penance.page

Author: Freyaulfsdottir

Rating: NC-17

Genre: Ill Nino

Disclaimer: I don't own ill nino in any way, shape or form (unfortunately) and I have no proof that this ever happened.

Penance

Things change so fast. One minute you have a life in one place and then, at the click of a mouse button or the utterance of a set of words, so much can change. You have to make alternative plans, pack up one life and return to one you once led. Like cotton on a spool, you have to wind up all you've done to make one life and prepare to transfer. But what if you can't lead that life anymore? What if you?ve lost what it takes?

Packing his bags that day had been the singularly most difficult thing for Marc to do, no one could believe that he'd wanted to leave, not wait for the end of the tour or until they were back in America, in a country that he actually understood the language. No, Marc Rizzo had decided to leave them all in Rio de Janeiro. He planned to make his own way back.

Christian had been quiet all along, said nothing when the others had tried to talk him out of leaving, he must have wanted him gone... Well, after what had happened, it wasn't surprising. Pulling out his backpack from under the bunk that he shared with Roger, he silently lamented the recent turn of events. He'd been attracted to Christian since that first meeting. There was something about the bigger guy that fascinated him, not something he could put a finger on, it could have been the slow, self assured in the way that he moved, the permanent spark in his eyes or the way that his presence would magically fill a room. To cut it short, he didn't know but he shouldn't have done what he did, he should have just stopped jerking off and pretended to be all embarrassed. Christian would have been all fatherly with him, he would have turned it into a joke and things would be back to the way they were. Standing up to retrieve the bits of clothing lost in his bedding, he jumped as he heard the accented voice behind him.

Speak of the devil.

'So you're really going then?'

Unravelling a T-shirt that he'd found in his bunk, he turned to face Christian, studiously finding a way to avoid looking up.

'Err... yeah.'

He heard Christian shift position to lean on the doorframe.

'So what are you going to do?'

Lies flew through his head; it was just a matter of picking a combination that he liked then applying the formula.

'Gonna stick around in Rio for a bit then go back to my old band. I already spoke with them, they said it's cool.'

'Liar!'
Christian blurted out, anger behind his words.

Shocked, he looked up from the T-shirt.

'You didn't have chance to call anyone.'

Stick with the formula. Crouching down to pack the shirt away in his backpack he tried to sound as cool as possible.

'What? You think you know everything I do now? I did call then, at the last stop, you mustn't have been keeping a big enough eye on me Christian.'

Standing up again, he heard the angry sigh of the other man.

'You can't even look me in the eyes... listen, Marc... you don't have to leave over this.'

Angry now, Marc kicked the bunk.

'Over what Christian? Go on... say it... I bet you can't even.'

'This band is the best thing to happen to you and you know it, don't blow it over a silly, misunderstanding.'

Looking at the floor, he chuckled almost maniacally.

'So that's what it is, is it? A silly misunderstanding.'

Christian was right, leaving Ill Nino would be career suicide; every time they played a gig, he could feel it in his bones that this band would be big soon. Dropping down on to Roger's bunk, he sighed.

'Ok, I'll stay, but just keep away from me. Wouldn't want to be blamed for another misunderstanding.'

Silently the other man disappeared. Judging by the cheers coming from the other compartment, to tell them all he was staying. Suddenly Marc felt very nauseous.

'Hey Christian, what's with you and that kid?'

Looking up from his drink and taking in the surrounding bar, he kept his voice as innocent as he could.

'What do you mean?'

Dave shifted in his seat before continuing.

'Well normally you two are real close but now... you just seem distant, like you two have had a lover's spat or something.'

Dave couldn't have picked a better reference if he tried. Momentarily Christian felt panicked at the thought of discovery, then he calmed, how on earth would they know what had happened.
'I don't know what's with Marc, maybe it's PMT or something, I don't know.'

Taking a swig of his beer, Roger interrupted.

'Yeah well, something's gone down, I don't see him with us, do you?'

He was right, Marc wasn't drinking with them, fuck knows where he'd gone.

