Péché et Roses: Sin and Roses

PÉCHÉ ET ROSES
Sin and Roses

by
Dorian Doman



"And alien tears will fill for him
Pity's long-broken urn,
For his mourners will be outcast men,
And outcast always mourn."
-Oscar Wilde, "The Ballad of Reading Gaol"

Dedication: In memory of my fish, Camthalion (2004-2004). I love you Cam!

"From wine what sudden friendship springs?"
- John Gay

Taking my hand, Paris led me into our very father's secret stash of wine. "But Paris," I hiss. "Father would murder us!"

"Not to worry, Jean." He grins, planting a kiss on my cheek. "Father has more than enough. He won't miss three bottles. Now, what else can I pack?"

I stand rubbing at my eyes. "If Father catches you, I refuse to be a part of this. I'm going to sleep."

"Jean! Oh, come on." Finished, he reaches for my hand again, leading me out the door with barely a sound but for the occasional clinging of wine bottles.

It was near midnight. The moon hung heavy and silver overhead and the stars shone only for us. In short, the world was ours. He trod ahead of me and I followed behind, already planning out his funeral, until we reached the quaint spot of childhood misadventures by a small stream we had played with for ages. A blanket was set out and on it, he placed two plates and split a loaf of sweet bread between us.

"Probably best to eat something with the wine," he says, setting down a small dish of butter and a knife. He takes out a bottle of wine and opens it while I lay back in the grass eating.

I scowl upon seeing him bring forth two wineglasses. "Paris, if you break those --"

"Yes, yes, Father will kill us, I know. That why we're not going to break them, right?" I sigh and he presses a glass into my hand. I stare into the crimson mixture, moving the contents back and forth within the crystal. The first sip is bitter, but not to be outdone, I drain the glass. "I knew you'd come around." He smiles wickedly, refilling my glass.

"This isn't going to get me drunk, is it?"

"Oh, of course not, brother." He presses the glass to my lips. "Here, drink."


* * *


It had never occurred to me that my brother was so beautiful. Amber curls surround his face and his body is slender and cream-colored. His eyes are deep hazel and absolutely entrancing. His lips are soft, pink, and in a word, kissable. Sweet Adonis, Waterhouse could not have painted you any prettier. Ah, my beautiful one, perhaps the dreams were right!

A fiendish grin surfaces on my face as I eye his anatomy. He lifts an inquiring eyebrow and I crawl towards him. Much to his surprise, I press my lips to his nose.

"What was that for?" He pours himself another glass and it's gone in seconds.

"Because you're pretty."

Paris huffs. "And I suppose you're gay and never told me, brother?"

I sigh and nod. "Actually, I am, and have been for quite some time."

Paris blinks, moistening his lips before beaming, prepared to play along with what he believes is all in jest. "That's… interesting. Have you…"

"Have I what?"

Two more filled glasses disappear within a minute. "You know. Have you actually done it?"

I nod and avert my eyes upon seeing his disapproval. "Several times actually. All with guys." A part of me felt ashamed, as I often did around him and his seeming perfection, and tainted. Silence. Damn it, Paris. Say something!

"You do know it's wrong, right?"

Nothing can describe the whirlwind of emotions that descends upon me. A part of me wants to shake him and say that I'm his brother, shouldn't he just accept me for what I am? I thought we were closer than this… But I suppose none of that matters when one's beliefs are at stake.

I want to apologize, but what could I possibly apologize for? I'm sorry that my sexual preference goes against our religion, in which I barely believe. Dear God, what did he think of me?

"Yes, I know it's wrong."

"Oh." Oh? Is that all? Again, another awkward silence passes between us.

"Top or bottom?" Top or bottom? What sort of question was that…? Ah, he's drunk…might as well humor him.

"Both. I've only been on top once, though."

He giggles almost madly. "Great! At least one of us has some experience. How can we go about it?"

"You're not serious…"

"Oh, but mon chéri, I am!" Paris touches my cheek and I flinch back. I (amazingly enough) am still the more sober of us, which says little. Against my better judgment, I'm still drinking.

I shake my head no, pushing him away by his shoulders when he tries to kiss me. "Paris, you're drunk."

"But Jean! No I'm not! I only had a bottle!" he protests, meanwhile apparently trying to decipher the reason behind the bulge in my pants with extreme concentration. "I guess you're really not gay then, are you?"

"I am so!"

He sneers. "You fruit." He giggles again.

