"He Found Himself Wondering If He'd Been Set Up For This Fall..... It Wasn't Supposed To End Like This."

What I heard on the radio…

Fracture | One | Two | Three | Four

|| @smilewhatstheuseofcrying @daily-joker @arthur-j-fleck​ ||

"Cerberus!" He loved it! The name rolled off his tongue with his Italian accent. He tried the name a few more times.

"Cerberus, Cerberus... Baby Cerbs... A baby... Oh Lali, congratulations Mami, amore mio, you're the proud mother of a darling baby boy! I'm so happy for you amore! God... look at me, I'm crying!"

He couldn't help himself. His eyes flooded as he looked at his prospective wife and their furry child. His heart was singing, and breaking... Fuck... Fuck... He wanted to get her a ring. He wanted to make it official.

Cool it.

Cool off.

It hasn't even been three months yet. It had taken him four years before he finally proposed to Marissa. He wasn't ready to rush something so important with Lalienna. But he was Italian, hot-blooded, impulsive, and she was holding a furry son. Loving him. He was praising himself. This had been his idea had't it? Oh... yeah... No it wasn't. It was Hector's.  But it didn't matter. He wanted to make her happy.

No matter the cost. Anything. Nothing would stop him from bringing a smile to this young woman's face. She was only twenty-one but she'd suffered so much. An addict and abuser for a mother, dead now. A father that wouldn't acknowledge her in the slightest. Selfish, too caught up in his own life to take responsibility for the fact that he'd be instrumental to birthing a bastard.

The Ruska Roma... The Director. That was no life, the Russian clans. They were monsters. Hard, brutal, born on blood and torture and torment. John Wick.... Fucking John Wick was revered in the Underworld. He'd come from the Ruska Roma as well. A dog of The Director. A powerful family clan. A Prince of the Underworld.

No, no don't think about John. John was... dangerous territory. He didn't want to remember that man's face right now. Somewhere deep inside his heart, he was aching at the fact that Lalienna had confessed to Wick being her first true lover. And it had been recent. Too recent. That... and the Powell Family. Gianna had been sending him missives and updates from her time in London. She would not be pleased to learn that her brother had taken flight back to Italy and removed the entire High Guard when House Powell had just declared open war against the White Women. Fuck... He was gonna get caned for this when Gianna found out. She probably already knew. He was surprised she wasn't blowing up her phone.

Perhaps... if she did... He could contract someone else to take over on his behalf.

John's face flashed in his mind's eye again. Prince of the Underworld. Lord of Darkness. They called him Baba Yaga now. The killer of the boogeyman. He'd make the call if he had to. But there was no guarantee John would accept the work. Not if he knew the depth of the back-story that proceeded the job. Perhaps he'd refuse on principle when he learned that House Powell summoned the feud because of his love affair with Lalienna in the first place.

That would be an awkward conversation. He wondered how it would play out.

'Benvenuto John, vieni a sederti con me, prendi un caffè. Ascolta, ho bisogno che tu uccida qualcuno per me. Il potenziale pretendente della tua ex ragazza a Londra. Ci stai?' (Welcome John, come sit with me, have a coffee. Listen, I need you to kill someone for me. Your ex-girlfriend's prospective suitor in London. Are you in?)

He could almost imagine that man's dark eyes darken even further at the mere mention. He wouldn't have to tell him the truth. Just that it was all business. He'd met Lalienna in London at the Continental. And he'd offered her a job considering she was unattached to any other syndicate or clan. She'd accepted. She was Camorra now under the D'Antonio's. On his payroll. That would do, wouldn't it? He didn't have to say, 'Yeah, I've also made Lalienna my girlfriend. I'm fucking her for you. Because you don't have the balls to keep doing it. Your loss motherfucker. She's my slave now.'

No way. John would empty a magazine into his head so fast he'd not have time to speak his mother's name as his last words. This was dangerous. He'd have to chose someone else. He and Wick had history when their paths crossed in the past. The Russians and Italians acknowledged each other as superpowers in the underworld. Coupled with the English, they were practically unstoppable. They'd taken on the Triads and the Japanese before and won. And lost... but mostly won.

That didn't matter now. He'd cross that bridge when he came to it. What mattered right now was Lalienna as she sat on the bed with his tiny, furry son. He was in love. Absolutely in love. Nothing could make him any happier. He wiped at his tears with the back of his hand and kissed her forehead and the baby Cerberus'  tiny ears. The little pup looked up sleepily and snuggled deeper into the young lady's arms. In his little mind, baby Cerberus had decided that this human girl smelled warm, friendly. She... smelled like blood. Mummy blood. He remembered that smell. His mummy smelled like that too. His brothers and sisters. He missed them already. Mummy and Daddy had told him that one day, soon, he would be separated from his pack to find a forever home with a new human family. That his mission would be to grow up big and strong and protect them whoever they were. This human lady was it. He was sure of it. She smelled like she needed protecting. He was tiny, sleepy and still much too little and new to this interesting world to be of any use yet. But he promised to himself, as he heard his name christened. He was Cerberus. Hmm, he liked that name.

He'd like to tell Mummy and Daddy and his puppy pack that the human lady had given it to him. She smelled warm. Gentle. Young, like him. And she smelled of blood. Young blood. Birthing blood. He knew what that smell meant. She had had a pup too... Was he her pup? Now he was confused. He was tired. The other humans were so very nice to him. They were big and strong and they held him gently and made sure he felt safe. They were boy humans. He liked boy humans. They were just like him. And they smelled warm and tender and big and strong. They were protectors. He wanted to grow up just like them.

Mmmh, his Lady Human. He loved her. She was warm... He would sleep here a little.

'Wait for me, Lady Human. I will grow big and strong for you. Just take care of me. I love you.' Were his final thoughts as he drifted in her arms to a comfortable sleep.

