Adult-FanFiction.org : Movies

Segretti Della Famiglia (Family Secrets)	By : Scribe Category: G through L > Godfather, The Views: 3759 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Godfather series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Segretti Della Famiglia (Family Secrets)
- 1
Disclaimer applies to all chapters

Title Segretti Della Famiglia (Family Secrets)
Author: Scribe
Fandom: The Godfather Trilogy
Summary: A violent, drunken encounter takes Sonny and Michael's relationship in a very dark direction
Rating: Fan rated adult only
Pairings: Sonny/Michael
Characters: Sonny, Michael
Betas: None
Notes: First in the Sicilian Slash Series. Explains a lot about Michael's distancing from his family.
Disclaimer: I did not create, and do not own the rights to, the recognizable media characters that appear in this story.
I have no legal or bindingagreement with the creators, or owners.
I do not seek, and would not accept,profit from this fiction.
I have nothing but affection and respect for the creators, and the actors and actresses who portrayed these characters.
This story is in no way meant to reflect on the actual lives or life styles of the actors and actresses who portrayed the characters
All original characters are copyrighted by the author. Do NOT use without specific permission
Warnings: This is a very dark fic. It contains non-consensual fraternal incest, and Michael isn't quite of age.

Family Secrets

1937

"Michael, you sure you gonna be okay to stay by yourself?" Carmella Corleone stood at the front door, pulling on her gloves. She watched her youngest son with a touch of anxiety.

Michael was her baby, and she worried about him, even more than the more delicate Fredo. She and Vito were going to Atlantic City for the weekend, and it would be the first time that Michael had ever been left alone for any significant amount of time. "You could go stay with Sonny and Sandra," she suggested.

Michael smiled, kissing his mother on the cheek. "Sandra isn't going to want me underfoot right now, Ma. The babies are due in just a couple of weeks. I'm sure she's not feeling up to company. She needs all the rest she can get."

Michael knew that his pretty, dark-haired sister-in-law was absolutely miserable right now. She was expecting twins, so the normal rigors of a first pregnancy had been more or less doubled for her. Her feet were swollen, her ankles were swollen, her belly was VERY swollen, her face was puffy... Her hands were so swollen that she had taken off her wedding ring to keep it from sinking into her flesh, and wore it on a chain around her neck. She'd have never let it off her person, though. Italian women took the marriage vow too seriously to do anything like that.

Sandra tir tired all the time, and the morning sickness hadn't passed after the first month or two, like it usually did. Add to that the strain on her back fromryinrying that mountainous belly, and the ache of milk-swollen breasts, and it was hardly surprising that she'd become snappish the last month. Sonny had been hanging around his old home more and more lately. He loved his wife, and would never neglect her, but she was... Well, she was just hard to live with at this point. Michael figured he wouldn't be alone the entire weekend. Sonny would most likely show up at some point.

Figuring that fact would soothe his mother's apprehension, Michael said, "Besides, Sonny will probably come by later on, maybe have dinner. He's in and out a lot these days, you know." He was glad of that. The Corleone family was close, always, but after Sonny married, Michael had begun to miss his big brother's constant
presence.

As he had anticipated, Carmella's face lighted with relief. "Yeah, sure, that's right! You two boys have dinner together, spend some time. Sonny needs his men friends right now." She leaned to Michael confidentially, and whispered, "We women... When we get pregnant, we can be..." She blushed, "rompipallas."

Michael bit his lip quickly to keep from laughing out loud. The idea of his mother calling her daughter-in-law a ball buster! "I'll invite him over if he doesn't just show up," he promised.

"Mama!" Vito Corleone, a handsome, solid man in his mid-fifties, came from the car to collect his wife. "You're gonna talk the boy to death. He'll be fine." He tapped Michael on the shoulder, eyes gleaming proudly. "He's a Corleone."

"Yeah, I'll be all right." He gave his father a hug.

Vito whispered so that his wife couldn't hear. "No girls in the house, you hear? It would kill your mama. The booze, okay, a little. But no girls!"

"Yes, sir." Michael waved his parents off, watching the big, dark sedan till it was out of sight, then went back into the house. Funny, he hadn't been considering girls at all. Why was that? Most seventeen-year-old boys with the house to themselves for a solid weekend would be planning orgies, he knew.

The booze was a different story, though. He'd had wine, of course, since he was a child, always mingled with a good bit of water. The Sicilians believed that the fruit of the vine was healthy, that it strengthened the blood. Even small children were allowed tastes. Hard liquor, though, was another matter. That was strictly regulated.

The first thing he did was change clothes. His mother always liked him to 'look nice', so he usually wore neatly pressed pants and button-down shirts. The shoes went first. Then he got into a pair of threadbare, faded khakis usually reserved for yard work, grass stains permanently ground into the knees, and a loose, ragged T-shirt. Wonderful. Maybe, he thought whimsically, he'd walk around naked later on. The idea made him grin. Mama would be so shocked.

