Chapter Seven
The condom packet Conor had taken from the drawer wasn’t his usual brand, but he wasn’t about to argue that point. So long as it fit and didn’t break, that was all he cared about. That, and knocking his sexy partner’s socks off.
Gio still wore his, which almost had Conor laughing in the middle of his seduction. On his knees between Gio’s thighs, he raised each of Gio’s lower legs and shrugged off the thick white socks. Grasping Gio’s right foot, he brushed his lips along the arch and quickly ducked away when Gio twitched as though to hammer him with his heel.
“Sorry.” Gio’s voice was muffled in his pillow. “That wasn’t intentional.”
“Ticklish?”
“No.” Gio lifted himself on his elbows and turned over, drawing a line across Conor’s abdomen with his big toe before settling on his back. “I’ve never had a guy kiss my feet before. Not while I was awake for it, anyway.”
“It’s not your thing then?” Conor asked.
“It can’t be my thing if it’s not happened before, right?” Gio rested his hands under his head, showing off the muscles in his biceps. The gun show, people here might call it. Gio’s body alone could be classified as lethal.
Conor watched Gio’s reaction as he grabbed the foot again. He pressed his thumbs against the sole and rubbed small circles along the skin, up the fold near the toes. Gio’s feet were huge, in proportion with the rest of him, and at first glance it appeared the man took care of himself. Conor, while not harboring any particular fetishes, got a charge out of eliciting pleasured noises from Gio during the impromptu massage.
“You deserve to be worshiped, Gio,” Conor told him, and pressed a light kiss on the pad of Gio’s big toe. He then set the foot flush against his chest and rubbed Gio’s calf. Gio must have liked it, judging by how his semi-hard cock twitched. “Any lover who hasn’t kissed every inch of you has clearly missed out.”
“Is that how you treat all the guys you’ve been with?” Gio lifted his other foot and slid it along Conor’s cock. “Because if you kiss other parts of me like you ate my ass, there won’t be anything left but a puddle.”
Conor laughed. His behavior amazed himself, too. “You inspire me, and excite me,” he said. “When you offered to help me at the pub today, I was so touched. You waited all the tables like a damned pro and looked so hot, even flirting with the ladies. Have to admit, I got jealous.”
“They ain’t my type, but they appreciate a bit of attention.” Gio tucked his chin against his chest, now puffed up a bit. “Good for bigger tips.”
“Sorry, I heard bigger tits . I’ll be kissing those soon as well.”
Gio huffed. “You gonna do that before or after you fuck me?” He pulled his leg from Conor’s touch and, grasping both his knees, folded himself in half. The move exposed his hole, still glistening with lube, and the sight of Gio’s presenting himself had Conor’s dick hardening.
“Both.” Time to stop talking. Conor surged forward, prying Gio’s legs apart, and captured a puckered nipple in his pursed lips. He sucked hard, riding the rise and fall of Gio’s chest as the man’s breathing quickened. When he switched nipples, he rolled the free one in his fingers to keep Gio stimulated all over. Every moan, every whimper stabbed at his heart. With past lovers, he dismissed the whispered encouragement as white noise, focusing only on the sex. With Gio, he wanted all five senses in the game. He listened, took cues and discerned what Gio liked and wanted.
Conor preferred the taste of Gio’s skin to the nutty brown butter and cold domestic beer they’d shared, though wisps of both scents lingered in the air around them. He kissed a trail down Gio’s belly and scooted back in bed to reach the hole again, offering it one last wet swipe before reaching for the condom.
“Fuck!” Gio pounded the mattress at either side of him. “Get inside me, now.” Yes, he’d waited long enough. Conor as well.
He palmed Gio’s face, rubbing his thumb at the corner of Gio’s mouth as he lined up his sheathed cock at the hole. Gio was tight but relaxed, and eager to take all of Conor. “C’mere,” Gio said, tugging on Conor’s arm to bring his body closer.
