[fic] retribution Seven
Title: Retribution Seven
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Angst
Characters: Fei Long, Yoh, Mikhail, Feodora
Spoiler: Spoiler for NT arc
Disclaimer: All characters belong to YA sensei.
Beta: angel0399
Previous Chapters: For new readers, 'Retribution' is the third arc of a Mik x Fei trilogy that I've suffered my readers with since 2007. In order to make sense of it I'm afraid you will need to read 'Cruel Intentions' and its sequel 'Revelation' before you begin 'Retribution.' All the links are organized on the side bar of my lj kajornwan along with the trilogy's one-shot fillers. Russian, Chinese, Polish, and newly added Spanish translations by readers are also found here. To make life even easier, a dear reader gryffin-draco has gone through the trouble of putting these in PDF files for download. Cruel Intentions and Revelation. Thank you so much sweetie.
The sheets smelled like semen.
There were clothes on the floor leading towards the bed. The white duvet made a shuffling sound as the bodies underneath moved against one another. The man on top kissed his lover, trailing his lips down the side of the other man's neck as the jet-black hair danced seductively on the pillow and on the nakedness of his chest. Long, thick lashes fluttered a little as he closed his eyes and moaned to the touch of those lips, now brushing on the sensitive area of his inner thigh. The man on top smiled and took the throbbing cock into his mouth, earning a louder moan from his lover underneath whose long legs began to thrash in excitement on the sheets, his fingers wound tight around the pillowcase.
"Come inside me," Fei Long said, pulling him back up and kissing him passionately, wrapping his legs around the other man's hips.
Soon, the two bodies collided in rhythm. Their skin rubbed against one another with nothing but the slick, salty sweat in between that seemed to lubricate their movements. His hard, refined muscles rippled across his back as he pushed himself deeper into his lover. The soft, delicate lips parted, and in the midst of the loud moans and groans of pleasure, a name slipped from Fei Long's mouth.
Alexei.
Mikhail instantly forced his eyes opened, his hand wound tight around the robe wrapped around his waist. "Fuck," he swore as the pain in his stomach struck him like someone had punched him from the inside, once then twice. The third time he choked and threw up on the carpet. Nothing solid came out - just stomach acid that burned and tasted like cheap wine, and a small amount of blood from a cut inside his mouth.
He’d fallen asleep. Why did I fucking sleep?!
"Fucking wife," he cursed again, yanking at the cuff around his right wrist until the sharp edge of the metal dug deep into his flesh and made a few incisions. At that point he would have traded all his Lamborghinis for just one shot of something that would stop his brain from working, anything. Despite his dry throat, he pressed his lips together and swallowed, tasting the salt of his blood once again. His goddamn guard had punched him so hard in the face that his jaws ached like hell and his lips cracked opened both inside and out.
A groan rumbled in his throat as he tried to sit up right. His whole body ached like he'd been in some sort of a bar fight, which wasn’t a surprise, considering the fact that he’d recently wrestled with five of his strongest bodyguards Feodora had sent upon him. Resting his back on the edge of the mattress, he realized he was so damn tired he could sleep for a week. With his stomach turning constantly and his head spinning every time he tried to move, the wise thing to do was to climb into the bed and sleep it off. But despite his restlessness and the insomnia - the wonderful gifts of his forced heroin withdrawal, thanks to his bloody wife - the idea of sleep dreaded him more than anything. It was bad enough that his brain found it appropriate to manifest those flashes of events to attack him in his wake, but every time he’d closed his eyes those flashes would play like a movie in extended version. Sometimes he would see himself as a child sled racing with Alexei by their lake house in winter. Sometimes he would be back in the barn, feeling the crack of Yuri’s whip slice his back opened. Other times he would see himself holding Fei Long in his arms, kissing him and feeling a strong yearning for the man in his stomach. All of those memories he could manage just fine, but the rest made him want to puke his guts out every time they appear. And without the drugs, they'd become more unmanageable and painful than the withdrawal itself.
The rest, Mikhail sighed and ran his fingers through his badly tangled hair. The rest weren't even memories, they were pure manifestations of real events he didn't witness, and nightmares that replayed themselves over and over in his head like a broken record. He’d never seen that Japanese bastard rape Fei Long, smirking at him while doing it. He’d never seen Fei Long squirming and moaning in Alexei's arms on his bed, in his bloody penthouse where they'd spent their first night together. He’s only seen Alexei's dead body with eight bullet holes in it, but never how they'd pierced through his flesh, one by one, and sent him lying dead on the floor of his kitchen. He’d never seen any of these things, and yet they haunted him, hitting him with the force of a speeding truck. Every time they would play, it felt like a heavy punch in his stomach, and he would suffocate like something had been dislodged in his throat.
Don't you sleep! Don't you fucking sleep…, he told himself as his eyelids became heavier and his strength was giving way to his fatigue.
He must have slept, because he heard the door clicked open, and Fei Long's voice was somewhere inside the room. He was talking to someone, probably Alexei again, and then he didn't have to guess what would happen next. They'd kiss, and they'd fuck. Then he would wake up with the same pain, and throw up more of that disgusting acid in his stomach.
Somehow, this dream turned out to be a little different. In the previous ones, he would only get to watch and Fei Long would never notice him. This time he could hear the man's footsteps approaching before they stopped in front of him. "Mikhail," Fei Long called him softly as he reached out his hand and caressed his cheek.
How grand, he thought with a sneer. His fucking brain must have found a new trick to strike with. Maybe this time he would be included in the experience. Perhaps this Fei Long would then kiss and touch him, and squirm in his arms so he could feel the action on top of seeing it. And then he'd open his mouth and called him with his dead brother's name.
"Fuck you," he swore at the wretched manifestation of his lover that his brain had created in astounding perfection. He could even smell the addictive scent of that hair and feel the warmth of those fingers against his skin. But this time before he woke up, he swore he'd have the satisfaction of ending it with his own hands. He'd had enough of this shit - enough of puking his guts out from seeing Fei Long fuck his dead brother.
Swiftly, he snatched the elegant neck and squeezed it until he could hear the other man choke. "Get the fuck out of my head!" he said, tightening his grip harder as he spoke.
Just before he could choke the life out of his manifestation, someone punched him hard in the face and his hand slipped free. He struggled up on his knees, cursing as he flung his arm at his attacker and lost his balance. His damn legs were so weak he could hardly stand, much less fight, and all he could do was struggle. The man caught him at his wrist and twisted his arm back, pinning him faced down on the floor.
"Get the doctor!" he shouted. "I can't hold him much longer!"
Great, now Yoh was in his dream too, he thought. The doctor rushed in quickly with a needle, accompanied by the guards. As it buried its length in his arm, Mikhail stared at the man on the floor a few feet away from him. Fei Long was looking back at him, his eyes red and brimming with tears from suffocation. There was sadness and shock in those eyes, so intense it didn’t seem like the same Fei Long he saw in those dreams. Before he could understand the strangeness of the situation, his vision became blurry. Everything went blank after that, and for once, he was relieved to see nothing but darkness.
***
“Are you all right?” Yoh asked as he helped Fei Long up from the floor, wincing at the wounds on his knuckle. He realized he might have punched his new boss a bit harder than necessary. But Fei Long would have died if the blow hadn’t been hard enough to make the man let go.
Fei Long didn’t answer, he just stared at the unconscious body that was being carried up on the bed as if he’d just seen a ghost. Yoh could feel the Baishe leader tremble as he supported the man by the arm. Fei Long had been attacked more times than he could count, but being attacked by Mikhail of all people with an intention to kill was something Yoh imagined he could not swallow nor forget so easily. At that point he seemed to notice nothing, not the commotion in that room, the sound of his voice, or the trace of satisfaction on Feodora’s lips, only the fact that Mikhail had tried to kill him, and almost succeeded.
“We should leave,” Yoh said and tried to urge him out of the room. Fei Long was not safe here, nor was he welcomed. It didn’t seem like there was anything he could do for Mikhail, apart from provoking more anger and putting himself in danger. On top of this, he wasn't sure how long he could continue beating up the head of this household should the need arise again without earning a bullet in the head.
