A gay story: In It for Life Ch. 11 In It For Life
11.
Waiting. Francesco felt numb all over, and his eyes just turned to his phone, checking the time. How would Karl’s dad play his hand? And, most importantly, when? He had been clear that Francesco was to keep his mouth shut if he wanted what was best for Karl. That brought him to the other person in his life who kept him waiting. No sign from him for days, now. Could it be that his dad changed his mind, after all, and sent him to his unit to become his mates’ cum-dump? No, it would have been too much of an elaborate ploy only to taunt Francesco. Karl’s dad was simply an efficient man, one for games only if they suited him. Sending Karl to happy gangbang camp didn’t seem efficient.
The phone ringing took him by surprise so quickly that he almost dropped it.
“Hey,” he whispered.
Karl’s breathing could be heard on the other side.
“Aren’t you going to talk?” he tried to sound like he was teasing, but his voice was unnatural even to his own ears.
“Cesco,” Karl said, and Francesco stood, aware of the pain in the other’s tone. “I think the fucker knows about us.”
“What? I mean, how do you know?” Francesco asked, his throat dry like sandpaper.
“You need to leave, get out of where you live,” Karl said with urgency.
“Are you serious? And go where? Karl–”
“Just listen, Cesco. I’ll send you an address. You go there. And then we’ll figure it out. I’m not letting him hurt you, get it?”
“I–”
The phone clicked and then a short message with an address appeared. Had Morgan said anything? No, he must have been warned, unless, of course, Karl’s dad wanted to trap the bodyguard at the same time.
It had to be the fucker, as Karl called him, making his move. Francesco just knew it. He couldn’t say what made it so, but he did. Without thinking twice, he grabbed his jacket and walked out the door. He didn’t believe there was time to pack.
***
Did the guy just have a twisted sense of humor or what? Francesco looked grimly at the mountain home in front. He had seen it before, only days ago, not that he had spent any time admiring it or anything after leaving the grounds. It had been just in passing, as Morgan had driven off.
So Karl thought this to be a hiding place, a safe haven for them. How wrong he was. But Francesco couldn’t bring himself to rush inside, grab his hand, and tell him that this was all wrong, that he was wrong, and that his dad was already a hundred years ahead. What would be the good in that? He wouldn’t lie, and that would feel like a big relief, but otherwise?
He might just sign a conviction order for both him and Karl. So, he needed to play cool, go in, and pretend that he had no idea what was going on. Karl might smell it on him, the ugly lies, but if he talked–
With one deep breath, he climbed the front stairs and placed his hand on the knob, expecting the door to give in. Knocking to be allowed in whatever hell expected him on the other side seemed like too much of a parody.
The door was pulled from his hand, and the next moment, he was in Karl’s arms. The warmth of his body almost made him cry. Without a word, Karl took him inside and closed the door.
“Karl,” Francesco started, “what’s this all about?”
Karl held his face and looked into his eyes. “I missed you.”
He knew that, the pain that came with it, too, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it back. Everything about him that very moment screamed phony. He wouldn’t taint it.
The chance to speak was taken from him as Karl kissed him. His jacket was pushed away from his shoulders, and feverish hands reached under his shirt, wanting him. Francesco pressed against Karl’s chest to stop him. “What the hell is going on? On the phone, you said that your dad–”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to talk. Who knows when I’m going to see you again?” Karl forced his way back and held him close, bent on making him get out of his clothes in record time.
If there was a good time for an out of body experience, now had to be it. Francesco wanted Karl, fuck, he wanted to get fucked right after all that shit he’d gone through, but not like this, not when he was a liar of the worst kind.
Karl turned him to face the wall and did quick work of lubing his ass with spit. Francesco grunted in surprise, although he should have known what came next.
“You’re so tight, baby,” Karl murmured into his ear. “Always so tight. Not fucking that toy lately?”
“No,” Francesco breathed out as Karl’s girth stretched him, kindling something wild inside him. No, not the toy. He hadn’t been in the mood since that day. But Karl’s cock in him was hot and familiar, and his pretenses fell.
He grunted as Karl fucked him against the wall, out of synch, recklessly. The sound of their bodies smacking against each other was loud, too loud. Francesco feared that if he did as little as breathe too much, it would trigger something, something dangerous that waited right around the corner.
