Approximately 5400 words of Gil/Break PWP. WHAT. HOW. THIS IS NOT EVEN MY SHIP WHAT THE HELL. I have no idea where this came from or why, okay. Nor why they seem to have an obsession with strangling each other. Wait okay no that's the part that actually makes sense.

Title: Mutual Exchange
Pairing: Gil/Break
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Takes place maybe two or three years before Oz returns from the Abyss. Gil and Break have an... arrangement.
WARNING: Neither safe nor sane (although on the tame side, as unsafe, insane sex goes), but it is consensual. (Although there are a couple of places that are a bit dubious.) Also I am a horrible person and this is nasty and depressing.

This is the fourth time.

It's becoming a habit, Gilbert thinks. It's a bad habit to take up. But then, smoking had been, too.

Break tastes of candy -- what else would he taste like? Gilbert finds it vaguely disgusting; he finds everything about this vaguely disgusting. But even so he's still hard and aching as their bodies crash together.

It's more like they're trying to kill each other than anything else, biting and scratching, Break's hand yanking sharply at Gilbert's hair. Gilbert sinks his teeth into the base of Break's neck, tastes blood. It's disgusting, but it's impossible to pretend that this isn't what he wants, not when Break's reaching down to palm Gilbert's erection through his trousers and Gilbert's arching up off the couch like there's lightning surging straight up his spine.

But he's already given up on pretending.


This is the first time.

Gilbert doesn't think he's ever seen Break smile like this before. It doesn't even come close to resembling that clownish grin usually smeared over his face like finger-paint, nor that eerie, ghoulish one meant to frighten people into doing things his way; this is a smile that hurts to look at, a smile made of broken glass. Break's hand slams against the wall next to Gilbert's head, and for a moment Gilbert forgets how to breathe.

He has never entirely lost the sense of terror he'd felt on their first meeting.

"'For my master's sake,' is it?" Break's teeth flash in the dim light of Gilbert's apartment, his face entirely too close to Gilbert's own. "You know, Raven," he says, and his voice is pleasant, conversational, but pulled curiously tight, like a thread about to snap. "When you say such irresponsible things, you make me want to hate you."

Gilbert stares, helplessly puzzled. "Wha..."

Break closes that too-short distance between them.

It's so unexpected that for a long moment Gilbert can only stand there, mouth slack beneath the sudden demand of Break's lips. It's when he feels Break's tongue that he shoves the man away, knocking that stupid doll off of his shoulder. It falls to the floor, rolls over once, and comes to a stop leering up at them with its head at an obscene angle.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Gilbert demands, gasping and scrubbing at his mouth with his sleeve. "What was that about?!"

Break laughs, and the sound prickles up Gilbert's spine like little insects' legs. "Isn't it obvious?" says Break. "I'm making an offer. Another mutual exchange."

"What?" Gilbert asks, nonplussed.

"Use me," says Break, spreading his palms. "Use me, and I'll use you."

Gilbert slides away from the wall, backs up a step; Break follows him.

"It's a fair exchange, isn't it?" says Break. "I don't even mind if you hit me. You'd like to hit me, wouldn't you?"

That smile he's wearing makes Gilbert feel fourteen again, makes him want to turn and never stop running. He wonders if this is some sort horrible joke, or a strange dream (and he doesn't want to think about what a dream like this would mean) -- or maybe Break is just crazier than he'd ever thought. He backs up another step; tries to find his voice.

"Break..." is all he manages to say.

"But, you know," says Break, showing his teeth and laying his index finger against the side of his mouth. "I might hit back."

Break takes that last step forward, grabs Gilbert by his cravat and pulls him close, much too close, lips not quite touching. The scent of syrupy-sweet black tea washes over Gilbert with the man's breath.

"Think about it," says Break, and lets him go.

Gilbert stumbles back, nearly falling over. He grabs at a nearby chair, steadying himself as Break bows to him, absurdly formal.

"Until next time, then," Break says, and turns away. His boots tap out a slow rhythm as he crosses the floor, pausing as he bends to retrieve his doll ("What a cruel guy, knocking you around like that -- right, Emily?"); and then he slips into the pantry closet with a silly little wave and disappears.

"What the hell," says Gilbert weakly. Then he raises his voice to a shout, even though he knows it's useless: "What the hell, Break?!"

