Title: Anziché Voi' (Instead of You)

Author: Scribe

Fandom: The Godfather

Pairing: Sonny/Lucy, Sonny/Michael (flashback)

Status: Finished

Sequel/Series: Sequel to 'Segreti Della Famiglia' (Family Secrets)

Archive: CKoS, the WWOMB, others ask and provide a credit and my email address for feedback

Criticism: Yes.

Disclaimer: The characters belong to Mario Puzo

Summary: At Connie's wedding, Sonny has a tryst with a bride's maid, but his heart, and his desire, is elswhere.

Author's Notes: The title translates as 'Instead of You'. This takes place eight years after the events of 'Segreti Della Famiglia'. Some of the incidents in this story take place in a different order than in the movie.

Warning: Graphic sex (of the het variety, this warning for my slash friends), and flashback memory of graphic, coerced m/m incest.

VOCABULLARY: cazzo--shit, Fatti i cazzi tuoi--mind your own fucking business, Questo tizio ha i coglioni duri--That guy is a tough motherfucker. (that guy has hard balls), Che te ne fregai?--What the fuck do you care?, scoreggia --cheap whore or easy lay (a promiscuous woman), tette--tits, che fica--what a piece of ass, Mi si i rizzatto--I have a hard on, putana--whore, guanto--rubber or condom (glove), ficona--whore or sexy woman [big cunt]

Rating: NC-17

Anziché Voi' (Instead Of You)
by Scribe

1945

The ceremony was over, and the reception was in full swing at the Corleone estate. The streets of the quiet, up-scale neighborhood were lined with cars: some new and shiny, some humble and used. The Corleone's had friends in all stations, and all were invited to share the celebration of the Don's daughter's wedding. A couple of policemen in plain clothes, stood near the gate, which stood open as a sign of welcome. They chatted idly, occasionally tossing glances at the one car that was occupied. It was parked only a few dozen yards from the entrance.

Two men in cheap, neat suits sat in the front seat. One scanned the cars that were arriving late, then spoke quietly to the other, sitting in the driver's seat. The second man patiently copied down the license plate numbers that his partner read off to him. They both looked up in interest as a small knot of men came down the driveway from the party, approaching the gate.

There were four of them, one trailing the rest. The man in back was carrying a flash camera, and had the air of someone who knew he might be where he wasn't supposed to be. The man in the lead projected such self assurance that there was no way in hell HE wasn't where he was supposed to be. The passenger elbowed the driver. "Sonny Corleone. The old man's eldest, a
real hot-head. Whatever he does, stay calm. He won't make any real trouble on his sister's wedding day.

Sonny strode past the policemen flanking the gate and stopped a few yards from the car, hands on hips, glaring at them. He was a good-looking man in his late twenties: tall, with curly light brown hair. He would have been handsome, but right now his expression was rigid with outrage. He turned and snapped at the plainclothes cops. "Why ain't you doin' what you're paid for?"

They shifted uneasily, and one of them explained, "Nothin' we can do, Mr. Corleone. They're in the street, public property. Nothin' we can do."

"Cazzo!" Sonny walked a few more paces toward the car. "Eh, what is this? Get outta here; it's a private party, go on!." He leaned down to peer angrily through the window. "What is it, hey? It's my sister's wedding." Silently the two men in the car showed him their IDs. He spat on the ground and turned back to the men at the gate. "Goddamn FBI don't respect nothing!"

The photographer, leaned around Sonny's escort to snap a picture of the enraged heir to the Corleone mob family. He could get good money for this from one of the tabloids. But he wasn't nearly discrete enough, and Sonny spotted him. Zeroing in on him he said,"Eh, you! Come here!" The photographer tried to back up the wall, but Sonny pursued him. "Come here; come here; come here, come here; come here; come here..." He was lucky. When Sonny caught him, all he smashed was the camera. "Fatti i cazzi tuoi!" As he headed back up to the party, one of the men kicked the remains of the camera, then threw some bills at the stunned photographer.

The rent-a-cops stared after him. One said to the other, "Questo tizio ha i coglioni duri."

