|Maella Abbey (maella_abbey) wrote,|
@ 2008-03-15 23:37:00
He had often been threatened with the dungeon for his misbehavior, but the Abbot and his own youth had always saved him. Angelo could scarce believe he was really chained naked in a cell, a bed of musty straw the only comfort offered him. He found himself crouching like an animal; the stones seemed to press too close around him, stealing the heat from his body and the very breath from his lungs.
It was almost a relief when Marcello entered, though his brother's smile boded only ill for him.
"I have had a most...enlightening conversation with the owner of the Simpleton pub," Marcello said, stopping so close that he nearly trod upon Angelo's hand. "It seems you've been working on quite an impressive list of infractions whenever you've been out of my sight."
Angelo glared up at him through tangled hair, hoping the dim light would hide the blush he felt burning his skin. He could just imagine the tales Marcello had heard, from Tiffany and Ella in particular. "I hope you made note of everyone else racking up infractions, while you were there."
Marcello raised a brow. "I can't say I noticed anyone there who ought not be," he said, "but then, few people have your skill at bringing attention to themselves."
"So you'll turn a blind eye to anyone without the misfortune to be related to you," Angelo spat, and immediately regretted it when Marcello's gloved fingers wrapped in his hair and yanked his head back painfully.
"Like it or not, our shared blood means your behavior reflects on me. I'll not lose everything I've worked for due to your rebellion."
"I'd not be here to reflect on you if I had any say in the matter." And oh, Goddess, that was another mistake, because if Marcello had him thrown out...
Marcello smirked, and for a heartbeat Angelo thought he'd do just that. "For over thirteen years, I've waited to give you the punishment you deserve. I ought to thank you for finally giving me the opportunity."
"Thirteen?" Angelo asked, but of course Marcello would count his crimes - real and imagined - as starting from the day of his birth.
"They tell me," Marcello said, as if he hadn't spoken, "that you've developed quite a taste for liquor and women." His hand loosened from Angelo's hair, stroked down his body, shoulder to side to hip. "I wonder what other vices you've developed?"
"I imagine if there were any, you'd know about them in lurid detail," Angelo said.
"Oh, I will." The smirk was still in place as Marcello's hand closed around him, his leather glove cool and smooth against Angelo's cock. "I had intended to beat the defiance out of you, but stubborn as you are, that might very well kill you, and I suspect the Abbot would disapprove." He stroked with just enough force for it to be a warning, his thumb stroking over the head as the foreskin drew back. "However, given that you seem to be training to become a whore rather than a Templar, I suspect other methods will do just as well."
"You can't," Angelo whispered.
And knew he could.