That night, he can't sleep, feeling that man's voice crawling all over his skin, setting his teeth on edge. The memory of Break's kiss sits like a ghost on his lips, and no matter how much he scrubs at his mouth the tingling sensation won't go away.

Eventually, the ache building between his legs becomes too much, and he whimpers shamefully into his pillow as he reaches down to relieve himself.

The next time Break kisses him, Gilbert lets him.


It pisses him off. It pisses him off that he wants this.

Break is biting at Gilbert's lips, slipping his tongue deep into Gilbert's mouth. Kissing isn't something Gilbert's used to, so he's clumsy, is forced to follow Break's lead. That pisses him off, too. Of course he isn't used to kissing; what good would knowing how to kiss do him? But here and now, Break knows what he's doing and Gilbert doesn't, and that pisses him off.

(Only one person had ever kissed him before this; furtive crashes of lips around corners and behind bookcases, hidden from other eyes -- little more than brief, playful nips at his mouth. Oz had probably only been teasing him, backing him into corners just to see his servant's panicked expression. Gilbert didn't know, had never asked; Oz would never have answered him honestly, anyway.)

Gilbert sucks in a breath at the memory -- not of Oz's lips, which he can't remember the feel of any more, but of the sounds after Oz had cornered him like that one day in the library: Oz's impish laughter as he'd run off, his footsteps clattering against the floor, and that floorboard that creaked whenever anyone stepped on it right by the door. That sound in particular, the sound of that creaking board comes back to Gilbert now so clear and so sharp he thinks for a moment he's really hearing it -- a warm, familiar sound, a sound that had meant, here, this is home.

And suddenly Gilbert's ribs are clenching in on him, and he can't breathe. His throat hurts and the floor is swimming beneath him. He staggers. Break takes the opportunity to shove him down, and they both go crashing to the floor. Break's weight knocks what's left of his breath from him, and the back of his head conks against the floor, and that hurts too. Everything hurts.

He refuses to cry, not here and not now, so he gets angry instead.

Break's throat is pale and soft beneath his hands; he could crush it so easily, he thinks, as he rolls the man beneath him, pins him to the floor. He squeezes.

Break's body goes lax and pliant as he looks up at Gilbert and laughs.

Something strange boils up inside Gilbert then, clouding his thoughts like an electrical storm; something that wants to tear at the man beneath him, wants to bruise him, to bleed him. "Shut up!" he says, willing the strange thing back down inside. His eyes are stinging.

"But isn't this wonderful?" Break says, spreading his arms out against the floor, "Isn't this perfect? We're using each other!" And he laughs again, looking up at Gilbert with that clownish, dagger-toothed smile and that too-bright gleam in his eye that Gilbert has always hated.

"I said... to shut up," Gilbert grinds out, feeling his own fingers clenching harder around Break's neck. "Just shut up!"

"Ho...?" Break hums, even as his breath wheezes with the effort. "Why don't you make me?"

So Gilbert does.


It's the sixth time, or maybe the seventh, and damn it all, Gilbert's already losing track and he knows that can't be a good sign.

But more importantly, his arms have somehow ended up tied behind his back with his own cravat, and he's not quite sure how that happened. He thinks Break must've done it while he'd had Gilbert's cock in his mouth. Gilbert hadn't been aware of very much beyond "hot" and "wet" and "oh god" during those moments.

"What the hell!" he demands angrily, struggling to work his hands free; but the knot is quite secure and does not budge, and damn Break to hell, this is probably going to ruin the garment.

Break, already having dispensed with his own trousers, climbs back onto the couch to straddle Gilbert's hips, yanking Gilbert's trousers down lower. He reaches over to his coat where it lies in a heap beside them, pulls a small bottle out of the pocket. He uncorks it with his teeth and pours a puddle of oil into his palm.

"I thought you'd like it," Break grins around the cork. "You seem like the type."

Gilbert stares blankly for a moment until the words parse. "WHAT TYPE?!" he snarls. "What the hell is that supposed to mean, you-" And here he breaks off with an incoherent groan, because Break's hand has made its way around his cock, warm and unbearably slick as it works its way up and down the shaft.

"Oh?" Break spits out the cork onto the floor, purses his lips. "Am I mistaken?"