I laugh lightly and lean over to kiss his cheek. "You bastard. You should get drunk more often. At least you're amusing."

"I could say the same, you know."

"Cheeky, drunk whore," I mutter. "And I suppose you're straight?"

"Slut, thank you very much." He smirks, now straddling my lap and kissing my cheek. "I am, so far. I've done it as well, thanks. Only with females."

The wine is truly starting to take its effect and I'm momentarily dizzy, falling into a state of utter arousal. I could really care less about his religion, if he's going to hate me in the morning, or even that he's my brother. Two things matter right now, and they're bulging out of both of our pants. Oh, God, yes! Kiss me, lovely. No, lower… Low-- No! This is wrong!

I push him away again and try to tell him so, but he wraps arms around my neck, pressing his lips to mine. "Jean, don't you care?"

"Sure I care, lovely. But this isn't like you." He sighs, resting his head on my shoulder. I stroke his hair and pour another glass of what has proven to serve as an aphrodisiac.

"Je t'aime, Jean."

"I love you too, Paris."

He takes my face in his hands, brings it up to his, and kisses me. "Then let me have you, darling." I listlessly give in as his tongue enters my mouth, too drunk to care. He straddles my lap again and presses my shoulders down until I'm back in the grass. He kisses me, mumbling something in annoyance. "Jean…. How am I supposed to do this?"

I huff. "Amateur. Just lay back and I'll do it." I begin removing my clothes. "You have done this, right? With a woman, at least?"

"Of course, I have. Just not with a guy…" His face flushes, insulted, as he unbuttons his pants.

The urge to roll my eyes gets the better of me, and with a smirk, I kiss down his now-bare stomach. Having some idea of what's to come, no pun intended, he flushes red. My tongue plunges into his belly button, circling inside wetly, and he squirms beneath my ministrations. I grin and lean up to kiss his lips, holding his hips in place. "Shall I, darling?" He nods, leaning up to kiss me hungrily. His lips become swollen as I claim the tongue in his mouth. "Sit up." He does, and with a final kiss, I part his thighs and kiss down his neck to his chest and his stomach before...

"GOD, JEAN!" Fingers entwine in my hair while my tongue lavishes attention on the base of his shaft. His cheek presses against my hair and he strokes my back. "Fuck!"

I stop momentarily and take his face in my hands to kiss him. "Darling. No need for that." Determined to make this even slightly more romantic, I him lay back on the ground and curl around him so that his head rests on my shoulder. My lips leave lingering kisses on his hair and I tease between his legs with a hand. Paris whimpers as I leave my mark on his shoulder and hands drift lower to fondle the sac there. Completely ignoring his cock, which he protests with a moan of discontent, I run fingers through the amber curls surrounding it. He gasps, breathing harder while I wrap an arm fully about him, pulling him close. He moans something into my chest as my hand's pace increases.

I liter his face with kisses while he sucks in his breath. After a while, he cries out when his orgasm shoots against my stomach. With words of praise and affection, I wrap my other arm, hand still slick with his seed, around him. Hands cupping my face, he kisses me. "Oh! Jean you haven't..."

I nod and kiss his cheeks again. "I can take you, if you don't mind."

He mouths that he doesn't mind and shakes his head yes. "Please." I get up, only now aware there's nothing to use as lubricant before I spy the butter. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I'll take him from the front. Perhaps from the back on his knees would be easier, and maybe less painful, but no. I want him to remember this. I want his eyes locked on mine. I want him to know his brother took him instead of some other savage bastard that couldn't care less who he was. And that his brother loves him more than anyone ever will while doing so. I turn his face so he looks into my eyes and kiss him. There will be no pretending. It's going to happen, and no matter what your excuse, my lovely. It will have been me.

"Jean... will this hurt?" I cringe at the question. In truth, I don't know. In sex, when one's partner's aim is to have you then, there, and as quickly and efficiently as possible, the question usually doesn't come up. I decide to answer truthfully... or as truthfully as I can.

"A little, but it's all right, darling; I'm not going to hurt you. Promise."

I stroke his cheek and apologize in advance for not using better lubricant or doing this somewhere more comfortable. I take his other hand in mine, kissing it adoringly.

"It's fine, love," he mumbles against my hand, still recovering from the mental high of orgasm.

I kiss his neck, dipping my fingers into the butter. He spreads his legs, taking a deep breath.

"Relax, love." I place my fingers at his entrance, rubbing against the guardian ring and he gasps.