After a lot of bartering in a mixture of Spanish, English and sign language, Marc had managed to score. Now sat at his bunk again, alone, he emptied the little bag of pills onto his bedding before picking a few and taking them, downing them with a mouthful of whiskey. Fuck knows what they were, he didn't really care anymore, the past few days in the van had been for want of a better word - shit.

Half an hour later, he got up to get some cereal, the pills still hadn't kicked in, that's if they were going to. Emptying the flakes into a bowl, his vision swam and he suddenly became hot. Stripping off so that he was shirtless, he tried to pick up the bowl and was almost powerless when it just slipped out of his hand. Looking up from the messy floor, he panicked as his vision swam once more. Staggering as if his movements were in choppy water, he made his way to the sleeping compartment, pulling himself up onto his bed to lie shaking in a foetal position as the hallucinations came.

The bar had been quiet and they'd decided to go back to the van. Crossing the parking lot to get to the van, no one spoke. A few more metres and they would be there and that would mean that they'd walked in silence the whole way from the bar. That never happened. Christian had to admit that there was a tension in the band. Maybe he should have just let him go. The lights were on in the van but it was spookily quiet, no television noises, no noises from video games, no guitar strumming, nothing. Then suddenly, cutting the silence of the night was a terrified scream. Coming to a deadly stop, the band members looked at each other. Dave looked him in the eyes.

'That sounded like Marc... oh shit!'

All running back to the van their feet crunched on the spilt cereal as they ran to the sleeping compartment. Marc was there, half naked, sweating and shaking, screaming in terror and tears streaming down his face, staring at an unknown evil.

'Oh shit, he must have taken something, Christian, help me get him down to Roger's bunk!'

Complying with Dave, they lifted the struggling man onto the lower bunk. Dave had assumed the authoritative role and was now trying to talk Marc down while simultaneously ordering someone to get some water. This was all his fault.

'�OH POR DIOS, NO, NOOOOOOOOOOOO!'

Marc's screaming brought him back, he had to do something. Crouching down to restrain Marc's legs from kicking out, he started to try and talk him down too.

'Marc, hombrito, it's okay, nothing's gonna get you here... You're safe'

Jardel had spotted some little white circles on the floor and picked them up, mouthing his disbelief as he realised what they were.

'Dave, Christian, I think this is what he took.'

Dave's eyes widened as he too realised what the pills in Jardel's hand were.

'Oh you estupido, I bet my pants that there's a mix of ecstasy and acid there, think he might have taken both.'

Christian was beginning to get scared, this was turning out to be the first time he'd ever seen anyone O.D before.

'So what do we do?'

'We keep talking to him, we might be able to take care of him ourselves but if he gets any worse or he's not started to come out of it in half an hour, we need to call an ambulance.

Christian nodded his head, putting down more pressure on the violently bucking legs.

'Although... there was this time when a mate of mine once took too many pills and another mate made him puke and he was okay. We could try that... Laz! Get us a bucket!'

'But, but, isn't that dangerous?'

'Nah man, that's with bleach, right we need to get him up, we'll get him to that sofa over there, then you'll have to sit next to him and hold him up while I stick my fingers down his throat!'

Afraid that it wouldn't work yet scared that if they didn't try it Marc would die, Christian acquiesced and helped the other man manoeuvre the screaming mess that had become Marc. Sitting next to him, feeling uncomfortable Christian helped hold Marc's frame up; the feeling of Marc's muscles and skin in his large arms felt almost addictive. Continuing with his talking, he watched as Dave repeatedly stuck his fingers down Marc's protesting throat without success.

'You're gonna have to get behind him and restrain him.'

Without question, Christian pulled the struggling Marc onto his lap, trapping his legs in his own and trapping the flailing arms in a vice like grip. He'd never realised how strong Marc actually was. Using one fist to block Marc's mouth open, Dave got on with trying to induce vomiting. Finally successful, Dave jumped back as the vomit threatened to cover him, leaning in with a bucket and talking reassuringly to Marc, the small man finally quieted, covered in puke and close to passing out. Taking out the bucket, Dave left Christian with Marc trapped and softly whimpering in his arms. Resisting the urge to rock the other man like a baby, he resorted back to talking.

