Love supports everything

Vincenzo De Angelis

I swallow hard feeling the lack of air burning my throat after Giovanni's strong grip hitting my back against the cold metal of the container, his eyes bloodshot with fury making it very clear the order of extreme measures to be taken to recover the girls. His strong body marked in the dress shirt approached sticking the bodies showing the rigidity for the cunning scene set up, taking advantage of the moment when the men were ordered to make a sweep throughout the port, the blue eyes shining even with the low light using the itself to disguise our closeness.
I had to admit the dark beauty of my owner, yes, my owner, the dilated pupils stinging every part of my being, claiming something that is only his as I finished taking the last breath of air that was left in my lungs. And despite the mistaken lapse I've had in the past in imagining that I could harbor something for Giacomo I must admit as crazy as it is, Giovanni's love is real and I'm damned for loving the ways his love hurts me.
- I recognize that look from afar, fix that shit and bring the load. - The hoarse voice reverberated through the metallic walls, bringing his face to the curve of my neck, pressing more to cut the air once and for all, scraping the wispy beard. - Do what you have to do and I'll be waiting for you at home with your reward, my whore.
His hands let go of my neck as quickly as he'd grabbed in his rage, the lack of his warmth becoming a sickening illness as his strong back tensed further and further away towards the exit, turning my balls purple, along with the fury at being denied the smoldering, vicious desire trapped in my spine mingled with the pleasure of craving punishment.
This is his way of asking for meticulous work, offering something that only he is capable of giving: freedom.
I made my way towards the exit, passing the pieces of arms, legs and heads spread across the floor of the container in a bath of blood, I stopped to observe the state of the polished and varnished shoes now stained by the blood that covers the soles. I move my foot trying to clean the shoe on a body in a headless suit, becoming completely drawn into the scene.
It's impossible to recognize whose body it is, the heads scattered around the cubicle showing the skull bone of some scalped, legs separated into thighs, calves marking the fracture of each knee before death, everything done in life, the penumbra of the place exalting each measly drop of pain. The carnage bathing the floor in a river of blood glistening with the pieces of meat but I keep twisting my mind to understand why it had caught my attention so much, the dress shirt open showing the marks of torture with the abdomen opened and the guts falling out to the other side, the last step of the torture being to cut him open and leave him to bleed to death like a pig to rip the head off of all the parts those are the least cold i.e. they were taken last, I kick a few meters of the intestine scrunching up the scarred pieces of feces amidst the blood, the open cavity showing a perforated colon, a kidney, I kick out a few pieces of the torn liver finding the other kidney far away from where it should be, the stomach out of place and I finally manage see what's missing
A heart.
I draw in a sharp breath through the stench of present death, walking through the bodies finding kidneys, livers, mangled lungs and no heart. Without a fucking heart, five soldiers mutilated and left without their hearts ripped apart like meat in a butcher shop and without any heart, I walked out of the metal box going straight to meet the strong midday sun letting my skin burn, breathing in I inhale the smell of the sea air to erase the stench of bodies rapidly rotting in the midst of blood and dismembered organs.

The mind getting lost between the past and the present, the bodies of the soldiers disappearing and in their place the bodies of the children molested by him, the girls begging for mercy while he and Giovanni laughed having fun with their retinue of high-ranking faithful from some states of the country setting up the scheme to set up a bigger and more lucrative route for trafficking.
Dark eyes shining amid the copious sobs, his gaze fixed on mine as he took calm, measured sips of vodka holding the bile in his throat when I noticed his look, painful, revolted the shadows I learned to see in the mirror every morning taking shape by the red cheeks covered in purplish hues at the corner of her mouth. Beatrice's beauty was inerasable even when she was forcibly taken from behind as if she were just one of the convicts and not the organization's future queen covered in bruises and dried blood.
The glow of pain mixed with growing hatred, amidst the chaos of the huge hall decorated in gold and red tones filled with gifts offered by our host, I was unable to look away from his gaze tormented by the very similar sensations.
Not when I clearly remembered eyes of the same color taking my body over and over again in a spiral of intense pleasure throughout the night, the firm look imposing itself at every moment in that room, the deep voice asking to stop the marriage that would never happen in consequence pushing her own sister into the devil's arms.
Would he feel pain if he saw this scene?
Would you regret choosing her?
And the answer was as clear as the request for compassion in the identical eyes.
No, Giacomo would not regret having offered his sister to marry Stefano, he would not regret having chosen Giulia and even less for having used me to try to guarantee her protection.
This realization only inflamed my hatred for the Costello family a little more, the pain of rejection of the man who offered me pleasure without pain merging with my contempt for the woman's pain they were of the same and repudiated blood inferior in the hierarchy, I finished the drink calmly admiring tears drying on her cheeks as the man I recognized as the Democrat Senate candidate pulling out of her, throwing his used condom to the floor picking up his cigar as he tucked his flaccid dick back into his boxers laughing like a clown.
The used and abused body bent under the wooden table tied by the hands like a plastic doll made for fun his reddened wrists with the rope mark his knees bent to the ground as if praying for salvation, eliciting a smile that only he had from me .
I dropped the glass, waving towards the owner of the toy, who opened a smile of satisfaction, I knelt beside him, wiping the delicate face of full apples and pert nose with my thumbs, caressing him and receiving in return the low moan like an abused animal begging for attention. I pulled her chin up to gaze once more into her eyes at the intensity of the darkness there. I traced the outline of her thin lips, loving the soft texture even with a bruise in the corner, the beauty so raw, the skin so similar, the same eyes, I pulled her hair by the nape of her neck leaving her mouth exposed, taking her lips with the taste of blood in an intense kiss full of resentment at the denial mingling with the taste of her tears, taking from her the part she would never have from him.
I released her breathlessly pulling the knife strapped to my back inspired by the dread of the blade sliding across my left cheek.
- Hell is here, princess, welcome to the place where dreams die, it's time for your little heart to embrace the pain, that organ is only good for beating.
I placed a kiss on his thin lips, thrusting the blade into his left shoulder, deviating inches from the pulsating vein in his neck, descending over the bone with his screams becoming a lovely melody to my ears taking the place of his moans, I lifted my body worshiping blood dripping onto the floor tears flowing and her body one step away from collapsing in pain, I licked the blood off the knife like I was tasting one of the most expensive vintages of wine in Italy.
Her blood is the same blood that runs through his veins.
It was at that moment that I loved having a part of him available, his naked body and the smooth skin of his back as I took off the belt and brought the first lash down on his back opening the trickle of blood I went hard at the sound of his pain I looked up to Stefano who opened a sickly smile loving the same sound while Giovanni opened his legs in a silent demonstration that the scene turned him on.