Conor fucked hard, with his knees digging into the backs of Gio’s thighs as they shared sloppy kisses that missed their targets more than met. Conor moaned into Gio’s mouth with every sharp pinch of Gio’s fingernails into his flesh—under his shoulder blades and on his ass. Whether done in the heat of passion or on purpose to encourage him, Conor didn’t care. He lived in the moment, slapping against Gio with every push to be heard over the creaking bed springs. They smelled of garlicky sweat and lube and it sounded as though the room might collapse on top of them. If Conor died as a result, he’d go a very happy man.
He tore his face from Gio’s kiss with a loud smack. Raising his torso, he gripped Gio’s legs as he fucked. Gio’s cock, leaking and red to the point of bursting, bounced with his every thrust. “You think you can come with me still inside you?” Conor asked, his voice ragged.
Breathing through his mouth, Gio gave a short nod and a weak reach for his cock. Conor intercepted, sliding his fingers up and down Gio’s shaft. Gio’s vocal cues guided him to tighten his hold. Conor hoped for them to climax together and he was almost there.
Warm, brief jets of cum landed on his knuckles and Gio’s abdomen. The sight, coupled with Gio’s rapturous expression, tipped Conor over the edge. He rode out his orgasm bottomed out in Gio’s hole, grunting loud as Gio milked him. His mouth worked independently of his brain, spilling curse after curse as terms of endearment.
“You motherfucker. You think you’re so smart, trapping me with your tight ass. I should have barebacked you and sucked out my cum. Made you kiss it out of me,” he said. He let go of Gio’s cock and raked his fingers through Gio’s sticky spend. “Maybe I’ll just dump the rubber right here, mix us together.”
Eyes closed and grinning, Gio found Conor’s hand with his own and twined them together. “You’re a filthy son of a bitch, aren’t you? You talk big now, but what happens when I flip you over and chomp down on that sweet ass?”
“Try it.”
Gio shot open his eyes. Conor expected a glint of mischief in reaction to the invitation, but instead saw something different.
He didn’t like it.
* * * *
They weren’t alone.
Gio’s years in and around family business had taught him to remain vigilant at all times. As much as he enjoyed Conor’s company, instinct had forced him to train one ear on their surroundings. Thank all the deities he turned for the missionary position with Conor. Otherwise, he might not have picked up on the soft footfalls and light shadows playing beyond his bedroom door.
Fuck!
Gio slid his right hand to the side of the bed, feeling under the mattress for his gun. He put his left forefinger to his lips, urging Conor to be silent.
“What?” Conor mouthed, his face creasing with obvious concern. To Gio’s relief, he didn’t protest when Gio nudged him to the other side of the bed and motioned for him to cover himself with the top sheet. Gio hoped his hard stare conveyed the urgency of his request.
Stay down. I got this.
Still naked, Gio sat up and retrieved the gun. He ignored Conor’s sharp intake of breath and aimed for the open doorway. “Slowly,” he commanded to the distant shadow, “come here where I can see you.”
Gio counted the seconds in his head, not surprised when Vic stepped out to fill the threshold, hands in the air to give the impression of being unarmed. Bullshit, Gio knew. Vic wore a tight shirt showing no odd bulges, so he guessed his colleague had tucked the gun under his belt behind him.
“Christ, Gio,” Vic said, shaking his head. “I didn’t come here to kill you.”
“What is going on? Is he your boyfriend?” Conor asked. Gio felt the sheet underneath him go taut. He stood but didn’t answer Conor. He couldn’t break eye contact and risk creating an opportunity for Vic to shoot either or both of them.
Vic snorted and gave a sour expression. “Boyfriend? Are you shitting me? I like pussy, thank you very much.”
“Vic, shut up.” Gio then bit back a curse. He’d fucked up, of course. In surveying his apartment, it hadn’t occurred to him to check for the spare key. “Aggie Bertinelli said you might be looking for me,” he said to Vic, ignoring Conor. “I’m thinking you were really wanting to talk to Aldo about me, more like reporting back to him after you rummaged through my apartment.” He tilted his head. “Have to admit, you were clever enough not to use my spare key on the deadbolt when you left. I’d have suspected something sooner.”
