Chapter 19 Jude
Antonio tries to rip himself from my grasp once we’re out of the medical suite. Using my height and weight to my advantage, I shove him into the nearest wall, my hand at his throat.
“Get the fuck off me,” he snarls.
“No, I don’t think I will. Not after that little stunt in there.”
He tries to wiggle in my hold, but I squeeze his throat, forcing him to submit to me.
There’s a part of my brain that says I shouldn’t be doing this, that I need to remember what I was taught years ago, but the twisted, sadistic side that thrives in this life of ours punches the other side in the face.
I think, because I don’t make waves, and prefer to let my silence do the speaking for me, that people forget Tennant, Leandro, and I are all cut from the same cloth.
Those two embrace the chaos that swirls inside, while I learned at an early age to lock it down, as being different in my family was a taboo.
Now though, staring down at my volatile Boy, the pain and anger in his eyes is enticing, and I have to drag back in every bit of control I have, in order to get a handle on this situation before he does something stupid—stupider than hurting his best friend in the most devastating of ways.
“You’re going upstairs with me,” I tell him carefully. “And you’re going to tell me what the fuck is going on with you.”
He trashes. “Fucking Marcus…”
“No.” I tighten my grip a little. “I’m not asking about him. I’m talking about you.”
He swallows, and his place in our relationship seems to override his anger for a moment as he relaxes a fraction. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good. Now, upstairs.”
I release his throat but grab his hand instead, not trusting him. Dragging him to our bedroom, I release him and let him pace, while he's muttering things I can’t quite make out under his breath. Ignoring him, I lean against the dresser and pull out my phone.
JUDE
Don’t come in the room until I ask you to. This is between Antonio and I.
NICOLO
Of course, Sir. Is there anything we can do?
NARIO
Is he okay?
JUDE
He’s fine, Angelo Mio. Or…he will be once I’m finished with him. If you’d like to help, prep an ice pack…he’ll need it.
They give their affirmative, and I shove my phone into my pants pocket. Looking at Antonio, I let him pace back and forth in front of me for a few more minutes. Finally, when I’ve had enough of him stomping around the room hard enough to make the floor vibrate, I wave my hand to get his attention.
He stops mid-stride and looks at me, the anger visibly clear as day on his face, from his dark eyes, to the pinched corners of his lush mouth.
“Strip and kneel for me,” I sign and voice, desperately wishing I didn’t have to do the latter.
Moments like this are the times I wish for silence, but…we’re not there yet. One day, hopefully, if Antonio and the twins buckle down and learn from the trips. They started to…and then Emilio and Roman got taken. I don’t blame my loves, but one day, I will command them all in my language.
He shakes his head. “All due respect, Sir—”
“I wasn’t asking. You can strip and kneel now, or I will make you. I can guarantee you will not like the second option.”
His mouth opens a little, and I imagine he gasps, though I can’t hear it. Quickly, he begins undoing his shirt and kicks off his shoes. I watch as he strips and carefully lays his suit out on the bench that one of them put at the end of the bed.
When he kneels in front of me, I wait until he stops twitching and shifting. His position is second nature, but his head is too chaotic for him to sink into it.
“Hands behind your back,” I order. “I want your head down, and for you to sit for me like the good boy you are.”
He complies, and though it’s not instant, having more direction—a task to complete for his Dom—helps calm him.
“Good. Stay very still for me, Antonio.”
His name is another blow to his already twisting emotions, but it’s a necessary one, as it tells him exactly how I’m feeling about his actions.
Trusting him, I walk to the closet and head straight for the far wall, where the toys I ordered are waiting. This isn’t how I wanted to play with them, but needs must. It’ll be fun, at least, for me.
Grabbing what I need, I return to the bedroom to find a perfectly still Boy, even if he's not calm. I can see the tension in him, how he holds himself so stiffly.
Walking over, I trail the falls of the flogger across his shoulders and down his back, letting him feel the supple material. Antonio shudders and relaxes a bit more, his head dropping further forward.
“Good boy,” I praise. Dragging the falls down his chest, I smile as he moans and shivers. “Why are you so upset, Antonio?”
He tries to raise his head, but I move back a little, so the toy is no longer touching him. And he stays in position.
“Good boy. I’ll tell you when it's time to lift your head. Tell me, why are you so angry?”
