Brazilian Cattle Baron (Siren Publishing Ménage and More ManLove)

by Roland Graeme

  “I do want to spend the night with you again, the way we did on that rainy night,” Cristiano said. “May I? Tonight?”

  “Of course. But, Cristiano. Primo. Are you sure you won’t regret this—later?”

  “I will never reproach you.”

  “That’s good to know, but it’s not what I meant. What I’m worried about is, will you reproach yourself?”

  “I do not think so, Sebastien. But my conscience is mine, to contend with. Do not concern yourself. I will not apologize for teasing you about becoming a monk, because you know I was not serious. Neither of us is ready to renounce the things of this world. Including the sins of the flesh.”

  Sebastien said nothing by way of reply with words, but instead took Cristiano in his arms. In the moonlight, his mouth hungrily sought his cousin’s.

  They kissed for several minutes, their mouths glued together by hot, frothing spittle while their bodies rubbed frantically against one another to relieve that growing, hot, aching itch becoming more and more intense in their respective crotches. Sebastien raised his hands and placed them gently on Cristiano’s bull-like neck, pulling back from his cousin while still holding onto his throat. He looked silently at the handsome black-haired man for several seconds, his eyes glistening with something suspiciously close to tears.

  “You’re so damn beautiful I can’t believe it,” he said, finally closing his eyelids and inhaling sharply as he steadied himself once more.

  “It is very bright out here,” Cristiano said thickly.

  Sebastien smiled more broadly.

  “Are you shy?” he asked. “Do you prefer to make love in the dark?”

  “I prefer…no, I don’t know what I prefer. Not with another man, anyway.”

  “We will have to find out,” Sebastien suggested.

  “Yes. Yes, we will.”

  “Come with me,” Sebastien urged, in a whisper. “Don’t be afraid.”

  Somehow, the two of them made it from the terrace to the bedroom, although neither of them could remember the details of that particular transition later. Sebastien led Cristiano across the darkened bedroom, toward the bed. The vast space was dimly illuminated by the moonlight that penetrated the edges of the drawn curtains.

  Sebastien dropped his arm from around Cristiano’s waist and moved to the side of the massive bed, turning down the covers while Cristiano quickly undressed. Sebastien’s pulse raced as he heard the sounds of Cristiano undressing behind him. There was a rush of movement to his left, then the faint sound of groaning springs. Suddenly, in front of him, the young bearded man lay naked, his compact yet muscular form lying gracefully across the almost luminescent white top sheet. The dim filtered light highlighted the smooth mounds of well-developed muscles and strong tendons on his cousin’s body, while the thick tubular shape of Cristiano’s cock was barely visible. Sebastien smiled broadly as his eyes focused on the stiffened member—it was big, a challenge to his own cock, promising to provide him in full measure with the pleasure he now so hotly anticipated.

  He followed his cousin immediately, undressing as though clothes were repugnant impediments and falling into the huge bed next to the other man. Each turned instinctively to the other and embraced him, without moving further for several seconds, prolonging this first intoxicating exhilaration of lying naked next to another aroused man, anticipating the pleasure sure to follow this tentative initial contact.

  Sebastien couldn’t stand it any longer. He raised his hand and touched Cristiano lightly on the shoulder. That was all it took. The young dark-haired Brazilian let out a shuddering groan, then slid quickly against his cousin and embraced him more forcefully. Arms and legs tangled together, lips met and pressed hard together, bellies and chests ground against one another—while stiffened, hot cocks crossed and slid back and forth, threatening to spasm and spill over in an instant. Hands pawed, caressed, kneaded flesh without thought of what they were touching. Cristiano and Sebastien were so engulfed in the newness of the experience that they drank in one another’s bodies the way a man suffering from intense thirst might lap up suddenly available water.

  Cristiano suddenly let out a cry, his body stiffening under Sebastien. His lower jaw slackened, dropping open while his eyelids batted rapidly together. Sebastien could feel his cousin’s fingertips digging painfully into his sides while his knees jerked apart. His breathing became more rapid and shallow. He let out another cry, this one more hoarse and raw than the previous one. His hips jerked up while he thrashed around on the bed, banging his groin against Sebastien’s as he was gripped in the throes of a violent orgasm.

