He heard the soft clattering of the others as they went up for bed only minutes later than him. He had left his door open so that he might hear them. His cravat had been taken off and his jacket slipped off in favour of a dressing gown to keep warm. Once his boots and jewelry had been removed, he had dismissed his valet to bed.

He wanted to go and find out what his father and brother would not say. Other than the one time that his father spoke in a raised voice to his brother in the privacy of the study, he had no idea what had gone on. Did Derry really get beaten? Is that why he did not speak of his time at school? Now that he thought about it, did that mean Trent got beaten too?

Lowell was nervous as the clock ticked torturously closer to half past. He heard movement out in the hall and cautiously moved closer to take a look. His head poked out of his door, looking into the dark hallway. A shadow moved along it, towards the guest wing. Was that Derry? Where was he going? Was he going to see Trent?

That pang in his chest grew sharp again. He leaned against his doorframe, trying to decide if he was going to follow him or not. He went to his chest and pulled on a pair of thick woolen socks. Wrapping his throw blanket from the settee around his shoulders, as much for the warmth as the dark blue colour, he made his way out the door.

It was almost too dark to see in the gloom. He could barely make out the shadows of furniture placed along the corridor. He tiptoed past the grand staircase cautiously, but saw no movement below stairs. As he approached the guest rooms, he saw a faint light coming from the doorway on one side. He crept over to peer in.

There was no one in the sitting room. A small fire was banked in the fireplace and a candle stood shielded on the table in the room. He moved inside careful not to make a sound. The shadows danced as he passed the candle and stirred the flame with a movement of air. He heard the murmur of voices in the next room.

He could see the two of them talking through the crack in the door. Trent was sitting on the bed casually, pulling off his shoes with the toes of his feet and flinging them away nonchalantly. Derry was standing closer to the fire without his dinner jacket on. He sidled close to the door, keeping just behind it but pressing his ear to the wood jam.

"...seems like a sweet child." It was Trent saying something.

"He is. My father does not seem to have ruined him too badly." That was his brother, Derry.

"Not at all, if our conversation says anything. Your father kept him in the dark, Der. He is a complete innocent." Trent replied candidly.

"I know. It is almost painful how ignorant he is." Derry said in a frustrated voice. Trent laughed and leaned back as he undid his own cravat.

"Hmm, yes he is a tempting little mouthful though." Trent licked his lips suggestively and Low's eyes widened. Was he talking about him?

"Hush. You are not laying a finger on my brother." Derry growled protectively, pointing a finger at Trent. The boy flung his cravat linen aside and sprawled gracefully at the end of the bed. He undid the ribbon that held back a tumble of ashy brown curls.

"Oh ho. The big, bad brother is going to save him? I rather thought you might want to ruin him. He is so delectably pure... would that not infuriate your father? What a way to get back at the old scourge, eh?" Trent was smiling evilly at his brother and Low gulped. This guy was seriously wicked.

"No. It is not happening. Low is... I won't use him like that. He doesn't deserve such treatment." Derry said firmly. Trent narrowed his eyes.

"And you did? Please. I think you've developed a soft spot for this little brother of yours." He was watching Derry carefully as he spoke.

"Perhaps not. Perhaps I have always had one. Whatever happens between the Duke and I, it will not involve Low." He was staring into the fire as he said it, and Lowell felt suddenly like he was intruding on something he should not.

"Alright. I get it. You love the little blondie. Forget I said anything. Maybe I can take your mind off of everything for awhile?" Trent had slid off the bed and came to stand behind Derry at the fire. His arms wrapped around the strong waist comfortingly and he nestled his head against the strong back. Low felt his blood boil at the sight.

He wanted to scream for him to get away from his brother, but he could not. He was the one spying them like a spider on the wall. He did not belong here. No matter how much he wanted to rip the boy from his back and tell him to stay away, he could not. His hands fisted as he saw Derry turn towards the boy.

"I don't think that is such a good idea, but thank you Trent." He brushed his finger tips over the cheek of his friend and Trent turned his face to kiss it.

"Come now. For old times sake? You can call me any name you like." He was taking Derry's fingers into his mouth and licking them seductively. Although he hesitated, Low nearly did make a sound when Derry finally scooped the boy into his arms with a growl.

"Oh all right. Just this once. I want to fuck you hard under his roof." His brother's voice had dropped to a sexy tone that even had Low shifting in his spot. Trent cheered a little as he pecked kisses along the bigger man's cheek and jaw. They were moving to the bed and Low gulped as he saw them pulling at each other's clothes.

