was pulsing around him when
someone got closer to ask if he was all right, but him Domenico didn’t hit.

He was not all right!
His stomach hurt so bad that he’d rather just lie on the floor. The amount of
alcohol he’d had only muddled the pain by a fraction. Seth tried to shove
Domenico away, but with his breathing out of order, it wasn't very effective.

He was aware that
Domenico put his arms around him, like a friend wanting to lead a drunk
companion home. He spoke in German to a bulky man who looked like a security
guard. Seth was still choking for air, but he was getting better. The cold from
the outside helped him get to his metaphorical feet, while the heat of
Domenico’s body definitely didn't.

The security guy crooked
his head to look straight into Seth’s eyes. Pointing at Domenico, he asked in
English: “You okay with him?”

“No!” Seth rasped,
shaking his head. He wanted out! He wanted out of all of this family business.
Back to the US, to university, to cooking a great meal on a lazy afternoon with
a book.

“You want to stay?
Should we call the police?” the security guy asked. Another man kept arguing
with Domenico, still in German. Seth realized Dom sounded different than he
usually did. Harsh, commanding. Was this how he always sounded in German, or
was it just this situation?

Seth bit his lips. Even
if it was this bad, he couldn’t have the police called. That would be out of
order. “Taxi? I have... money,” he said after another long breath.

The guard nodded and
fished out his cell, shooting Domenico another suspicious look.

“What the fuck are you
doing?” snarled Dom.

“I’ll meet you at home,”
replied Seth with the same courtesy in his voice.

Chapter 9

Domenico couldn’t believe
that little spoiled son of a bitch. Did Seth think Dom would just let it go?
The kid needed to learn some respect for those stronger and more experienced
than him. To say Domenico was embarrassed by being ditched at a club was an
understatement. And the manager actually threatened him with the police! What
the actual fuck?

So Seth, the pussy,
didn’t dare look into Dom’s eyes as the bouncers separated them, and Dom was
left to watch Seth escorted to a taxi. He took out his phone and typed in the
number of the cab company. Ignoring the looks he was getting, Domenico started
to walk down the one-way street Seth's cab disappeared in. He memorized the
license plates and wouldn’t hesitate to use them. His only problem was that he
wanted to sound foreign, and it was always hard to ditch a proper accent once
you’ve learned it.

A block away from the
club, he finally dialed the taxi company number. Dom was pretty sure the idiot
would actually go home, since he didn’t know the city, but Domenico wouldn't
leave that to chance.

After a brief moment of
listening to Mozart, he heard a female voice on the other end of the line and
in his best Italo-German, he explained to her what had happened. His drunk
friend had ditched him at a club, and all Domenico saw was the license plate of
the taxi the friend used. The problem was, the guy didn’t know any German, and
he didn’t know the address of the place they were staying at. And it wasn’t
something easy, like a hotel, because they chose the budget option of
short-term renting. Would the nice lady be so kind to get a taxi for Domenico
and then send the one with Seth over to the same place Domenico was heading?

And of course, he got
what he wanted. Civilians. He could talk them into anything. Dom checked the
city plan on his phone for a good secluded place by their house where he could
take Seth back into his care without causing a public scene, since he imagined
that once again Seth would make a fuss.

Ten minutes later, he
was already sitting in a cab, his soggy shirt a reminder of the fight. Though
he could hardly call it that. Seth behaved like a prima donna, and Dom got
punished
for fucking correcting him! Unbelievable! The little spoiled
bastard was so going to get what he deserved.

Five minutes of
frustrated visualizations of torture later, the cab stopped in front of an
overpass, which led over a wide range of railways. Domenico paid the driver and
got out of the car, looking around to spot the other taxi. It was already
driving away, and a lonely figure walked along the deserted road to get to the
other side of the overpass. The ground under Dom's feet shook when a train
passed underneath them with a deafening rattle.

He growled, picking up
his pace to join Seth. The man’s walk was all drunk and wobbly, but fortunately
there were no cars on the road. But then it got worse. Dom’s eyes went wide
when he noticed that the moment Seth got to the walkway, he started struggling
over the fucking railing!
The hell you will, you fucking dumbass!

Domenico ran onto the
viaduct, and from the corner of his eye he saw a movement down below. A subway
train was approaching.

“Seth, get your ass back
here!” It was more a reprimand than a command, but he couldn’t help thinking
that the latter might make Seth even more interested in the outer side of that
railing.

Seth’s eyes shot up at
him from the outer side of the metal barrier. “You’re not the boss of me.” It
wasn’t even a shout but a whine followed by a sniff.