His friend—if Gio could call Vic that—shot him a grim smile and nodded. “Yeah, he asked me to spy on you a bit. So what? You want to be a made man, you gotta pass muster,” Vic said. “It’s business, G. It ain’t that Aldo doesn’t think you’re not worthy or disloyal, but apparently everybody goes through this.”
“Made man.”
Gio’s heart pounded at the disbelief in Conor’s voice, the sound of the man connecting the dots. For his protection, Gio remained still with his gaze and aim on Vic. He had much to explain to Conor if they got out of this, assuming Conor would listen. The disbelief turned to anger in seconds.
“You two are with the San Gaetanos, aren’t you?” Conor demanded to know. “The people out to screw my parents out of their pub.”
Vic twitched one hand as though to point, but glanced at Gio’s gun and froze. “Your parents wouldn’t be in the mess they’re in if they’d paid on time.”
Conor’s voice turned dark, a sharp ache in Gio’s gut. “Call it what it is. Extortion.”
“Hey, fuck you, fairy.”
“Shut up!” Gio shouted at Vic. The room turned cold, tension crackling all around them. Gio felt silly, naked and still aiming his gun, but damned if he was calling a timeout to get dressed. He was supposed to be rolling in glorious afterglow with Conor Malloy, and right now he doubted he’d ever get the chance to make love with the man again. “Vic, you went through my shit here. Whatever you found, you found, so why take my key? Why come back?”
Vic’s face flushed red. His gaze darted from Conor’s direction to Gio to the floor. “I don’t know why I took the key, G. I thought maybe I’d need it later for something, you know? When Aldo wasn’t home I asked Aggie about you, and she said she ain’t seen you today. Aldo said you were supposed to report back when you…” He glanced in Conor’s direction. “I walked past Lonnegan’s and saw you waiting tables, for fuck’s sake.”
Gio felt Conor’s angry silence on his bare back. More dots connected. Kudos to the man for not losing his shit, but Conor was smart. Gio guessed he was also waiting for the other gun to make its appearance. Meanwhile, Vic bent at the knees and squatted toward the floor.
“Hey, can I at least throw your lover some clothes?” he asked. “It’s enough I gotta stare at your dick while we’re talking.”
Gio ordered him to get it done fast, and Vic tossed everything onto the bed. Gio ducked at the pair of briefs sailing past him for the pillows. He sensed a dip in the mattress—Conor crawling to retrieve what belonged to him. “Something was up, I knew when I saw you in the pub,” Vic was saying. “I had to take care of some other stuff and I came back when I thought you’d be home. You didn’t answer the door when I knocked,” he continued.
All bullshit, Gio guessed. Vic had either shadowed him or staked out Lonnegan’s, looking for enough dirt to vault himself over Gio in Aldo’s and Don Salvatore’s good graces. More than likely Vic had stood outside his door, listening for cues until he could let himself in and plot his ambush. “You could have slipped my key under the door,” he said. “Walked away.”
“Good thing I didn’t, huh?” Vic’s smile turned ugly. He snapped his fingers. “I got that, what do you call it, gaydar,” he said, “though anybody watching you two interact in the pub would know it. Don Salvatore ain’t gonna be happy when he finds out he’s about to initiate a fa—”
“Are you trying to extort me now, is that it?” Gio cut in. “Who I like and who I fuck is nobody’s business, and I ain’t hurting the family.” Conor, on the other hand…Gio listened and heard only movement and zips as the man dressed. “Anyway, you’re the one who said last night you had nothing against gays.”
“I don’t like liars, G.” Vic grew bolder, hands on his hips now. Gio tightened his grip, ready to shoot if necessary. “Maybe if you’d confided in me, we wouldn’t be here like this,” he added. “You can’t trust me to keep your secrets?”
“No,” Gio said, “and I wouldn’t ask for yours, because who can say what’s the truth?”
Vic stuck out his chin, assessing Gio with a heavy-lidded stare. “It’s one thing that you’re gay, or bi, G. They don’t like it when you flaunt it.”
