The Haunting at the Colosseum:
It had all been a dream – a
cruel mismatch of images filtering through his mind, causing him to assume
things which might have taken place. It was the heat of the carnival, with
Franz d’Epinay remained quiet
while listening to his friend talk – reluctantly admiring just how well Albert de
Morcerf could adjust to certain situations without thinking too much about the
consequences. Alas, but Franz was a dreamer
and a thinker – one prone to analyzing and criticizing the unnatural and the
unknown. He had been ridiculed because of that – had been told that his head
was always in the clouds. He assumed they were right in saying so. He really
had no time to deal with mundane matters when more serious situations lay in
the horizon.
Like say, the men he had
heard amongst the ruins.
He felt a chill run down his
spine, hands clenching into tight fists on his lap as he tried to will away the
persistent images that refused to abandon him. He had no doubt that if caught;
he would have been killed on the spot. His status in life would have made no
dent on the diabolical plotters. To them, he would have been another statistic
and tomorrow the papers would write him off as yet another victim of
It was all a dream.
And yet it wasn’t.
He had sat on those stone steps,
seeking solace and solitude within the majestic ruins of the once grand
Colosseum. He could see Albert and the other tourists – mere dots in the
distance now – enjoying their guided trip with expressions of awe and wonder on
their faces. But like a dreamer, he wrapped his arms around his raised knees
and closed his eyes, welcoming the silence with a small smile. How pale and fragile
he looked then - a lonesome figure sitting in a place once set aside for
gladiators of old. He could almost imagine the warriors taking the stage. He
could hear the bloodthirsty cries from the crowd – a million voices raised in
unison cheering or jeering for the victor. And for a few minutes, Franz allowed
himself to be swept away in his imagination – that was until the man in the
black cape had arrived.
It was faint – barely audible
but he heard it all the same – the silent climb broken only by several stones giving
way beneath each steady step. He had sat up then, eyes widening in fear and
then curiosity. He had assumed he was the only one who enjoyed the solitude,
but apparently not. He had remained silent, hiding behind the safety of a thick
marble column with his heart beat quickening and his thoughts running wild. He
stole a quick glance but could only make out the stranger’s tall and rather
stately figure. There was a black top hat upon thick, dark wavy locks, making
him all the more mysterious. It was a pity the young baron could not make out
his features for he would have loved to have known who it was.
Like an apparition, another
man arrived to join his mysterious companion and they began to talk in low
voices about plans to release some prisoner, pardons from the Pope himself,
signs and warnings and names he couldn’t understand. And yet despite it all, one
thing struck the young baron hard.
The man in black’s voice.
It was a deep timbre – a
resonant sound with a light accent which had sent a shiver of reluctant
admiration and excitement down the young man’s spine. Surely the man must be a
member of the aristocracy, for no one else could speak so eloquently. Franz
knew it was a voice he was never going to forget for as long as he lived.
“Albert,” he spoke up
suddenly, causing his best friend to stop with his recount of the tour. “I am
afraid I’ll have to stop here. I foolishly forgot my watch at the ruins. You
know how important it is to me.”
“Then I’ll follow you,
Franz,” the dark-haired boy replied with a nod, making a sign for their driver
to stop. “It is only a short distance from here…”
“Exactly.” The Baron placed a
hand on his friend’s shoulder with a warm smile of reassurance. “It will be a
short walk and I can always find another carriage to bring me back to the
hotel. So go, you do have a party to prepare for tonight, do you not?”
“But…”
“I will return, my dear
friend.” He leaned close to place a chaste kiss on Albert’s forehead before stepping
out quickly. The young viscount stuck his head out the window with a look of
concern on his features.
“Are you sure you do not need
me with you? I will worry if you do not return in an hour’s time, Franz.”
The young baron d’Epinay
smiled again and waved, not trusting himself to speak for fear that he might
lose his resolve. He watched the carriage make its way down the bustling street,
wondering if it would be the last time he ever saw his friend’s caring visage
again. Deciding not to dwell too much on it, he allowed himself to be lost in
the crowd, footsteps quickening as he made his way back to the haunting
colosseum.
The last group of tourists
was being led through the gates and he joined them quickly. He waited for a
chance to escape their presence and smiled to himself as the perfect opportunity
was finally presented. As the others vied towards the right, he made a sharp
detour to the left, his feet now already familiar with the uneven path which
would lead to his destination.
He reached the highest level
of the amphitheater and sat upon the cool stones to wait. His breathing sounded
harsh and shallow to him, his mouth dry and indeed his entire being trembling
with anticipation. This was a foolhardy plan – to come back to a place like
this. He wasn’t even sure if the mysterious man would still be here. For all
young Franz knew, he could very well be the fool waiting in the wings for a man
that would never come.
For how long he sat there, he
had no idea. He could feel himself losing consciousness as the excitement of
the day began to catch up with him. A lethargic sensation fell upon him and
just as he was about to give in to welcome sleep, he heard it again. That
voice. His voice.