Somehow his request made Fei Long snap out of his vision and compose himself, his eyes narrowed and focused the way they always did when the man had decided on an action. With that look on his face, Yoh knew he was about to do something reckless. “Tell my men I won’t be going home for a few days,” Fei Long said as he moved closer to the bed where Mikhail laid unconscious.
Yoh sighed¾ sometimes he hated being right. "I don't think that's a good idea."
"It's my idea," Fei Long confirmed with authority, almost wondering why Yoh would question his command.
"And I don't work for you," Yoh replied with a straight face.
"That's right, I forgot," Fei Long bit back sarcastically. Why did he even pack this guy along with him? "Would you please call them?"
It appeared Fei Long knew how to make him comply with or without putting him on the payroll. What was he going to do? Force the man to beg? It was disturbing enough hearing him say please even though the look in those eyes was far from pleading. Seeing that no force on Earth was going to drag Fei Long out of that house, Yoh gave up and took out his phone. Working for Fei Long or not, disagreeing with the man was a waste of time and energy. The man must have known this, too, and that fact annoyed Yoh most of all. "Should I tell Tao to pack you some clothes?” he asked.
“Even with my permission,” Feodora asserted herself in the middle of her uninvited guests' conversation about staying in her house that excluded her entirely. “I don’t think he wants you here.”
Fei Long turned to Feodora and gave her a look that made even Yoh uncomfortable. He then chose to ignore her comment and replied to Yoh's question instead. “There’s no need. Mikhail keeps a closet full of my clothes in his bedroom.”
He said that on purpose, of course, Yoh thought. When Fei Long wanted to bite, he does so with precision … and a generous amount of venom. Even though he was sure Mikhail must have kept a number of Fei Long’s clothes in all his properties, telling his wife about it was another issue entirely.
The expression on her face was hard to describe, and Yoh couldn’t help but anticipate some kind of physical confrontation between them for the time Fei Long remained at the villa. And as if that wasn’t enough, the man didn’t quite stop there.
“You don’t need to worry about setting up a room. I’ll sleep here with him,” he said as he sat down on the bed next to Mikhail. In truth, he didn't want to add fuel to her fire, but the moment she’d cuffed Mikhail and left him in that room her authority had come to an end, or he would make it so.
Feodora lifted her chin and tried her best to stay calm, even though the fire in her eyes would show the complete opposite. She could have thrown him out of the house, but that would create a commotion, which wouldn’t be overlooked by the moles on the property. Considering what just happened, she might as well have him stay and see him suffer by Mikhail's hand as retribution. “Fine. Just know that it will not be my responsibility if you die,” she said before turning around and headed to the door.
“Mrs. Arbatova,” Fei Long called. “The key to his handcuff.”
She paused for a moment without turning around to acknowledge the request openly. Having had enough of her husband's lover for the day, she slid her hand in her pocket and tossed him the key before heading out the door without another word.
Fei Long had asked to be alone in that room after the doctor had finished checking on his patient. Sitting on the bed next to Mikhail, he reached out and tidied the mess of blond hair from his face. While it was disturbing to see him in that state, with his skin so pale and his face hardened due to dehydration and fatigue, Fei Long could feel his heart flutter at the thought of being this close to Mikhail again. He’d missed it all, the roughness of those hands, the warmth of his body, and even those long, thick golden lashes that used to brush against his cheek when Mikhail kissed him.
Removing the cuff from his wrist, Fei Long’s brow narrowed at the wound around it. Mikhail must have tried to free himself very desperately to get such a deep cut. As he cleaned the wound with a damp towel, he took a glance at the other wrist and felt his heart skipped. There it was: the glittering gold bracelet that matched his key - the other cuff Mikhail had put upon himself and still had not taken off.
How far would you go for love?
How far indeed, Fei Long thought with a bittersweet smile on his face. How many times have they pushed each other away? How many times have they decided to end it all? And even now when both of them must have thought everything they ever had was lost, this bond between them had not been broken. Mikhail would not take off this bracelet, just as he would never remove the pendent from his neck.
I belong to you, and you alone hold the key to my heart.
Fei Long closed his hand around Mikhail’s and held it tight, hoping that he could transcend even the smallest measurement of what he felt in his heart to heal the wounds he’d inflicted upon this man. “Come back to me,” he said in a whisper. “Come back to me and I promise everything will change.”
***
The sunlight stung his eyes as he opened them. He wondered if one of the maids had come in to open the curtains or if it was just another dream he was having. As he moved, he realized someone was holding his hand. He turned to see and blinked a few times at the man lying by his side whose long, delicate fingers wound tight around his even as he slept.
It has to be a dream, he thought to himself. But somehow the atmosphere in that room didn’t make him feel uncomfortable like in his nightmares. Serenity hung in the air, similar to the days he woke up with Fei Long by his side when they were still together. It used to give him a sense of fulfillment - a euphoric feeling that said there was nothing more to be had in life and nothing was missing. He liked that feeling, liked it enough to give up everything else just to feel it everyday.
He looked around and realized that he was exactly where he should be in reality - in the room Feodora had locked him in, not back in his penthouse. There were no signs of Alexei or Yuri, no trace of blood; nothing his brain had been force-feeding him with for the past few weeks. There was only Fei Long on his bed, sleeping like a baby and holding his hand so tight it would be impossible for him to move without waking him up. Even if it was just a dream, it didn’t feel like one of those nightmares or that it would soon turn out to be.
As if the man could hear his thoughts, Fei Long opened his eyes slowly and smiled at him. “You’re awake,” he said as he pushed himself up slowly.
Mikhail didn’t answer, but his eyes lingered on the bruise around Fei Long’s neck that came into view when he tilted his head back a little.
“Don’t try to strangle me again. My neck still hurts,” Fei Long said jokingly, pushing back the strands of black hair that fell disorderly around his face and tied it back up into a loose ponytail. He knew he should be on guard, since Mikhail still looked at him as if he had been some kind of an illusion he did not welcome, but somehow he didn't feel the threat.
Kneading his eyes with his thumb and index finger, Mikhail sighed in irritation. "Get out of my house,” he said coldly. Whether or not it was real, Fei Long had no business being there.
“Don’t even try. Your wife wanted to get rid of me and it didn’t work,” Fei long replied as he rose from the bed to wash his face. When he returned, he stood in front of Mikhail with a warm towel. “This will help.”
Hesitated, Mikhail looked at the wet towel for a few seconds before snatching it out of Fei Long’s hand. He wiped his face irritatingly, even though the warmth of the towel felt good against his skin. That moment he just wished Fei Long would leave. The longer the man stayed, the harder it would be for him to tell between his illusions and reality. And he knew his nightmares would come back to him with a vengeance, the way they had right after their hospital visit. Just the thought of it made him want to throw up again. Or perhaps he was simply suffering from the heroin withdrawal. Whatever it was, seeing Fei Long there made him feel sick.
“Please … just leave," when there was nothing else he could think of, he pleaded.
Fei Long sighed. He'd expected just as much, but it did hurt just the same. Some words were painful enough hearing just once, but Mikhail had said them time and time again. The man had never been subtle when he wanted to hurt someone, but Fei Long had never been on the receiving end until lately. Even when spoken as a plea, it still hurt more than a thousand pitiful sneers from Asami. “If you really want me to go, I’ll go,” he said as he sat down next to Mikhail. “But there’s something I must tell you before I leave.”
Mikhail didn't reply and neither did he move. He just sat there staring at the floor, letting his hair fall over his eyes and cover most of his face in a way that made it difficult for Fei Long to see his expression.
“Nothing happened between me and Alexei that night, and I will not try to explain myself for something you may think I did that I didn’t do," Fei Long said, fixing his eyes on the wall in front of him. "I understand your wish to have me out of your life and I will try my best to stay away." He paused for a moment to swallow the lump in his throat that was making it difficult for him to speak. What he needed to say wasn’t easy for him to utter, but Mikhail must know this, and he needed to get it off of his chest.