"Obviously that's wrong, idi... ot..."

"How strange," says Break, smirking at Gilbert's helpless gasps. He gives the head a good squeeze, and laughs when Gilbert whimpers, hips jerking up involuntarily. "It doesn't seem so to me..."

Then Break releases him, and Gilbert sits there aching and bewildered as he watches the man position himself over top of his cock. Break reaches around behind himself, guiding Gilbert up to his entrance.

"Oi, Break," says Gilbert, eyes widening, because this hasn't happened before, they haven't gone this far. They've been clawing and biting at each other until they bleed, thrusting against each other until they come all over each others' stomachs; but not this. "What are you..."

But Break is already sinking down, slowly impaling himself.

Gilbert flings his head back helplessly, his mouth opening in a silent cry. It's so tight it hurts. His eyes are watering. He hears someone cursing incoherently and slowly recognizes the voice as his own. His toes curl against the floor, his arms straining against their restraints.

He forces his eyes open, struggling to catch his breath. Break is hissing through his teeth, his brow furrowed in pain. Gilbert gasps as he feels man's muscles clench around him, trying to relax into it.

"Break, what... Why...?" Gilbert asks.

Break blinks open his eye and snorts at the question. "And I suppose you would have allowed it if I'd tried doing this to you?"

"WHO WOULD-" Gilbert starts, then shakes his head. "That's not the point! What are you doing?!"

Break gives him a withering look. "I should hope that would be obvious."

"But you," Gilbert protests. "But you didn't even... Wasn't that too fast? Aren't you supposed to -- you know..." Gilbert trails off, embarassed.

Break cocks an amused eyebrow. "Supposed to what, hmm?"

"You know what I mean!" Gilbert blusters angrily. "Isn't it hurting you?"

"That, my dear Raven, is the idea," Break sings, though his voice is strained.

Gilbert blinks. "Wha -- what do you-"

Break suddenly reaches up and roughly yanks Gilbert's head back by the hair. "My, my, Mr. Gilbert, you're certainly talkative today," he says pleasantly, his eye too wide and his smile full of teeth. His other hand slides up and closes around Gilbert's throat, squeezing gently.

Then the smile melts off Break's face, and Gilbert forgets how to breathe again. There is raw malice in that single red eye.

"It's annoying," Break says coldly, his hand squeezing tighter. "Be quiet."

Gilbert swallows thickly and obeys.


Break doesn't make much sound whenever they're like this, and the silence bores into Gilbert, grates at him until fury boils up unexpectedly just underneath his skin.

He grits his teeth, pounding Break into the floor as hard as he can, yanking the man's head back by his white hair. For this he's rewarded with a choked-off cry, and the sight of Break's face twisting, his eye squeezing shut and his mouth falling open as he gulps at the air.

Gilbert has to be hurting him, he knows, but Break doesn't complain; his legs just tighten around Gilbert's waist as he reaches down between their bodies and roughly grasps his own erection, working himself toward completion.

It occurs to Gilbert that something must be very wrong with Break; but what does that say about Gilbert?


Eventually Gilbert notices that Break's been coming in through the door for a while now. Not from under the bed, not from out of the cabinet, not from out of the pantry - he comes in through the front door, just like a normal, sane person might. He's been leaving that way, too.

But when Gilbert asks why, Break won't tell him. He just gives him a gleeful grin, and asks, "Why, Mr. Gilbert, have you been missing the element of surprise?"

"Idiot!" Gilbert says quickly. "No! The door is fine. I was just wondering."

"Well, aren't you a nosy brat?" Emily screeches from Break's shoulder.

And then Gilbert shudders in horror, and on pure reflex he punts the thing across the room, because having that doll talking at him is about the last thing he wants while Break's straddling his hips.


He doesn't know how many times it's been; it doesn't matter anymore.

They're in a dirty alley near Gilbert's apartment, and it's pouring. Both of them are soaked through, clothes sticking uncomfortably to their skin. The air reeks of mold and garbage.

"What are you doing?!" Gilbert hisses, once he's torn his mouth free of Break's. "Someone's going to see!"

"Not if you hold still and keep quiet," Break grins, dropping to his knees on the dirty ground.