"Amore, I'm going to give you and the baby some time alone to get acquainted. I'm so happy you love him. The boys and I wanted to give you someone special. Someone who could love and protect you deeper than even we can. He's yours forever bella. You have to promise me to look after him with your heart and soul. Remember, he has to go wherever you go. You have to protect him and he will lay his life down for you as soon as he gets bigger. You're a mother now. He's going to make you grow up quickly. We're all here to help you raise him. Hector has raised dogs since he was a child, Panchelli as well. I don't doubt the other guards have all had occasion to look after dogs and other animals in their history. We're  all in this together. But  you are his sole legal registered owner. You'll be responsible for his training and feeding and cleaning. Because you're strong and intelligent and it will do you good to focus on his up-bringing. Never let his care make you feel overwhelmed. If you ever need a break, we're here for you. All of us. Bring him to me, I will care for him in your stead. Day and night. He's welcome to sleep on the beds and sofas.  Just be careful he doesn't get in the way of the maids when they're working. And if it rains, make sure he doesn't track puppy paws all over the house. Panchelli is particular about clean floors. . and...." He had so much more to say...

"Lalienna... I love you amore mio. I meant it when I told you there's nothing going on with Chris and I. We're idiots. Playing around, being silly. We didn't mean it. Look, you know us. We're family now. Sure, we're going to kiss and hug and sleep in the same beds some times. That's natural in my house. I do it on purpose because guards that are kept safe and warm become better attack dogs when they have something they feel they really want to protect. If I treated them like mercenaries, paid muscle... They'd treat me like a paid employer. Camorra or not. They'd go where the money and the power goes. It's love that keeps them here. My love. Our love for each other. We're tight babe. Really tight. We have history and you'll have to accept it runs deeper and longer than yours. This is still very new to you, I know. We've been together less than three months. Let's just... grow together a bit. Get your heels dug in. Feel the way we work with each other. Learn that we are family first and foremost. Business partners second."

He kissed her cheek again. His fingers caressing the puppy's warm, soft hind legs as he slept in her arms.

"Lali... we have rules babe. Lines we don't cross. We talked about this in the past but not clearly enough. We make vows to each other. There's a legitimate code of conduct that even though it's unspoken its contractual and we have to adhere to it so we don't get ourselves over-complicated when we shouldn't.  I know... what you saw last night looked like a mess. We were both pretty fucked up. Actually, we all were. I don't let them get loose like that very often. We almost never have hard drugs in the house for that reason. When we're working, we have to keep sober, straight. No booze, no nothing. It clouds your judgment, your perspective is off. Imagine having to make a business deal or negotiate a border skirmish between rival gangs when you're stoned off your face? We didn't get to be number 1 in Rome by taking potshots and injecting crack. We've got a reputation to uphold. We're operatives under The High Table. The Table in Italy is guarded by my father, Lorenzo. He's your boss now as much as he's mine. And beneath him is Gianna. If she says we do something, we do it. We don't ask questions and we don't push back. Rome is ours babe, but there's rules we need to respect. The politicians, the police, the feds. Lorenzo keeps them paid off. Yes it's corrupt but the Mafia has existed for centuries, from Sicily to Venice and back again. If we can't respect each other, and our rules. How are we going to respect them, eh?"  He got to his feet now and made for the door, smiling at her. Loving her.

"Whatever you think you've heard about my past, whatever you think you know. I urge you to ask me up front, tesoro. I mean it. I'm not going to lie to you. I'm loyal in a relationship. I'll be the first to admit I've whored about a lot when I was younger. Guys, girls, anything I wanted. But when I said, enough. That I was gonna settle in with one woman, I fuckin' meant it. No cheating. No backstabbing. No double-cross, or two-timing. It's not my style. I don't play those dirty games because I've had them played on me." He didn't want to say the rest but he did.

"Before you... about three years ago... there was a woman I was gonna marry. Her name was Marissa Conti. We were engaged. She ended up leaving me. It was complicated. Messy. I loved her and found out she was seeing another man behind my back. And sleeping with him in my bed when I wasn't home. We.... never made it past the engagement. I put an exclusive contract out on her lover. I had him beaten, abused, tortured until he confessed everything. Christov and Hector were there. They all knew one way or the other what was happening. They were all paid for what we did to him that night. I paid them to end his life. I was the one that put a bullet in his head for fucking my fiancée. ... I made her watch... And what I did to her... It cost me.....Two years. Complicated. Messy. I don't wanna talk about this now, or ever. But... one day, if you're raw about it, and need to know. Come and find me. We'll have coffee. We'll talk. But at least now, you know where I stand. You know deep down why I went insane when I found out about Devina. And baby, I thought about it. Putting a hit on her. I thought about making you watch as I blew her fucking head off. I would have done it too... But I get it. You had history together. I understand history. So you can sleep easy at night knowing I'm going to keep my word when I tell you Devina is going to live. I'm not gonna fuck with her. For you.... But Lali.... amore mio.... You're not gonna fuck with me either. Okay?"

He'd said more than he was prepared to. He was aching now. He needed time alone. He nodded to her,

"Take care of the baby." The last thing he said before leaving the room and shutting the door.

|||

Ares and Christov were standing in the hallway, chattering with each other using rapid sign language. He couldn't tell what they were saying.

"Hey boss! How'd it go? She loves him right?! We did good, right?" He came forward to meet his friends and wrapped his arms around their shoulders. He kissed both their cheeks and confirmed the idea was a masterpiece. That Lalienna had named the baby dog Cerberus, after the protective hound of Hell.  Both guards were very impressed.

'Ares, can you give us boys a minute?' He signed. The young woman saluted happily. She threw up a peace sign and knocked at Lali's door before letting herself in and leaving Chris and Tino alone on the landing.

"Walk with me." Was all Tino said. Christov did. Following at his boss' heels. He was a good dog. He'd do what he was told without question.

The men made their way downstairs. To the kitchen where Pancheilli was busy organizing rosters with the maids. The old butler immediately brightened and asked if the master could be attended but Santino smiled and told him to continue. He just wanted to make some coffee. Would he take the ladies to another room please to continue their business?