The photographer demanded of the second cop, "Did you see that?"

A shrug. "Che te ne fregai? You got paid. Get oudda here."

Back at the festivities another photographer, one who knew better than to take 'candid' photos at this particular party, was trying to gather the family for a portrait. Don Vito wasn't ready, though. He called Sonny over. "Where's Michael?"

"Don't worry," Sonny assured him. "It's early."

"We're not takin' the picture without Michael." He went to tell the photographer.

Tom Hagen went to Sonny. "What's the matter?"

"Eh, it's Michael." He watched as his father greeted some of the supplicants who had come to see him, and went into the house. He would conduct the audiences in his study. Sonny's twin girls, eight years old, ran past squealing madly. He gestured to his wife, who was sitting at a table with some of the wedding party. "Sandra, do me a favor, huh: watch the kids-- don't let 'em run wild."

She gave him a slightly cynical look. "Well, you watch yourself, all right?" She hadn't missed the way Sonny had been drooling over that Lucy Mancini, the scoreggia.

There was a flurry of excitement at the edge of the crowd. Sonny looked, and felt his heart swell. It was Michael.

*God, he's so handsome in that uniform! But what the hell was her thinkin', joinin' the friggin' Army like that? Tom already had him an out for the draft, and the moron goes and enlists! Well, he was over twenty-one, Pop couldn't stop him. Three years, we haven't seen him. It just about tore Mama's heart out, him bein' in the action like that. Thank God nothin' happened.*

He wasn't alone. Sonny frowned at the girl he had by his side. She was young, younger than Michael, and pretty in a bland, American way. But you could tell by the way she was looking around, all wide-eyed that she thought this was as good as a circus. Sonny didn't like her right off the bat. He wasn't sure if it was because of that attitude, or the simple fact that she was with his baby brother and taking up Michael's attention when it should have been devoted to his family. Sonny straightened his shoulders, and approached them.

Michael glanced up from the girl's face, and saw Sonny. Sonny felt a stab of disappointment as
Michael's expression closed up, becoming stiff and formal. *Christ, he still carryin' that grudge.
Isn't he ever gonna get over that?* Sonny stopped before them, not letting his smile falter. "Hey,
Mikey! How ya doin'?"

"I'm fine, Sonny. Kay, this is my elder brother, Santino."

"Sonny, Kay. Damn, little brother, it's good to see you!" Sonny stepped forward, and enveloped Michael in a hug. It wasn't returned. The smaller man just stood rigid, his arms at his sides and his face turned away till Sonny let go. Sonny pretended this was nothing unusual, or insulting. Tapping Michael's shoulder he said, "I gotta go mingle. You go see Mama next, kid. She's the one who missed you most..." He paused. Kay noticed a peculiar light in his eyes.

"...next to me." Michael said nothing more, looking down at his military hat as he turned it in his hands, waiting for his oldest brother to leave.

Kay said quietly, "So, that's Sonny. You haven't talked much about him. Even less than most of your family."

Michael shrugged. "What's there to say? He's my big brother. I used to worship him when I was a kid."

"And now?"

Michael's eyes followed Sonny for a moment before turning back to her. There was that same mysterious sadness and pain that was so familiar to Kay. "People change, Kay. Things happen."

Sonny made sure his movements were casual as he walked away to where Fredo and Paulie were standing. His brother had watched the exchange with his usual dull expression. Fredo was the only one in the family who hadn't noticed the distant attitude Michael had developed as he grew up. But then, subtle went right over Fredo's head. "Mikey got a friend, huh?"

"Yeah, Fredo. You go over in a little bit and say hello, eh? If Mikey likes her enough to bring her to a family wedding, well..." Sonny didn't want to think about that. Instead he nudged Clemenza's aide, Paulie, pointing at Lucy Mancini, where she sat giggling with the other bride's maids. "What you think of that, huh?"

Paulie made a cradleing motion with his hands, as if weighing a couple of melons. "What tette!"

"You tellin' me? Che fica! I been around her all during the time we been getting ready for the wedding, and half the time..." He blew out a breath. "Mi si e rizzato."

"You get any?"

