Here you'll find

 

The Gh¨ªa

 

 

 

 

Chapter 2

"Father is afraid of you."

A smirk, a slow flexing of the body sprawled sideways over a large armchair, slim fingers raking through long, blond hair. Two pairs of eyes met over the rim of an intricately decorated crystal glass; one bright as sapphires, the other deep brown amber.

"He is, poor old man. And all just because I've refused to get killed as I was supposed to."

Ghía Gioréo shook his head lightly, amusement and admiration dancing in his gaze. The sleeve of his dark blue dressing gown slipped down to bare his arm as he raised his glass in a lazy salute and sipped from it.

"I wish I knew how you do it," he said. "It's not at all like him to underestimate people as grossly as he's underestimated you."

"Oh, I much prefer that you don't," his brother replied reaching his hand towards the bowl of fruit that was placed on the low table between them. He picked up an enormous, purple plum and sank his teeth into it. "Frankly, Gioréo, it's all for the better if you don't know too many details."

Gioréo tilted his head and watched as his bastard brother ate the fruit and finally licked his fingers clean with a slow grin, one dark eyebrow teasingly raised.

"Don't look at me like that, brother. You're the gentleman here, and it's best that you don't get your hands filthy. Let others take care of the dirty work."

"Is that it? Or is it best if I'm not quite aware of what exactly you're capable of?"

Chiséra met his brother's challenging gaze without a flinch.

"I will never betray you," he said levelly. "You can trust me."

Gioréo just looked at Chiséra. He liked looking at Chiséra in general, and right now the sight was particularly pleasing to the eye. Chiséra was a handsome youth, slightly taller than Gioréo himself; but where the elder brother's figure had been gained in the fencing gallery and from hours of riding, Chiséra's body had developed its muscle during endless days of physical work on fields and in orchards. His hair, golden blond a few shades paler than Gioréo's, still showed sun-bleached streaks all over, even if those had begun to grow out over these past months in the city.

He was still tanned, too, from all those days spent shirtless in the relentless sun. Gioréo's gaze roamed from broad shoulders to glowing skin; the morning robe of heavy satin ¨C deep ruby red, one of his own robes ¨C was wrapped haphazardly around Chiséra's lanky body and revealed a broad swath of golden brown chest as well as the bare legs that dangled over one arm of the large recliner. In the shadow of the folds, he could almost see the dark circle of a nipple.

Gorgeous ¨C yes, his bastard brother was definitely gorgeous. Fascinating, too, like an exotic animal. Tame, but to what degree? That was anybody's guess. Gioréo smiled a little.

"Trust you?" he echoed. "I wonder... can I really?"

He held Chiséra's gaze, glowing like amber glows when it is held against the midday sun, and saw the lips curl into a small smile.

"But then, what does it matter?" he mused aloud. "I don't care. And I still think that you should become a Ghía as well. I'd love to show you around publicly, go to places with you, and let people talk what they will."

"You don't trust me," Chiséra said savoring the words. He unfolded himself from the chair and stood up. "And yet you would acknowledge me as your brother."

His bare feet made next to no sound on the smooth floor and thick soft carpet as he crossed the distance between them and stopped in front of Gioréo. He looked down at the older youth.

"Aren't you afraid of me?"

Gioréo raised his face to look at him, smile deepening.

"No," he said. "I don't think I am. Should I be?"

Chiséra's eyes closed slowly and lips parted, head tilting back to reveal the throbbing of the vein in his throat, and Gioréo watched in fascination at his own hand that plunged in between the overlapping front edges of the robe. He let his palm glide higher underneath it, up along the warm thigh that shivered ever so slightly under his touch. Soft... the skin was so soft as his fingers approached the hip and the thing that was rapidly making a bulge in the front.

It would've been so easy to yank off the sash tied in a simple knot around slim waist, to pull the robe open and feast his eyes on the sight underneath. But he didn't do that, no. Instead he fixed his gaze on Chiséra's face and let his hands do the feasting ¨C and his ears. Through thick lashes, hooded eyes glinted down at him as Gioréo's fingers ghosted over a hipbone and to the waist, loosened the sash enough to dip underneath and then returned to the front to touch the stomach where taut muscles rippled with tension.

Gioréo smiled as he listened to the rapid breath that hitched when his thumb brushed as if by accident against something hard.

"Should I be afraid of you, Chiséra?" he whispered, lips curling into a smirk.