"Certo signore! andiamo, abbiamo molto da fare. Chi ha le schede attività? Vai, vai, il maestro è occupato. Non ha bisogno di noi." (Certainly sir! Ladies, come on, we have much to do. Who has the timesheets? Go, go, the master is busy. He doesn't need us.)

The maids and butler retired to the servants quarters. The chef had gone to the markets to restock the pantry. Santino and Christov were alone. Tino attended the coffee machine and served two rich cappuccinos before suggesting they go and take them on the balcony overlooking the gardens.  

Christov thanked his employer, took both their cups and led the way, holding back the door and settling down next to Tino, serving him his coffee.

"Smoke boss?"

"Per favore." (Please)

Then men inhaled and sipped their cups contentedly. Happy to just be lost in their own thoughts.

"She loves the little dog, eh?"

"Yeah... he's precious, like her. She'll love him like her own son, I know she will."

"We did good boss. I'm glad you bought him for her. She needs this. More than you'll ever know."

"Christov?"

"Yeah?"

"About last night." Chris stung inside. He dropped his eyes. Taking his coffee as the only important thing in the world. He knew this was coming. He was fucking dreading it.

"Lalienna knows something's up. Between us. She thought I'd left the bed to go fuck you last night because she was too weak and high."

"Get out of it."

"I'm serious."

That hurt. Deeply. Santino hadn't looked at him romantically since Singapore. Those kisses last night, through fueled in hatred... were something else. Jealousy. He was hurting inside. Lalienna had overtaken him.  Had taken Santino away. And he knew that would happen. That's fine. Whatever. He wasn't the main focus anyway. He never wanted to be. He wasn't a fag after all. He liked pussy as much as the next guy. He liked Lalienna's. But now... with the baby... or lack thereof. And with Ares. There was too much competition. Santino was home now. Back in the picture. He'd been pushed to the side. Again. The way he had all his life.

"There's nothing going on between us, boss. Don't worry about it. I was high last night."

"Bullshit. You didn't touch a single line. I watched you. You were sober for her. You've been guarding her with Hector and Ares more than any of the others. You know something and you won't let me in on it. Start talking."

"There's nothing to talk about, man. I mean it. She's fucked. You fucked her up good. Broke her down after the affair. She was a mess when you stopped talking to her. I told you about this remember? We had to care for her because you stopped. Because it was inconvenient."

"She's never been inconvenient."

"So long as it suits you."  God! That stung him. Like a kick to the balls. His green eyes darkened. He sucked on his cigarette and attacked.

"Where's this coming from, Christov? Hmm? You jealous?"

"Yeah, I'm fuckin' jealous. I admit it. I was pissed off. She's a really beautiful girl and you tormented her by being a dick. I would have taken her place if I could. Anything. Just to be under you."

"Under me?"

"You know what I mean, man. I've been real to you since Singapore."

"The other girls?"

"Paid entertainment. Couple of Athena's whores in London. In and out. Nothing serious." He met his employer's eyes now. And he was burning. Angry.

"Listen, I get it. Really I do. I don't fuck with the family. I don't break the code of conduct, I don't mix business with pleasure and I keep my shit on the down-low. Discreet. Outside of business hours. But what we did in Singapore. You can't tell me that was nothing."

"It wasn't nothing, Chris. It was as real for you as it was for me."

"We were both high."

"We were both lonely."

"I should have taken that bullet for you."

"You gave me another one. It was deeper and it harder than anything I've taken before."

That made him laugh. The two men eased off a bit. Yes there was still heat between them, but it was below the surface.

"Yeah well... you kinda did a number on me too. You'll forgive me for getting antsy about rules. We both blew them that night. When we blew each other. You've been my first and last guy. I wasn't expecting to feel so.... replaced."

"Christov, come on? Really? Replaced? With who? You see me putting a ring on the other boys?"

"You should probably tell Curtis and Tony to cool off then. They were practically fucking each other on the lounge in front of the girls last night."

Another laugh as both men took to their coffees and smokes.

"So we're all breaking the rules. Blurring the lines. Okay. Okay. I get it. If I mean to be a leader then I need to lead by example. And I've not been doing a very good job." Santino admitted.

"Look, London was hard man. We appreciate you giving us space to just be free and blow off some steam. We love Lalienna, really. But she's new and fragile. We gonna protect her. And that includes from our bullshit."

"You got off last night. Tattooing her. I saw you kiss her knee." Chris stiffened in his seat a little. His mouth watered. He'd... touched himself to that memory last night, alone. In his bed.

"Yeah, I did. I kissed her. But.. she wasn't into it the way I wanted to. I got off on it, but she was vacant, man. Whatever drugs she was trippin' on weren't keeping her focused. Fuckin' hot tatt though, am I right?"

"Wet dream material."

"I know, right!"

"Fuck yeah. Thank you, Christov, for marking her for me. For us. I appreciate your hard work. She'll come thank you eventually herself."

"She doesn't need to. I know she's just easing into the idea of being part of our crew. She's got a great ass though."

"Si... she does. I know... I've held it."

"So don't give me shit about being jealous. Respect brother!"

"Respect!" Both men bumped fists. Shook hands. Pulled each other into a tight hug. It lasted. And lasted.

Neither man was willing to be the first to pull away. So they didn't. They just embraced. Feeling the beat of the other's heart against each other's chests.

The air had cleared between them. Santino felt less deceptive now that he'd confronted their affair in the open. Christov roiled in hidden guilt. He shouldn't have done what he did with Lalienna. Letting her come to his rooms. Sleep in his bed. Brought her to orgasm with his fingers, with his tongue. Fuck... A hidden three-way love triangle. Right out of some softcore porno. He still wanted to show her that video. And he'd learn to accept that his relationship with his employer was always going to be a family affair. Whether he wanted to or not. Singapore was ages ago. Years ago. They'd never come back to that intimacy together. They'd gotten close. They'd slept in each other's beds. They'd kissed and fondled each other. Tino had let him suck him off, once... twice... Maybe more. Much more. And it had been incredible. But it was a dream now. Lalienna was here. And he was crossing the invisible line.