“Beneath the moon, my dear
baron, you could almost pass for one of the many ghosts which wander the
catacombs of
Franz rose to his feet quickly,
his cheeks flushing with heat as he watched the man step out of the shadows. It
was a relatively cool night and yet he could feel a cold sweat break out on his
brow. His heart pounded fiercely within his chest as if threatening to fall
right out of it. However, he knew he couldn’t back away now. He had come here
to satisfy his curiosity and he was determined to find the answers to his
questions.
“Who are you?” he asked in a
voice which sounded breathless to his ears. He could not see the man’s eyes for
the top hat covered them. However, there was no denying the power he exuded
with each step he took.
“Who am I, he asks,” came the
amused response as the man flung out an arm to reveal a walking stick unlike
any Franz had ever seen before. It was simple and yet as ornate as one which
could belong to the
“How…how do you know my name?”
Franz took a tentative step backwards in growing worry and the man followed
with a smirk now on his dark features.
“Does it matter how I’ve come
to know you?” He took another step forward and watched as the younger man
shrank back again. “What matters is that you are here and you’ve come for one
thing, have you not?”
“No…no…argh!” One false step
and Franz knew he was about to tumble down the uneven steps and to his eminent
death.
Merciful death! Rescue me from this power he so
wickedly possesses!
But instead, a strong, gloved
hand reached out and pulled him back to safety and into a crushing embrace, completely
knocking the wind out of his sails. He was pressed tightly against the man’s
chest, the sensation of soft velvet caressing his heated cheeks as the heady
scent of his captor’s perfume assailed his senses.
He tried to escape but was
denied the right to do so, brown eyes widening in fear and yet reluctant
anticipation for what was to happen next. Each fruitless struggle brought him
even closer to the taller man and for the first time, Franz could see just what
he looked like. He had pale blue skin, and eyes that seemed to flash with two
different hues. The man parted his lips in a feral grin, revealing teeth that
could almost be described as fangs.
Franz cried out softly and
tried to release himself again but was hopeless in his quest for his wrists
were now held captive within much stronger hands.
“Please let me go,” he
begged, no longer willing to participate in this game. “I promise not to reveal
anything I heard tonight…aah!” His cheeks darkened with color as he felt the
man’s thigh between his. He moved again and Franz arched into the intimate
caress, cursing himself inwardly for this display of weakness.
“So you do admit to spying on
me,” the man rumbled with faint amusement, leaning close to gently graze his
teeth upon Franz’s ear. He relished in the breathless whimpers the young man
gave and deciding to play with him a little longer, he released Franz quickly.
The blond’s knees gave way
and he fell to the cold ground in a boneless heap, trying hard to catch his
breath as the older man towered over him. From this vantage point, he looked
like the very devil himself and Franz had the feeling he wasn’t done yet.
I could run…run away before he catches me…
“No, you will do no such
thing, my dear baron,” the man said with a small sound of disapproval, grinning
again at the shocked expression on the blond’s visage. “Why do you look so surprised?
I am no mind reader. You are quite easy to read even a baby could have guessed
your thoughts at this moment.”
“Then be done with it!” Franz
suddenly cried out in frustration, feeling the hot sting of tears in his eyes.
If he was to die then at least he should be given the option to die with a
little dignity. “Kill me if you must, but please make it quick and painless!”
He gasped as he felt the
strong hand on his jaw forcing his gaze to meet with the cold ones before him.
“Ah, but I do not wish to
kill you just yet,” the man confessed, a thumb caressing the trembling lips
before him.
“Then…then what do you plan
to do?”
“Why to receive pleasure from
you,” came the enigmatic reply. “And pleasure you shall receive as well!”
Franz’s cry was lost within
the man’s gloved hand which had been slapped over his mouth as he was turned on
his stomach in one swift motion. He squeezed his eyes shut trying to will away
the tears that sprang to his eyes as he felt his shirt being lifted up.
Oh dear gods! I’m going to be taken against my will!
Anything! Anything is better than this!
And yet it was a cry of
pleasure that was muffled against the cloth as he felt something cool and
rather sharp trailing down his spine. It sent tiny shivers of delight into his
very soul and as he felt his pants being pulled down roughly, Franz’s scream
was again lost at the rude and quite painful invasion into his body.
“Do you wish to scream,
baron?” the man asked in a husky whisper against Franz’s ear. “I could let you
do so, but I fear that we might arouse visitors to watch our little spectacle.”
The fingers buried themselves
deeper and any coherent answer Franz would have given was lost in the twin
sensations of pain and pleasure which wracked through his body. He could feel himself
swell rather painfully and with each thrust from his captor, he was forced to
rub his aching organ against the cool stone on the ground. He needed to be
released before he’d go mad!
Just when he thought he could
bear it no longer, the fingers were withdrawn and he found himself lying on his
back. The hand no longer held his mouth prisoner but he still couldn’t get
himself to speak. Never had he felt this alive before – every nerve ending in
his body throbbing with adrenaline and a delirious rush of anticipation.
“Please…” he begged in a
choked whisper, no longer caring how wanton he sounded or looked. He needed
this mysterious stranger to complete what he had started and the cruelest thing
he could do was to leave Franz in this state.