"Not yet."

Sandra was glancing at Sonny. She said something to Connie, and the girl blushed furiously. Sandra made another remark, and held her hands up a bit apart, then spread them till there was almost a foot of space between them. The other women at the table looked at Sonny, and howled. Sonny grinned. Sandra was bragging about the size of his cock again. Fine with him. He believed in advertisement. He noticed that Lucy Mancini was listening carefully. She gave him a coy, skepticle smile. *Yeah, sweetcheeks. She ain't exaggeratin' by much. I'll show you.*

He strolled over to the table, greeting a guest here and there. He kissed Connie on the cheek, telling her, "Don't let my wife scare ya, Connie. You're gonna do fine on your wedding night. If not, I beat the shit outta Carlo."

"Sonny!" Connie scolded.

"Better he know how it is right off, hey?" Sonny wandered down to the end of the table, where Lucy Mancini sat, making a point of ignoring him. Sonny leaned over her. "How you doin', Lucy?" He had a nice view down the front of her dress at this angle.

"Doing fine, Sonny. Sandra has been saying some pretty interesting things about you."

"All true, darlin', all true."

She looked up at him seductively through her lashes. "That's kinda hard to believe."

Sonny rolled his eyes, as if in thought, then whispered, "Why don't you meet me in the house in a few minutes, an' I'll let you see for yourself?" Not waiting for a reply, he walked away, headed for the house. He didn't go straight in--he meandered a bit, but he didn't put it off long, either. At the door, he glanced back at her pointedly before going in.

Lucy cleared her throat. "Connie, I gotta visit the powder room. I'll be back in a little while."

"Sure, sure." Connie was busy counting the thick wads of cash she and Carlo had received for wedding presents. They were going to have a nice little nest egg to start off. She had no idea that before the honeymoon was over Carlo would give her a bloody nose for trying to keep him from spending the cash in Atlantic City.

Sandra watched the girl making her way toward the house, her smile turning sour. "Putana." *Sonny, you horny bastard, I hope you use a guanto. I don't want you to give me some disease you pick up from that pig.*

Sandra wasn't the only one who noticed the little farce. Michael had been watching his elder
brother--he couldn't help it. As much as he tried to ignore Sonny, the man always seemed to creep into his consciousness somehow. *Same old Sonny, ready to screw practically anything with a pulse. On his sister's wedding day, no less. Well, why am I not surprised, after what he did to me the very day his babies were born?*

*Oh, God, why did I think of that?* There were times when Michael almost forgot that night. During the heat of battle, overseas, it hadn't troubled him. Too much else on his mind, he supposed. And when he was with Kay, he hardly thought about it at all, especially when they were making love. It hadn't been like that with the other girls in his life.

After what happened with Sonny, Michael didn't have sex, didn't even masturbate for two years. He finally decided it was time to lose his virginity, so he'd gone to a woman recommended by an amused Clemenza: a beautiful, experienced, and (Clemenza had assured him) PATIENT, whore. It had been a disaster. Michael had gotten drunk, that hadn't helped. Then he just couldn't get it up for the longest time.

He never did fuck her. He finally came in her mouth, earning a snarl before the woman remembered who he was, and apologized profusely. Michael had left the woman's apartment shaken, and gone on a two day binge, because what had finally let him climax was the image
of Sonny's head bobbing at his crotch, and not the whore's.

Since then there had been other women, with not much more success--till he had found Kay. Kay was the first virgin he had ever been with, and Michael was pretty sure that was what made the difference. She had no previous references to judge him against. She wouldn't be able to tell if his performance was less than spectacular, or pre-occupied. With Kay, he could relax. He almost never thought of Sonny when they made love. Almost.

Kay, God bless her, distracted him from his thoughts again by getting excited over the arrival of Johnny Fontana. It gave Michael the opportunity to tell her the story of how his father had managed to get Johnny out of his first contract. He was open with Kay about his family, but she never quite seemed to take it seriously, and she HAD to. He had to make her understand his reasons for distancing himself from them, and their lifestyle. She had to understand what was lurking under this bright, cheerful surface. So many dark things could hide under an attractive
exterior. Once again his eyes strayed to the door Sonny had entered a few moments before.

