Work Header

fiat - fix it again tomorrow

Chapter Text

fiat - fix it again tomorrow



I arrive at his shit-hole of a hotel thirty minutes early. To be fair, I shouldn't be here at all. We were set on meeting each other directly at the docks, but Azzurra's anxiety is rubbing off of me and now I'm feeling even less calm then when I left from home.

I'll feel better once we'll be together, it has always been like this.

I barely nod my head at the permed middle-aged monstrosity behind the desk and take the steps two at a time. I did not warn him I was coming, so the possibility that he already fucked off on his own is a real one.

Just in time.

He is opening his door when I finally land if front of his room. I'm trying to hide the fact that I'm slightly out of breath after two flights of stairs, but I still notice the weird expression on his face when he was about to leave his room, even if the surprise of seeing me here is quick to replace whatever it was. And whatever it was has just set my teeth on edge, like the sound of a hammer being cocked. Or the sound of a bike approaching your car window.

-Oh, Genna'... What are you doing here?-

-Just thought we could go together.- I answer, stuffing my fists in my pockets and advancing on him, making him back up inside the stuffy hotel room.

-You're leaving early...- I point out to him, feeling something in my jaw contract when he hesitates, bringing one of his hands to fidget nervously with the collar of his white shirt.

-I wanted to go somewhere else, first.-

He is being vague. Too vague.

We shouldn't have any kind of secrets at this point. We are together, now, on the same page and with one goal!

Unless... I've had this horrible idea percolating in my head since I saw him leaving in such a hurry, that he was going to have a “private meeting” before the party with that mangy piece of trash Enzo.

He said he chose me! He said I... The look, sad and embarrassed, he throws at the picture stuck in the mirror frame is like a bucket of ice-cold water on my face.

That's enough, he does not need to say anything to turn a good chunk of my rage into apprehension. Seeing him like this, in the middle of this dingy hotel room filled with empty beer bottles and stinking of stale smoke, all dressed up to go and visit his family at the graveyard, makes me uneasy. He looks like he is on the edge of something, like he is just passing through or on a loan.

Suddenly I feel like I've arrived just in time, tho' in time for what I don't know yet.

-You look good in that.-

He is trying to butter me up, the bastard. Should have learned by now that it just makes me more furious.

-Thanks... Azzura picked it.- I grind out rigidly. I don't like that he's still trying to play me, like he used to do when I was just a stupid kid following him around like some moon-eyed puppy.

He just nods slowly, his stretched grin turning more melancholy and wistful. I feel some of my rage drain away 'cause he must really be out of sort to not notice my souring mood. Maybe he isn't even trying to manipulate me on purpose, by now that's probably just a default defense mechanism for him.

-That woman is a real jewel. I'm happy that I managed to get her and Pietro back... But now is up to you. You have to take care of them.-

'M going to crack a tooth if I keep clenching my jaw like this. I don't like how he is talking, I think starting to fidget with my rings, like getting Azzurra and Pietro back home was some kind of “last mission” to see through. Like he has no more reasons to stay, now. He has never looked this fragile, not even when I went and found him after his daughter's funeral, cowering in the Vele's belly like a wounded animal. Defeated but with still enough spirit left in him to flinch back from me when I got the gun out. Like I could ever... Tsk!

-Don't do what I did, okay, Genna'?- he goes on with a wavering voice that makes my heart clench painfully. -I was greedy. Wanted too much and now... Now I'm left with nothing.-

-That's not true...- I spit out, embarrassed by how fragile and charged my voice sounds, like I'm barely keeping it together. I've heard it all before, fuck you very much. I don't need a goddamned encore that is just going to make me feel more and more like crap. His head shaking and wet eyes feel like fucking rejection enough.

I'm here, right in front of him, ready to tear out with my bare hands the heart of anyone who's even thinking of looking at him the wrong way! Is this nothing? My devotion, my loyalty... My love. Is it all worthless, to him?