He should say something, yell at Karl that whatever they were doing now was nothing but a fraud, but with each thrust that sent his pleasure sky-high, he found himself losing the battle.
What was the senator’s move, anyway? To catch them with their pants down–
“What the hell?”
Francesco froze, and so did Karl. He knew that voice, of course he did. Good thing the senator hadn’t let him on the details of his plan, because now his shock and fear were very much real.
Karl pushed himself out of him and then shielded him with his body. Francesco turned, dread growing higher and higher inside his chest. Over Karl’s shoulder, he saw the man’s face, all a righteous frown, so good an act that he should have been selling tickets and enjoy a full house.
“What’s this, Karl?” the senator said slowly, feigning pained surprise all too well. “Pull your pants up for fuck’s sake.”
Karl obeyed quickly. “Cesco,” he said through his teeth, “just go to the car and drive.”
“He won’t do anything of the kind,” the senator said smoothly, his frown turning into something else. “Cesco? What’s that short for?”
Oh, hell, where the fuck was that Oscar?
“None of your fucking business,” Karl said, each word heavy in his mouth. “Cesco, run.”
“I wasn’t asking you.”
So, was that his cue? Francesco felt his breathing slowing, his ears pounding. He needed to play his card right. Why not just be his crazy self, like usual? He pulled up his pants and stepped forward from behind Karl. He walked toward the senator with an extended arm. “That would be Francesco, sir.”
The man looked him up and down. He didn’t take his hand, but something in his eyes approved of Francesco’s daring move. Karl didn’t think so. He grabbed Francesco and pulled him back. “Don’t get close to him. He’ll fuck you up. Didn’t you fucking hear me? Just get out already!”
“And why would he run, Karl?” The senator had already shed the pained act and was now leaning against the doorjamb with a disgusted sneer painted all over his face. “Also, my men are outside, so get it out of your head that the boy is going anywhere.”
“How are you here? Why?” Karl shouted.
“Why am I here, in a house that belongs to me?”
“It doesn’t fucking belong to you!”
“Language, Karl. Learn some manners from your… whatever he is. Francesco.”
The way the man said his name was as irksome as ever. Karl didn’t miss it. “Don’t you dare say his name!”
“Why, are you forbidding me? You two, step into my office. Now.”
The senator turned his back, sure that they would follow. Francesco looked at Karl, and the other’s wild eyes frightened him for a moment. Then, he remembered. Of course, Karl had every reason on the planet to fear his father. Mr. Big Shot Senator was to be feared.
“Let’s just do what he says,” he whispered.
“No.” Karl shook his head. “He’ll do something, he’ll–”
Francesco took his arm. “He might, but I cannot run anyway. Let’s face it. We got caught.”
Karl tried to fight him, but he was clearly helpless. “I won’t let him,” he said stubbornly, hands into fists by his sides.
Francesco dragged him into the office where he had been gangbanged for hours and had sucked off his future daddy-in-law only days ago.
“Sit down,” the senator ordered.
Francesco sat gingerly on one chair, but Karl remained standing by his side, holding his hand, and staring defiantly at his father.
“You can be such a drag sometimes,” Karl’s dad said with what sounded like an exasperated sigh. “I won’t harm Francesco. You have my word. It should be enough. Now sit.” The last word was barked, louder all of a sudden, and Karl finally sat on the other chair.
“So,” the senator started, leaning back into his armchair and watching them with hawk-like eyes, “the reason why Bea complains to her parents that you’re cold toward her is that you’re fucking Francesco behind her back. And mine.”
“So?” Karl spat.
“So? Is that everything you have to say? You’re a bit too old to be throwing tantrums, don’t you think?”
Francesco remained silent. No cue for him to take the stage just yet.
“What about you, Francesco?” The senator turned his attention fully on him. “Do you have more to say on the matter?”
Francesco straightened up in his chair and brought his hands together, his fingers steepled in front to begin his case. “I understand that it may come as a big shock to you, sir.”
“Understatement of the year. Until minutes ago, I thought my son was heterosexual and about to get married. To a woman,” the senator emphasized the word. “Go on.”
“You don’t have to tell him nothing, Cesco,” Karl hissed.
“It’s all right. I think your dad needs to hear the truth,” Francesco said. He felt calm again. The situation could go from bad to worse in the blink of an eye, but he was hanging all his hopes on Karl’s dad being a man of his word, after all. “I love your son, sir. And he loves me.”