Trent was flung onto the bed roughly, and then his trousers were worked down off his legs. Derry got his shirt off him and was peppering kisses down his chest. Low was frozen at the sight, now come to stand pressed to the crack in the door as though mesmerised. Trent had his head flung back with a pleased look on his face and little gasps pouring from his lips.

Derry leaned down and took his manhood into his mouth next. While Trent writhed and grasped at the coverlet, he worked his mouth and hands over it. Low had his own mouth open in shock. He did not even want to blink at the sight. He was awestruck as he watched Trent release fluids all over his own chest.

"That was fast. What has you so passionate tonight?" Derry growled as he leaned over and licked the juices that hung on Trent's chest. Trent moaned and locked his lips to Derry's.

"Maybe I just missed you?" He panted when their lips parted. Derry did not think upon it, and leaned over to throw off his own shirt over his head and onto the floor.

"Missed my fat cock is more like." He retorted in a deep voice. When he straightened up, Lowell threw the blanket over his mouth to muffle his strangled gasp. The strong, wide expanse of Lord Darian's back was completely covered in long raised scars of whippings past. They started at the top of his shoulders and disappeared into the edge of his trousers.

Trousers that Trenton was now pulling at as he sank to his knees before him on the floor. Tears came to Low's eyes as he saw that the marks continued over the sculpted cheeks of his buttocks and across his thighs as well. He was heartsick at the sight of his brother's ruined flesh, at the same time as being captivated with the play that was happening before him.

They had done this many times. It was in each easy action between the two and the confident strokes of their hands against each others' skin. Trent leaned in to take Derry deep in his mouth with the sort of ease only practise will allow. Derry encouraged him with hushed words and a strong grip in his tumbled hair. Trent bent over him and bobbed with determined strokes.

His brother pulled his lover's head in tight, making his face red and neck bulge before gagging a little when he pulled off again. That only seemed to make Derry happy though, and he pulled the other boy up to throw face first into the mattress of the bed. He could not look away. He wanted to run as fast as he could, but he felt as though his feet were nailed to the floor outside that door.

As his brother flexed his muscles and those silver lines rippled across that broad back, Low was fascinated at groans that spilled from the two men. Trent was gripping the sheets tightly as Derry pushed forward from behind him. His head was flung back to reveal a blissed out expression as his brother thrusted into him from behind.

Derry grabbed his hip and his hair as he pumped his hips harshly into the smaller man. His toned body glowed in the light of the fireplace and candles in the room. The wet slaps and huffed sighs of the man beneath him filled the luxurious room. He arched his back deeply and curled his toes as he was slammed into over and over again.

"Harder Der, give it to me." The voice barely sounded like the boy he had met downstairs. It was strained and pleading with passion. He could barely breath, let alone blink, as the two coupled vigorously before his eyes. If he thought the coupling he saw in the barn was erotic, this was... this was orgasmic.

He had not even thought to touch himself and was straining under his clothes. His thighs felt weak as the ache built in his gut. He unconsciously clenched his hole, watching as something that big plunged in and out of the other boy's. Derry was leaned back now to watch as his cock slid in and out of the cavern before him.

"Ah, there!" When he changed angle, Trent's shouts seemed to get higher and needier. He practically clawed at the bed and Derry gave him a harsh smack on his backside. The boy just panted beneath him and begged. "More." Derry just chuckled in an amused way and he slowed his hips down instead.

Low gulped, watching as his big brother made the boy squirm and thrash beneath him. He heard every slap, every wet slosh, each pleading cry like it was a stroke to his own stiff rod. He saw his brother's thrusting become rough and heard his grunts deepen like a shivering passion in his mind. He felt the rush of the winding in his gut unravelling and clenched his thighs in mortification.

His hands flew to the wetness in his trousers with chagrin and the spell was broken as he glanced down at his traitorous body. He cupped himself with a grimace as he backed away from the door. What was he even thinking coming here? What was he doing staying to watch that!? His mind spun as he stumbled out of the sitting room and into the dark hall.

He grabbed his hair and yanked it as he wandered back down the hall to his own room. His breathing felt unnaturally loud in his own ears. He was too hot, yet his blood felt cold in his veins. He stripped off his dressing gown and clothes in a rush, covering his mouth as he saw the evidence of his sins stuck to his crotch and legs.

He hurriedly cleaned himself, washing down the inside of his trousers with the cloth and pitching all the water out the window when he was done to hide the evidence. He swore he could still smell it in the room though. It plagued his thoughts as he climbed into the large bed with it's silken sheets. His eyes stayed wide open, no matter how hard he tried to shut them.

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