Domenico instantly
started calculating. The overpass wasn’t that high up. A few meters. Six,
perhaps? Unless Seth fell in a really unlucky way, he’d break something at
worst. The trains were more of a threat.

“I’m not,” Domenico
reluctantly agreed, flinching when the train passed them and Seth’s jacket
floated in the air rushing up from below. “I’m here to protect you!” He had to
raise his voice to be heard through the ramble.

“What do you care? You
called me a slut!” Seth sniffed again, moving away from Dom inch by inch. Big
fucking baby.

“That’s not a reason to
kill yourself,” said Domenico with a deepening frown. “Things like that
happen.” They certainly did to people who sucked guys through glory holes.

“I’m not killing
myself!” Seth spat and lost balance for a heart-stopping moment. “You wish! I’m
gonna jump on a train. Go
off the grid
! Just got to choose a good one.”

Domenico sighed and
closed the distance between them without worry because there was no train in
sight. “Get over here, or I’m making sure you’re getting a train up your slutty
ass.”

“Hey! You bastard! I’m
slutty? Piss off! You can’t threaten me!” Seth pulled one hand off the railing
and leaned out to emphasize his point.

Domenico knew he should
be terrified, but he just shook his head in resignation. “Are you really
threatening
me
with
your
life? If you break your spine, there
will be no one willing to get slutty with you.”

“I don’t care.” Seth
rubbed his eyes before turning his back to Dom, hanging over the tracks like a
dramatic movie character. “I don’t want to do this. They’re giving me no
choice. It just has to be one of those old trains...”

Domenico sighed and
leaned over the railing, close to where Seth kept his hand. He could grab him
in case something happened. “Who isn’t giving you a choice exactly?”

“The Family... I don’t
want to do it... I’m not good at it...”

Domenico could barely
understand the drunken words, but he was now beginning to realize what all the
drama was about.

“No shit.” Dom put his
hand over Seth’s and squeezed it on the cool railing. “You are terrible at it.”
He didn’t say it to be cruel. It was the truth, and they both knew it.

Seth didn’t look at him
but didn’t flinch away either. “So I make myself a new life as a Gypsy hooker
in Siberia, Vincente gets the job, and everyone’s gonna be happy.”

“You’re Italian.”
Domenico leaned in and clasped his other hand over Seth’s shoulder, pulling him
closer.

“Yeah, an Italian
faggot.”

“So you’re not a Gypsy
hooker,” Domenico reasoned, kissing the back of Seth’s neck. It was hot and
wonderfully fragrant.

“I could be. Anyone who
travels all the time is a Gypsy. I’d be a proper freak show.”

“And that’s because?”
Domenico slid both of his arms around Seth and hugged him from behind, smelling
the leather jacket. He might be a brat but, damn, was he sexy. Domenico could
ride his sweet, tight bubble butt any day.

“An Italian Gypsy faggot
hooker in Siberia. Not freaky enough? I’d probably have to grow a moustache to
hide my identity,” babbled Seth, pushing into Dom’s chest.

Domenico bit his lip to
prevent himself from laughing outloud. This was hilarious. “You know what, my
secret dream career is to own a country brothel somewhere in South America. You
could work for me,” he teased. “At least you wouldn’t freeze your dick off.”

“Yeah, I’d probably need
a quality pimp, huh?” Seth chuckled.

“Someone to love when
you have others rough you up.” Domenico kissed the side of Seth’s neck,
breathing in his manly scent.

“What? My pimp wouldn’t
give me protection?” Seth wobbled a bit when he let go with one hand to grab
Dom’s fingers under his jacket. Holding Seth was like hugging an oven. It was
probably the alcohol making him hot as hell, even in this weather.

“Yeah, so as your pimp,
I am telling you to get your Gypsy prostitute ass here.” Domenico sighed,
tugging him closer. Maybe the risk wasn’t huge, but he still didn’t want Seth
to fall.

“Yeah... There’s no
train in sight.” Seth turned as carefully as a drunk man could and struggled
over the railing. He looked like a mess with his hair out of place, eyes red,
jacket sliding off one arm. Domenico pulled him over and almost toppled into
the empty road under Seth’s considerable weight. He actually felt the
uncomfortable tipping motion in his nose.

“Shit.”

“Okay, okay... you can
let go...” Seth sighed, barely holding his ground.

“I don’t want to.”
Surprisingly, he found it hard to be angry at a drunken hottie. “I’m taking my
whore out.”

“Oh yeah?” Seth raised
his eyebrows. “I thought we have already been ‘out’. It didn’t end well.” He
ran his fingers through his hair, making it look more orderly.