Chiséra swallowed with difficulty, and the tip of his tongue flicked over parted lips.

"What do you think?" he retorted, voice throaty and yet arrogant. Gioréo laughed aloud.

"Does it matter?" he said conversationally. "I've always got everything I've wanted... and you know, I'm so bored of things that are too easy. I prefer a bit of a challenge in my life every now and then."

The sash slipped loose, the robe fell open, and Chiséra's proud young member peeked out from the folds, trembling in anticipation. Gioréo smirked as he let his fingers play softly with the dark-blond curls at its base, then deliberately raked a fingernail along the underside and enjoyed the hissing sound, almost a whine, that escaped from Chiséra's throat.

"It all depends on what you want." He nodded, then clicked his tongue with a small frown and Chiséra froze in place once more with a small gasp. "If you want something badly enough, you're willing to be patient to get it."

Another slow caress, all the way from the sac to the glistening head, and he couldn't help chuckling. Under his skillfully teasing hands, Chiséra held still but only barely, as testified by his irregular breath and twitching hands. Gioréo hummed appreciatively.

"That's much better. I knew you could do it, Chiséra."

Gioréo enjoyed this, pulling the spring tighter, waiting when it would snap. He tugged at the morning robe until it slipped off broad shoulders and pooled on the floor around Chiséra's feet with a rustling sigh.

The naked body in front of him was warm, it smelled of musk and nut oil after their recent bath. The light of the fireplace gave it a slightly unearthly sheen, and it occurred to Gioréo that this was what saints had to look like. He nearly laughed again. Saints? Well, Chiséra sure would qualify as a model for a painter who wanted to paint one of the young male saints, if only the painter ignored the mischievous glitter of his eyes.

"Gioréo..." It was a warning and a plea, all wrapped into one growl. Gioréo let his both hands close around Chiséra's erection and clasped it in a tight embrace between his palms.

"Patience, brother," he repeated, to himself almost as much as to Chiséra, for his own sex was demanding attention as well. "Patience."

Chiséra was trying, he honestly was, arms hanging along his sides, fingers knotting to stay put and not touch. Head thrown back, hair falling behind his back, throat exposed, he stood there as if waiting for the final stroke. Gioréo was breathing hard as his gaze strolled up and down that body, one hand slowly pumping Chiséra's jutting sex, and then he couldn't stop himself any more as the other hand found its way to his own lap inside the blue robe. A moan forced its way out of his throat when fingers closed around the hardness, tight, and Chiséra's hand at last grabbed his head.

Fingers hardened by work twined in Gioréo's golden tresses and he let them pull his lips towards the awaiting prize, opened his mouth and sucked it deep. It was so smooth and slick, so thick and hot, and oh how Chiséra trembled when he let his tongue rasp slowly along the vein. Those fingers curled and twisted in his hair, Gioréo fell into their rhythm or maybe they fell into his as he pressed his forehead against that flat stomach and pleasured his brother with his mouth. Chiséra's buttocks were tight and round under his hands, he squeezed them and moaned in his throat, and he knew how a musician surely must feel when he touches the strings and the sound echoes inside the instrument, when he felt how the sound reverberated through Chiséra's tensed body.

The hands fisted his hair and then he knew Chiséra was coming, a blink before that groan and the hot spurt into his throat. Chiséra's every breath was a moan as he stood there, frozen in ecstasy, listening to his brother's lips and tongue on his twitching member, unseeing eyes squinting at the light of the fireplace. Gioréo smiled as he picked a towel from the floor and slowly, meticulously, wiped Chiséra clean again, careful not to brush the tender flesh too hard.

Sometimes patience was needed to gain what one really wanted. Right now Gioréo wanted to have Chiséra in his bed, to push those legs wide open and plunge slowly in, again and again until Chiséra's eyes rolled back in his head and he clung to Gioréo begging for more. And he would have it; yes, he would. He knew how to have his way, even with this bastard brother who'd proved to be far more of a handful than his cunning father had expected. Unfortunately, their father was out of his depth with Chiséra. Not so Gioréo.

He looked up into brown eyes that regarded him, half-mast, through long lashes. He smiled.

"Will you stay the night, brother?" he whispered, and was gratified to see the nod.

Yes, patience. Gioréo was surprised to realize that in this case his father had forgotten that lesson.

Main Jainah Revnash Dorelion Others Gallery