Two Faced Mum

Gabriel's POV

The dining room was too bright. It was all crystal chandeliers and polished mahogany, a world so sharp it felt like it was cutting me open. I sat there in that black silk shirt, the fabric feeling like a cold, expensive skin against my shivering body.

I couldn't look up. If I did, I would see my mother’s fake, radiant smile or Mr. Miller’s heavy, assessing gaze.

But mostly, I would see Derek.

Under the table, the air was just as thick. I felt it, the heavy weight of Derek’s boot pressing against the side of my calf. It wasn't accidental. He was slowly, methodically sliding his foot up, tracing the line of my inner thigh. I gripped my silver fork so hard the metal bit into my palm.

"So, Gabriel," Mr. Miller’s voice boomed, cutting through the clinking. "My brilliant boy. I have heard so much about your academic record. And I heard you are a fine artiste. You can make a living out of it. Art is a noble path."

I swallowed, my throat feeling like it was lined with sandpaper. "Y..y...yes, sir. I... I hope to... to w-work in......"

"He is a bit shy, honey," my mother interrupted, her voice like honey mixed with glass. She laughed, that rehearsed, church pew laugh. "He just needs time to adjust to here."

She didn't look at me. She looked at her darling fiance.

"Why is he shy? I mean his already familiar with Derek. Mr Miller dropped his fork and leaned back on his chair, his eyes darting to Derek and then me. "Before we even announced our wedding, you both came here, so I was under the impression you were already friends."

My heart did a sickening lurch. My mother’s fork paused mid air. Her eyes glaring at me, waiting for my reaction.

"We were... acquaintances, Dad," Derek said, his voice smooth as silk. He didn't move his foot, in fact, he pushed higher, his knee brushing against my groin. I let out a tiny, muffled gasp that I tried to turn into a cough.

"But brotherhood is a different beast entirely. We need time to really get to know each other. You know... inside and out."

He looked at me then. Those sea blue eyes were mocking, daring me to snap, daring me to tell the truth.

"That's the spirit!" my mother chirped, her eyes darting to me with a silent, sharp warning. Be useful. Smile.

"In fact, why don't you boys spend the evening together? I mean to get to know each other and flow better alone."

The East Wing smelled like old paper, mahogany polish, and the suffocating weight of money. It was a massive room, shelves of leather bound books stretching toward a ceiling I couldn't even see in the dim light. The moment the heavy oak doors shut behind us, the brotherly act vanished.

"D....Derek, please," I whispered, backing away as he turned to face me. "I... I am tired. I want to go to my room."

"Your room?" Derek laughed, a low, jagged sound that echoed off the bookshelves. He took a step forward, and I took a step back until my spine hit the cold wood of a shelf.

"You don't have a room, Gabe. You have a space in my house. There's a difference."

He lunged.

His hands slammed into the shelf on either side of my head, pinning me. The smell of him, that expensive mint and woodsmoke mixed with the musty dust of the library, making my head spin.

He was so big, so solid, and I felt like a ghost standing next to him.

"You think you are so innocent, don't you?" he hissed, leaning down until his lips were brushing against my ear. "With your stutter and your big, nerdy glasses. But I know you, Gabriel. I know the lust behind those dorky glasses. You are a filthy little liar. A fake."

"Just let me be please...for now at least .."

He didn't listen. He crashed his mouth against mine.

It wasn't a kiss. It was an invasion. It tasted like the scotch from the bar and pure, unadulterated fury. He forced his tongue past my teeth, his hand fisting in my hair and yanking my head back until I whimpered. I tried to push him away, my hands flat against his hard, warm chest, but it was like trying to move a mountain.

And the worst part the absolutely sickest part was the way my blood was screaming, the way my body was arching into him even as I hated every second of it.

Click-clack. Click-clack.

My heart stopped. The sound of heels. High, sharp, frantic heels hitting the marble floor in the hallway outside.

My mother.

"D....Derek! Stop!" I thrashed, my voice a panicked wheeze. "I hear footsteps! Someone is coming! Please!" It could be my mother!"

Derek didn't flinch. He didn't even pull away. He just shifted his grip, his hand sliding down to my waist, pulling me so close I could feel the hard line of his desire against my hip.

"Let her come," he whispered against my lips, his eyes burning with a manic light. "My dad already knows I am gay, Gabriel. And he doesn't give a damn who I ruin."

He leaned in closer, his teeth grazing my earlobe.

"But your mother? Your righteous mother, What do you think she will do when she walks in and sees her son wrapped around his brother’s finger? She will throw you to the streets."

"You.... wouldn't dare... please."

"Try me," he dared, his hand moving lower, his fingers hooking into the waistband of my silk trousers.

The door handle turned. The heavy brass made a slow, agonizing creak.

"Gabriel? Derek? Are you in there?" My mother’s voice was right outside.

I couldn't breathe. My heart was a drum in my ears, so loud I thought it would shatter my ribs. Derek didn't let go. He actually tilted my head back further, exposing my throat, his eyes locked on the door as it began to swing open.

He wanted her to see. He wanted to destroy the last thing I had left...