Silence, thick like paint, followed his words. The senator looked at him intently and then at Karl. “Is it true, Karl? What Francesco is saying?”
“No,” Karl spat.
“What?” Francesco turned toward Karl. The blue eyes begged him to play along, but that wasn’t the plan.
“What is it that you deny? You don’t love this boy?” The senator smiled and his eyebrows shot up, like he was very much amused by the entire thing. “Minutes ago, you were balls deep in his ass, telling him how much you missed him.”
Francesco winced. So the guy had stood there, watching, like a freaking psycho. Not that it surprised him to hear that, but it was still beyond any normal human behavior for someone to watch his son fuck a dude. Or a gal.
The detail was lost on Karl. He had to have tunnel vision by now. “I just fuck him now and then,” Karl said. “He’s nobody.”
Even if it was a lie, it still hurt. They all had their reasons, it seemed. It still didn’t make it fucking right.
“Now wait a minute–” he started.
The senator put one hand up. “I told you, Karl. Francesco has no reason to fear. I don’t intend to retaliate or whatever it is you’re thinking.”
“Oh, I know what you’re thinking,” Karl said. “You’re thinking how to get rid of him so that your fucking campaign doesn’t have to suffer.”
“Get rid of him? What am I? The mafia?” The senator snorted like such a thing was unbelievable.
Karl set his jaw hard. He didn’t seem to consider that so-called question worthy of a reply.
“Come on,” the man goaded his son. “What is it that you think I might do to Francesco?”
Karl looked away, working his jaw this time. He didn’t want to say it out loud. Maybe he didn’t want to scare Francesco.
“Pay him to get out of your life, maybe?” the senator offered with a quirk of an eyebrow. “Look, Karl. Bea is very unhappy with you. Now look into my eyes and tell me, ‘dad, I love the girl, I want to marry her, and I’m not a fucking faggot!'”
Like before, the last word was barked so loudly that Francesco grabbed the arms of the chair to keep himself from jumping. Karl didn’t appear affected. He was probably much more used to that kind of conversation than he was.
“You can’t say it, can you?” The senator sneered. “Because you’re my faggot son. What am I supposed to do with you?” He rubbed his forehead, pretending to be again in pain.
“Whatever you want, just let Cesco go.”
“That I won’t. But we cannot let this situation continue. You’ll break off your engagement to Bea.”
“What?!” Karl’s head shot up in surprise.
Francesco watched the entire scene in horrid fascination. Couldn’t Karl tell his father was playing him? Maybe not. Karl hadn’t spent too many years at home, according to the snippets of his life he had let Francesco in on, always at some camp to get stronger, better. Maybe that man behind the desk was, in many ways, nothing but a stranger to him.
“I cannot allow you in good conscience to continue this farce. Bea deserves better. Much better.”
“Yeah, ’cause you care more about some fucking stranger than me,” Karl said bitterly.
“Watch that mouth. I don’t mind educating you a little, even though you’re a grownup, now.”
“Whatever,” Karl said. “What do you want in exchange for letting Cesco be?”
The senator leaned over the table and took a good look at them. It was unnerving how his cold eyes were moving from one to the other. “You won’t be a faggot on the down-low, that’s for sure.”
Karl blinked a few times. Francesco observed him from the corner of one eye. “The fuck you mean by that?”
The senator smiled. “If you cannot do right by Bea, do right by Francesco.”
“What?”
“I won’t have a dirty faggot as a son, Karl. Mark my words. You’ll be one of those gays with fucking picket fences and a fucking clean act, do you understand now what I mean?”
Karl was in utter shock, and Francesco wondered if he had been as shocked when the senator had told him about that the first time.
“You’re shitting me,” Karl murmured. “This can’t be right. Do you have snipers outside to take both me and Cesco out? Is that it?”
“Snipers? Take you out? Would you stop with the nonsense already? You’re making Francesco here think that we’re like a family from who knows what stupid movies.”
“Francesco,” Karl said slowly, emphasizing his name, “was with me on that island for a whole frigging year.”
“During which you raped his ass until he learned to like it.”
Francesco didn’t even breathe at this point.
“Yes, I know about it. Not that I knew his name, of course, because I thought you were just a man with needs getting off,” the senator continued, his eyes all ice as he looked at his son like he was some vermin that needed to be put out. “And it only recently came to my attention that you were neglecting your beautiful intelligent fiancée for some boy pussy.”