'Shhhh, it's o.k, you're gonna be fine... nothing to be scared of here.'

Dave came back with a basin full of cool water and a flannel and started to wipe the sweat, tears and vomit from Marc. Cleaning him up before they could put him to rest. He'd almost stopped struggling and his breathing had become more regular.

'Dave? Is he gonna be ok?'

For the first time that night, Dave grinned at Christian.

Yeah, nothing that a few hours asleep wont cure.'

Suddenly serious, he rang out the flannel before turning back to the vocalist.

'But whatever it is Horsey that's between you and him, you gotta sort it out.'

Nodding Christian looked up at the ceiling trying to fight back the tears, he didn't even feel the cool water that had ran rivulets down Marc's chest drip onto his arm.

Turning over in his bunk, Marc squinted at the alarm clock on the side. 2:45pm, shit! No one else was in the sleeping compartment and for that he was glad, faded memories of being brought down off a bad trip made it difficult to face anyone. Especially not when he was feeling this rough and emotionally fragile. Pills, he remembered pills, he remembered that sickening blur and the terror he'd felt. He couldn't even remember why he'd been scared but what he could remember was Dave and Christian talking him down, Christian was holding him, restraining him... But sooner or later he would have to face them. His best bet would be just to pretend that he couldn't remember anything. Almost previously unnoticed, the big, gorilla like figure of Dave interrupted his thoughts, his sudden presence making him jump.

'You're awake!'

He turned round to the open door. Shouting the others, alerting them to his conscious state. Oh please not yet, I can't take all of their questions.

'Hey, he's awake!'

Too late. Already they were piling into the sleeping compartment, surrounding him and looking tall and imposing from his position on Roger's bunk. The questions were coming loud and fast, from everywhere. Are you ok? Why did you take all those pills? Were you trying to kill yourself? What's been going on with you? He would have melted into the bulkhead if it was possible. Anything to get away from the scrutiny.

'WOAH, SHUT UP! YOU'RE GONNA MAKE HIM WISH THAT HE DID DIE!'

Sorry Dave, you're too late again. The others did let up though; he didn't dare look at Christian. Crouching down to his level and talking gently, Dave was the one to break the silence.

'Ok, Marc, you gave us all a real big scare last night, how are you feeling now?'

Shrugging. 'Like shit, I guess...'

'Well you're lucky to be here and I think you know that. Now I know some shit's been going down between you and Horsey over there but why did you take all those pills?'

Oh shit!! What the hell was he going to tell them?

'Err... I always pill, you know that Dave... and as for me and 'Horsey', that's between us.'

The huge drummer just looked at him, slanted and disbelieving. A battle of wills was on the horizon. Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war. He knew that Christian was the one that had made him do it, drugs just made everything a bit more bearable but he already had a plan for him.

'Don't look at me like that Dave.'

Disappointed, the huge man acquiesced, nodded his head and stood up.

'Come on guys, little Marc here thinks that he can handle anything'

Turning to Marc. His voice barely concealing his anger.

'Just don't expect us to help you the next time and don't bother looking for the rest of your little party package... I flushed it.'

Forcing himself up, he crawled onto his own bunk, it was crusty with dried vomit, and stained with sweat. Shit, it really must have been a bad one. Alone now, he simply pulled his covers onto the floor and attempted to sleep on the non - soiled parts of the bed.

Christian grunted as his body impacted with the outside of the van. They'd just gone outside to talk, Dave had asked him what was going on with Marc, again and obviously he'd not given him an answer, so now, he was being pinned against the van, with a matinee audience by the only member of Ill Nino that was capable of kicking the shit out of him.

'You're lying Christian!'

He was beginning to sweat.

'Fuck off Chavarri. Like Rizzo said, it's between him and me'.

Angry but holding himself back, Dave pulled himself away but not before kneeing him in the groin. Doubling over in agony, Christian swore to himself in Spanish.