  His cock leaped up with a life of its own, contracting, squeezing, and pumping out its wads of jism, which splashed between their sliding bodies. He beat his fists on the bed as the cords in his neck stood out. Sebastien lay over him, pinning Cristiano’s writhing body against the mattress as he spent his energy by coming. It was that day beside the reservoir all over again, when Cristiano had held Sebastien down on the blanket, but now their positions were reversed, and their wrestling had been carried through to its preordained, explosive conclusion. With a final low groan of exhaustion, Cristiano relaxed his grip on the other man, his muscles growing flaccid while his breathing grew deeper and more regular. He turned his face away from Sebastien’s and let out a low sigh of relief and pleasure.

  “I barely had a chance to touch you,” Sebastien complained, reaching up and stroking Cristiano’s sweat-dampened forehead. He felt excited but at the same time slightly disappointed by his cousin’s sudden, solitary orgasm. He would have liked for them to come together. Yet something told him that this was only the first of several ejaculatory spasms Cristiano would have that evening. He wasn’t a one-shot stud, from the look of him. Sebastien remembered his first real homosexual experiences, how hot and curious he had been with those partners, to the point of being insatiable. Cristiano, he was certain, was no different.

  “I couldn’t help it,” his cousin panted. “I know I came too fast, but I couldn’t help myself. You got me too excited. I couldn’t hold it back. Oh, Sebastien, you get me so worked up.”

  “That’s all right. Actually, I’m flattered.”

  “I’m sure you’ve had much better lovers than me.”

  “But none I have desired so much. Let’s concentrate on the here and now,” Sebastien said, smiling as he lowered his head and began planting soft kisses on his cousin’s forehead, cheeks, and throat.

  Cristiano shuddered at each touch, raising his hands and rubbing his fingers up and down Sebastien’s thick arms and rounded, broad shoulders. He drew his legs together, pressing them against the master’s. The two men continued their gentle caressing for some time.

  “When I’ve been with other men,” Cristiano whispered, “I have always enjoyed myself, I admit it. But I thought of little except my own quick pleasure. Perhaps there has always been more to it, when I have been with Estevao. Because I do love him—as a man loves his brother, as I have so often told you. But with you, primo, it is different, somehow. I love you as one loves a lover—or a husband. Don’t you dare laugh at me for saying that,” Cristiano immediately added, as though he was embarrassed by what he’d just confessed.

  “You don’t hear me laughing, do you? I can be serious, too, you know.”

  “But I would prefer it if we were not too serious in bed.”

  “We can certainly agree on that!”

  “We will save our serious discussions for when we are not distracted by desire.”

  “Also a good idea. Are you distracted by desire, as you put it, at the moment, Cristiano?” Sebastien teased.

  “Yes. Aren’t you?”

  “I’m mad for you. Just as we feared, the moonlight has driven me mad. And only you can cure me, Cristiano. You’re going to have to make love to me some more, to exorcise the demon.”

  “Look at me. Touch me,” Cristiano pleaded, drawing Sebastien’s attention—unnecessarily—to the fact that his cock was beginning to stir ag
ain, stretching down his right thigh while his balls tightened up against the thick root of his lengthening prong.

  “I’m getting hard again,” Cristiano confessed, in a whisper.

  “Again?” Sebastien teased him. “When did you go limp? And when you do, you never seem to stay down for long.” He explored with his fingers in the deep shadows which the bed’s canopy and curtains cast across the mattress. He found and gripped Cristiano’s shaft. “Oh, that’s beautiful,” he breathed as his fingers began to massage Cristiano back to full erection. “Your cock is so beautiful, just like the rest of you. Some men’s cocks don’t really seem well matched to their bodies, Cristiano—they just seem attached to them, arbitrarily. But yours is perfect, just like all of you is perfect. Fuck my fist, Cristiano,” he urged. “Fuck my fist, just like you’d fuck a woman’s pussy—or a man’s ass. Let me feel that big thing throb in my hand!”

  “Ah…Sebastien, primo…you don’t exaggerate when you speak of madness. You drive me crazy when you say things like that, when you touch me like this!”