Inside the house, Sonny quickly led a giggling Lucy upstairs and pulled her into the first room he came to, locking the door. He pulled her roughly into his arms and kissed her. She tasted of the champagne they had toasted the bride with only a few minutes before, and suddenly Sonny wasn't just excited, he was about to go out of his fucking MIND. It was the taste... Michael had tasted like that...

Sonny clawed at Lucy's bouffant skirt, getting it up around her waist. "Hold that, keep it outta my way, Luce." She obeyed, and Sonny cursed. "GodDam it, you gotta wear a fuckin' girdle at a time like this!" Luckily it was just a cincher, the tube kind, with no bottom, and he managed to peel it up over her hips

"Sonny, gimme a minute and I'll unhook it..." He kissed her again, shutting her up, while he ripped at her panties.

She gasped, "I paid ten dollars for those!"

"I'll buy you another pair. Christ, I'll buy you a dozen, just get OUT of the things."

"Boy, you ARE randy," she giggled, stepping out of the torn panties.

Sonny undid his belt while she did that. This was going to have to be a quicky, before someone came looking for him. He glanced around, and froze. The dressing table was littered with the cosmetics visiting women had left after touching up their make-up, but it was still clearly his old room. His and MICHAEL'S old room. That bed, piled with coats...

He remembered the feel of the fine linen sheets under him as he knelt on that bed. He remembered the feel of Michael's skin, smoother by far than the sheets, like velvet instead of linen. And inside Michael... satin. Hot, wet, clinging satin.

Hands were pulling his zipper down. He remembered Michael's hands on his belt as he knelt at Sonny's feet, looking up at him with drunken love and sincerity. *You're awful quiet. Is there anything I can do for you?* His breath, hot against Sonny's already swollen crotch. *Just tell me. I'm drunk, but I'll do what I can.* "Christ, Mikey," Sonny whispered.

"What?"

Sonny opened his eyes. Lucy was reaching into his fly. "We ain't got time for you to play with it now, baby. Maybe next time." He reached down and rubbed his finger in her dark, curly bush, seeking her cleft. "You ready, or do I need to use somethin'? I think they got some lotion or some shit on the dresser." His finger slid into liquid heat, and she moaned. Sonny grinned. "Nah, nature provides."

Lucy was staring in fascination at his exposed prick. "Holy Mother, Sandra wasn't kidding! You're a bull, Sonny!"

"I need this taken care of right now, Lucy." Sonny pushed her up against the door, moving between her spread legs. He reached past her to locke the door at the same moment he slid into her. They both groaned. Sonny with anticipation of relief, and Lucy with pleasure, mingled with strain. Sonny started to hump, throwing it to her fast and hard.

She took it, grunting in pleasure. *Oh, real nice. Real lady-like. That's okay, though. I don't need a lady, my wife's a lady. I need a ficona, someone I don't gotta hold back with. Maybe I'll take her on as a girlfriend for awhile.*

It was pretty good. She managed to take him without obvious signs of discomfort, and she seemed to enjoy it. But it just wasn't ENOUGH. It was still just a plain screw. The added edge of possibly being caught helped, but that wasn't enough either. As it went on, he he came no nearer to orgasm, Sonny began to worry that he might actually lose his erection before he came. Then... What if the bitch talked?

There was a rap on the door. "Sonny?"

They both went still, Lucy staring at him with big, lust glazed eyes. It was Tom Hagan's voice. "Yeah?"

"Sonny, your old man wants to see you in his study."

"In a minute."

"All right." He could almost hear the smile in Tom's voice. His footsteps retreated down the hall.

This wasn't working. He had to get off before he went down to see his father. Don Vito was in a family oriented mood because of the wedding, and Sonny was probably going to catch hell for not hanging around his home more. But this wasn't working.

His mind went back to one of the most satisfying orgasms he'd ever had. "Hang on, Lucy. I wanna try something." She protested when he pulled out of her, but he ignored it, striding to the dresser. As he'd hoped, someone had left a jar of cold cream. Unscrewing it, he dipped up a big glob and smeared it thickly over his erection. Then he dipped up some more and turned back to the door. "Turn around."