"Cold!"

"Yes, I know. Be still..." I smile broadly, kissing his cheeks. "It's not so bad. Think of how incredible it's going to be." After seemingly forever, he's calm again and my finger enters him. He tenses, burying his face in my neck. My free hand strokes his hair and I give into temptation, sucking his neck and leaving a noticeable mark. I lean up and lick the head of his cock before taking it in my mouth to suckle. He moans, impaling himself further. Another finger enters him, much more swiftly. He cries out and slaps me.

"You bastard! That hurt!" I choke around his shaft and pull away coughing and gasping for breath.

"Damn you, Paris!" I briefly consider ending all this and kicking his ass. He tenses, eyes widening.

"Jean!"

I sigh and lift his chin to kiss him. "Love you. Just don't do that again." He nods and smirks. I glare. "Sadistic little bastard." My fingers, amazingly enough, are still inside him and I scissor his opening, stopping each time he tenses to run my tongue over his flesh. His head is back and he stares up at the sky in tortured anticipation. I smile wickedly and rub against his prostate gland.

Paris's face goes through a complete transformation. He ses ses back against my fingers, demanding contact I that won't allow. "Jean, do that again..."

"A moment, princess." He glares while I ignore him and coat my member in butter. With some disgust, I wipe the excess on whatever article of clothing is nearest: my shirt. Paris spreads his legs impatiently and I crawl closer and kiss his belly. Holding his hips, I enter him. He cries out, turning his head to the side in pain. I lean over him and kiss his neck. Arms wrap about my neck and my arms encircle his shoulders. He presses his face into my neck and I kiss his hair. The pain apparently subsides and it first occurs to me that we're physically bound.

He leans back into the grass and I smile down at him, stroking his hair. I take his face in my hands and kiss him hard. "I hope you remember this tomorrow, Paris." I hug him tightly again, kiss his cheek, and smile broadly, blinking back tears.

A silent exchange of adoration and endless kisses later, he whispers his love aloud. Grasping his hips, I finally move inside him. His arms return around my neck and our lips continue bruising each other in a fight for dominance. He eventually wins and smirks into the kiss, wrapping legs around my waist. He throws back his head in ecstasy, moaning. His hips buck against me wildly in drunken abandonment. I sink teeth into his neck, sucking at the flesh encountered. We mate like wild gs, gs, clawing and biting at each other while our pace becomes maddening. His face is pressed against my neck and I can hear his panting while warm breath creates the perfect sensation against my neck.

"Jean..." he arches against me and I curl a hand around his member.

"I know, darling." I stop and he stares up at me, face the ideal of perfection. His sweat-soaked hair is tousled, face contorted with need, and his lips parted as he pants for breath.

"Jean..." I press another kiss to his cheek, warm with the passion of lovemaking, before I cover his face with them. "Please, Jean...?" Much too slow for his demands, I take him. He slumps into the grass with an expression of pure angst. I'm sorry, sweetheart. I don't want this to end just yet.

I hit his prostrate gland and he throws his head back, howling in pleasure. "Jean! Damn you, Jean!" he moans grasping my hips. "Faster!" Eventually, I give into my own carnal desires and thrust faster. He grabs my shoulders, panting hard beneath me, demanding closer contact. I reach between us and stroke his member.

After some time, his fingernails dig into my skin and he arches up, spewing seed all over our stomachs. His inner muscles contract around my member and I empty myself inside him shortly after. Drunk off wine and the mere sensation, I glance down at him while we breathe heavily, our bodies trapped in mental Nirvana. Having recovered slightly, I pull out and collapse beside him. Paris lifts himself up and leans over me. "It took you long enough." He smirks, kissing my jaw while his chest heaves against mine. "That was... fun."

"I assume this makes you a flaming homosexual now?"

He grins uncorking the last bottle of wine and drinks straight from it. "Only experimenting." He offers me the bottle and I accept, swallowing several mouthfuls before setting it on the ground beside us.

"Whatever you say." He rests his head on my chest and sighs heavily. Once again, my arms go around him and a silence passes between us. Exhausted, I lean back as sleep creeps over me. He leans up to kiss me shortly on the lips.

"I love you, Jean." He yawns.

"As I, darling." Pulling him closer, I kiss his hair and the wine bottle tips over, emptying its contents into the earth. He mumbles something about this being entirely my fault and I smile fondly before we both succumb to sleep.


TBC