  “I want to drive you crazy. I want to be the best lover you’ve ever had, man or woman.”

  “You are. Oh God, Sebastien—you are!”

  “Turn around,” Sebastien instructed, heatedly. “Lie on your side, against me. Shove your ass right back against my crotch. Let me put my arm around you—let me feel that big hard cock of yours, in my hand, fucking my fist.”

  As Cristiano obeyed, Sebastien inserted his own cock between his cousin’s husky thighs. He began to work it frantically back and forth as his fist manipulated Cristiano’s overexcited penis.

  “Feel that, vaqueiro?” Sebastien grunted. “I’m dry humping you, you hot-assed prick teaser…you fucking stud!”

  “Ah, Sebastien, I can feel your cock rubbing between my legs…so big, so hard. So hot! God!”

  Sebastien, like Cristiano, was now reveling in pure, unmitigated lust. He had undeniably succeeded in pushing his Brazilian cousin’s buttons. Cristiano rocked his hips, bouncing his ass cheeks up and down, while he jerked his cock in and out of Sebastien’s clenching fist. As he worked his fist on Cristiano’s steely erection, Sebastien could feel the cockhead growing harder and harder, the cum pent-up inside it like a tightly wound spring ready to shoot off and splatter onto the sheets at any second.

  Cristiano’s breath deteriorated into desperate gasps for air as Sebastien now lay behind him, with Cristiano’s back pressed against Sebastien’s chest, and Sebastien’s thighs smashed cruelly into his battered ass. The air was alive with the wet, sucking sounds of sweaty body contact and the strange, primitive gruntings of two men obsessed by their own desires.

  When Cristiano’s body went rigid the same way it had several minutes ago, Sebastien knew that his cousin was coming—again! He closed his eyelids tightly and ground his teeth together, rounding the final corner and pistoning his own cock back and forth within the tight sleeve provided by Cristiano’s clenched thighs with a frenzy surprising even to himself. Sweat trickled down from his forehead, burning into his eyes as he could feel the hot, lava-like jism blazing up the central core of his cock and preparing for detonation like an explosive charge in his meaty head.

  “Fuck!” Sebastien screamed, hanging his head down until his chin nearly touched his chest as the first spasm sent his spunk flying free, showering down upon Cristiano’s thrashing limbs. At the same time, he could feel his cousin blowing his own wad, wetting down his fingers with his semen while Sebastien fired, grunted, fired again, then collapsed wearily on top of him.

  For nearly ten minutes afterward the two men lay quietly on the bed, each savoring the warm, wet feel of the other’s body. Sebastien had nestled his face in the small of Cristiano’s right shoulder, breathing in the faintly animal smell of his cousin’s body and occasionally kissing the warm flesh. He wondered what Cristiano might be thinking now, especially now that the sharp edge of his sexual curiosity and need had been blunted by their lovemaking. Maybe he was already experiencing regrets?

  “Cousin Sebastien,” Cristiano said in a tight voice, his face still partially buried in the pillow. Sebastien felt his heart begin to pound all over again. Would this be the beginning of Cristiano trying to extricate himself from the situation, trying to find a tactful way out?

  “Yes, Cousin Cristiano?” he asked. “What is it?”

  “Gosto de você.” Which meant, I like you. A simple enough declaration, but hearing it sent a hot flash of passion rushing through Sebastien’s bloodstream.

  “Oh, you do, do you?”

  “Yes. I like you a lot,” Cristiano said, in English this time.

  “I’m glad. Right back at you, as we say where I come from.”

  “At me…? What does that mean?”

  “It means I like you a lot, too. An awful lot.”

  “I do not want you to leave here,” Cristiano said, impulsively. “I want you to stay here on Marajó, with me. I want us to be together. I want us to work together, sleep together—do this together. This, and more.”

  “I want that, too. I’m in no rush to go back home.”

  “This could be your home. As it was your uncle’s home…my father’s home.”

  “I have thought of that, Cristiano. I’ve considered it, as a possibility. But I will have to return to the United States eventually, and stay there for a little while—if only to take care of business.”

  “I know that you must.”

  “Don’t sound so unhappy. I will come back. To you.”