"What?" Lucy was confused.

Sonny grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around roughly and pushing her up against the door again. "Be still."

"Oo, you're gonna do it from behind?" She giggled. "Sonny, you're so kinky!"

*You don't know the half of it, bitch.*

She yelped in surprise when he spread her buttocks and stuffed the cold cream into her anus. "Sonny! What the HELL? That stuff is cold! HEY! You don't think you're gonna..."

Before she could finish the sentence, Sonny snarled, "Don't yell!", moved up behind her, and drove his cock deep into her ass.

Sonny had been nothing but genial to her so far, but Lucy had heard stories. She didn't scream, though the pain was intense. She just bit her lip so hard that it was bruised. It would look like someone popped her in the mouth for two days. But as he humped against her, she whimpered, "Please, Sonny. It's too much."

*Please, Sonny. It's too much.* Michael's words, as Sonny's fingers worked in his ass, loosening him for the final plundering. And Sonny listened no more this time than he had then. The memory ignited a fire in him.

Michael's long, elegant back, arching and dipping before him. Michael's delicate ass hole, stretched taut and shiny around Sonny's impaling staff, Michael's burning liquid-vice grip as he orgasmed, spraying Sonny's hands with the first hot, sweet come drawn from him by another person.

Sonny lunged deep into Lucy Mancini, his eyes closed in remembered ecstacy, moaning his brother's name as he emptied himself into the woman's bowels. Lucky for him, Lucy was too caught up in the moment to notices that it was not her name he called out.

More shaken than he usually was by sex, Sonny pulled out and used Lucy's torn panties to clean himself, wiping away come, cold cream, and a few traces of shit and blood. Then he gave her a brief, almost impersonal kiss. "The bathroom's through there. Clean up before you go. And use some cologne, eh?" He pinched her cheek. "You smell like sex. I'll get rid of these."

With Lucy safely in the bathroom, Sonny hurried downstairs. He made a brief detour to the kitchen to hide the soiled panties in an overflowing trash barrel, then went to the study. There, as he expected, he recieved an oblique lecture on duty to the family. How a man wasn't really a man if he didn't spend time with his wife and children. The Don was talking to Johnny Fonatane, his godson who had come seeking help with his career (*Again* Sonny thought sourly), but he was looking at Sonny. Sonny ducked his head and let it roll over him.

Finally, when it was decided that Tom would go to California to talk to the movie big-shot who was giving Johnny a hard time, they went outside to have the wedding portrait taken.

Michael was sitting with his girlfriend, and Connie, looking almost relaxed Since his late teens, Michael had been closest to his sister. Sonny felt a touch of bitterness, seeing the way Michael leaned to her, laughing at her remarks, smiling at her. *He used to be like that with me.* Sonny thought, not recognizing the emotion for what it was: jealousy.

Michael greeted his father with a hug that was only a little reserved, and the Don called for the
photographer to set things up. The wedding party gathered again, this time with Michael taking his place among them. Sonny managed to edge his way over to his little brother, standing close beside him. He found himself staring down at Michael: the bride, the groom, the rest of the wedding party, the guests, Lucy Mancini... all fading into non-importance.

Michael sensed him, and turned to look at him. Those olive dark eyes were enigmatic, his expression blank. He looked away. "Kay!" He walked over to the girl, grabbing her by the hand. "You, too." She protested, laughing, as he pulled her into the group. Don Vito and Mama exchanged glances, but Don Vito shrugged. If she meant that much to Michael...

Michael put Kay between Sonny and himself, keeping his arm tight around her, refusing to look at his brother. The smile he turned on the photographer was bright and falst. The camera flashed.

The wedding portrait was beautiful. Everyone remarked on how beautiful the bride was, how handsome the groom, how proud the parents. No one noticed the way The youngest Coleone son seemed to be using his date as a shield between himself and his older brother. And no one remarked how, though Sonny Corleone's smile was wide, his eyes were bright with grief and rage.

END