Finally, the two men separated. Christov lingered. Closer than he should. He came forward, putting down his cigarette and pulling Tino's out of his lips. He watched his boss blow out the plume of smoke he'd held from the corner of his mouth. And the moment he was done, he came forward and kissed him. Slow... gentle. Just lips touching. Nothing more.

Santino accepted the kiss. Opened his mouth a little. Telling the other man it was okay. So it built. Deeper. They're tongues exchanged an embrace and both men recognized that there was still very much a searing flame of passion between them. Unrecognized. Denied. But it existed. There were fireworks. It felt good. Comfortable. It wasn't pretentious or unsolicited. It was just relaxed. Lazy. Like sex on a late Sunday morning. They pulled away at last. Both men sighed deeply. Smiling at each other. Taking their coffee cups and cigarettes again.

"So... Santino... You breaking up with me? For Lalienna?" He smirked. Cheeky grin. He wasn't going to let this break him down.

"Yeah... for Lalienna. She's my main squeeze now. She's special. So I'm still your boss. But I'm definitely breaking up with you." Both men laughed. This felt good too. Bittersweet. But good.

"'Kay... I'm kinda pissed about it. But, she's a special girl. So I'll allow it. Because I like her too. And she has a great ass. And incredible tits. And I already got deep into her skin when I gave her that tattoo. So in a way, I've kinda already fucked her for you." That was dirty, he shouldn't have gone that far. But he didn't care. Tino laughed it off with a smirk.

"Well... if anyone was gonna honour fuck her, I'd be glad for it to be you. Because... the way she is right now...I don't think I'll be getting laid anytime soon." Tino came forward off the lounge and crushed his smoke into the ashtray. Rising to his feet and blowing out the last of the cigarette through his lips.

"She'll come 'round boss. Just give her time. She's raw you know. Girls on their periods are edgy. She's young. She needs to be looked after. Just like Ares. "

"Pfffft! Don't start me on Ares. I know she's crushing on Lali, hard."

"She'll behave. I'll get her to take it easy. Back off."

"Grazie." (Thanks) Tino said.

"Prego." (You are welcome) Chris replied watching as his employer and one-time lover re-entered the house. He didn't want to go in just yet. The air felt good against his skin. He'd have another smoke first. Clear his head a bit. He'd just been dumped, after all. It was heavy. And he still had to work for the man that dumped him. That would take adjusting. He could do this. Besides. They had a distraction now. He'd visit Lali later with the puppy. Offer to take them both for their first walk around the block. He still wanted to show her that video. Now he wanted to up the steaks. Bet some money on it. They didn't make it clear how they'd determine the winner. But he knew, deep in his heart. He'd end up back between her legs, eating her out. No time soon. Not while she was in the aftermath of abortion. But one day she'd need him. And she knew what to do. Just knock on his door. He'd let her in.

He was her attack dog after all.

Saiyuki: Shambala Ch. 1 Out Now

Join Priest Genjo Sanzo and his companions, Son Goku, Sha Gojyo and Cho Hakkai in a brand new chapter as they travel ever westward on a holy mission to quell the demon up-rising that plagues Shangri-La.

To celebrate Saiyuki’s 20 Year Anniversary, Small Fortunes Independent Publishing proudly presents an all new Fan Novella set after the events of Saiyuki Reload. Join the boys on a powerful, original new story arc after 12 months on the road, that sees them crossing the Himalayas as they enter the magnificent land of Nepal en route to the far West.

‘There is something dark and foreboding hidden in the recesses of the valley. Its omnipresent insidious aura travels through the land twisting and infecting all in its path. When the Sanzo party find a dying woman on the road, they make a choice to save a life amidst the threat of suffering and violence.

Nothing could prepare them for what’s coming.

This one act of mercy could be their final.’

|| Saiyuki: Shambala is intended to be read by adults 18+ It contains: Strong Graphic Violence, Course Language, Strong Sexual References & Sex Scenes ||

Click Here To Read Chapter One Now!

“I was apprentice to the most powerful being in the galaxy once. I was destined to become… so much more. But I was robbed of that destiny by the Jedi, by Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“Then you must have your revenge, my brother.”

"Fuck... daddy!"

Mmh.

Yeah.

He liked that.

That felt good.

The way she rubbed herself against him. Touched him, kissed him. It was erotic. Hot. He knew deep down he shouldn't touch her. This was the bosses' girl. But she was so... Hungry? Yeah, she made him hard. He caught himself staring. Those heels, those legs, those hips, that ass. Damn. Boss is a lucky man. He wanted a piece of that action. But Nah man. His brothers elbowed his ribs. Shook there heads. Look but don't touch they said. Okay. So he tried to not satisfy himself remembering the night he watched his boss eat that pussy down the length of a scope.

That made him cum hard. Way harder than was prudent. And he'd gotten hot with his boss before. Been a daddy then too. The Prince came home, pissed off, hurt after a bad fight in the streets. So he got him cleaned up, got him a drink. Lit him a smoke. Rubbed him down like a lathering horse. Right there, between his legs. Great big Italian cock. Felt good in his hands. Both boys got... Experimental. Good night. Really good night. He was on guard duties a lot more after that. But this!? The bosses' dancer. Yeah, he made her dance. Deep. Against his tongue. Made her watch as he sucked her deep into his mouth and roll under pleasure. He didn't make her beg. Just focused on getting her there. Three times.