“Because you were a bad
little slut.” Domenico snorted and leaned in to bite Seth’s cheek. It was
salty, and he loved the stubble scraping over his tongue.

Seth squinted and gave
him a frown. “I thought you said I had a ‘sweet mouth’.” He didn’t look happy
about the compliment.

“That part was lovely,
you messed up everything after that.” Domenico nuzzled Seth’s cheek. It felt
strangely intimate, but he didn’t give a fuck. It was nice, way nicer than his
most recent hookups.

“Oh, ‘cause you were
great, Mr. Perfect. You fucking hit me,” complained Seth, but it was pretty
half-assed since he wasn’t moving away from the caresses.

“You wrecked my suit.
And you spilled a drink on my face.” As if this wasn’t a perfectly good reason
to get mad.

“You manipulated me into
giving you a blow job.” Seth frowned.

“That’s because you deny
me.” Domenico slid his arm behind Seth’s back and led him toward their
apartment. “I am a good fuck. Why do you resist like some stubborn goat? Not to
mention it’s not very in character with your new persona.”

Seth laughed and put his
heavy arm over Dom’s shoulders. “’Cause you don’t just fuck. You use it to
prove you’re better.” That was pretty insightful for a drunkard. “You take it,
and then you mock me for wanting it...”

Domenico frowned. “Am I
not better? I am trained. I am the best man the Villanis have and no matter
what the Don says, he
made
me,” he growled, angry at how disappointed he
sounded. “It should be me, not you.”

Seth stopped them and
turned his hazy eyes to Dom. “I would give it to you,” he whispered and leaned
in for an unexpected kiss. Domenico drew in a sharp breath, curling his hand
over Seth’s nape. For a moment, he couldn’t take another gulp of air, too
preoccupied by the warm mouth that now tasted of vodka and orange juice. If the
devil ever wanted to create a perfume that made gay men mad, Seth should be the
essence for it. “You know why?” Seth whispered into his lips when he moved away
for a second. He wasn’t running anymore and looked straight into Dom’s eyes.
His were dark, just like the Don’s, and that thought alone made Domenico’s
stomach clench.

“Why?” he rasped.

“Cause you’re so
competent...” Seth kissed him once more as they stood in the empty street,
squeezed in a tight hug. “You can handle things.”

“Yes,” hissed Domenico,
returning the embrace. His heart skipped a beat. “But I hit the fucking glass
ceiling like some woman in finance!” He scowled, despite feeling strangely warm
at the acknowledgment. Seth was the last person he expected to say such things,
even when drunk.

Seth put his big hands
over the sides of Dom’s face. “If someone’s gonna break it, it’s gonna be you.
I could give you that. The control.” His eyes narrowed in the semidarkness, and
he leaned in for yet another kiss.

Domenico gasped into
Seth’s mouth and flung his arms around him. He couldn’t help himself. It was so
good, so hot, so freaking satisfying to hear that. The spoiled son was
acknowledging
his
, the bastard’s, superiority!

“I think you’d know how
to handle it,” teased Seth before sucking on Dom’s bottom lip. This actually
made his toes curl in his shoes.

“Fuck, Seth...” Domenico
pressed his nose against the pulsing flesh of Seth's neck as his fingers bit
into the meat of that dreamy ass.

“What?” Seth grinned.
“You wanna show me how you handle it. How you don’t abuse a privilege?”

“What fucking
privilege?” murmured Domenico, paying no mind to a car that passed by.

“The ‘fucking’
privilege,” Seth ground into him with his hips and Domenico chuckled, not even
trying to deny himself pleasure.

“Will you be a good boy
today, my Gypsy prostitute from Siberia?”

“I can try... Your hair
smells so good...” Seth moaned and sniffed Dom like a dog.

Shit, Domenico would
actually fuck him right here, over the... post box on their right if there were
no risk of someone calling the police. Getting indecent exposure charges wasn’t
exactly on his to-do list for the year. So he pulled Seth along. “I am going to
fucking eat your ass up.”

“Doesn’t sound all that
bad.” Seth smiled at him and picked up his pace despite having to wobble
hanging from Domenico's arm. Dom had to remember a drunk Seth was a lot less
stuck up. He would definitely use this knowledge to his advantage at a later
time.

“No, right now, you’re
not bad at all,” Domenico confessed, still drunk on the feeling of power. Seth
had acknowledged Dom was better suited to be the Don than him. Was there
anything more empowering? Maybe only the fact that Seth was also willing to
give up his ass on a silver platter.
Yum.