“I’ve missed you," he confessed. "I’ve missed us." Depsite himself, he sounded like he wanted to cry, but with Mikhail sitting right next to him, no amount of strength was enough for him to pull off an act of indifference. “I will leave here today if you want me to leave. But know that I’m here whenever you need my help … and I will be eternally grateful, if you would let me see you every once in a while.”
There was so much more he wanted to say, and he couldn’t describe how much he wanted to reach out and touch Mikhail’s hand, even if that would be all he was allowed to touch. But Mikhail just sat there, still and quiet as if he wasn’t even breathing. After a moment he began to tremble, and Fei Long could see his hands close into a tight fist that made his whole body stiff.
“He… asked me if he could go after you,” Mikhail said, his voice coarse and broken. “And I told him that you were not my problem anymore.”
A single tear drop landed on his fist as he clenched his hands tighter and tighter, until his whole body started to shake. “I killed him,” he confessed, the words were strained as if it had taken all his strength to utter them. “I killed Alexei.”
He had sent Alexei to die out of spite. He knew the risk, he knew the pain that Alexei would have to go through, and yet he’d pushed his brother in that direction. Did he want to punish Alexei for wanting his lover and pursuing him, or did he want to see Alexei fail, just like he did, to make him feel better about himself? Was it Alexei’s death that was giving him nightmares, or the fact that he died fucking Fei Long? They were questions he feared to answer. But they all came down to one thing - it was he who killed his brother.
Fei Long reached out his arms and held Mikhail tight in his embrace. It was always disturbing to see a grown man cry. But that day Mikhail cried like he’d never cried in his life. He cried as if his tears were blood and that he wanted to die from it, as if it would absolve him. He bit his lips as Mikhail’s fingers dug deep into his arm as he choked on his tears. He remembered how it felt the night his father died, how much it hurts to lose someone you love, and at the same time, convinced that you’re responsible for it. But what brought tears to his eyes wasn’t his own tragic past, it was the fact that Mikhail had blamed himself for Alexei's death, when it was his fault alone that led to it.
“You didn’t kill him,” Fei Long said as he held the other man’s face in front of his. “I did.”
I should have never let you go.
He didn’t know how long he stayed there, with Mikhail crying in his arms. No matter how many times he kissed those tears away, they just kept streaming down his cheeks. Mikhail had always been the stronger one between them¾ the one who could and would hold their relationship together. He wondered how long and how much the man had kept all of this hidden behind that flawless smile and hated the fact that Mikhail had never let him see it. But the truth of it all was that he’d never cared to know. It was the reason why he’d avoided asking about those scars on his back, the same reason why he’d been too busy chasing after Asami and never once looked back at how Mikhail would handle it. From the very first time they’d gotten together he had never once been there for Mikhail.
You selfish, self-centered bastard.
You don’t deserve to be loved, Feodora said. He didn’t realize how true it was until then. He was feeding off Mikhail’s love like a disgusting leech. But it was going to end that day. He swore it would!
At one point, Feodora came into the room and saw them. She didn’t say a word and just left quietly. Some time later Mikhail slipped back to sleep, and from the look on his face, this time it seemed he didn’t dream.
***
The detoxification procedure went smoothly. Fei Long did as he said he would - he stayed from the beginning to the very end and until he was certain that Mikhail would recover safely. The next time he awakes, the drugs will have been flushed out of his system, and Mikhail will have a chance of becoming himself again. The only problem that bothered Fei Long was whether he would relapse, how quickly it may happen, and what would happen if it occurs in Moscow.
Fei Long sighed at the thought as he exited the treatment room where Mikhail still slept and closed the door quietly behind him. Mikhail needed his rest, and he needed breakfast. He hadn’t eaten anything since the small lunch he had the day before, and it was having an effect on his strength. It was just after six in the morning, and the sky was still dark. Chances were high that breakfast would not be ready at that point, but perhaps he could find something in the fridge and make himself a cup of coffee.
Making coffee. The idea almost discouraged him. He could make tea like no other, but coffee was Mikhail's specialty, not to mention the gigantic machine the man had in his kitchen looked like it should come with a built-in barista to operate. It was never a problem before since its owner had always woken up early to make him some, refusing to allow anyone else to make his coffee or so much as touch his espresso machine. Fei Long thought of instant coffee or even one of those brewed from automatic machines and immediately gave up on the idea altogether. Just like tea, once one have tasted a cup brewed to perfection, anything less is not considered the same substance and would not fulfill his craving. Wonderful, Fei Long thought. On top of being addicted to Mikhail's touch, he was now addicted to the man's espresso.
Mikhail had two kitchens in his house, one for the cooks and the other that was more elaborate and spacious for his personal use. Being someone who loves to cook, the personal kitchen was almost an obsession. The man had every tool Fei Long could think of and many that he couldn’t. He used to love looking at how professional Mikhail was around his stove and the way he handled his knives like they were priceless samurai swords. The memory made him smile as he made his way to Mikhail’s Sub-Zero to get himself some bread, only to find the refrigerator empty when it was always full. It was a sight that would tell anyone who knew the man that something wasn’t right, and it made him sigh more heavily than before. Just as he reached for the loaf of bread, someone’s footsteps startled him.
“I’m about to bake some scones if you want something to eat,” Feodora said as she entered and took out some flour. “He loves freshly baked scones with his coffee,” she added.
Fei Long studied her expression as she continued to prepare her baking tools. She was wearing a white, sleeveless linen dress that hung just below her knees under a simple clean-cut beige apron. The casual clothing made her appear somewhat more welcoming than her usual aggressive and formal style. But it wasn't just the clothes that seemed strange. For some reason, Feodora had been treating him differently since Mikhail’s detoxification. She seemed less hostile, though not entirely friendly, and she had kept her distance whenever he was near Mikhail. It made him wonder why, and what she was thinking.
“You always bake for him?” he asked just to start a conversation he hoped would turn out to be civilized.
“When he’s around, yes,” she replied without showing her emotions. “Mikhail can be very discriminating when it comes to food.”
“Well, with clothes, cars, yachts and planes as well,” Fei Long added as he rolled his eyes.
Feodora smiled. “He goes for the best and the hardest to get - always. You should be flattered,” she said with a hint of spite in her tone. The fact that Mikhail picked Fei Long meant that he saw something rare and precious in the man, and she knew it was precisely because he was hard to conquer that Mikhail dove right in like a moth to a flame. The problem was that Fei Long's book never seemed to end as she’d hoped and Mikhail never seemed to get bored.
It was indeed flattering, and Mikhail's best weapon had always been his straightforward and blunt style of flattery. Feodora seemed to notice this too. Of course she would. She'd been there with him longer than he'd known Tao or Yoh, Fei Long thought. Despite her attitude towards him, he had nothing against this woman… nothing serious anyway. On the contrary, she made him curious.
“How do you do it?” Fei Long asked, wondering how she could go about her business as if everything in her life was normal.
“How do I do what?”
“Live...like this?” He never understood why she would continue to be with Mikhail after all that he’d done to her. The man had never even tried to make his affairs a secret, nor had he ever shown any guilt while he was cheating on his wife. On one hand the concept made Mikhail a man despicable to most people, on the other it could be considered an act of honesty in the way that he would never conceal his feelings or act for the sake of morality or guilt, but always in the interest of his heart’s desire. But when it comes to Feodora, who didn’t seem to gain anything from it, he wondered why she would stay and endure.
She didn’t answer him right away and proceeded to measure her ingredients for the dough with extreme precision. The woman was a perfectionist and her discipline was astounding. It was remarkable how she could survive her husband’s irresponsible, unpredictable, and unreliable nature.
“My whole family was murdered when I was eight. I saw them burn to death with my own eyes,” she said flatly, as if it was something that happened to someone else. “Vladimir was a friend to my father and took me into his family, and since then they have become my own.”
She went on kneading her dough the same way Mikhail used to. Fei Long could tell who had taught her to bake, and in a way it made him a little jealous that she had spent so much time with him, knowing him even when he was just a little boy.
