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He knew. Somehow, for the stupidity of Gennaro, or himself, or the whole shit of thing to begin with, Ciro realized he'd fallen into the situation he wanted the least. Don Pietro knew about their trickery and he just lied to the Don to his face. He could feel the hair on his back stands. Fear and the instinct of self-preservation screamed at him to run away, yet his limbs failed to respond as Pietro's deep, sophisticated gaze glued him to the spot.
Gennaro had failed to follow his first execution and Ciro had failed his task to supervise him. It's shouldn't be this big of a deal if they had been honest with Don Pietro, but it was a choice he made and now he had to take the consequence.
For a second, Ciro was actually delighted to see that Gennaro wasn't so much of a cold-blooded killer as him, that the young man still possessed some of the innocent streak he himself had lost a long long time ago. But that delight was merely a shadow of a wink, and now he cursed all of the Savastano to their death.
He tried to hold his last dignity, even under the harsh glare of Don Pietro. He was never a cowardly man, and it was something Attilio and Pietro used to praise him about. He dared not to evade his eyes, though, because he knew it would only make him look more guilty.
Pietro's hand climbed to the back of his neck, the old man's warmer than usual due to alcohol and fury. Ciro's shoulders tensed, and a moment later he felt a strong force pushed him down to the ground. Kneeling in front of Don Pietro made him look more like a pathetic dog than he already was, and he hated how the Don squeezed his eyes to stare down at him.
"What can you do to prove you're trust-worthy?" Pietro's voice was still so emotionless. His right hand traveled along the underside of his chin to his sharp cheekbone, "How do you convince me to keep you around?"
There's a challenge in his tone and Ciro's heart sunk.
He knew exactly how to convince Pietro.
The last time he did this was years ago when he still looked young and fresh, when they were in the Don's office and not so many drunken peoples jumping to the beat downstairs. Ciro was not that boy who tried to impress his boss desperately anymore and Pietro certainly was fed up of him after a while.
Still, Ciro remembered exactly how to please him. He remembered the way Pietro liked he showed his total submission by down-casting his hazel eyes, remembered how to pull the Don's zipper down with his teeth in a filthy way, remembered how to pop his lips around the elder's cock before swallowing it all the way in, remembered how to press deeper even if Pietro's fingers gripped tighter on the back of hie neck, remembered how to ignore the shame and fear that anybody in the club could see him now if they'd just look up into the VIP room upstairs. Ciro remembered it all and he actually hoped he didn't. It's hard to keep a steady breathing pattern when a fat cock's trying to choke his throat and against his will as well, but Ciro managed to hold back the tear at the corner of his eyes even when he felt like he's about to suffocated.
Don Pietro was a sick bastard but it was never something new to him. It could have been less unboreable if he would just disconnect himself from the scene, pretending like it was no more than a daily duty that he needed to do; or he could just close his eyes, pretending like it was Gennaro and that would make everything much easier.
Gennaro would never treat him like this, though. The young man was a corky thick head and all, but he'd never treat Ciro like a dog, like a meaningless tool to use, like a worthless whore to toy with. But now Pietro's hand pressed his head down on his raging cock, his gag reflex choked a satisfied moan out of the old man before he shot his load deep into Ciro's throat and almost made him choke.
He pulled out of his mouth, watching with a sadistic smirk as Ciro coughed a little and tried his best not to throw up on the spot.
"Swallow it," Pietro commanded, pervert as he always was and wiped away the slick drop on the corner of Ciro's plump lips, "be a good boy and thank me for not killing you shit of a brat that's full of lies."
He tasted the sick flavor of the old man's come and iron on his tongue, but he swallowed it all without a sound. When he lifted his gaze under the dark fans of lashes again, his eyes were so deep and unpredictable.
"Thank you, Don Pietro." His voice was so raspy, but Ciro couldn't pretend it was someone else that just went through the absolute horror.
Pietro nodded, sipped his jeans back and finished up the champagne before exiting the VIP room, leaving Ciro on the ground still shivering like a fallen leaf.