The man let that sink in. Francesco clasped the arms of the chair tightly. He knew exactly what the fucker was doing. He was planting seeds of doubt, one by one. Fucking Mr. Green Thumb. Now, Karl would think himself smart to realize that there was just one person in the whole world who could do him in like that.
Morgan. Karl trusted the guy, and the senator knew it. Even if he might not know the extent of the deep understanding that had to be between his son and the bodyguard designated to him by no one else but his father, he just wanted to ruin any meaningful relationship Karl had with those around him.
Francesco hated it so much. He wanted to jump to his feet and blurt out the truth. As he pondered over it, his eyes met the fucker’s steely gaze. The senator was challenging him to speak up with that look. Maybe he wanted it. It was a sure way to destroy what Karl and Francesco had.
And it wasn’t only that. The man moved in his chair, letting Karl think it over and turn it in his head the last tidbit he dropped. He pressed one index finger against his temple and then looked up, making Francesco follow his line of sight.
Francesco gulped. The red eye blinked at intervals, with the usual coldness of a machine, hidden inside that stuffed animal head on the wall. He looked at the senator again, and the small fleeting smile let him know. Everything that ever happened in that room was recorded, whenever the man across from him wanted.
What would Karl see? If the video came with no sound, he would just see Francesco willingly moving from one cock to another, begging to get fucked over and over by faceless strangers. It might not mattered that he had been coerced into it, one way or another.
Whatever they had, it was doomed anyway, he realized. Was that the secret message there?
“Well, do you have nothing to say?”
At the sound of his father’s voice, Karl threw Francesco a curt look. “You’re fucking mental.”
“I see. Do you want me to offer an alternative, then? I can always ship you back to your unit. They might yet to make a man out of you.”
Francesco tensed, his entire body a coil waiting to spring at the slightest provocation. “I’d marry Karl in a second if we had your blessing, sir.”
Fuck, that smile. How high can you jump, Francesco? I’ll tell you how high.
“The fuck you’re talking like that? Do you really buy it?” Karl hissed at him.
“He’s your dad. He wants what’s best for you,” Francesco said, his voice void of any emotion.
Karl snorted. “You sound so convincing, Cesco, what can I say? This guy,” he pointed at his dad, “wants only what’s best for him, and no one else.”
And maybe that was their only saving grace, because, somehow, the senator thought he would milk his son’s gay wedding for extra votes.
“Hey,” he turned toward Karl, “isn’t this what you want, too? Don’t you want me?”
“As what? My fucking husband?” Karl said the last word like he couldn’t believe himself for using it. “It’s always a fucking catch with this asshole,” he said through his teeth and pointed again at his father.
“Enough!” the man barked, silencing them both. “It’s your choice, Karl. Francesco or your fellows at the unit? If it’s the latter, you’ll never see this boy whore again, get me?”
“He’s not a whore,” Karl spat, full of venom.
Well, what a surprise. If he had a penny for each time Karl had called him that, he would be fucking rich.
“Then don’t make him into one. Francesco’s clearly gagging to be your lawfully wedded husband. Or maybe you don’t want to be labeled a faggot while you’re just that, deep inside?”
Francesco looked at Karl. His face was white as a sheet.
“Maybe I don’t,” Karl said thickly. “I like fucking his ass, but that’s all.”
“Well, then you should start packing. I can make the phone call right now,” the senator said and made a move for his chest pocket.
Francesco jumped to his feet. “Don’t!” The senator stopped and smiled at him, challenging him again. Francesco turned and knelt in front of Karl, taking his hands, cold as ice. “I have no idea what’s happening, but I want to be yours,” he whispered, hoping that only Karl could hear him.
No chance of that.
“How touching. Just say ‘yes’ to the boy already, Karl. At least, I’ll end up with a son with half a brain, unlike the one that came from my very loins.”
“Say ‘yes’, Karl,” Francesco pleaded. “For me.”
Karl looked away and tried to pry his hands free, but Francesco held them tightly, not wanting to let go.
The ‘yes’ that finally followed was hard to hear.
tbc
AN –
@letheo – Francesco has a lot on his plate right now, but he’ll never give up on Mouse. The whole marriage thing will be crazy, and there’s going to be room for a lot of surprises. Some of the biggest will come from Karl, just saying.