'Well if it's gonna stay between you and him, I want to see it sorted out and soon.'

Trying to pull himself up to stand, Christian watched through his involuntary tears and dark dreadlocks as the drummer stomped up the metallic stairs back into the van.

After three more quiet and strained days, Dave was glad to have arrived in Rio de Janeiro and a hotel. Hotel, the thought was delicious. Spacious beds, showers, baths, hmm. It had been left up to he and Jardel to arrange the accommodation for that night and now as he walked into yet another hotel lobby, some devil of perversity gripped him. Jardel was busy bartering over prices with no amount of success.

'Jardel! What's going on??'

Frustrated, Jardel stopped bargaining in portuguese and turned to his friend.

'They're saying that they've only got four single rooms and one double and I'm trying to explain that there's six of us.'

Perfect. Smirking, Dave put his arm around the smaller man's shoulder.

'Take it, I think it's about time Christian and Marc had some time to bond together!'

The same devilish look that was infecting his own eyes, were now infecting Jardel's.

'Ok!!'

About an hour later, Dave was handing out door keys.

'Marc? You're in room 345, here ya go!'

Taking the key, Marc practically rushed off up the stairs with his pack.

'Jardel, 347.'

'Roger 348'

'Laz...'

He checked his list.

'Er yeah, you're in 349 man.'

Christian hung back; he was still pissed at him for kicking him in the cojones.

'Machado... here's your key.'

Dropping the key into the other man's hand, he turned his back and picked up his pack. Waiting for the inevitable protest as the other man realised just whom he would be sharing a room with.

'345!!! You put me in 345?'

Turning back to face the vocalist, Dave smirked.

'Yeah, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to sort out your differences.'

Not even bothering to argue for fear of another battering, Christian just grabbed his pack and headed off up the stairs leaving a grinning Dave in his wake.

Man had he drawn the lucky straw. There was a hell of a difference between a vomit-covered mattress and a king-sized bed. Dropping his bag on the floor, he jumped on the bed, lying flat, looking at the ceiling and letting out a deep breath. Escape from the claustrophobia of the van was beyond welcome. Relaxing into the soft folds of the mattress, he smirked as he heard the key in the door, expecting to hear the sultry call of 'Room Service' and then the appearance of a Senhora and some towels. There was no call, the door just opened, causing Marc to jerk upright on the bed. It was Christian.

'What are you doing in here?'

Waving his keys at the younger man, his eyes narrowed at the sight of the double bed.

'I'm going to kill him'

'What?'

Attention back on Marc.

'Nothing, I've been put in the same room as you... See! I got the same number on my keys. It would seem that we've been set up.'

Head in his hands, faking dread, Marc smirked. Perfect. Gathering himself together, faking it, he looked up at Christian.

'Well we might as well make the most of it. You wanna drink?'

Surprised at Marc's cool tone, Christian managed a smile.

'Yeah, although I'm gonna go use the bathroom before I get settled.'

Fake smile and then he was gone. Listening for the sound of the faucet, he went to the complementary bottle of wine on the bedside table. Room must have been for some couple. Pouring two glasses, he smirked as he emptied some powder into Christian's glass and stirred it round. Taking his place back on the bed, looking like a real maricon, he brought the dainty glass up to his lips and took a satisfied slurp.

Moments later, a newly refreshed Christian emerged from the bathroom, making a beeline for the table and the wine. Knocking back the glass unceremoniously, Christian went to go sit on the sofa. Counting the minutes, Marc waited for the sedative to take effect.

Finally, he heard some muffled obscenity from Christian and the sound of struggles as he tried to get up from the sofa. Uncertain, Marc stood up and walked towards the other man, simply smiling at him as he lost his strength and finally his consciousness.

That little fuck, he drugged me!