Mmh. Now he understood what Tino tasted in her. Sweet. Lusty. He liked performing for her. And yeah, he even had a tattoo on the underside of his cock in a calligraphic script that read the words ' Until it hurts'. He liked cumming for her. Moaning and grinding his hips. He almost asked her to get on. He was a big boy but he knew she'd adjust. Girls always did. He wanted to know what she felt like on the inside. But he didn't ask. Touching himself under her eyes was enough. He loved being her attack dog. In the morning. No regrets. He cleaned her up. Fed and kissed her. Sent her back to her Papi. ‘Cos Tino was a stud. He deserved to be tapping that. He'll, he almost did. But he made her promise. No calls, no texts. No marks on her body. Just a knock on his door. Late. After work. Glass of wine. Good meal. He'd go hungry just to eat her. Fuck. He was addicted to this rush.

"Wanna touch it, baby?" His body. Her fingers over the words. He wanted to purr for her.

Until it hurts.

{[ @lalienna-dementriento @f0rtis-fortuna-adiuvat   || You aren’t the only one that did a thing. I did it too. And we are taking this too far. Right to the end of the line. It’s sinfully delicious, the mess this Camorra crew are capable of getting themselves into when it comes to love. ]}

Daddy. Not Papi

@laserglassspider - @f0rtis-fortuna-adiuvat // I uh...did a thing...and uhm...yeah.

———

“I can’t sleep. Hector is with someone...Ares is with Santino...tony and Marcus and I aren’t that close. Can I-“

She didn’t even have to finish. Christov let his door swing open completely, allowing her entrance. She thanked him softly, stepping past him. She left her shoes neatly by the door, noticing now that her coworker wore only loose fitted pants. She had never seen all of his tattoos. Her eyes trailed down his chest, the bear on his abdomen baring it’s fangs at her. She smiled slightly, making her way around him to his back. He stayed still, allowing her to check him out. Like a cat stalking something. Or a wolf. Seeing if he was a friend or foe.

“I was your last choice? Ouch.” His hand went to his check in mock hurt. His voice was husked from sleep, the gravel of his tone making her stomach flip. She laughed slightly, backing off from him, distracting her eyes by taking in his rooms.

“No, I just...didn’t want to annoy you or bother you. You may have company.” She suggested with a dark tone, a smirk on her lips. She never saw the women he was with. He was discrete. Shuffled them in and out quickly. Never staying overnight. She didn’t know what his type was. He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Just missed them.” He teased. “Come on, babygirl. You know you can always come to me, right? How long have you been up?” It was past four am. She debated just getting ready for the day. Still, she wore shorts and a thin strapped tank top, eyes tired and dark under her eyes.

“I haven’t gone to sleep yet...” she admitted.

“God, woman! Let’s go. Bed. Now.” He pointed, directing her to his bedroom. His tone threw her off, swallowing thickly as a slight arousal washed over her. No, no. She was tired and missing her papi. Her papi... she missed him. So so much. That was all. She wasn’t fighting a slight shaking of her thighs as he commanded her...

She obeyed his commands, biting her lip. The bed was messed as he had been sleeping. A half finished wine glass sat atop the bedside table. She looked to him, a suggestive smile, cheeky. He took care of his women.

“Long day.” He corrected. “Earlier was a joke. There were no guests over tonight beside you. You may rest easy knowing the sheets are virgin of a woman’s touch.

She blushed, turning her head. She crawled onto the mattress, the crisp white sheets smelling of him. He took residence on the other side, yawning deeply.

“Sorry to wake you. Thank you.” She met his eyes.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Get some sleep. I’ll protect you.” His eyes shimmered with something...she couldn’t place what it was. Her eyes traveled down his ink, awed at the dark marks. A smile appeared on his face, laying on his back so she could see better.

“Wanna touch em?”

“Can I?” She asked, slightly afraid to. He nodded, amusement on his features.

“I’m not gonna hurt you.im you’re attack dog, babygirl. Promise I don’t bite...that hard.”

“I do.” She mumbled without much thought, smiling sheepishly as she realized what she said. She avoided his dark gaze, instead looking at his shoulder. She reached out, running her fingers down his arm, tracing a head of a cobra. It’s tongue was frozen on its lower lip, fangs tearing up at her. He seemed to have a whole zoo on his arm. A flower bloomed on his forearm. On his elbow was a spider web.

“Do they have meanings?” She asked like a bewildered child. She was entranced by their beauty, the sexiness. She liked the pain when she was given her coat of arms. It was erotic and sensual. She fed from it. Did he like the pain as well?

“Some. A lot are drunken night when I was younger.” Christov answered, blinking slowly, wanting to capture this moment forever. Goosebumps rose where her fingers landed. She brushed over his strong hands, veins prominent. She nearly moaned, imagining his grip around her throat. Tattoos everywhere, even on his fingers.

“What’s...this one from?” She pointed to a bird on his wrist, pulling his hand closer to her to examine it.

“That was in Vienna. Maybe three years ago. I saw a bird while on the job and I liked it. I got the guy to draw it pretty exact.”

She met his eyes, nodding slightly.

“Pretty. Or...whatever you’re supposed to call men’s tattoos. Handsome?” She asked herself, laughing. “It’s sexy.” She decided finally. Next she went to his neck, tracing tentacles along his skin. Some type of octopus. They went all along his neck, to the back of it and spreading to his shoulders. She grunted slightly, motioning for him to turn. He did, lying now on his stomach. She straddled his back, licking her lips.

“This okay?” She asked. He chuckled. She could feel him underneath her...

“Yeah, baby.” God, his voice...

She prayed he couldn’t feel her arousal through her shorts, hating herself for feeling this way. She wasn’t his. He wasn’t hers. They worked together. Co workers. He acted as her protector... like a brother. But she didn’t want him as a brother right now... his boss was her boyfriend. Yet, she stayed as she was, moving up his back, scratching her nails gently back down. He sighed, eyes shutting as he relaxed. The day had worn him out. Running errands for his boss like a slave all day even though he was in another country. Leaving his Spanish flower alone...unattended....horny...it was almost as though he was asking for her to get fucked. Maybe that’s why he took ares. Because he knew they were frisky. He probably didn’t think that Lalienna would try anything with his other men. Hector was an obvious no. They were close siblings. Hector was her brother by association. It would be weird. She never thought of him that way. She didn’t really notice Christov either...she knew he was handsome. Sexy. But she hadn’t become aroused by him. Not until tonight. Tattoos...his tattoos against his flesh. The way his muscles contracted and expanded as he moved. Breathed. She was a mess.