“I must have fallen for him the moment he smiled at me,” she continued, remembering how the little boy used to beam at her with a head full of glittering blond hair like an angel she once read in her story books¾ only she found out soon enough that he was as much mischievous as he looked innocent. “But I’ve always been nothing more than a sister and a friend to him,” she said, this time with a hint of sadness in her tone before her lips stretched into a sarcastic smile. “I grew up watching him take other girls to bed. Sometimes he would ask me what I thought of his new date, other times he would come to me when his heart was broken by someone else.” She’d been his friend and sister long before she became his wife, but she was never his lover. Mikhail loved her, but never in that fashion.
“And you married him anyway,” Fei Long said. He would never understand a woman’s heart - why some would endure so much to be with a man who simply didn’t care. But most of those women he knew were weak and dependent. Feodora, on the other hand, could easily survive on her own, and even survive better than some powerful men he knew.
Feodora laughed quietly, remembering why she did what she did. “Vladimir was forcing him to marry to get rid of you. I would sooner rot in hell before I give him up to some dumb, ignorant slut,” she replied with a sneer. She thought then that if he wasn’t going to marry for love they might as well get married. It wasn’t going to change a thing in her life. “I’ve been in love with him for more than twenty years, and he asked me. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Still, it must hurt,” Fei Long said. “You could have walked away and let go.” Why stay when all it does is hurt you?
“Could I?” Feodora looked at him almost accusingly. “Could you?”
Could he? Fei Long found himself at a loss for words. He wanted to say yes, but it would taste like a lie. In a way, he was no different from her. He had been chasing after Asami the same way Feodora had been chasing Mikhail. “I try,” he replied. The truth was, he wasn't even sure if that much was true.
“Have you ever wondered why that bodyguard of yours still hasn’t left your side?”
Taken aback by an unexpected reference to Yoh, Fei Long didn’t answer. He wondered if Mikhail had told her about it too, or was Yoh’s feeling that apparent.
“Did you know he stood in front of your door the whole time you were with Mikhail?” she asked, knowing that the answer would probably be a negative one. She knew it wasn’t duty. No. It was something else entirely. “You want to know if it hurts? Ask him. And while you’re at it, ask him why he stays.”
It was something Fei Long had never thought about - how Yoh must have felt after all this time of being so close to him, watching him with Mikhail or with Akihito. If it had hurt, the man sure didn’t show it. It was as though he’d never expected anything more and had somehow decided not to. Perhaps it was the same reason why Feodora had never seemed to be jealous of him, and all she’d ever shown was anger that he’d hurt Mikhail so badly.
“You’ve already given up on him,” he said in a form of confirmation rather than a question. He knew he was right. He could see it in her eyes.
“A long time ago,” she replied with a sad smile as she rolled out her dough and began to cut them into small rolls. She had already given up on Mikhail to return her feelings, but she could not walk away, no more than that bodyguard could walk away from Fei Long. “I’m here because I thought he needed me ... because it was my shoulder he used to cry on,” she added as she put down the knife and looked straight into his eyes. “This time he picked yours.”
It was an event that changed everything, including the way she felt about Fei Long. No matter how much pain this man had caused her and her husband, it was his shoulder that Mikhail had picked to cry on. After all this time that he’d refused to cry or accept the truth of Alexei’s death, Fei Long was the only one who could save him from the hell Mikhail had thrown himself into. As painful as it was, she owed Fei Long some gratitude for saving him. Unlike most people, she knew exactly what it’s like to lose someone close to her heart, she'd learned it the hard way and overnight. Between having Mikhail break her heart for the thousandth time and seeing him die, she’d go through every pain and suffering all over again. Fei Long had saved his life - that was an indisputable truth.
“Of course, I’m agitated, but the most important thing is that he cries,” she told him. The most important thing is that Mikhail survives.
“However, you should know that this changes nothing between us,” she said coldly, picking up the knife again and plunge its tip deep into her cutting board to make her point. “You hurt him again and I swear I will strike at you much better than the incompetent jerk that killed Alexei. Do we understand each other?”
Incompetent. Fei Long smiled sarcastically at her choice of word. She sure didn’t care to hide the fact that he should have been the one who died. He'd decided he liked her, after all. The woman had never seemed to feel sorry for herself, and in return, left no room for anyone to feel sorry for her. In a way, she almost resembled Mikhail in her bluntness and her crude way of showing honesty.
“Before you threaten me with Mikhail’s knife, which, by the way would infuriate him if he knows you’ve been handling it without care, why don’t we talk about your divorce?”
Feodora’s eyes narrowed into a calculating gaze. She was surprised to hear such a proposition from the man who wasn’t even sure of his own intentions just two days before. That morning Fei Long stood in front of her with eyes of a man who knew exactly what he wanted to do and was rather confident about moving into her spot. Unbelievable. .
“I let you stay for two nights and now you think you can move into my house?” she asked in a firm and rigid tone.
“I’ve practically moved into his house and apartments a long time ago. If you don’t need to keep him as a husband, you might as well leave yourself some dignity,” he countered.
He’s mine, she could just hear him say it through his eyes. From the look on Fei Long’s face, the conversation had turned out to be a business proposal - one that sparked her interest. She straightened herself and crossed her arms above her chest.
“A divorce will not get me off your back," she told him. Her marriage to Mikhail didn't mean anything from the beginning, and undoing it would not change much, just her last name.
"I'm not trying to get you off my back, I'm trying to get rid of you as his wife," Fei Long replied readily. It sounded cruel, but anything less would be an insult to this woman. "I will not consent to being his mistress." His mother was one, and he wasn't going to give anyone a chance to say 'like mother, like son.'
"It gives me pleasure to see you suffer that reputation," she said sourly. "Why would I give you the satisfaction?"
"Money," Fei Long replied, looking straight into her eyes to confirm his intention. "I want him back. And when I do get him back, you can wait for him to divorce you then and leave you with nothing but shame, or you can take my offer, divorce him now, keep your reputation and walk away with enough money to build youself a syndicate. Your choice."
Feodora stared back at him quietly for a few seconds, deliberating over the proposal. “I’m expensive,” she declared.
“And I’m rich,” Fei Long replied without hesitation.
She had to admit, it was a good offer. As much as it pained her to accept the truth, should Fei Long want Mikhail back, she had no doubt he would accomplish the task. Mikhail would divorce her the moment Fei Long asked for it and leave her with nothing more than a ruined reputation. But divorce him now and she'd get to rip off this man and go back to live the way she was - as a daughter to Vladimir, a sister to Mikhail ... and yes, there was also that other thing she'd almost forgotten about which would secure her position in the Arbatov's family more than ever. "What about that Japanese man?" she had to ask, for Mikhail's sake.
Knowing she had been successfully bought, Fei Long grinned almost victoriously before his expression softened a little as he gave her an answer- one she gave him just minutes ago, "perhaps it's time I give up on him too." And I would do more than that, he thought. Much more.
Just then, one of the maids came in and interrupted the silence. She walked over to her mistress and whispered her message, to which Feodora responded with a weary look on her face and an obvious scowl irritation on her lips.
“I like this proposal. But there’s something I must attend to at the moment,” she told him as she took the knife out of the cutting board, wiped it clean, and carefully placed it back on the table. “Don’t tell him about the knife. He’d kill me.”
“Anything I can do?” he asked after noticing the sudden strain on her face.
Feodora paused for a moment to consider and decided that there was something he could do.
“What do you know about John Wong?”
***
P.S. I enjoyed writing this chapter the most in Retribution. I hope you like it. And BTW, a good chunk of it has been added after it was beta-ed so any mistakes are my fault. Oh, a Sub -Zero is an insanely expensive professional fridge made for the filthy rich I haven't had the pleasure of seeing one in RL lol. Anyway, like it, hate it, please comment or my muse will go into hiding again (for 6 months?)
P.P.S. Translations status, German version of C.I. Is taken by Tradij. ^_^ Thank you sweetie.