Fighting to regain consciousness and coherence of thought, Christian couldn't help but wonder if just drugging him was all Marc had planned or whether there was more revenge yet to come. Could he call it revenge? Struggling to move his arms and finding that he could not, Christian found that he didn't know. Yes, he'd fucked with the other guy's head, he'd done those things with him but he ain't no maricon so he didn't carry on. Why couldn't Marc just accept that? Feeling nauseated as a headache began to kick in, he tried to turn his head but was limited to moving it side to side, his face blocked by what seemed like wood. It was wood, hard and unyielding. Trying again to move his arms, he winced as he felt something ripping the hairs from his skin. From his skin?? For the first time since he'd regained consciousness he was aware of his nudity. Great situation you got yourself in Christian. Feeling panic beginning to surge in his stomach, adding to the already nauseous feeling there, he began to scream out.

'MARC! YOU LITTLE FUCK!'

Movement in the room caused him to struggle even more, trying to see where Marc was and maybe get an idea of what he was planning. Then came the voice, dripping with anger and pain.

'How very heterosexual of you Christian, but you see, I can't let you make a noise like that... wouldn't want anyone to think that we were doing anything, now would we?'

Rough fingers, hardened from years of guitar playing pinched his nose, forcing him to open his mouth for air. As soon as he had done so, an object was forced into his mouth, making him gag, even more so as it was fastened to his face. Fighting to breathe without gagging, tears began to run down his face. He carried on struggling against whatever it was that was holding him down. Marc's voice floating over his tears.

'You like that in your mouth, Christian?'

'Do you know what it is??'

All Christian could do was attempt to shake his head, watching Marc through his deep, brown, tear stained eyes.

'No matter.'

For a moment, Marc looked undecided, then in that little boy way that Christian had come to recognise, shrugged before walking off.

Fading in and out of consciousness, Christian awoke to find himself rubbing himself against the hard wood beneath him, moaning onto his gag at the sensations coursing through his body.

'Good chico... good... muy bien... you like it por el culo?'

Suddenly stiffening, pleasure forgotten, Marc's voice sent him into another panic.

'S'ok, just as long as I got you all nice and 'lubed up'.'

As if to accentuate his point, Marc sharply slapped Christian's ass, causing him to wince. Then he felt Marc's naked form straddling him. He's going to rape me up the ass!!! The realisation hit Christian like a freight train without any brakes. Behind him, Marc laughed bitterly.

'You probably think that I'm going to rape you, but who say's it's rape if you enjoy it?? Besides, rape is too good for you? No, I'm going to give you your penance.'

Penance? What the fuck? Unable to help himself, Christian moaned as he felt his ass cheeks being pulled apart and his anus being penetrated by something cold and thin. Penetrated, but only barely.

'You'll be begging me for this soon.'

Christian seriously doubted that, but when the object was inserted a bit more, stretching his anus, he began to worry again. It had begun to get thicker and he didn't know just how thick or long this object was going to be that Marc was using on him. He'd heard tales of prisoners being fucked with broom handles and damaged so bad that they couldn't walk properly again. Was that what Marc was going to do to him?

'Here's your penance, now, I want to hear you repeat after me... no matter how muffled you are.'

Christian closed his eyes as yet more of the cool object was inserted into his ass. Slowly, deliberately. Marc was going to make him enjoy it. What would it mean if he enjoyed it again?

'HAIL MARY, full of grace,'

Shocked, Christian couldn't believe what Marc was doing! It was wrong, so very wrong. Attempting to escape again, his efforts were rewarded with a hard thrust that made him moan and quieted him at the same time.

'Hail Mary, full of grace, SAY IT CHRISTIAN!!'

Struggling against the gag, he managed to produce muffled sounds that seemed to satisfy Marc and was given a gentle thrust, which introduced more of the object into him.

'The Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women,'

'mmmuh muhh muhhh muhh, muhmuh muhh muhh muh muh muh muh'

Grinning to himself, Marc thrust the statue into the other man again, before continuing his 'penance'.

'And blessed is the Fruit of thy womb, Jesus,'

Looking back at the wire coming from between Christian's duct taped legs, Marc traced it back to the power box, turning it on and switching up the speed. Christian jerked trying to buck his body against the hard wood surface that he was taped to but could find no escape. It was just too much. His repetition of the prayer came out nothing more than sobs.