Lalienna didn’t know what came over her. Whether she was possessed or simply went insane, but she bent down and kissed the back of his neck, tracing the ink with her finger. That was fine. It was a chaste kiss...but she didn’t stop there. Oh no... she kept going.

Her tongue then traced the tentacle under his hairline, clawing at his shoulder slightly. Maybe that was a bit risqué...but it could be fine. If she had stopped....

Kissing to the crook of his neck, hands roaming his back... she bared her fangs like the snake on his arm, sinking her teeth into the flesh above his shoulder blade. And she had moaned, rolling her hips involuntary against him. His eyes opened, moving his neck to allow better access for her lips. She was given permission, not denied this pleasure. Her lips ghosted his ear, whispering darkly.

“You’re my attack dog? Then attack.” Her sultry tone, her lips against his skin, her hands, her hips grinding against him drove him insane. He was quick to move, her falling against the mattress barely having enough time to react as he pinned her down, holding her chin. Those eyes. Boring into her, ripping her heart out, lighting a fire inside of her flower. She burned with passion and arousal, biting her lip suggestively, writhing underneath him slightly.

‘Do something....please.’ She eyed him. He growled huskily; it drove her mad, arching her back off the mattress to feel him...his erection. She shivered in delight knowing he was enjoying this as much as she was.

“You’re not my papi. But you can be my daddy for the night.” She whispered in his ear, tugging on his lobe as she brought her head back against the sheets. Another growl.

Papi was passionate. It was personal. An emotional name she had given Santino. Her caregiver.

Daddy held no meaning. Simply someone she wanted in the moment. Christov had been called daddy many times before by many women. He held that aura. He was powerful, strong, a daddy. He enjoyed it. It was a turn on. Maybe a fetish. And now...this young Spanish maiden was begging for him.

“Santino would kill me. And you...you know this, babygirl.” He said in a semi defeated tone. She shrugged, giggling.

“Yes, if we fucked.”

His eyebrow raised, catching her hint. Sex...what was the textbook definition? A male penetrating a female with his manhood... so...that meant that head and oral weren’t sex by definition...

That also meant that when his thumb found her erect nipple from under her shirt that...it wasn’t sex. It was fine. And, when but at her neck, that it was okay. She pushed him slightly though, shaking her head.

“No marks. No hickeys. Okay?” She grabbed his face, narrowing her eyes.

“Yes ma’am.” He answered, dipping his lower half of his body against hers. Her legs spread for him, wrapping around his waist. She rolled her eyes, laughing.

“You’re older than me, daddy.” She watched as his eyes darkened, lust washing over him. She smiled, nipping at his lower lip. She found the waistband of his pants, palming his arousal through the fabric. He groaned hotly, attacking her lips as he pushed her flat against the mattress. His hand snakes up her shirt, squeezing her breast over her bra. She thanked her past self for dressing in purple lace tonight. He was careful as his lips trailed down her body to her stomach to not mark her. She watched with intense curiosity as his tattooed hands ran up her thighs, up her shorts. She whimpered, shivering in ecstasy. She throbbed against his touch.

“Daddy...Christov...”

she had said his name before, sure. When’s he greeted him or wanted his attention. But never like this...the breathy pleasurable sigh. Like a prayer fleeting from her lips. He craved it.

She pushed herself up in her elbows, pulling him into a passionate kiss, her tongue dancing with his.

“Lay down.” She whispered hurriedly, lifting the tank top from her body, placing it to the side. She resisted the urge to fold it, shaking herself from the thought. She’d be fine.... no, she wouldn’t. She folded it, shimmying out of her shorts as well and folding them, returning to her dark lover of tonight. She adored his ink, kissing up his arms while she straddled his abdomen, his hands on her hips and pushing his groin up against her ass. The thin fabric of his pants and her underwear did little to interrupt grinding his manhood along her skin. She gasped, gripping his shoulders, biting her lip to suppress a moan.

“I want to hear you, princess.”

“We’re going to get a noise complaint, daddy. Besides, do you really think it’s a good idea to be loud when tony is not five doors down?” She now moved between his legs, but not before he pushed her down against his chest, grabbing her barely covered butt, bringing her heat hard against him. She moaned then, hiding her face in his chest as she sighed and groaned, nipping at his flesh in a frenzy.

“Fuck, daddy....”

her eyes traveled up to his as she kissed just above the fabric, licking her lips in anticipation. She wanted to taste him. Intended to. But he was faster, flipping them once more, tsking.

“No, baby. You’re the one who can’t sleep. Let me wear you out.” A dirty smirk on his lips. He dipped his head to lick up her flower above the fabric teasingly.

“Daddy!” She whined, gripping the sheets. He chuckled against her, nose rubbing against her bundle of nerves. Finally he ripped the fabric from her body, tearing the fibers. She gasped, panting in need. His tongue lapped at her opening, demanding her eyes. He would fuck her with his tongue and make her keep eye contact. Again and again he sucked, licked, teasing her with his mouth. Anytime she shut her eyes or moved them from his gaze, he would stop, waiting for her attention once more. She hated him for this, but quickly learned to keep contact, needing his attention on her needy core. She came hard against his tongue, nearly screaming his name along with a string of Spanish curses, gripping his hair. All while looking into those eyes. Christov licked her clean like a dog devouring a meal, moaning softly against her flower. She tried to protest against him continuing, wanting to repay him. He simply shushed her with a gentle nibble against her clit. That shut her up quickly, falling apart quickly after. She came three times before passing out from exhaustion, mumbling a Thanks as christov tucked her in, kissing her forehead. He held a sly grin on his lips, stroking himself slowly till he got off, the memory of her moans and taste still on his tongue being enough to send him over the edge. He fell back against the mattress, and Lalienna curled herself into him, sleeping soundly.