He tried calling Sonny to invite him over for dinner, but the phone just rang and rang. He kept trying through the afternoon. At last he let it ring so long that he knew had Sonny actually been there to pick up, he would have thrown the obnoxious instrument against the wall. Maybe he took Sandra to see her parents. Michael thought, dispiritedly.

Resigned, he fixed himself a light supper from the over-bountiful supply of prepared foods his mother had left in the refrigerator. After eating, he ostentatiously fixed himself a whiskey and soda, then sat in the livingroom, listening to the radio as he sipped it.

Christ, this stuff is nasty! he thought, as he forced down a swallow. It burned all way way to his belly. But once there, it settled and became a comfortable glow, spreading warmth through his body. He worked on the drink through The Jack Benny Show, trying to be careful not to have a mouthful when there was a punch line. He definitely did not want to snort this concoction through his nose: it would have been like using acid for a nasal spray.

By the time The Shadow came on, he'd finished that drink, and built himself another, stronger than the last. This one went down a lot easier. Apparently the more alcohol yousumesumed, the more tolerant of the taste you became. By the time the ten o'clock news came on, he was ready for a third. but he figured that would probably be the last one. Papa had said not to overdo it, and the edges of things were already getting a little rounded.

It was a measure of how much the alcohol had affected him that he didn't know Sonny was in the house till he was standing over him. Michael jumped as the big man loomed over his chair. "Jesus, Sonny! Give me a stroke, why dontcha?"

Santino frowned at his younger brother. "What's the matter with you, Mikey? The door was unlocked. Something real nasty could have walked in off the street instead of your big brother."

Michael rubbed his face. "Geez, I forgot," he said sheepishly. Sonny was only four years older than he, twenty-one, but sometimes he made Michael feel almost childish. He was so much a man, so much how Michael wanted to be. He was big, over six feet tall, while Michael barely came up to his chin, and wasn't likely to get any taller. Sonny was built like a football player, with broad shoulders and narrow hips. Michael was sturdy, but slender.

Sonny was first generation American, but didn't show his ethnic roots in his appearance. His curly hair was sandy, and his eyes were a warm medium brown. Michael, on the other hand, would never be able to deny his Italian blood, even if he wanted to. His thick hair was heavy and black, and his eyes were so dark that they were almost the same color.

Sonny looked at the half empty glass in his brother's hands, eyebrows rising. "I'm not surprised you got careless. How many of those have you had?"

"Just a couple." Sonny cocked his head. "All right, this is my third." He giggled. "My third BIG one. S'okay, though. Papa said it was all right. Booze, yes. Girls, no."

"Wise man, our papa." Sonny looked around. "Speaking of which, where is he? I expected him to be glued to the radio for the news."

"Atlantic City. He took Mama on a second honeymoon." Michael frowned. "Or was it third? I forget."

"Well, shit! You know what hotel he's at?"

Michael felt apprehensive. "I forget," he lied. "You're not gonna say anything about this," he wiggled the glass vigorously. Luckily he'd drank enough to keep from spilling it. "are ya? I told you, he said I could."

Sonny sat in a chair across from his younger brother. "Nah. When have I ever tattled on you, Mikey? I just came over to give him and Mama the good news."

"Good news?"

Sonny grinned widely, spreading his arms. "I'm a papa!"

Michael was confused. "What? But... but Sandra isn't due till sometimes next month, is she?"

Sonny shrugged. "Babies have their own timetable, Mikey. All the docs can do is make guesses. Our little ones were impatient. I got two little girls, Mike!"

"Sonny!" Michael dropped his glass on the table, almost spilling it, and threw himself at his brother, catching him in a hug. "Holy crap! I'm an uncle, twice!"

"You sure are, kid." Sonny patted his back. "Rosary and Anna Marie."

Michael pulled back abruptly to arms' length, staring anxiously into Sonny's face. "Sandra... the babies... They're all right?"

Sonny cuffed him gently on the side of the head. "Of course, moron! Would I be here if they weren't? No, the babies are tiny, but they're perfect. Doctors say there shouldn't be any problems at all, we just have to feed 'em good and fatten 'em up. I told him we were Sicilians, there wouldn't be any problem on that. We'd have 'em butterballs in no time." Michael laughed. "Sandra..." He shrugged. "She's okay, but she's out like a light. They gave her so much dope to help with the delivery that she'll be lucky if she wakes up for the girl's first communion."

"Was it rough?" Michael did one of his old 'little brother' stunts: wiggling down into the narrow space beside Sonny in the big, overstuffed chair. There wasn't really room, but Santino didn't mind. He just wrapped an arm around MIke.

"Rough? Shit, Mikey. You thank God and the Blessed Virgin EVERY NIGHT that you weren't born a woman, so you don't have to go through that! The SCREAMING and moaning. Sandra was begging me to punch her and knock her out before we got to the hospital, and she was in labor
- 1
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Segretti Della Famiglia (Family Secrets)