The Fatima Curse

Chapter Ten:: Suffering



Had he lost all control of himself? It seemed to be that he could no longer trust himself within the walls of this place. That smelling the air and watching the lights dance on bare, milky flesh was beginning to weaken him. This place was as addictive as Leon had said. Uriel could easily see how so many young men were drawn here and hypnotized into captivity. There was a charm about it; a seedy and rather sinister charm that appealed to Uriel Fatima’s core. He was a hungry man - starved for affection and more juicy, forbidden fruits. Was he ready to sacrifice all he had come to hold true in his life for the pound of this driving, ceaseless beat and the robust burn of whiskey? Was he prepared to dishonor the code, himself, his Master, just for a few glimpses of hot, dewy flesh?



No. It was time to grab the reigns of his life before it careened out of control. He had to remember who he was, and where his allegiance rested. It did not reside in this dreamy den of sexy eyes and pressing bodies. It did not, above all things, rest at the feet of Endo Shuuichi. He had brought shame not only to himself, but to his partner and their long-standing friendship. Perhaps he had been swept up in the atmosphere, but more reasonably, he had merely been lost in his duty and responsibility for the boy. Shuuichi was more than just his friend, the protectiveness Uri felt for him transcended those bounds and moved somewhere deeper. Brothers, perhaps. He looked out for him the way an older brother might. Seeing him on that stage had perhaps called upon that instinct he had to protect and nurture him. He had behaved that way as a show of support.



And, perhaps I can grant myself a little room for error. He is a stunning boy, he always has been. There is a slim chance, a very slim iota of a chance. . That I behaved that way because he captured me in his sexual charms. I am not above such things, though I am expected to be.



“Look at you, Uri. You’re a beautiful, strong, noble work of art. But I see deeper than your smooth flesh and pretty eyes. You’re a wasted relic of a dying age. You’re nothing but a gorgeous, empty vase.”



His Master was undoubtedly right. He was not the same as everyone else, and he never had been. He had a heart that hungered for violence, and a soul that craved punishment of the wicked. It was easy to sit back and wonder what gave him the right to play God; but when it came right down to the fact, Uriel Fatima enjoyed administering divine punishment. He enjoyed standing before the guilty and watching their tainted blood soil the hallowed ground. He was the last of his kind. He was the only man who could stare into the eyes of the pleading, and silently deliver his judgment. What right did he have to go against his Master’s wishes? The man had taken him in off of the streets like a lowly mongrel and molded him into who he was today. He owed his life to the man, and all of his devotion. To the last breath, Abel was all he would serve.



But where did that leave Leon?



For the first time in his life, he felt that he could have a relationship with a man. Leon was everything he had ever desired in a lover. He was casual, fun, and never asked questions. His eyes were deep and strong, never pleading. When Uri held his hand or kissed his lips or tucked a runaway strand of hair behind his ear, it never led to questions to what that touch meant, or what Uri was feeling or thinking or too afraid to say. Leon would only smile and move to him in that beautifully simple way of his. And they would move together. Uri was a man who craved definition and understanding, but when it came to who he took to bed, simplicity was the highest form of romance.



The bartender came over, a young man with pretty eyes that watched the dark man intently. Oh, yes, Uri could read those eyes. Those eyes said that they were afraid of the big, hulking man that sat in silence before him - but they were also intrigued and filled with lust. Uri could have taken the boy to bed and owned him in every way, but he was too damn tired. He ordered a Jack and Coke instead, and tipped the boy five. Either way, he retreated, satisfied.



Leaving Uri to think of his options. He supposed he only had two at his disposal. He could either thank Leon for his time and retreat safely into the shadows, or he could defy his master and continue to see the boy in secret. Abel had retrieved photos of he and Leon together, in no more than an afternoon’s length of time - and it seemed to Uri that there were only two explanations for that, as well. Either they were being followed by a spy from his master, or Shuuichi had taken them and given Uri up. Uri just couldn’t believe it had been Shu who had demanded he be punished. Besides the fact that Uri trusted Shu more than anyone else in the world, Shu would have left himself open for retaliation if he had done that. It was no secret that Endo Shuuichi had taken his fair share of lover’s over the years. Many of them pretty blondes like Leon, only the kind of wider hips and breasts that pressed against too-tight t-shirts.



Forget Shuuichi, Uri thought - and if he had allowed himself to see the gravity of his own thoughts, or if he had noticed the ease with which he swept the pretty boy from his mind, he might have perhaps been greatly concerned, Shuuichi is not the issue right now. Are you going to disobey Master again for this man? Is Leon worth the punishment? Master is fond of you above all others, but if you cross him. . . There is no telling what will happen. His patience is thin and his mercy is nonexistent. He might kill you, Uri.



“Sir?,” the bartender asked softly, “Here’s your drink.”



Uri nodded, reaching into his wallet. “Thank you. How much do I owe you?”



The bartender shook his head, his eyes gleaming with something that Uri could identify even more easily than fear and lust; curiosity. “Oh, nothing, sir. It’s been taken care of.”



Uri cocked an eyebrow inquiringly. “Taken care of?,” he asked, “By whom?”