“All you gotta do is ask, babygirl. I’ll take care of you.” He mumbled into her hair, eyes becoming heavy as he too fell into a slumber.

The Naboo Royal Handmaidens are a group of young women handpicked to aid the Queen of Naboo. On the surface, it appears as if the handmaidens only assist with the Queen’s gowns, hairstyles, and makeup. However, they are all trained in self-defense and remain vigilant against any threats to their sovereign. In fact, during times of turmoil, a handmaiden actually poses as the Queen. The Naboo Royal Handmaidens have been selected for their various talents as well as for their resemblance to the Queen, which is useful if a decoy is required. After being invited to join the Queen’s entourage, each handmaiden was trained in self defense and marksmanship. They often carry small, concealable blasters.

Misdirected Priorities

Ladies of the John Wick Fandom:

I would not usually seek to address you en-masse unless I was positive I had something very important to tell you. Well, it’s important. Look at this man please, tell me what you see:

Mr. John  Wick, no? The Baba Yaga. Bringer of Death. Oh alright, he’s a handsome Devil. Leave it alone a minute. . Now look here for me:

Straight From The Continental NYC. Mr Charon, the Concierge. And Mr. Winston, the Owner/Manager.

From the calling card above I wish to point out something to you girls with “daddy kinks” and other associated fetishes:

Mr. Charon will not tolerate slovenly ladies and will likely beat you with your own heel for leaving it about the floor. A place for everything and everything in its place. In this way, Order is achieved.

Mr. Winston is generally disappointed that he asked for a Martini and you served it with Vodka when it should have been Gin. When you beg forgiveness for the oversight he may consider letting you back into your room....some time next week.

Mr Wick: Is deeply in love with his angel, Helen whom threw him out of the house when she heard he was up to his bullshit again. He slinked away like a wounded dog and spent the night in the garage. He’s okay with that considering that he has a thing for power play, and she bought the car. 

Take this information and do with it what you will. Just show me when you’re done. Yes?

John Wick: Altum VI

He'd expected her hourly.

Even under the deluge of New York City's torrential rain. It had been like this for four days now. Constant, pounding. Flooding the streets and overrunning the gutters. The people scattered under black umbrellas determined to attend their duties and return to their homes, hot drink in hand. To rest before fireplaces or heaters so that they may somehow delude themselves into believing that the chill that swept through the city was purely due to this horrific weather. By God, they were wrong. He was the storm. Rolling thunder that reached out to explode across the very sky. He seared, flexing his back beneath black Italian silk, scotch glass in hand. His reflection diffused in the rain splattered windowpane by the dim light of the chandelier that glittered overhead. Winston had once more provided the finest Penthouse for his most illustrious, (or was it infamous?) guest. When the silver Rolls Royce pulled up to the Continental curb, he pushed himself away from the window frame, setting down the lead crystal glass he's nursed for an hour and absently sought to adjust his gold cuff links. Counting the heart beats, imagining the sound of her stiletto heels as they mounted the stairs and strolled the lobby, trailing footprints of rain water against Winston's expensive marble tile.

 When the black phone rang upon the sideboard, he expected it too and answered before the first ring had completed. Charon's richly silken voice proffered the information he had preordained.

"Sir, Ms. Canfeza Patrone requests an audience."

Silence... he was studying the cut upon his lower lip on the mantelpiece mirror. Only recently healed, he'd bitten at it unconsciously. Now it bled.

"Send her up."

He replaced the phone to its antique receiver and strode like a great, black panther across the Persian rug at his feet, settling himself upon the burgundy leather lounge the elegant room afforded; and slowly rolled his head from side to side. Feeling the tension in his neck and spine.

An Adonis upon his throne. He'd left the door unlocked on purpose.

A minute passed. Then another... and another after it.

There! The ring of the elevator bell in the distance, doors opening and closing with mechanical precision of purpose and footfalls across rich carpet. Yes... a woman's footfalls. Deliberate though hesitating. She didn't want to be here anymore than she had to. He knew too well what it was to know you were walking into the mouth of the dragon's den.

A knock at the door. He sighed hotly.

"Monsieur?"

"Penétrér." His choice of reply was as deliberate as the half lidded glare he fixed upon the door.

 Again, hesitation... a heartbeat passed. But she yielded. The way she always did for him.

Canfeza crossed the threshold dressed in a magnificent gown of red and black silk and damask that trailed to the very floor in a train that flared like the mouth of a lily. The olive flesh of her cleavage, throat and arms exposed. Black pearls adorned her earlobes, wrists and neck. Her russet hair, pulled back in a Grecian style, braided high away from her face. Those lips, full and sensuous, painted in deep ruby. Her eyes darted about the room as she shut and locked the door behind her.

'Good girl.' He thought. He'd only ever had to tell her once. They locked eyes across the room and he heard it. Quiet but audible as she sighed and shivered, stuck by his elegance, in awe of his grace. She averted her gaze to the floor and stood like a stone statue.

'That's right. You should be ashamed.' Whispered his thoughts.

 "Canfeza."The name slipped from his tongue like silk, he watched as her breasts heaved against the bodice of her gown. The woman looked up, taking in the lines of his face, the light as it played upon the fabric of his obsidian coat.

"Sir,"

"Is unimpressed." He finished, cutting her off before she could finish the sentence.

Again she dropped her eyes.

 "Come here." Quiet command, steel in his voice. Ice in his glare. Languished in elegance against the warm leather he reclined, separating his thighs as he sat, just a fraction further. The lady did not move. So he did, raising his brow slightly in question. That was all she needed.