“I’m not flaunting anything, for fuck’s sake.” Gio tempered his anger. “I’m in my own apartment, and you broke in.”
“Yeah, well…” Vic shrugged like it was no big deal. “Maybe if he were the one taking it up the ass, instead of the other way around, I’d forgive you.”
“Fuck you,” Conor said, his Irish brogue thick.
What Vic said next slurred in Gio’s ears. He was too focused on Vic jerking his dominant hand behind his back. Gio had milliseconds to mull over his options—shoot now or step forward and block Conor from Vic. If Vic had sent word about his sexuality to Aldo or anyone else in the family before sneaking into his apartment, he was toast. No coming back from that. Conor’s parents needed their son.
He shouted for Conor to duck down behind the bed, to reduce his chances of a bullet wound. Maybe that would discourage Vic from firing a gun in his apartment and alerting one of the neighbors to call the cops. Gio saw Vic bring forth his hand with the .45 but couldn’t predict his aim. Gio pointed his gun at Vic’s shoulder.
A loud pop broke the silence.
Vic’s haphazard treatment of their clothing had resulted in Conor’s underwear sailing through the bars of the headboard, landing between the mattress and the wall. Neither Gio nor Vic seemed concerned with Conor crawling on the bed for his things, and he therefore hoped he well masked his reaction when he brushed his fingers over something hard and gun-shaped.
Conor watched the two mobsters snipe at each other, waiting for Vic to shift his line of vision. When he felt confident, he tugged the gun loose and hid it in his briefs. He gathered the rest of his clothes and maneuvered the small gun under the sheet, bunching the fabric to discourage a visible, gun-shaped lump. He did not own a weapon himself, and he hadn’t fired a gun since high school. His father had a permit to carry concealed, utilized during bar hours, and saw that Conor knew gun safety in the event he manned the bar alone. As far as Conor knew, that gun only fired at the range whenever Hugh saw fit to practice his aim.
Heaven forbid he had to use this one to protect himself, from either man.
He dressed, fumbling zippers and buttons with trembling fingers as the fear of being shot weighed heavily throughout this ordeal. If he died today, he at the very least wanted his pants on, to save his family some embarrassment.
He was frightened for his life, and for his parents. Also furious. Gio had lied to him, or else twisted the truth about himself. Gio might indeed work in a warehouse, under mob supervision, but the career change remark from last night took on new meaning. That Gio had gone out of his way to help with Lonnegan’s today surprised Conor, but maybe it was a tactic to lull him into a false sense of security. Trick him into convincing his parents to give up the pub for well below its value.
Multiple questions crowded his mind, but damned if he’d interject into this tense conversation. He wasn’t confident that Gio wouldn’t turn the gun on him.
Conor felt used. He wanted to go home, unscathed. He hesitated in dressing, holding his shirt. If the situation turned dangerous in the split second his shirt obscured his vision, he wanted to stay on alert. When Vic next glanced his way, the man’s disgusted expression faded. They were down to one exposed dick in the room—no doubt still one too many for the homophobe now reaching behind his back.
Vic’s remark to Gio about taking it up the ass hit wrong with Conor. Despite his anger, Conor wouldn’t accept that Gio’s sexuality made him any less of a man for the mafia. “Fuck you,” he told Vic, his voice full of venom.
“Not even with Gio’s dick,” Vic shot back, flashing something dark and lethal in his hand.
“Conor, get down!” Gio, still naked and aiming for Vic, didn’t turn to check on him. Conor didn’t see it as neglect—somebody had to keep Vic in check, but Conor saw the inevitable coming in hot. Question was, who would Vic shoot first?
Conor answered by raising the semi-automatic .22 and firing at Vic’s gun hand. Pop ! The bullet whizzed past the man’s body and lodged in the wall behind him. Vic yelped, rearing backward a step, but once he recovered he growled out a curse and swung the gun in a short arc from Gio to Conor. Gio’s bullet hit a better mark, hitting Vic in the upper arm.
