There was that time he put peppers in Arm's body cream that caused him to spend a week in the hospital, downstairs. Because even though they never really pranked each other, they tended to mistakenly overdo it, every once in a while.
So, maybe that was why. It had to be. Because, why else would Arm do this to Pol, just because he confided in him.
"Stop complaining," Arm said, brushing him away.
"You posted my story on the internet."
"It was a good story."
"It's about two bodyguards touching each other while their boss watches a TV show."
"Relax," Arm said, moving around Pol as he tried to work. "No one will know it was you."
"They might think it really happened."
"They won't."
"They might think it's us."
"They won't."
"I wrote that story for you to read."
Arm stopped to look at Pol, smooshing Pol's cheeks together like Pol was a child.
"And I loved every moment of it. But I just thought people might like to read it too."
"It's pornographic."
"It's sexy."
"You think so?" Pol asked, moving closer as Arm patted him on the cheek and moved away.
"Fret not," he said. "It's a tiny website that no one even knows about. Think of it this way." He pulled a sulking Pol and dumped him in a chair. "You can write whatever you want. I'll post it on the site. If people don't see it? Cool. If they do, no one will know it was you who wrote it."
"You're sure no one will know?"
"I'll make sure your identity and intentions are completely masked."
___
Fast forward a couple of years and hundreds of stories, Pol couldn't believe how well they'd pulled this off. Because even though he was glad that his identity was masked, he hated that his intentions remained masked, as well.
Especially from the one person he wished would unmask them.
YOU ARE READING
The Mansion of Men
FanfictionThe mafia men need a place to blow off steam. And it's not the kind of place you might imagine. It's not a bar. It's not a brothel. It's not a gym. It's a website where they get to read anonymous fanfics about their co workers and bosses fucking ea...