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Angst
Characters: Fei Long, Yoh, Mikhail, Feodora
Spoiler: Spoiler for NT arc
Disclaimer: All characters belong to YA sensei.
Beta: angel0399
Previous Chapters: For new readers, 'Retribution' is the third arc of a Mik x Fei trilogy that I've suffered my readers with since 2007. In order to make sense of it I'm afraid you will need to read 'Cruel Intentions' and its sequel 'Revelation' before you begin 'Retribution.' All the links are organized on the side bar of my lj kajornwan along with the trilogy's one-shot fillers. Russian, Chinese, Polish, and newly added Spanish translations by readers are also found here. To make life even easier, a dear reader gryffin-draco has gone through the trouble of putting these in PDF files for download. Cruel Intentions and Revelation. Thank you so much sweetie.
The sheets smelled like semen.
There were clothes on the floor leading towards the bed. The white duvet made a shuffling sound as the bodies underneath moved against one another. The man on top kissed his lover, trailing his lips down the side of the other man's neck as the jet-black hair danced seductively on the pillow and on the nakedness of his chest. Long, thick lashes fluttered a little as he closed his eyes and moaned to the touch of those lips, now brushing on the sensitive area of his inner thigh. The man on top smiled and took the throbbing cock into his mouth, earning a louder moan from his lover underneath whose long legs began to thrash in excitement on the sheets, his fingers wound tight around the pillowcase.
"Come inside me," Fei Long said, pulling him back up and kissing him passionately, wrapping his legs around the other man's hips.
Soon, the two bodies collided in rhythm. Their skin rubbed against one another with nothing but the slick, salty sweat in between that seemed to lubricate their movements. His hard, refined muscles rippled across his back as he pushed himself deeper into his lover. The soft, delicate lips parted, and in the midst of the loud moans and groans of pleasure, a name slipped from Fei Long's mouth.
Alexei.
Mikhail instantly forced his eyes opened, his hand wound tight around the robe wrapped around his waist. "Fuck," he swore as the pain in his stomach struck him like someone had punched him from the inside, once then twice. The third time he choked and threw up on the carpet. Nothing solid came out - just stomach acid that burned and tasted like cheap wine, and a small amount of blood from a cut inside his mouth.
He’d fallen asleep. Why did I fucking sleep?!
"Fucking wife," he cursed again, yanking at the cuff around his right wrist until the sharp edge of the metal dug deep into his flesh and made a few incisions. At that point he would have traded all his Lamborghinis for just one shot of something that would stop his brain from working, anything. Despite his dry throat, he pressed his lips together and swallowed, tasting the salt of his blood once again. His goddamn guard had punched him so hard in the face that his jaws ached like hell and his lips cracked opened both inside and out.
A groan rumbled in his throat as he tried to sit up right. His whole body ached like he'd been in some sort of a bar fight, which wasn’t a surprise, considering the fact that he’d recently wrestled with five of his strongest bodyguards Feodora had sent upon him. Resting his back on the edge of the mattress, he realized he was so damn tired he could sleep for a week. With his stomach turning constantly and his head spinning every time he tried to move, the wise thing to do was to climb into the bed and sleep it off. But despite his restlessness and the insomnia - the wonderful gifts of his forced heroin withdrawal, thanks to his bloody wife - the idea of sleep dreaded him more than anything. It was bad enough that his brain found it appropriate to manifest those flashes of events to attack him in his wake, but every time he’d closed his eyes those flashes would play like a movie in extended version. Sometimes he would see himself as a child sled racing with Alexei by their lake house in winter. Sometimes he would be back in the barn, feeling the crack of Yuri’s whip slice his back opened. Other times he would see himself holding Fei Long in his arms, kissing him and feeling a strong yearning for the man in his stomach. All of those memories he could manage just fine, but the rest made him want to puke his guts out every time they appear. And without the drugs, they'd become more unmanageable and painful than the withdrawal itself.
The rest, Mikhail sighed and ran his fingers through his badly tangled hair. The rest weren't even memories, they were pure manifestations of real events he didn't witness, and nightmares that replayed themselves over and over in his head like a broken record. He’d never seen that Japanese bastard rape Fei Long, smirking at him while doing it. He’d never seen Fei Long squirming and moaning in Alexei's arms on his bed, in his bloody penthouse where they'd spent their first night together. He’s only seen Alexei's dead body with eight bullet holes in it, but never how they'd pierced through his flesh, one by one, and sent him lying dead on the floor of his kitchen. He’d never seen any of these things, and yet they haunted him, hitting him with the force of a speeding truck. Every time they would play, it felt like a heavy punch in his stomach, and he would suffocate like something had been dislodged in his throat.
Don't you sleep! Don't you fucking sleep…, he told himself as his eyelids became heavier and his strength was giving way to his fatigue.
He must have slept, because he heard the door clicked open, and Fei Long's voice was somewhere inside the room. He was talking to someone, probably Alexei again, and then he didn't have to guess what would happen next. They'd kiss, and they'd fuck. Then he would wake up with the same pain, and throw up more of that disgusting acid in his stomach.
Somehow, this dream turned out to be a little different. In the previous ones, he would only get to watch and Fei Long would never notice him. This time he could hear the man's footsteps approaching before they stopped in front of him. "Mikhail," Fei Long called him softly as he reached out his hand and caressed his cheek.
How grand, he thought with a sneer. His fucking brain must have found a new trick to strike with. Maybe this time he would be included in the experience. Perhaps this Fei Long would then kiss and touch him, and squirm in his arms so he could feel the action on top of seeing it. And then he'd open his mouth and called him with his dead brother's name.
"Fuck you," he swore at the wretched manifestation of his lover that his brain had created in astounding perfection. He could even smell the addictive scent of that hair and feel the warmth of those fingers against his skin. But this time before he woke up, he swore he'd have the satisfaction of ending it with his own hands. He'd had enough of this shit - enough of puking his guts out from seeing Fei Long fuck his dead brother.
Swiftly, he snatched the elegant neck and squeezed it until he could hear the other man choke. "Get the fuck out of my head!" he said, tightening his grip harder as he spoke.
Just before he could choke the life out of his manifestation, someone punched him hard in the face and his hand slipped free. He struggled up on his knees, cursing as he flung his arm at his attacker and lost his balance. His damn legs were so weak he could hardly stand, much less fight, and all he could do was struggle. The man caught him at his wrist and twisted his arm back, pinning him faced down on the floor.
"Get the doctor!" he shouted. "I can't hold him much longer!"
Great, now Yoh was in his dream too, he thought. The doctor rushed in quickly with a needle, accompanied by the guards. As it buried its length in his arm, Mikhail stared at the man on the floor a few feet away from him. Fei Long was looking back at him, his eyes red and brimming with tears from suffocation. There was sadness and shock in those eyes, so intense it didn’t seem like the same Fei Long he saw in those dreams. Before he could understand the strangeness of the situation, his vision became blurry. Everything went blank after that, and for once, he was relieved to see nothing but darkness.
***
“Are you all right?” Yoh asked as he helped Fei Long up from the floor, wincing at the wounds on his knuckle. He realized he might have punched his new boss a bit harder than necessary. But Fei Long would have died if the blow hadn’t been hard enough to make the man let go.
Fei Long didn’t answer, he just stared at the unconscious body that was being carried up on the bed as if he’d just seen a ghost. Yoh could feel the Baishe leader tremble as he supported the man by the arm. Fei Long had been attacked more times than he could count, but being attacked by Mikhail of all people with an intention to kill was something Yoh imagined he could not swallow nor forget so easily. At that point he seemed to notice nothing, not the commotion in that room, the sound of his voice, or the trace of satisfaction on Feodora’s lips, only the fact that Mikhail had tried to kill him, and almost succeeded.
“We should leave,” Yoh said and tried to urge him out of the room. Fei Long was not safe here, nor was he welcomed. It didn’t seem like there was anything he could do for Mikhail, apart from provoking more anger and putting himself in danger. On top of this, he wasn't sure how long he could continue beating up the head of this household should the need arise again without earning a bullet in the head.
