His Amontillado (A Montresor x Fortunato fic)

dirty kinky smut.

As Fortunato made step toward the niche, I fettered him to the granite. He was too astonished to resist. Withdrawing the key from the chains, I stepped back from the recess. "Pass your hand," I said, "over the wall; you cannot help feeling the nitre. Indeed, it is very damp.“ Once more let me implore you to return. No? Then I must render you all the little attentions in my power". Fortunato began to plead, his orbs shining at me through the darkness.  At this I  stepped back into the niche and put my hand over his lips. It was then I realized that his cries had turned into low moans.

“ You are a twisted man my friend” I growled. I began my hands down him, his jester suit leaving little to the imagination. “You have wronged me Fortunato, and I must see that you will be punished for it”. He had a predatory grin, running a finger down his dear friend's jawline. “It's quite damp down here, is it not?”. As if on queue, Fortunato started to cough. I took his spasming throat in my hand. “Please” Fortunato cried. As I continued choking him, I felt something pressing up underneath me. “Oh?” I teased, and I started to palpate his growing erection. Fortunato stifled a groan.

“Oh my dear Fortunato,” I patronized, “ you must not fret. I do not intend to end your life. I could not do it myself.” “Oh thank the great Lord!” He exclaimed, although he imagined what it might be like if his good friend Montresor were to end his life. Fortunato would like to think it would be slow and painful, Montresor shushing his cries as he bleeds every ounce of pain from Fortunato. As if he could read Fortunato’s thoughts, Montresor laughed coyly. “ I cannot kill you my friend, but you will not be leaving these catacombs” .

Montresor stepped out of the small cave, reaching behind a pile of rubble to withdraw a trowel, bricks, and mortar. He also picked out a slender bone from the pile of remains, varnishing it with his cape. He stepped back into the niche, moving closer to Fortunato. Fortunato attempted to regain his freedom, turning the chains over onto the cloaked man and pinning him to the back of the recess. “Oh? So you think you can avoid your fate by me Fortunato?” Montresor sneered. “You will see that I have no qualms showing you my complete power”.

Montresor began to trace Fortunatos jaw, hands finding their place around Fortunato’s neck. He quickly applied full strength, Fortunato trying for futile, stuttering breaths. Montresor scoffed, letting one hand travel down his chest. Fortunato coughed heavily, the nitre and his good friend’s hand preventing his airways from being full. Fortunato showed his approval with a whine, aching for Montresor’s touch. Montresor made quick work of his jester costume, ripping it down from his chest in a swift movement. Montresor returned to his position on top of Fortunato: “Now my friend, you see your complete submission to me”. Montresor’s hand slipped below Fortunato, circling his hole and ignoring his painful erection.

He retrieved the piece for skeleton he had withdrawn from outside the niche, showing it off to Fortunato. Fortunato, eyes glassy and overcome with despicable want, merely moaning in response. At this, Montresor forced the bone into his mouth, his friend’s saliva coating it. The spittle dripped down Fortunato’s lips as Montresor pulled it out, the man awaiting what Montresor would do next.

He made quick work, jamming the bone up into Fortunato. The splitting of skin sounded, and Fortunato cried out. With that, Montresor caressed Fortunato’s face, stood, and returned to his supplies just outside of the recess. “Please”, Fortunato wailed, beginning to ramble incoherently, resisting his entrapment. Montresor heard the furious vibrations of the chain. The noise lasted for several minutes, Fortunato with the hope that he might hearken to it. Montresor began vigorously walling up the entrance of the niche. Laying tiers as his friend pleaded for relief.

Once the wall was level with Montresor’s hip, he began laying the building stones more meticulously. This caught Fortunato’s attention, momentarily stopping his screaming and moaning cries. “My friend”, Montresor called out to him, “ I know you seek the Amontillado”. “The Amontillado!” Fortunato repeatedly screeched, seeming to lose touch with reality. “We shall bring  the Amontillado back to the palazzo and have many a rich laugh He! He! He!”. At that moment, Montresor had finished his work on the intricate tier, the stone surrounding a gap in the wall blocking the small cave.

On the other side of the wall, unbeknownst to Fortunato, Montresor took out his own length and began to stroke. Fortunato heard Montresor’s stifled groans from inside the niche, and soon saw, from the dimming light of the flambeaux, Montresor’s erect member slide into the aperture  he had masoned. In response to this, Fortunato whimpered and thrusted against his restraints in Montresor’s direction. Montresor continued to make work of himself, Fortunato watching hungrily of what he was able to view through the wall. “For the love of God, Montresor!” Fortunato wailed. “Yes,” Montresor replied, “for the love of God!”

Montresor reaches his crest, his seed spilling out in ropes onto the floor of the recess. Montresor watched self-righteously as Fortunato dived from his chains at the fluid, slurping at the ground and crying “the Amontillado!”. He began hacking, the exertion and the nitre preventing his lungs from functioning properly. “Yes, drink up my good friend, my Amontillado.” Montresor asserted. Montresor finished up the wall tiers as Fortunato writhed on the floor of the nitre filled cave.

Fortunato moaned once again, defeated, “For the love of God Montresor”. “Yes my dear Fortunato, for the love of God.” Montresor slyly claimed, awaiting the next plea of the fool. He grew tired of patience, calling aloud, “Fortunato!” No answer but small noises echoing through the enclosure. “Fortunato-“. No answer still. Montresor thrust the dying flame through the remaining gap and let it fall within. There came forth in reply only a jingling of the bells. Montresor’s heart grew sick on account of the dampness of the catacombs. He forced the last stone into its position; he plastered it up. Against the new masonry Montresor reestablished the old rampart of bones. For the half of a century no mortal has disturbed them. Montresor never spoke word of his dear Fortunato again.
In pace requiescat.