She crossed the floor in swift steps; the room filled with the swish of her gown and the scent of her perfume until she came to a standstill at his very feet. Two paces away. Clever.

 "Please...." She breathed at last. Like a prayer by way of initiating her submission.

"That's twice you've kept me waiting." Her throat moved, he watched her swallow and continued.

"Well?"

"That blow was never meant for you, Sire." She began by way of apology. Her voice lilting. Honest. Faithful. He appreciated the tone. She continued, meeting his gaze fully.

"Believe me when I tell you I lost track of your shadow, I would.... I would have taken those bullets for you a thousand times over if it meant your lips were never marred by blood."

"I get it." He cut her off, again. "Too much noise, you get distracted and pull a strike that splits my lower lip. As if I've not got enough battle scaring, you feel the need to add to the canvas."

"No, Sir never!"

"Shut up." He snapped. The command like a whip crack of leather. She fell silent at once, her hand flying to her mouth to suppress a whimper.

"Rules and consequences." He voiced the phrase like a mantra. She replied the same like a hymen in a church pew, looking upon him as though he were Christ.

Never a messiah. But a fallen angel, his dark wings bloody and torn. He reached up then, his right hand warm though the room was cool, and took hold of her throat beneath his palm. Holding her a moment... feeling the pulse of her heart accelerate, her lips drop open, the shine of her hidden tongue. Her eyes screamed for mercy as he pulled her to him with such force, she had no choice but to fall to her knees. Her dress though elegant restricted her movements like the kiss of black rope.

His lips mere millimeters from hers.

 "Please..." She breathed, bridling beneath his fingers, "If I begged forgiveness...would you.."

"Forgive you?" His lips grazed her cheek. He held her steady resting his forearm against the tops of her heaving breasts. He could, if he wanted to. Break that beautiful white neck. She knew it. But his desires were elsewhere.

"Maybe." He whispered, his warm lips trailing to the lobe of her ear. His fingers loosening so that the blood began to flow again. The imprint of his dominance marred her skin a moment before returning to its ivory beauty.

"If you set the mood." He pressed, "I might change my mind."

He pulled away then, sitting back against the leather. His elbows seeking the back of the lounge, his body language open, the threat passed like a wave. He had her. Checkmate. She knew her place.

'Your move Black Queen'

She stayed on her knees, crimson nailed fingers weighed the plush carpet. She fought the desire to touch the black leather of his French shoes.

"I cannot... must not." She breathed feeling his eyes on her exposed spine, trailing the lines of the corset lacing of her designer gown.

"This is business." He pressed her, "Always has been, always will be."

"Then Sir, let me pay you in coin." She retorted, breaking the barrier, seduced by his flame, a great moth. She burned when her hands touched his knees over tapered black gabardine.

"I want flesh." He shot back. The admission stole the air from her lungs. Canfeza grasped him to steady herself now. The frantic whites of her eyes darting about the floor. Her panic rearing. How would she save herself from this man? This Master?

"Mine?" She whispered, tears threatening.

"Yes." A bullet.

"Now?"

"Next week." Two bullets. Loaded with sarcasm.

 In that very moment he was a blur of movement. He rose to his feet, a dancer across the carpet, reversing their positions. She was powerless against him. The way he touched her, before she could think he'd thrust her face forward upon the lounge so as she had no choice but to put out her hands to save her delicate nose from colliding with the leather.

"Stay." He hissed behind her. She froze a moment. Lowering her head just slightly. There on the leather she could breathe in the scent of his musky cologne. She steadied herself, though the rapidity in her breaths betrayed her excitement. My God. The shame of it...

'Please,' She prayed in her darkest thoughts. 'I want this.... I need it.' Her thighs squeezed together tighter beneath the confines of the silk and taffeta layers of her gown.

 And then she heard it.... That sound.... That glorious, incredible sound. The clink of metal as the buckle was slipped free. The hiss of leather as it was slid from the loops of his trousers' waistline.

Behind her, John worked the belt buckle into a loop around his palm, then brought the leather band back along his left hand, preparing the strike. Calculating.

He didn't ask for permission. He didn't need it.

The belt cut through the air like a knife. The crack impacted upon the peerless flesh of her exposed shoulder blades, kissing the skin in an instant then rebounding back to his waiting palm.

The cry that came after tore from her throat in a shudder of hot, wet pleasure. He waited, rearing as her fingers dug into the leather and she gave over to a shimmering sigh. Submission. To him.

This was foreplay. And he loved it.

 Again. Like lightening he struck her, watching her body resist the kiss of the belt. So satisfying. No crop or whip ever seemed to afford this kind of decadent pleasure.

SNAP.

 SNAP.

 SNAP.

 She moaned hotly, her body shuddering. Fingers set to claws as the tears that had threatened finally spilled over.

 SNAP.

 She collapsed with a galvanic peel of agony that left her raw throat like a tortured song.

Enough. He lowered his belt and surveyed the damage. So fragile, this flower. Fuck. He'd broken the skin.

An eye for an eye. She'd given him one blow.... He repaid her with six. Deep. No mercy. No regret.

This was just business.

 He turned away, sighing deeply. The coil of tension that had troubled him in the base of his spine released at last. Deft fingers replaced the leather to his hips. Vindicated, satisfied deeply, reveling in the sheer pleasure of release as he straddled the floor of his room and unlocked the door, holding it open.

"Thanks for your time, Ms. Patrone." Always the gentleman.

"Now get out."

---------------

‘John Wick: Altum VI’ was lovingly written in answer to a heavily desired ‘Ask’ request from fans posted on the famous John Wick blog: ‘John Wick Thirst Club’

Did this fictional piece satisfy your dark desires for deadly assassins and elegant, consensual BDSM? Then we request you support our work by liking and re-blogging the work without alteration. Feel free to follow our blog for more smoldering adult fiction.

Leave your love in words by commenting and recommending this piece to your friends.

Hungry for more? Send an Ask with details. If we can, we just might.