Somehow his request made Fei Long snap out of his vision and compose himself, his eyes narrowed and focused the way they always did when the man had decided on an action. With that look on his face, Yoh knew he was about to do something reckless. “Tell my men I won’t be going home for a few days,” Fei Long said as he moved closer to the bed where Mikhail laid unconscious.
Yoh sighed¾ sometimes he hated being right. "I don't think that's a good idea."
"It's my idea," Fei Long confirmed with authority, almost wondering why Yoh would question his command.
"And I don't work for you," Yoh replied with a straight face.
"That's right, I forgot," Fei Long bit back sarcastically. Why did he even pack this guy along with him? "Would you please call them?"
It appeared Fei Long knew how to make him comply with or without putting him on the payroll. What was he going to do? Force the man to beg? It was disturbing enough hearing him say please even though the look in those eyes was far from pleading. Seeing that no force on Earth was going to drag Fei Long out of that house, Yoh gave up and took out his phone. Working for Fei Long or not, disagreeing with the man was a waste of time and energy. The man must have known this, too, and that fact annoyed Yoh most of all. "Should I tell Tao to pack you some clothes?” he asked.
“Even with my permission,” Feodora asserted herself in the middle of her uninvited guests' conversation about staying in her house that excluded her entirely. “I don’t think he wants you here.”
Fei Long turned to Feodora and gave her a look that made even Yoh uncomfortable. He then chose to ignore her comment and replied to Yoh's question instead. “There’s no need. Mikhail keeps a closet full of my clothes in his bedroom.”
He said that on purpose, of course, Yoh thought. When Fei Long wanted to bite, he does so with precision … and a generous amount of venom. Even though he was sure Mikhail must have kept a number of Fei Long’s clothes in all his properties, telling his wife about it was another issue entirely.
The expression on her face was hard to describe, and Yoh couldn’t help but anticipate some kind of physical confrontation between them for the time Fei Long remained at the villa. And as if that wasn’t enough, the man didn’t quite stop there.
“You don’t need to worry about setting up a room. I’ll sleep here with him,” he said as he sat down on the bed next to Mikhail. In truth, he didn't want to add fuel to her fire, but the moment she’d cuffed Mikhail and left him in that room her authority had come to an end, or he would make it so.
Feodora lifted her chin and tried her best to stay calm, even though the fire in her eyes would show the complete opposite. She could have thrown him out of the house, but that would create a commotion, which wouldn’t be overlooked by the moles on the property. Considering what just happened, she might as well have him stay and see him suffer by Mikhail's hand as retribution. “Fine. Just know that it will not be my responsibility if you die,” she said before turning around and headed to the door.
“Mrs. Arbatova,” Fei Long called. “The key to his handcuff.”
She paused for a moment without turning around to acknowledge the request openly. Having had enough of her husband's lover for the day, she slid her hand in her pocket and tossed him the key before heading out the door without another word.
Fei Long had asked to be alone in that room after the doctor had finished checking on his patient. Sitting on the bed next to Mikhail, he reached out and tidied the mess of blond hair from his face. While it was disturbing to see him in that state, with his skin so pale and his face hardened due to dehydration and fatigue, Fei Long could feel his heart flutter at the thought of being this close to Mikhail again. He’d missed it all, the roughness of those hands, the warmth of his body, and even those long, thick golden lashes that used to brush against his cheek when Mikhail kissed him.
Removing the cuff from his wrist, Fei Long’s brow narrowed at the wound around it. Mikhail must have tried to free himself very desperately to get such a deep cut. As he cleaned the wound with a damp towel, he took a glance at the other wrist and felt his heart skipped. There it was: the glittering gold bracelet that matched his key - the other cuff Mikhail had put upon himself and still had not taken off.
How far would you go for love?
How far indeed, Fei Long thought with a bittersweet smile on his face. How many times have they pushed each other away? How many times have they decided to end it all? And even now when both of them must have thought everything they ever had was lost, this bond between them had not been broken. Mikhail would not take off this bracelet, just as he would never remove the pendent from his neck.
I belong to you, and you alone hold the key to my heart.
Fei Long closed his hand around Mikhail’s and held it tight, hoping that he could transcend even the smallest measurement of what he felt in his heart to heal the wounds he’d inflicted upon this man. “Come back to me,” he said in a whisper. “Come back to me and I promise everything will change.”
***
The sunlight stung his eyes as he opened them. He wondered if one of the maids had come in to open the curtains or if it was just another dream he was having. As he moved, he realized someone was holding his hand. He turned to see and blinked a few times at the man lying by his side whose long, delicate fingers wound tight around his even as he slept.
It has to be a dream, he thought to himself. But somehow the atmosphere in that room didn’t make him feel uncomfortable like in his nightmares. Serenity hung in the air, similar to the days he woke up with Fei Long by his side when they were still together. It used to give him a sense of fulfillment - a euphoric feeling that said there was nothing more to be had in life and nothing was missing. He liked that feeling, liked it enough to give up everything else just to feel it everyday.
He looked around and realized that he was exactly where he should be in reality - in the room Feodora had locked him in, not back in his penthouse. There were no signs of Alexei or Yuri, no trace of blood; nothing his brain had been force-feeding him with for the past few weeks. There was only Fei Long on his bed, sleeping like a baby and holding his hand so tight it would be impossible for him to move without waking him up. Even if it was just a dream, it didn’t feel like one of those nightmares or that it would soon turn out to be.
As if the man could hear his thoughts, Fei Long opened his eyes slowly and smiled at him. “You’re awake,” he said as he pushed himself up slowly.
Mikhail didn’t answer, but his eyes lingered on the bruise around Fei Long’s neck that came into view when he tilted his head back a little.
“Don’t try to strangle me again. My neck still hurts,” Fei Long said jokingly, pushing back the strands of black hair that fell disorderly around his face and tied it back up into a loose ponytail. He knew he should be on guard, since Mikhail still looked at him as if he had been some kind of an illusion he did not welcome, but somehow he didn't feel the threat.
Kneading his eyes with his thumb and index finger, Mikhail sighed in irritation. "Get out of my house,” he said coldly. Whether or not it was real, Fei Long had no business being there.
“Don’t even try. Your wife wanted to get rid of me and it didn’t work,” Fei long replied as he rose from the bed to wash his face. When he returned, he stood in front of Mikhail with a warm towel. “This will help.”
Hesitated, Mikhail looked at the wet towel for a few seconds before snatching it out of Fei Long’s hand. He wiped his face irritatingly, even though the warmth of the towel felt good against his skin. That moment he just wished Fei Long would leave. The longer the man stayed, the harder it would be for him to tell between his illusions and reality. And he knew his nightmares would come back to him with a vengeance, the way they had right after their hospital visit. Just the thought of it made him want to throw up again. Or perhaps he was simply suffering from the heroin withdrawal. Whatever it was, seeing Fei Long there made him feel sick.
“Please … just leave," when there was nothing else he could think of, he pleaded.
Fei Long sighed. He'd expected just as much, but it did hurt just the same. Some words were painful enough hearing just once, but Mikhail had said them time and time again. The man had never been subtle when he wanted to hurt someone, but Fei Long had never been on the receiving end until lately. Even when spoken as a plea, it still hurt more than a thousand pitiful sneers from Asami. “If you really want me to go, I’ll go,” he said as he sat down next to Mikhail. “But there’s something I must tell you before I leave.”
Mikhail didn't reply and neither did he move. He just sat there staring at the floor, letting his hair fall over his eyes and cover most of his face in a way that made it difficult for Fei Long to see his expression.
“Nothing happened between me and Alexei that night, and I will not try to explain myself for something you may think I did that I didn’t do," Fei Long said, fixing his eyes on the wall in front of him. "I understand your wish to have me out of your life and I will try my best to stay away." He paused for a moment to swallow the lump in his throat that was making it difficult for him to speak. What he needed to say wasn’t easy for him to utter, but Mikhail must know this, and he needed to get it off of his chest.