The entire shootout played out in seconds, but the ensuing scene slowed to a crawl in Conor’s mind. He stood at the far end of Gio’s bed, the spare gun warm in his hand, while Vic howled in pain. A dark red spot bloomed on his upper arm—serious but not fatal, and enough for Vic to drop his gun. Gio lunged forward and, kicking Vic’s weapon under the bed, wrestled the man to the carpet and straddled his back.
“Palms on the shag above your head where I can see ’em,” Gio ordered, touching his gun barrel to the back of Vic’s skull. “You even breathe funny and I’m pulling the trigger.” He cut his gaze up to Conor. “You okay?”
It took a second to register that Gio addressed him. Conor tossed his gun on the bed, more out of a knee-jerk reaction than a desire to disassociate with it. “I’m fine,” he said.
Gio crooked his head toward his living room. “Kitchen drawer right underneath my microwave. I got a bag full of zip ties. Bring a handful?”
“Should I call nine-one-one?” Conor fisted his shirt and rounded the bed, scanning the ground for his socks and shoes. Vic lay with his head facing the nightstand, his upper body heaving with dry sobs.
“No. I’ll take care of that,” Gio said. “We need him bound first.”
Right . The mafia had their own emergency number, Conor guessed. He side-stepped Vic and put on his shirt as he walked away, shaking off the suspicions tingling down the back of his neck and spine. He heard Gio taunting Vic as he sifted through the utility drawer.
“Yeah, how do you like my cock and balls touching you, you fucking homophobe?”
Conor laughed in spite of himself.
* * * *
Vic cooperated as Gio bound his hands and ankles, then checked his pockets for a knife and keys, anything to use to try to free himself. The bullet appeared lodged in Vic’s bicep, with his humerus still intact. Gio coaxed him to roll over into a sitting position, leaning against his open bedroom door, before treating the injury with gauze found in his bathroom.
He stood over Vic’s hunched body. The man looked uncomfortable with his hands behind his back, but Gio’s compassion had disappeared the moment Vic drew his gun. “I got painkillers and edibles,” Gio said, “if you want to take the edge off.”
“I’ll live.” Vic bowed his head, growling. “Just put on some fucking pants, please?”
Gio thrust his groin forward, flopping his soft dick in Vic’s direction, before snatching up his clothes. Leaving his feet bare, he sat on his unmade bed and called Don Salvatore’s consigliere —procedure for disputes within the family. He began the story at Aldo’s request to lean on Conor to give up the pub, and covered his volunteer shift as Lonnegan’s server as well as Vic entering his apartment uninvited.
Explaining how he came to shoot Vic required Gio to tell the whole truth. With Vic as a witness, it would be impossible to hide anymore. “Vic found me with another man,” he said.
“Another man?”
Gio swallowed, glaring at Vic. “We were intimate at the time.”
The don’s right-hand man gave no audible reaction. He advised Gio to keep Vic in place until a car arrived to collect him. If anyone in earshot of the scuffle had called the cops, he would check with their people on the inside and make the reports go away.
“Much appreciated. I’ll speak with my capo at first opportunity about the Lonnegan’s situation,” he said.
“Sooner the better.” The consigliere paused. “Giuseppe, I’ll have to speak with the boss about the other thing. Maybe if you’d been up front about yourself from the beginning, this could have been prevented.”
Doubtful. “I understand.” Gio thanked him again and rang off. Sighing, he gave Vic’s raised knee a light kick and stood when the man twitched. “You’re lucky to be alive.”
Vic huffed. “I’m lucky your boyfriend can’t shoot straight.” He flashed a cruel smile. “That’s to be expected, I guess.”
“Just sit there and keep your yap shut.” Gio retrieved all the guns and, steeling his nerves, stepped over Vic into the living room. He dreaded this confrontation more than the one with Aldo. Conor sat on the couch, fully dressed, staring into space. He could have walked away, defied Gio and called the police, but instead he’d stuck around. Gio thought at first Conor feared retribution, and he wanted to give his assurance that no harm would come to the Malloys. Not while he breathed.