  “Promise me,” Cristiano insisted. “Promise me that you will come back to me. No, swear it. Swear it on senhor Gilberto’s crucifix, which you wear,” he demanded, lifting the cross from where it nestled between Sebastien’s sweaty pecs and hefting it in his palm.

  Sebastien put his own hand on top of Cristiano’s and pressed it, their fingers interlocking, with the crucifix between their palms. “I solemnly swear that I will come back here.” He raised their joined hands to his lips and kissed the back of Cristiano’s hand.

  “And swear…no, I will not ask you to swear to be faithful to me. That is too much to ask. It is not in your nature—or, if I am honest, in mine. It would not be realistic. But swear that, no matter how many other men you give yourself to, however many others you love, you will keep some place deep in your heart reserved for me.”

  “I swear it,” Sebastien said. And this time he relaxed his grip on his cousin’s hand, so that he could bring the crucifix itself to his lips and kiss it.

  “I swear the same oath to you.” Cristiano bent his head and also kissed the crucifix. He smiled at Sebastien. “We are being very solemn, are we not?”

  “This is a serious business. I don’t take it lightly. I intend to keep my promise.”

  “I know that you will. As will I. I am glad.”

  “Perhaps our bargain should be sealed by another kind of a kiss,” Sebastien suggested. “One of a more secular nature?”

  “Yes.” The crucifix dropped back between their chests again as Cristiano moved the hand which had been holding it to the back of Sebastien’s head. His fingers combed through Sebastien’s hair as he pressed his mouth against Sebastien’s in a kiss that was gentle and tender, but—inevitably—arousing.

  Sebastien stroked Cristiano’s bearded cheek, brushing the soft-textured hairs. His fingers touched Cristiano’s left earlobe, and the surgical steel stud in it. Inspiration struck.

  “Tell me, Cristiano,” Sebastien asked, “does this earring of yours have any sentimental value for you?”

  “No, it is only the cheap one the man put in when he pierced my ear.” Cristiano sounded sleepy. “I will replace it with a better one, some day. A nice gold one, perhaps. Why do you ask?”

  “Wait here for a minute.”

  “I hadn’t planned on leaving this bed anytime soon,” his cousin joked.

  “Good.” Sebastien went into his dressing room and returned in less than a minute, climbing back into the bed. He held out his closed hand for
Cristiano to see. “Will you wear this, for me?” he asked, opening his hand.

  Cristiano bent his head down to inspect the object resting on Sebastien’s palm. “It matches the ear stud you wear, and your bracelet. It matches them perfectly.”

  “They are all part of a set of jewelry that belonged to your father. An antique set which he bought, Estevao told me.”

  “Yes, now that you mention it, I remember him wearing the bracelet, sometimes. The stone in the earring is very beautiful. But it’s too good for me.”

  “Nothing is too good for you. If I want you to have it, will you accept it—and wear it?”

  “So that we match?”

  “Exactly.”

  “It seems like a shame to break up the set. You could have your other ear pierced, and wear both.” But Cristiano sounded as though he was weakening.

  “They are meant to be worn, not to sit in a box. If I wear one and you wear the other, there will be less chance of the odd one getting lost.” If Sebastien’s logic was not exactly irrefutable, at this time of the night it did not need to be.

  “Well…I will try it on. Help me.”

  Sebastien removed the steel stud from Cristiano’s ear and replaced it with the emerald set in gold. Then he fetched his shaving mirror and held it up so Cristiano could look at himself.

  “Ah, now I am very handsome,” Cristiano declared.

  “You were handsome before.”

  “You appeal to my vanity, Sebastien. You are a corrupting influence on me.”

  “Look who’s talking.”

  “I will borrow the earring, if that pleases you, and wear it, until such time as you ask me to give it back.”

  “No, you must keep it,” Sebastien insisted. “As a token of our love. It will be the visible sign, of the pact we just swore.”

  “Very well. Thank you, primo. Kiss me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four:

  Fulfilling the Law

  As enjoyable as the holiday weekend had been, Easter Monday was, for all practical purposes, just another working day on the fazenda. Settling into the usual routine, Sebastien decided to try to learn a new skill.