“I’ve missed you," he confessed. "I’ve missed us." Depsite himself, he sounded like he wanted to cry, but with Mikhail sitting right next to him, no amount of strength was enough for him to pull off an act of indifference. “I will leave here today if you want me to leave. But know that I’m here whenever you need my help … and I will be eternally grateful, if you would let me see you every once in a while.”
There was so much more he wanted to say, and he couldn’t describe how much he wanted to reach out and touch Mikhail’s hand, even if that would be all he was allowed to touch. But Mikhail just sat there, still and quiet as if he wasn’t even breathing. After a moment he began to tremble, and Fei Long could see his hands close into a tight fist that made his whole body stiff.
“He… asked me if he could go after you,” Mikhail said, his voice coarse and broken. “And I told him that you were not my problem anymore.”
A single tear drop landed on his fist as he clenched his hands tighter and tighter, until his whole body started to shake. “I killed him,” he confessed, the words were strained as if it had taken all his strength to utter them. “I killed Alexei.”
He had sent Alexei to die out of spite. He knew the risk, he knew the pain that Alexei would have to go through, and yet he’d pushed his brother in that direction. Did he want to punish Alexei for wanting his lover and pursuing him, or did he want to see Alexei fail, just like he did, to make him feel better about himself? Was it Alexei’s death that was giving him nightmares, or the fact that he died fucking Fei Long? They were questions he feared to answer. But they all came down to one thing - it was he who killed his brother.
Fei Long reached out his arms and held Mikhail tight in his embrace. It was always disturbing to see a grown man cry. But that day Mikhail cried like he’d never cried in his life. He cried as if his tears were blood and that he wanted to die from it, as if it would absolve him. He bit his lips as Mikhail’s fingers dug deep into his arm as he choked on his tears. He remembered how it felt the night his father died, how much it hurts to lose someone you love, and at the same time, convinced that you’re responsible for it. But what brought tears to his eyes wasn’t his own tragic past, it was the fact that Mikhail had blamed himself for Alexei's death, when it was his fault alone that led to it.
“You didn’t kill him,” Fei Long said as he held the other man’s face in front of his. “I did.”
I should have never let you go.
He didn’t know how long he stayed there, with Mikhail crying in his arms. No matter how many times he kissed those tears away, they just kept streaming down his cheeks. Mikhail had always been the stronger one between them¾ the one who could and would hold their relationship together. He wondered how long and how much the man had kept all of this hidden behind that flawless smile and hated the fact that Mikhail had never let him see it. But the truth of it all was that he’d never cared to know. It was the reason why he’d avoided asking about those scars on his back, the same reason why he’d been too busy chasing after Asami and never once looked back at how Mikhail would handle it. From the very first time they’d gotten together he had never once been there for Mikhail.
You selfish, self-centered bastard.
You don’t deserve to be loved, Feodora said. He didn’t realize how true it was until then. He was feeding off Mikhail’s love like a disgusting leech. But it was going to end that day. He swore it would!
At one point, Feodora came into the room and saw them. She didn’t say a word and just left quietly. Some time later Mikhail slipped back to sleep, and from the look on his face, this time it seemed he didn’t dream.
***
The detoxification procedure went smoothly. Fei Long did as he said he would - he stayed from the beginning to the very end and until he was certain that Mikhail would recover safely. The next time he awakes, the drugs will have been flushed out of his system, and Mikhail will have a chance of becoming himself again. The only problem that bothered Fei Long was whether he would relapse, how quickly it may happen, and what would happen if it occurs in Moscow.
Fei Long sighed at the thought as he exited the treatment room where Mikhail still slept and closed the door quietly behind him. Mikhail needed his rest, and he needed breakfast. He hadn’t eaten anything since the small lunch he had the day before, and it was having an effect on his strength. It was just after six in the morning, and the sky was still dark. Chances were high that breakfast would not be ready at that point, but perhaps he could find something in the fridge and make himself a cup of coffee.
Making coffee. The idea almost discouraged him. He could make tea like no other, but coffee was Mikhail's specialty, not to mention the gigantic machine the man had in his kitchen looked like it should come with a built-in barista to operate. It was never a problem before since its owner had always woken up early to make him some, refusing to allow anyone else to make his coffee or so much as touch his espresso machine. Fei Long thought of instant coffee or even one of those brewed from automatic machines and immediately gave up on the idea altogether. Just like tea, once one have tasted a cup brewed to perfection, anything less is not considered the same substance and would not fulfill his craving. Wonderful, Fei Long thought. On top of being addicted to Mikhail's touch, he was now addicted to the man's espresso.
Mikhail had two kitchens in his house, one for the cooks and the other that was more elaborate and spacious for his personal use. Being someone who loves to cook, the personal kitchen was almost an obsession. The man had every tool Fei Long could think of and many that he couldn’t. He used to love looking at how professional Mikhail was around his stove and the way he handled his knives like they were priceless samurai swords. The memory made him smile as he made his way to Mikhail’s Sub-Zero to get himself some bread, only to find the refrigerator empty when it was always full. It was a sight that would tell anyone who knew the man that something wasn’t right, and it made him sigh more heavily than before. Just as he reached for the loaf of bread, someone’s footsteps startled him.
“I’m about to bake some scones if you want something to eat,” Feodora said as she entered and took out some flour. “He loves freshly baked scones with his coffee,” she added.
Fei Long studied her expression as she continued to prepare her baking tools. She was wearing a white, sleeveless linen dress that hung just below her knees under a simple clean-cut beige apron. The casual clothing made her appear somewhat more welcoming than her usual aggressive and formal style. But it wasn't just the clothes that seemed strange. For some reason, Feodora had been treating him differently since Mikhail’s detoxification. She seemed less hostile, though not entirely friendly, and she had kept her distance whenever he was near Mikhail. It made him wonder why, and what she was thinking.
“You always bake for him?” he asked just to start a conversation he hoped would turn out to be civilized.
“When he’s around, yes,” she replied without showing her emotions. “Mikhail can be very discriminating when it comes to food.”
“Well, with clothes, cars, yachts and planes as well,” Fei Long added as he rolled his eyes.
Feodora smiled. “He goes for the best and the hardest to get - always. You should be flattered,” she said with a hint of spite in her tone. The fact that Mikhail picked Fei Long meant that he saw something rare and precious in the man, and she knew it was precisely because he was hard to conquer that Mikhail dove right in like a moth to a flame. The problem was that Fei Long's book never seemed to end as she’d hoped and Mikhail never seemed to get bored.
It was indeed flattering, and Mikhail's best weapon had always been his straightforward and blunt style of flattery. Feodora seemed to notice this too. Of course she would. She'd been there with him longer than he'd known Tao or Yoh, Fei Long thought. Despite her attitude towards him, he had nothing against this woman… nothing serious anyway. On the contrary, she made him curious.
“How do you do it?” Fei Long asked, wondering how she could go about her business as if everything in her life was normal.
“How do I do what?”
“Live...like this?” He never understood why she would continue to be with Mikhail after all that he’d done to her. The man had never even tried to make his affairs a secret, nor had he ever shown any guilt while he was cheating on his wife. On one hand the concept made Mikhail a man despicable to most people, on the other it could be considered an act of honesty in the way that he would never conceal his feelings or act for the sake of morality or guilt, but always in the interest of his heart’s desire. But when it comes to Feodora, who didn’t seem to gain anything from it, he wondered why she would stay and endure.
She didn’t answer him right away and proceeded to measure her ingredients for the dough with extreme precision. The woman was a perfectionist and her discipline was astounding. It was remarkable how she could survive her husband’s irresponsible, unpredictable, and unreliable nature.
“My whole family was murdered when I was eight. I saw them burn to death with my own eyes,” she said flatly, as if it was something that happened to someone else. “Vladimir was a friend to my father and took me into his family, and since then they have become my own.”
She went on kneading her dough the same way Mikhail used to. Fei Long could tell who had taught her to bake, and in a way it made him a little jealous that she had spent so much time with him, knowing him even when he was just a little boy.
