I grin at his cheekiness. “Challenge accepted, princess.”
We settle into each other’s arms. My fingers find his soft skin to graze, as they so often do. Giovanni asks me in an idle way, “Do you think Master is watching us?”
I glance over to where my brother’s imperious gaze lands on the both of us, babes in his bedroom, his temple of worship, and answer him honestly.
“Yes, Giovanni, I do.”
“I wantus to go to church today.”
It’s after breakfast on Sunday a few days later, and Giovanni is down on his knees, having just worshipped my phallus, still licking the cum from his lips like a cat at a saucer of milk.
“Church?” he says with a furrowed brow, not altogether pleased.
“It’s been a long time. The ladies are all asking about you. And I’m sure you have some things to confess?” I press my thumb against his wet mouth, and his lips give way easily to my intrusion. “Have you been sinning with your Sir, Giovanni? Have you been worshipping false gods from down there on your knees?”
He nods, eyes blown wide with lust. I timed this request for when he was most amenable to suggestion, and I’m happy to see my efforts are paying off.
“I have, Sir.”
“Then we will go, and you can make your confessions to God.”
Later, standing in the threshold of our closet, Giovanni says, “Will you dress me, Sir? It’s been a long time since I’ve been to town, and it would make me feel better if I didn’t have to worry about what to wear.”
“It would be my pleasure.”
I join him in the master closet where Valentin’s suits all hang in tidy rows, untouched by anyone but Giovanni because that’s what he requested. I keep the clothes I need in a chest of drawers. My one nice suit hangs in the closet of the guest bedroom. That room is also where I moved Gio’s box with his permission. I found it unsettling to sleep next to it at night.
I sometimes find Giovanni lingering in the recesses of their shared closet, surrounding himself with his Master’s suits. Now, he trails one hand lovingly over Valentin’s dress shirts as I survey his side of the wardrobe. I select a pair of navy pants with a slate blue shirt. Instead of a tie, I choose a length of green silk to wrap around his neck. I pull it taut between my hands, enjoying the feel of such an extravagant fabric. Valentin used to make him wear scarves like these often, to cover up the marks from being bitten and choked. I was always fearful that Valentin might take the breath play too far. He never did though, and Giovanni seemed to enjoy it. Does he miss that too?
With an artful flair, I knot the green silk around his slender throat. Giovanni places one hand against it, probably reminiscing about his gold collar, which he keeps in a satin-lined box and still looks at from time to time. One day, when we’re both ready for the commitment, I will offer him a new collar—my own—and I will insist that he never take it off.
While helping him undress, I notice the erection tenting his very tight underwear. The tiny triangle of fabric can hardly contain his bulge.
“Giovanni,” I say in a teasing voice while nudging the head of his prick, where his slick has darkened the material, “is there something you’d like to tell your Sir?”
“I would but I already have so much to confess,” he says with an impish smile.
“What is one more sin on top of so many?”
“Sir, you are impossible.”
“Tell me what you want, pretty baby,” I coax. He says nothing but stares intently at my mouth. “Do you want a blowjob, sweetheart.Un pompino?” I ask and he nods slowly. “Say it, princess. Tell your Sir what you are craving.”
“Will you take me in your mouth, Sir?” He blinks at me so earnestly. “Please?”
Apleasefrom Giovanni is the ultimate entreaty. I toss his clothes onto the bed and go down on my knees in the carpeted floor, yanking his underwear to his thighs and taking him deep into my throat with one long swallow. He is so tasty: his skin sweet and his tip salty with the tantalizing bouquet of male arousal, smooth and hairless wherever my lips and tongue make contact. Whimpering, he grabs hold of my shoulder with one hand while the other reaches out to Valentin’s dress shirts. I suck him as a hummingbird does a flower, licking the crown and fellating his shaft as if it were a delicious nectar-filled straw, until Giovanni is shivering and keening and spilling his release down my throat. He’s drawn Valentin’s shirt sleeve to his face and buried his nose in it, perhaps trying to smell what remains of my brother.
“Sir…Silvio,” Giovanni gasps, going up on his toes as I coax the last droplets of cum from his wet prick. I rise to embrace him, then back him up against my brother’s very fine suits and kiss him passionately, to remind him that it was I who made him come. I ravish him until his lips are cherry red and he’s in a state of disarray.
“What do you say, princess?” I ask when I finally pull away.
“Thank you, Sir.”
“It was my pleasure. Now let’s hurry or we’ll be late for your confession.”
The womenof the church mean well as they fuss and fret over Giovanni. He stays glued to my side, shy after so many months of absence. They comment on how thin he’s become, though it’s better than it was, and they promise to load us up with hearty casseroles and cakes, none of which are on our meal plans, though we do not tell them. To refuse food is the ultimate insult. They invite us to play cards, which I graciously decline, telling the ladies we have a prior engagement. One of the women asks Giovanni if he’s still considering the priesthood, which is news to me.
“I’m still trying to make my amends with God after He took my beloved uncle away from me,” Giovanni says sorrowfully. The women all cluck and commiserate, and I wonder if the rumor that he and Valentin were blood relations may have done us a disservice. At least the “family tie” was on Valentin’s mother’s side, so hopefully if they ever catch onto our affair, it will be seen as scandalous but not incestuous.