A couple of steps take me right in front of him, close enough to smell the familiar scent of tobacco and leather and to grab his shoulders, trying to catch his gaze with mine.

I want him to look at me, to see me. The more he tries to evade my eyes the more I feel my anger mount and my breath get heavy. After everything we have done he can't give up now, with the finish line in sight and the two of us finally together. It took me a trip to the other side of the world and seeing half my family six-feet-under to understand that, I and he are two faces of the same coin. Complete only when united.

Ciro turns his head, avoids my eyes and when he closes his lids in a last ditch attempt to avoid me, I finally grow the pair to graze his cheek with my lips. If I'm about to lose him again, might as well go all in, right?

It's nothing, I hardly touch him. And since he says nothing I do it again, this time with more weight and closer to the corner of his mouth. I linger a second too long to call it friendly or innocent.

I'm risking everything but at least he is looking at me, now. My hands are going numb and I feel my face start to burn in a way it has not burned since high school. This time he must know, after all the times I was sure he had notice the attraction I feel for him, this one is the one when I'm truly, terrifyingly certain. I feel naked like a worm and if he was to reject me, to laugh in my face... Don't know what I could end up doing to him.

He hesitates, surprised. His soft dark mouth opens slightly and his gaze drops to my lips first and then up to cross with mine. A wavering hand goes to rest on my hammering chest while the one he raises to cup my face goes even more haltingly, like he is scared of touching me. I want to tell him that it's okay, it is more than okay! I've been waiting so long I... I just stay still, terrified of scaring him off like he was some kind of wild thing.

His eyes keep shifting between my own and my mouth in an almost calculating way, like he is testing me, trying to feel out where's the catch, if he can trust what he is seeing... And I must be doing something right, because his head bobs slightly, then more decisively, in a faltering nod.

I've waited this kiss that tastes of cigarettes and desperation for something close to fifteen years. Since the first time I saw him standing in my father's study, all sharp cheekbones, dark curls and eyes like the ones of an alley cat. Even back then I knew we were made for each other, I think sinking my tongue in his mouth and gripping his waist with the strength of someone who's trying to stop you from drowning.



I focus on the muscles in my thighs starting to burn, on the impalpable touch of my white shirt, the only thing I'm still wearing, brushing against the skin of my back with every downward thrust and on the feeling of his hands, big and scalding, that I'm keeping trapped in a grip against my belly. I'd prefer to use mine to brace against his shoulders and gain some momentum, but Gennaro keeps trying to touch me and I have no intention of cumming. It doesn't matter, even if some time has passed and the last time wasn't exactly consensual on my part, this is not my first time riding a dick.

I don't give a fuck if I'm making him angry by ruining his little romantic fantasy. My hotel room, my ass, my rules.

He'll keep his hands where I want them.

He is under me, groaning and grinding his teeth, his trousers and underwear still twisted around his knees where I left them. I didn't even let him the time to take off his shoes. The sooner it ends, the better it is. I guess I underestimated how much he wants this, though. Because even with his legs trapped by his pants and his hands gripped in to mine, he still manages to make me feel like I'm on a mechanical bull, getting all the leverage he needs by planting feet and shoulders in the mattress.

Predicting his movements is nearly impossible with such a staccato and uneven rhythm, meaning that some of his lunges hit their marks and get me good. They make my spine arch and my throat bare itself, because I don't have the strength to control them when I must grind his hands just below my navel even more forcefully, to prevent me from dragging them up to my nipples tortured by the soft cotton of my shirt, or down below where my treacherous body craves them more than anything.

He is close, I can see it from his face and the desperate note in his voice when he asks me, again and again, to let him touch me. He is so far gone that he can't keep his mouth shut. He calls me “love”, says how much he has wanted me and for how long, how many times he has dreamed of bending me over his father's desk, or tells me of that time he jerked off all over a blood stained t-shirt I forgot at their house after a hit gone badly.

No wonder that ugly bint of donna Imma had always hated me, Gennaro is not good at hiding his feelings for long.

