Gankutsuou Fan Fiction ❯ The Haunting at the Colosseum ❯ Chapter 1

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 Rome at its finest. Where colors swirled like a blinding kaleidoscope in the attires and decorations which lined the city's splendid architecture. The air itself was drunk on the gay spirits of its visitors, drawing, coaxing and yet forcing them to abandon their inhibitions and to become others for the duration of their stay.

 

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 Rome's madness.

 

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 Rome.”

 

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 Louvre Museum. “Haven't you ever heard the term `curiosity killed the cat', my dear baron?”

 

“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!s curiosity and he was determined to find the answer.tsleep, he

 

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.r wing himself to be swept away in this man'flushed cheeks from the ohter

 

“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~