The boy turned and pointed, and from the other side of the bar, Shu wiggled his fingers in a wave, his hair damp from a shower, his flesh alabaster and touched with neon. “Thought maybe I could put that dough to good use,” Shu called to him, “Y’know, you can’t have too much left, with how much you spend on the tail at this place.”



Shu walked over to him, taking a seat beside the Arab and watching a small blush mount on his brown cheeks. “I do not need you to pay my way,” Uri said, flustered, “I am quite capable of buying my own drinks, Shuuichi.”



“Uri.”



“What?”



“Shut up. I wanted to do it, so I did it. It’s no big deal. God, why does everything have to be so goddamn important to you? This is why you’re gonna die at the age of forty from a fuckin’ aneurysm.”



Uri smiled softly, allowing Shu to run off on his tangent. It seemed so natural sitting with him this way, even smelling his soapy skin and watching small beads of water dribble down his long, graceful neck and dampen his sweater. He looked like the world’s largest child sitting there; his knees raised up, his arms hugging his legs, his chin resting against his knees. Uri reached over and brushed back an errant strand of raven hair behind Shu’s ear. Dark eyes turned to him, and he was surprised to see that, like Leon’s, they were not filled with questions. They were strong and deep and warm. Shu smiled. “You’re gettin’ soft on me,” Shu laughed, shaking his head and looking away. “If I didn’t know you I’d say you were a little sweet on me.”



“Mm, perhaps,” Uri agreed softly, “I always have been rather sweet on you, Shuuichi, if that is how you would describe it. You are my friend.”



Shu rolled his eyes. “You’re an idiot. I told you to shut up.”



Uri did as he was told, letting his drink carry away much of his worry. He supposed when it came to Leon, he would merely have to wait and see what happened. It was strange to him that he was placing the power in someone else’s hands - but he didn’t think he had much choice. Leon was a dominant force. His eyes, his hands, his lips; he was a creature built to steal a man’s money and heart.



“You’re thinkin’ of Leon, I guess,” Shu said quietly. Uri snapped his eyes up, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “You don’t have to tell me or anything,” Shu said with a slight shrug, “Just, I can tell when you’re thinkin’ of him. Your face actually, I dunno. . .” Shu laughed, lighting up a cigarette and taking a deep drag before finishing. “Gets. . . Softer. Your eyes I guess.”



“I shouldn’t be thinking of him so deeply,” Uri replied, running fingers through his chestnut hair and cupping his face in his hands. He looked tired, beat-down, and for the first time since Shu had known the man, he looked. . . scared. Could it be that the great Uriel Fatima was frightened? “Ah, fuck it,” Shu dismissed, “You got one life, Uri, and no one else is gonna live it for you. If you want him, then go to him. I don’t know many things worth suffering for, but if Leon means that much to you, then stop sitting here shootin’ the shit with me, and go be with him.”



“And what am I supposed to do if the next time, Master decides that my punishment is not enough? What happens if he decides to come after you instead of me.”



“Why the fuck would he do that, camel lips?”



“Because he knows that hurting me is nothing. I can withstand all the pain he can dish out to me, and I never give him what he wants. I never scream. But if I had to sit there. . . If I had to sit there and listen to you scream. . . I would go crazy. I care very little for myself, Shuuichi. But you- - -”



“Uri,” Shu said softly.



“But you,” Uri continued, turning to the boy and taking his face in both of his dark, strong hands. His palms were rough and callused. There was no mistaking that touch for the touch of a woman, as he could with Leon. No, that was a man’s touch, and Shu asked himself how it felt. The answer, it seemed, came when he placed his own fingers to Uri’s wrists and felt the slow beat of his pulse. “You mean the world to me, Shuuichi.”

“Uri,” Shu breathed. He wanted to tell the man that after ten year’s of friendship, after ten year’s of standing together, hand in hand against the rest of the world, there was no one else in his life he could ever love more. No one else that would take his place in his heart, in his soul. But he was a stupid kid, and all he could do was say his name like some kind of broken record. “Uri.”



“You have a job to do,” Uri said suddenly, “And I have a job to do. I am not sure what I will do about Leon right now. . . But that is a matter for another day. I do believe you have earned a night off, Shuuichi. At the very least. Let me buy you some ice-cream.”



“Holy fuck,” Shu laughed, brushing Uri’s hands away. But never, never free of them. He supposed he was in love. But shit, why did it have to hurt so bad? “What the hell is this, The Brady Bunch? Ice cream? What’s next? Gonna take me to a carnival?”



“Perhaps Leon would like some ice cream then,” Uri said, smiling wryly.



“Ah, shit,” Shu said, scratching at his head, “You’re on, fuckface, but I get whatever I want.” Shu slapped Uri’s remaining money back into his hand. “And I don’t want your dirty cash. I don’t take money from dude’s in strip clubs.”



“You certainly are a strange stripper, Endo Shuuichi.”



“Shit, you don’t know the half of what I am,” Shu said softly, and Uri could not fight off the shivers that came from staring into Shu’s warm, curved eyes.