He throws his had back in to the pillow with a snarl and I feel the huge muscles of his thighs strain and flex under me, making me gasp breathlessly and get distracted, so that his hands manage to brake my grasp, clashing the two wedding bands I wear on my left hand with one of his many rings. He recoils forward with a silent spasm, sitting on the bed and crushing me against himself so violently with his arms that it feels like my spine is about to be broken in two.

All I can do is clench my teeth and let him ride it out, while he pushes his flushed face against my sternum and pulls me down, making sure to have every centimeter of his cock buried inside me.

I made it. I did not cum.

I'm nothing but an empty husk and this is just more proof of that, this was nothing but goodbye present I gave him to repay him of every time I used this little crush of his for my personal gain. He bows his head with a sigh, mingling the sweat on his brow with the one on my chest and setting my skin alight with waves of goosebumps. I'm trying to calm down for when he will have to take it out and the last jab to my sweet spot that will come with that when, suddenly, I find myself on all fours on the bed, face sunk in the grimy hotel coverlet and ass up in the air.

-Wait! What are you-ghk!-

He is still hard enough to mount me again and push my hips against the mattress with an angry shove, underlined by a gurgled scream from me.

He is not thrusting, he just moves his hips in a circular motion, making my hard-on rub insistently against the bed. I try to brake free as much as I can, but he has at least twenty kilograms over me and I don't remember the last time I came.

I don't want the pleasure I'm feeling, I don't deserve it, the love I'm receiving with every thrust and every kiss he lays at the back of my neck. I wanted my punishment and my absolution, but I am too weak to give myself what I'm due, so here I am back in Naples hoping that someone will do it for me.

Of the Immortal, of Ciro from Secondigliano nothing is left.


It's Gennaro my last bond with the past and a happiness I wasn't able to recognize. So it's kind of fitting that he be the one to use what little I'm left to give. Even if that is just my body. And it's fine with me, let him take his pleasure if he wants it. What is bothering me and making my blood pulse in my temples is that he seem to be offering me something more. Something I can not accept.

I should have never let him in. Now he is so deep inside me that he is able to stir all my apathy and self-hate to let a glimmer of hope I thought lost shine through.

Unfortunately I wasn't lying when I told Enzo that I couldn't stand the loneliness anymore and yet, before this night, I've always been able to control my body. Even when Tatiana had thrown herself at me, or when that fucking dog had got to me in the privé above his nightclub, treating me like I was one of his cheap whores. He had took what he wanted from me and I had let him... After all, he didn't give a fuck if I cummed or not and all the pain and humiliation I deserved ten-folds.

With Gennaro it's different.

I can feel the pleasure mount more and more and an all-consuming want devour my brain and every coherent thought it contains. It's a temptation I can no longer resist.

“Forgive me” I think, turning my head toward the mirror and the photo, reduced to an unfocused mess by the tears of pleasure and guilt filling my eyes. I never thought that I could feel even more disgust for myself than I already do. His hand is firm and ruthless when it grabs my jaw and turns my face up toward him, twisting my neck at a painfully unnatural angle.

-Look at me... Only me!- he growls in my face. With my neck turned like this breathing is hard and when I come without a touch, all I can see are is teeth surrounded by darkness and fireworks.



Without my hold keeping his head raised, he collapses exhausted on the bed. His eyes are watering and his breath wheezy but his face looks more relaxed, almost younger. I'm holding myself up on my arms as much as I can 'cause I don't want to crush him, but I also don't want to move off of him just yet. One reason is that, every time I try to pull it out my dick hurts like a bitch, when he came I literally saw stars with his ass clenching like that on my overstimulated cock, the other reason is that having him here, trapped under my weight, makes me feel more secure.

Judging by the way he is completely abandoned on the bed, he must have gone through one hell of a dry spell. Maybe for him it's different, but if I don't eat or fuck enough I turn in to a beast. It's physiological, no wonder he was on the edge of a nervous breakdown... Right?