“Because the asshole should be dead!” he spits out angrily towards the floor.
“Marcus brought him here, into the house that feels like home, into the family we are building…
he doesn't deserve that. He doesn't deserve to see how we're thriving, despite him trying to put us down.
He doesn't get to come in and try to take over—”
“Stop,” I order. “Look at me.”
There's hurt in his brown gaze, and it's such a far cry from the warmth I normally see in them.
“Allesandro is here because he needs medical attention.
Doc is the best, and doesn't let anyone die on his table.
Not only that, him being here does not mean he gets to steamroll over any of the progress we've made.
“Carter is the Boss here—until Roman and Lio return—while Keegan, Benjamin, and I are next in line.
None of us would let him jeopardize all that we've fought for.
Do you really think Ten or Hollis would let him bulldoze his way in?
He'll be lucky if he doesn't end up with a knife in him.” Or another bullet, considering Leandro has seemed to adopt Lio as his.
I watch as the devastated of his actions and words plays out on his face, and he realizes just how big of a fuck up this is.
“Do you not trust me to make sure you and the Boys are safe?” I ask softly.
His eyes widen. “I do, Sir. Of course, I do.”
I gesture with the flogger to his still-caged cock. “That tells me otherwise. I told you it was staying until you learned to trust me. What happened to that, Antonio? What went so wrong that you attacked your best friend instead of asking your Dom for help?”
His lips thin, and the anger mixed with pain is back in his eyes. “He fucking started it! Calling me that fucking name…”
“Enough. I can see you're not ready to be honest. So, we're going to do things a little bit differently. In a way, you'll understand. Up. I want you over the dresser.”
Pushing away from the furniture in question, I trade places with him, only Antonio braces his hands on the wooden dresser, spreading his feet apart and offering himself to me.
“Such a pretty Bel Fiore,” I tell him, dragging the flogger across his ass.
Moving in, I tie one of his more colorful ties around his hand and wrist, leaving enough slack so he can wave it like a flag.
“I plan on caning your ass until you either decide you're ready to talk or I feel like stopping. For the sake of your perfect ass, I hope you choose the first option. Do you understand, Antonio?”
“Yes, Sir.”
I hum and watch him until he starts to squirm, then I place a hand between his shoulders, shoving him down. “And do you know why you're about to be punished?”
“I…” he hesitates, and a shudder runs through him, his sob is both audible and shakes his entire being. “I punched someone. I said terrible things to him… I started a fight rather than trusting you.”
“Yes, yes you did. Anger is allowed. You're allowed to be upset, to be pissed off, but what you are not allowed to do is use that anger against members of this family.”
“Marcus isn't part of this family,” he spits, struggling against the dresser.
“Quiet. If you're going to act like an insolent brat, I will treat you like one. Tell me you understand?”
“I understand, Sir. Please…”
Trusting him, I back up so there's enough space to swing the flogger.
He gasps at the first taste of it, but as I move from light to more firmer touches, his moans start up alongside the steady slap of leather against skin.
The thicker, heavier falls will leave a deep, thuddy feeling, easing him into the pain we both know is to come.
I warm up his ass and thighs, and venture a little further down his legs, as this will take a while, I think, and I don't want to damage him by limiting the area.
Once his skin is nice and pink, I slow my movements down again, before eventually stopping.
Moving close once more, I run my hand across his warm ass, enjoying the loud groan he lets out. I keep a hand on him, even as I drop the toy onto the dresser and let out a slow breath.
Tugging at my curls a little, I ground myself. My former mentor’s teachings are in the back of my mind, even though I know what I'm about to do will go beyond what he believed I wanted.
The thing is, though…I just never had a willing partner to test out how far I can push…and find the delicate balance of being what Antonio needs, while not becoming Allesandro… No pressure.
Taking a deep, calming breath, I drag my fingers across his ass to let him know I'm here, then head to the bench, where I left the cane.
Picking it up, I let the weight settle in my hand and give a few test swings.
A grin stretches across my lips as I hold the cane at my side, and move in to once more run a hand across my Boy’s pretty ass.
“Remember,” I tell him, “this stops when you're ready…or when I am.”
“Yes, Sir.” His words are barely audible, and I give a quick flick of my wrist, striking the cane across the side of his ass in reprimand. “Sorry, Sir,” he says louder.
I chuckle. “You're about to be.”