“I must have fallen for him the moment he smiled at me,” she continued, remembering how the little boy used to beam at her with a head full of glittering blond hair like an angel she once read in her story books¾ only she found out soon enough that he was as much mischievous as he looked innocent. “But I’ve always been nothing more than a sister and a friend to him,” she said, this time with a hint of sadness in her tone before her lips stretched into a sarcastic smile. “I grew up watching him take other girls to bed. Sometimes he would ask me what I thought of his new date, other times he would come to me when his heart was broken by someone else.” She’d been his friend and sister long before she became his wife, but she was never his lover. Mikhail loved her, but never in that fashion.
“And you married him anyway,” Fei Long said. He would never understand a woman’s heart - why some would endure so much to be with a man who simply didn’t care. But most of those women he knew were weak and dependent. Feodora, on the other hand, could easily survive on her own, and even survive better than some powerful men he knew.
Feodora laughed quietly, remembering why she did what she did. “Vladimir was forcing him to marry to get rid of you. I would sooner rot in hell before I give him up to some dumb, ignorant slut,” she replied with a sneer. She thought then that if he wasn’t going to marry for love they might as well get married. It wasn’t going to change a thing in her life. “I’ve been in love with him for more than twenty years, and he asked me. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Still, it must hurt,” Fei Long said. “You could have walked away and let go.” Why stay when all it does is hurt you?
“Could I?” Feodora looked at him almost accusingly. “Could you?”
Could he? Fei Long found himself at a loss for words. He wanted to say yes, but it would taste like a lie. In a way, he was no different from her. He had been chasing after Asami the same way Feodora had been chasing Mikhail. “I try,” he replied. The truth was, he wasn't even sure if that much was true.
“Have you ever wondered why that bodyguard of yours still hasn’t left your side?”
Taken aback by an unexpected reference to Yoh, Fei Long didn’t answer. He wondered if Mikhail had told her about it too, or was Yoh’s feeling that apparent.
“Did you know he stood in front of your door the whole time you were with Mikhail?” she asked, knowing that the answer would probably be a negative one. She knew it wasn’t duty. No. It was something else entirely. “You want to know if it hurts? Ask him. And while you’re at it, ask him why he stays.”
It was something Fei Long had never thought about - how Yoh must have felt after all this time of being so close to him, watching him with Mikhail or with Akihito. If it had hurt, the man sure didn’t show it. It was as though he’d never expected anything more and had somehow decided not to. Perhaps it was the same reason why Feodora had never seemed to be jealous of him, and all she’d ever shown was anger that he’d hurt Mikhail so badly.
“You’ve already given up on him,” he said in a form of confirmation rather than a question. He knew he was right. He could see it in her eyes.
“A long time ago,” she replied with a sad smile as she rolled out her dough and began to cut them into small rolls. She had already given up on Mikhail to return her feelings, but she could not walk away, no more than that bodyguard could walk away from Fei Long. “I’m here because I thought he needed me ... because it was my shoulder he used to cry on,” she added as she put down the knife and looked straight into his eyes. “This time he picked yours.”
It was an event that changed everything, including the way she felt about Fei Long. No matter how much pain this man had caused her and her husband, it was his shoulder that Mikhail had picked to cry on. After all this time that he’d refused to cry or accept the truth of Alexei’s death, Fei Long was the only one who could save him from the hell Mikhail had thrown himself into. As painful as it was, she owed Fei Long some gratitude for saving him. Unlike most people, she knew exactly what it’s like to lose someone close to her heart, she'd learned it the hard way and overnight. Between having Mikhail break her heart for the thousandth time and seeing him die, she’d go through every pain and suffering all over again. Fei Long had saved his life - that was an indisputable truth.
“Of course, I’m agitated, but the most important thing is that he cries,” she told him. The most important thing is that Mikhail survives.
“However, you should know that this changes nothing between us,” she said coldly, picking up the knife again and plunge its tip deep into her cutting board to make her point. “You hurt him again and I swear I will strike at you much better than the incompetent jerk that killed Alexei. Do we understand each other?”
Incompetent. Fei Long smiled sarcastically at her choice of word. She sure didn’t care to hide the fact that he should have been the one who died. He'd decided he liked her, after all. The woman had never seemed to feel sorry for herself, and in return, left no room for anyone to feel sorry for her. In a way, she almost resembled Mikhail in her bluntness and her crude way of showing honesty.
“Before you threaten me with Mikhail’s knife, which, by the way would infuriate him if he knows you’ve been handling it without care, why don’t we talk about your divorce?”
Feodora’s eyes narrowed into a calculating gaze. She was surprised to hear such a proposition from the man who wasn’t even sure of his own intentions just two days before. That morning Fei Long stood in front of her with eyes of a man who knew exactly what he wanted to do and was rather confident about moving into her spot. Unbelievable. .
“I let you stay for two nights and now you think you can move into my house?” she asked in a firm and rigid tone.
“I’ve practically moved into his house and apartments a long time ago. If you don’t need to keep him as a husband, you might as well leave yourself some dignity,” he countered.
He’s mine, she could just hear him say it through his eyes. From the look on Fei Long’s face, the conversation had turned out to be a business proposal - one that sparked her interest. She straightened herself and crossed her arms above her chest.
“A divorce will not get me off your back," she told him. Her marriage to Mikhail didn't mean anything from the beginning, and undoing it would not change much, just her last name.
"I'm not trying to get you off my back, I'm trying to get rid of you as his wife," Fei Long replied readily. It sounded cruel, but anything less would be an insult to this woman. "I will not consent to being his mistress." His mother was one, and he wasn't going to give anyone a chance to say 'like mother, like son.'
"It gives me pleasure to see you suffer that reputation," she said sourly. "Why would I give you the satisfaction?"
"Money," Fei Long replied, looking straight into her eyes to confirm his intention. "I want him back. And when I do get him back, you can wait for him to divorce you then and leave you with nothing but shame, or you can take my offer, divorce him now, keep your reputation and walk away with enough money to build youself a syndicate. Your choice."
Feodora stared back at him quietly for a few seconds, deliberating over the proposal. “I’m expensive,” she declared.
“And I’m rich,” Fei Long replied without hesitation.
She had to admit, it was a good offer. As much as it pained her to accept the truth, should Fei Long want Mikhail back, she had no doubt he would accomplish the task. Mikhail would divorce her the moment Fei Long asked for it and leave her with nothing more than a ruined reputation. But divorce him now and she'd get to rip off this man and go back to live the way she was - as a daughter to Vladimir, a sister to Mikhail ... and yes, there was also that other thing she'd almost forgotten about which would secure her position in the Arbatov's family more than ever. "What about that Japanese man?" she had to ask, for Mikhail's sake.
Knowing she had been successfully bought, Fei Long grinned almost victoriously before his expression softened a little as he gave her an answer- one she gave him just minutes ago, "perhaps it's time I give up on him too." And I would do more than that, he thought. Much more.
Just then, one of the maids came in and interrupted the silence. She walked over to her mistress and whispered her message, to which Feodora responded with a weary look on her face and an obvious scowl irritation on her lips.
“I like this proposal. But there’s something I must attend to at the moment,” she told him as she took the knife out of the cutting board, wiped it clean, and carefully placed it back on the table. “Don’t tell him about the knife. He’d kill me.”
“Anything I can do?” he asked after noticing the sudden strain on her face.
Feodora paused for a moment to consider and decided that there was something he could do.
“What do you know about John Wong?”
***
P.S. I enjoyed writing this chapter the most in Retribution. I hope you like it. And BTW, a good chunk of it has been added after it was beta-ed so any mistakes are my fault. Oh, a Sub -Zero is an insanely expensive professional fridge made for the filthy rich I haven't had the pleasure of seeing one in RL lol. Anyway, like it, hate it, please comment or my muse will go into hiding again (for 6 months?)
P.P.S. Translations status, German version of C.I. Is taken by Tradij. ^_^ Thank you sweetie.