I hiss with my teeth clenched when I finally pull out. Fuck, motherfucking ouch! It's like someone tried to sendpaper it off and, from what I can see of his ass, it must be even worse for him.

I really should have took the time to take something off, because it feels like I'm about to pass out of heatstroke or suffocate. My t-shirt and hoodie are practically glued to my skin with sweat. Thank God the balcony door is open, letting in some air along with the sound of the city finally waking up after the sunset.

I sit up to take off some of my clothes, sweats first and then pants and shoes all end up in a pile on the ground just next to the bed. Not the best place, but they'll probably be in better shape than his... I think I popped more than a couple of seams getting them off of him. Not that he will need them soon, if I have it my way and he'll let me get him ready for a quick round two. Still sitting I reach out one hand and let it slide under his button-down shirt, he got that and I got the t-shirt, we are even now.

I let my fingers trace the bumps of his spine, upward first where his olive skin is hidden by the white cotton, and then down to his tailbone and ass... Which I'm just nuts about. Maybe someone would find it too full and round for a man, but I like it like this, so I just bend down and give it a nice bite.

He must be pretty out still, 'cause I don't get any reaction from him. It was gentler than I would have preferred, but still enough to leave behind a nice reddish mark. Was hoping for some breathless gasping but I kinda like him like this, spreadeagled on the bed, blinking slowly and letting me do whatever I want.

I wonder if he'll let me feel the wetness I left inside him with a couple of my fingers. Mh, nah... I don't wanna bother him too much, now that he seems to have relaxed a bit. Maybe more than a bit, if his blown pupils and slack mouth are anything to go by.

-We have to go, Genna'... This truce is important.-

Well, good morning, kitten. Doesn't his brain ever stop scheming? Not even after an orgasm that made him literally drool?

So much for my round two!

-Don't care...- is my answer, murmured against the skin of the small of his back.

He turns with a sigh, first on his side then on his back and looks at me with his eyes still damp and heavy-lidded. I see his mouth starting to twist in a grimace of reproach so I kiss him preventively. He must not be too concerned, after all, judging by how he is sucking on my tongue.

-You'll see, they won't even notice if we come a little late. They'll all be revved up and shit... And I've waited far too long for this.- I tell him with a smile, still leaning over his face.

I join him laying down at his side, my head level with his chest, and I make him turn toward me, letting my hands explore and caress... Pressing with my fingers to feel his ribs under the warm skin... Pushing the stone of one of my rings in the cup of his navel and finding out it's a perfect fit...

I move my palms upwards to reach his dark nipples and smooth them over with my thumbs, moving his white shirt just enough to take one in my mouth and feel it harden under the strokes of my tongue, then biting it with my front teeth and pull softly. I go easy on him, 'cause I know Azzurra hates this, she thinks it strange and in bad taste, especially now that we have a child. But that's the nice part of doing the dirty with a serial manipulator, they always know what you want and are amenable to give it if it fits their scheming.

That's why he indulges me, letting his fingers stroke through my hair down to my neck, while I breath in the smell of his skin and listen to his heartbeat, barely covered by the traffic noise coming from the streets and the insistent buzz of my phone ringing in the pocket of my discarded pants.

-Aren't you gonna answer that?- he asks me softly, sticking one of his hands down the back of my collar down to my shoulder blades. With an annoyed snort I give one last goodbye lick before parting from his skin and reaching to the floor to recover my phone. To be fair, it has been ringing nonstop for more than fifteen minutes.

I sit on the side of the bed, stretching the still free hand toward Ciro and resting my open palm on his throat, where I can feel his pulse beat.


-Hey, Genna'...-

It's Nicola.

-Yeah, what is it?-

-Are you at the docks, yet?-

-No.- I answer with a cluck of my tongue.

-Something bad happened. The Wizard... He's dead!-

He must have noticed my uneasiness mounting, 'cause suddenly Ciro is up and sitting next to me to listen at what Nicola is saying. Looks like someone has caved in the old man's skull in his own home. Our gazes cross and I know that that brilliant little head of his is already at work. The Capaccio brothers? Or, maybe, that little piece of shit Blueblood... Has he cottoned on about Carmela? At this point is more than evident to both of us that the yacht party was just a ruse. I'm still on the phone when he goes to grab his from the nightstand.