Whether Conor believed it or not, Gio thought the world of him. That Conor had left behind the small gun gave Gio hope that they’d come out of this well, and at the very least remain friendly.
“Why didn’t you kill him?” Conor asked, flicking his gaze in Vic’s direction.
“It’s against our family’s code.” Gio twined his fingers, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Only the don can make that call. You might not believe this, but I’ve never killed another human being.”
“No?” Conor relaxed, shifting an inch or two in his direction. “It certainly looked as though he was about to ignore said code.”
Gio couldn’t argue with that. “As you’ve probably heard, the mafia will gladly take gay money but the institution itself isn’t LGBTQ-friendly,” he said. “At any rate, being connected isn’t about how many people you can kill. It’s about having control.”
“If what you call control equates to preying upon innocent businesspeople and driving them to life-threatening illnesses, then I agree.” Conor’s voice turned cold. Gio reached out but Conor shied from his touch. “Answer this one question,” he added. “Did you invite me to JT’s last night with the intention of swaying me to agree with your boss’s plan of cheating my family out of their pub?”
“I asked you out because I thought you were hot as fuck, and I was horny as all hell.” Gio ignored Vic’s exhausted groan. Let the fucker hear all the gory details. He expected Conor to pucker in disbelief but his spirits surged when he instead raised an eyebrow. To him, it meant Conor discerned his words for what they were—the truth. “I had no idea you were Hugh Malloy’s son until I saw you in the pub and you confirmed it yourself.”
“Nonetheless, you were involved in the plan to take Lonnegan’s as payment for my parents’ inability to pay protection.” Conor stood and arched his back. He looked tired and shaken. To think not an hour ago they were tangled together in bed without a care in the world. What Gio wouldn’t give to have that again. “Is my life in danger?”
“No.” Gio had kept Conor’s name out of his conversation with the consigliere , though once word spread he knew he stood to suffer more punishment. In hiding his sexuality from the family, he’d committed a grave offense. As for Conor, the San Gaetanos wanted the Malloys’ main asset, not their blood.
“I don’t want to be here when the rest of your goons arrive,” Conor told him. “Do you plan to keep me here?”
“You’re not a prisoner. You didn’t witness a murder. The family’s sweeping this part under the rug so it’s no big deal.” Gio checked his texts. “You have time. They’re about ten minutes out.” Conor was almost to the door when Gio asked him to wait. He leaped from the couch and moved as close as allowed, reading Conor’s body language.
“Con,” he said, keeping his volume low, “I want you to know everything between us happened because I wanted it. You weren’t an assignment from my capo or anybody else. I really liked you. I still do. I wish there was a way we could be together.”
Conor lifted his gaze and locked with Gio’s. His heart panged on seeing the dullness in his eyes.
Gio added, “I’m at a huge risk here. I have to formally come out to the head of one of the biggest crime syndicates in the whole damn country. He is definitely not a ‘love is love is love’ kind of guy.”
“I’m sorry, Gio.” Conor’s expression radiated sincerity. “Is being gay in the mafia really punishable by death?”
He shrugged. “At best, I don’t get made and I’m an associate forever. At worst…I can’t say.”
“Good luck to you, then. I definitely shouldn’t be here,” Conor said. “If they’ll harm you, a non-connected male witness who sucks dick doesn’t stand a chance.” He left the apartment as Gio called his name, closing the door on words unsaid.
Unable to leave Vic unattended, Gio pressed his forehead against the door and mourned his loss. Conor didn’t say it outright, but no way would the man want a relationship with him after this. Not like they had a chance in the first place, and with his sexual identity about to go public Gio doubted the San Gaetanos would let him walk away. He imagined the consigliere waking Don Salvatore in the small hours with this pressing news, and feared what tomorrow would bring.
At the threshold of his bedroom, Vic coughed out a hollow laugh. “Sorry you two had to break up,” he said, sounding the complete opposite. “How wild would it be if that was the last thing you ever heard that Irish fairy say?”
Gio marched over to Vic and planted his bare heel in the man’s groin.