The man stared at his
handiwork with a smirk of satisfaction. He eyed the throbbing organ which lay invitingly
upon the young man’s stomach and slowly began to caress it with the tip of his
walking stick – up and down the pulsing flesh, around the swollen tip, drawing
some of the thick cum away from the slit while laughing softly to himself.
Franz knew without a doubt
that he was going to explode in a matter of seconds. It felt as if his engorged
flesh was on fire and the swirling heat within his stomach was enough to make
him curl his toes in desperation. He had to come. He couldn’t take it anymore
and he now had to slap a hand over his mouth to prevent the scream that
threatened to escape his lips.
“It’s okay now, my dear baron,”
the man cajoled huskily. “You are free to make as much noise as you want. I do
believe we are the only living souls here. Perhaps we should give the dead a
good show, hmm?” He pressed the cane a bit harder into the pliant flesh and
Franz gave up the fight to hold back any longer.
With a cry that seemed to be
torn from the very depths of his soul, Franz let his orgasm be known to the
heavens. He came so hard that the tears came without warning, harsh sobs of
relief and gratitude released from his throat, as his body shuddered with each thick
spurt of his seed. The world swam before his eyes and he seemed to lose focus
for sometime. He fell back to the cold ground with a light grunt, breathing
harshly as his body tried to gain some semblance of normalcy. He turned his
face away in shame, thankful for his long locks which hid his flushed cheeks
from the other man’s gaze.
Oh how weak he had become,
allowing himself to be swept away in this man’s spell.
But to his immense surprise,
Franz felt an arm behind his knees and the other behind his back, lifting him gently
and against the soft velvety warmth of the man’s body. He held his breath in
fear, wondering if the man had plans to throw him down the cursed steps but instead,
he felt his body pressed even tighter against the stranger’s, in an embrace
that was nothing short of comforting.
In perfect Italian, soft
words were whispered into the younger man’s ears and with no warning, the tears
came again. Franz clutched the soft cloth tightly, huddling even closer to the
man who had spoken to him like a caring father would to his wayward child. He
sobbed helplessly, hardly aware of the tender look that filled the man’s visage
or the gentle caress of his blond locks. He cried for he now knew the answer he
had been seeking all of this time.
Death was inevitable, but it
wasn’t his time yet. All he had to do was to wait…and hope.
“Will I ever see you again?”
he whispered through his tears.
“Without a doubt you shall,
my dear baron,” came the enigmatic reply. “But you must promise that you will
show no sign of having ever met me.”
“Why?” Franz lifted his head
to stare into the older man’s face but it was covered with the shadow from his
hat and he could barely make out his expression. “Why will you not…?”
A finger was placed against
his lips to silence him. “The next we meet, baron, you will breed nothing but
hate in your heart for me.”
“Never…”
“Cherish the friend you have
while there is time.”
“What do you…?”
“And prepare yourself for the
pain that will be forthcoming from the vengeance that I seek.”
Any other questions Franz
would have asked were swept away in the fiery sensation of the man’s cool lips
against his. It was not a subtle kiss or one meant for pleasure but rather a
blatant domination of strength which had the young man tasting his blood as
their tongues met in a furious duel. When breathing became next to impossible,
he was released quickly. Gone was the tenderness in his captor’s visage as well.
The cruel smile was back in place and Franz could only watch in terrible
fascination as he was made to stand on his feet.
“Sleep well tonight, young
baron d’Epinay and may many pleasant dreams come your way.”
A tip of his top hat in
salute and the man was once again lost in the shadows as silently as he had
appeared. It was another full minute before Franz could get himself to get
dressed up again as quickly as he could. The night suddenly seemed even colder
and the ruins more ominous and daunting. He felt his blood chill as his mind
began to play tricks on him. For a moment, he could have sworn he heard
menacing and mocking laughter all around him and no longer bothering to wait;
he fled down the steps and towards the exits like the very devil was on his
tail.
He feigned weariness when he
got back to the hotel, ignoring the concerned looks he received from Albert and
the hotel manager. He needed some time alone to think of what had just taken
place. The man’s cryptic warnings were of great concern to Franz and he was
determined to find out all he could about him. But as he was about to make his
way to his quarters, he froze in mid-stride as he watched Albert open up a
letter which had been handed to him by a servant.
“Look, Franz,” he announced
happily. “Another resident of the hotel would like to meet us! He’s supposedly
the Count of Monte Cristo! What say you? Shall we dine with him tomorrow night?
I dare say he sounds like an interesting fellow!”
The baron stared at the
insignia on the envelope, his eyes widening in sickening recognition. There was
no mistaking it! It was the very same insignia on the walking stick his
mysterious captor had held! And remembering just how it had been used sent his
cheeks flooding with color again.
/You must promise that you will show no sign of having
ever met me. /
“Franz?” Albert asked a bit
impatiently. “Will you not come with me?”
The baron swallowed tightly
and managed a small smile towards his best friend. “With great pleasure,” he finally
replied with a small bow of acceptance. “I cannot wait to meet him myself.”
~The End~