-I have to speak to Enzo. Maybe...-

My hand is like a vice on his wrist and he looks at me irritatedly.

-I don't trust the bastard and that cunt of his little pal.-

He does not look convinced, but he seems to be thinking about what I just said. I know he doesn't like Valerio either. He is suspicious and for good reasons.

-Genna', we need this alliance.-

-We don't need fucking anything from them. If it wasn't for you they'd still be the insignificant garbage they were and that's what they'll go back at being.-

He lets his cellphone fall on the messy bed, it looks like he got that the argument is over and I have no intention of discussing it further. For now, at least. I'm sure that as soon as I'll look the other way, he'll do what he wants anyway.

-Better if we move fast, if we want to screw them up. Before they have the time to salt-away all the hardware we gave them.-

I nod, then tell Nicola to get Patrizia and the guys and that I'll call him back later to tell him where we'll meet.

I have some valuable stuff to stow away first myself.

-Get your stuff.- I tell him pulling up my pants. -You can't stay here anymore, it's too dangerous.-

I don't even wait for an answer, going straight to the cheap closet in a corner of the room while he puts his clothes back on. The first door is empty, so is the second one, number three has a couple of shirts hanged and a half-full battered duffle bag thrown in a corner at the bottom. He has been back for months but almost all of his stuff is still packed in there. It makes the hair at the back of my head stand, even though I don't know exactly why.

I turn slightly to look at him over my shoulder. He is completely dressed, leather jacket and everything, and standing still in front of the mirror next to the bed, holding nothing but a phone charger, wallet and his passport.

He doesn't even twitch when I throw the bag on the mattress with more force that it truly needs. Circling the bed to get to him I stuff the two shirts I just got from the closet in the duffle bag. I don't give a fuck if I'm ruining them, I'll buy him a thousand if he likes.

I shoulder past him, still standing in some kind of daze, and open the table's drawer just below the mirror, getting the pack of ammo and the 9 in there and flinging them between the crumpled shirts.

My temper is seriously running out, we don't have time for this whiny crap. Not right now.

Despite this I'm gentle when I take the wallet from his hands and gentler still, when I remove the photograph from the mirror frame where it's stuck. Two pairs of dark eyes smile at me from the wrinkled surface. “Until death do us part”, right Deborah? Well, I think death has done you part quite some time ago, don't you think? I fold the picture carefully, open the wallet and put it between a 20 and some calling cards in Cyrillic. Then I take what's left in his hands and gently pack it with the rest in the bag.

He is facing me when I turn back at him, but his eyes remain distant and fixed on the floor. I come back at his side and take his left hand between mine, I know it must be all in my head, but it feels so cold and breakable that, when I squeeze it, I do it just barely. I hold it like I'm holding something fragile and precious and I feel him watch me, while I trace the contour of his fingers, his scarred knuckles and the two gold bands stacked on his ring finger. He says nothing even when I bow my head to kiss the back of his hand, followed by the inside of his wrist.

-Hey... I need you here.- I simply tell him.

Finally he looks at me and then he nods, making my heart explode.

With him at my side I can do anything. The world is ours, we just the need to reach out and take it, he must not forget this. I take off one of my rings and let it slide on the finger of his left hand, on top the two wedding bands already there. I bet he thinks it is hideously gaudy, but it has to be this one. It's the one I got the day we killed my father. In a way it has always been his. Ours. As a matter of fact, as soon as the dust will settle, I think I'll have an identical one made for myself.

Ciro looks at his hand, then back to me.

-You're a real fool.-

He is smiling and so am I.

He lift the bag from the stained covers and swing it over his shoulder with more energy I've seen from him in the last months and goes to the door, me following not too far behind. We have some heads to pop.



the end?