Eyes clenched, Christian knew that he couldn't take much more, the constant penetration in his ass and the stimulation he was receiving from whatever device that Marc had attached to his balls were driving him crazy. Why did he like this? What would he do when Marc finally let him go? Would he beat him? Never talk to him again? No, Christian already knew the answer, he'd ask Marc to forgive him for how he treated him, and he hadn't really meant to hurt him like he did. This was his penance. Marc's voice sounded hoarse above him as he finished the prayer.

'Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen!'

All hell broke loose, spasms rocked his body and Christian gagged as he came as his scream was stopped dead in his mouth then all went black.

Very carefully, Marc removed the Virgin Mary statue from Christian's ass, making sure that it was put somewhere safe, where it wouldn't topple and soil the carpet. Then came the duct tape and the gag. Christian merely winced through his unconsciousness as he pulled the tape away from his naked skin. It was a pity too, Christian had made such a pretty crucifix. Then he removed the clitoral stimulator from his balls. Walking over to the other side of the room, he took a huge mouthful of wine before taking the bottle back with him to sit on the mattress-less bed and wait for the other man to wake up. Christian could probably smash the wine bottle over his head; smash his brains out on the metal bedspread or steal a broom from housekeeping and fuck him up the ass with it in retribution. He'd heard stories about that kind of thing. But he didn't care. Something had to give. A moan came from the naked man, lying spread-eagled behind him and Marc froze, anticipating a sharp blow to the head, followed by repeated blows but none came. Movement, of someone getting up, a deep intake of breath and then silence. When Christian put his hand on Marc's shoulder, he winced.

'Shhhhhhh, I ain't gonna hurt you.'

He wanted to turn round, to see those deep eyes but he didn't, instead he stared straight ahead and took another mouthful of wine. Another deep breath, the same gentle voice.

'Marc... look at me...'

Slowly he turned round, blushing madly and expecting to see nothing but anger and hate in Christian's eyes.

'I'm sorry for how I treated you Marc, I guess that I was just scared.'

Turning more fully to face Christian, he was surprised as the other man took his face in his hands.

sc..sc.. scared?'

Christian's face drew closer, lips brushing his own.

'Yeah, of what they would say if I admitted to liking another guy.'

Another kiss.

'Y-y-y-you like me?'

A slow smile crept across Christian's lips as he nodded.

'Yeah, how's about I show you?'

Marc finally smiled before pulling Christian's head closer and devouring his lips in a bruising kiss managing only disjointed words between kisses.

'Oh... yeah...'

Suddenly, Christian pulled away and Marc's new fear that it had all been a set up came into play. Standing up, Christian looked down at the bed in almost disdain. Sighed and then grinned at Marc.

'Well amante, can we at least get the mattress on before I fuck you?'

Swallowing in shock, Marc nodded before standing up and helping him put the mattress back on the bed. He called me amante, I'm his amante. Now it was time for his penance.

Teresa had been cleaning all morning, she was tired and all her extra weight made it difficult to navigate the various layers of the luxury hotel. She wanted to be in the staff room, chain-smoking and stuffing her face with whatever, but no, she had to do floor checks. She was on floor three out of five and it just felt like it would take forever to finish up and return to the sanctuary of the staff room. Waddling along the corridor, she stopped at door 345. Or rather the screams of carnal pleasure stopped her. For a short moment, she remembered the last time anyone had touched her in that way and something in the area below her waist twinged. Brushing the memory away, she checked her guest list for the third floor. Room 345, two men sharing...

'Filho da puta, sao bichas!'

Just wait 'til she told the other members of staff in the hotel. Maybe people would talk to her then. Making as quiet a getaway as she could, she rushed off back to the staff room. The whole hotel would know by morning if Teresa da Silva had anything to do with it.

[tbc?]

Notes

Cojones - bollocks

Amante - lover

Follow me home

Filho da puta!- Son of a bitch!

Sao bichas- they're gays/homos

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