Gilbert tries to protest further, but Break's mouth is around him, wet tongue tracing over the contours of his cock, cheeks hollowing as he sucks him in, that one red eye gleaming up at him through the rain. And though Gilbert was only half-hard before, now it's all he can do to bite down on his own knuckle to silence himself, to hold himself steady against the wall as his knees turn to water. Break's hands and mouth work quickly, seeking the shortest path from point A to point B, and he does this with a terrible efficacy.

"Shit!" Gilbert chokes, shocked by the surge of sensation. His head flings back and cracks painfully against the brick wall. He buries one hand in Break's hair, hips jerking, thrusting himself deeper into Break's mouth. Break makes a surprised sound, choking a little, but he doesn't try to pull away; he just tilts his head back and accepts him, lets Gilbert fuck his mouth, taking him all the way down into his throat.

Gilbert muffles his cries into his fist as he comes.


Break pins him face down, draping himself over Gilbert's back like a cloak. Gilbert thrashes against him; Break is slighter than him now, has been for a couple of years, but like this, the man is still heavy, and he's strong. He doesn't budge.

"What the hell, Break?" Gilbert demands. He can feel the man's erection pressing against him through their clothes, and his heartbeat throbs in his ears.

"Is there a problem?" says Break, his breath strangely cool and smelling of peppermints. His voice trickles over Gilbert's neck and drips down his spine like syrup. "This would be a fair exchange, too, wouldn't it?" His hand makes its way down over Gilbert's hip, his leg sliding up between Gilbert's own, and his tongue flickers, snakelike, behind Gilbert's ear.

Gilbert gasps, shuddering. Then he rams his elbow up into Break's abdomen.

Break's breath escapes him all in a rush, and he curls in on himself, coughing. Gilbert takes the opportunity to throw him off, slamming the man onto the floor and leveling his arm down hard against Break's neck.

Break laughs breathlessly, the sound strained as he clutches at his own stomach. "I was joking, I was joking!" he gasps. "That angry face of yours -- I wanted to see it. I didn't think you'd take me that seriously."

Gilbert presses down harder on the man's neck until Break chokes. "Your jokes are tasteless, Break," he growls.

Break claws at Gilbert's arm, and after a moment, Gilbert lets him pry it away. Rubbing at his neck, Break sits up, and even though he's not laughing any more, that red eye of his is still glittering with mirth, mocking him. Gilbert wants to punch him in the nose.

"Come now," says Break, chiding. "You can't honestly think I'm the sort of monster that would-"

Break trails off, peering at Gilbert's face. He blinks, eye widening subtly, and he tilts his head as if he sees something new.

"Ah," he says simply. "You do."


He's been feeling guilty.

It's stupid and he knows it. It was Break's fault. Of course he's afraid of Break; what sane man wouldn't be? And anyway, they're not lovers. They're not even friends. Break's affections - presuming the man is capable of such things as affection - are certainly directed elsewhere; so what would it matter to Break what Gilbert does or does not think of him? Break has already forgotten about it, Gilbert is sure.

But he keeps thinking of that strange, unreadable expression that had flickered across Break's face then, and it sticks like a bitter thing in Gilbert's throat.

There is nothing, of course, to be done about it.


"Don't force yourself," Break snorts, amused. "It's not as though that's necessary."

"Shut up," says Gilbert, and scrapes his teeth over Break's hipbone. His face burns, and he knows it must be bright red, and that only makes him feel more embarassed. "You're annoying."

His hand slides up under Break's shirt, fingers playing over Break's abdomen. Break jerks slightly, snatches Gilbert's hand away.

"Ah-ah, Mr. Gilbert, I told you-"

"Would you stop doing that?" Gilbert snaps, wrenching his hand out of Break's grasp.

Break blinks in surprise, for once speechless.

"Whatever you're hiding, I don't care," Gilbert says. His gaze slides off to the side; he's still too embarassed to meet Break's eye. "I've already seen this much, and I'm not looking any farther, so stop it."

Break laughs once, a bewildered little puff. "All right," he says. "That's fine, then." But his muscles are still tense, twitching beneath Gilbert's touch.

When he takes Break into his mouth, he hears Break suck in a startled breath. Probably the man hadn't thought Gilbert would actually do it. And maybe he shouldn't have; he has no idea what he's doing. The taste is a little strange, salty and slightly bitter; but at least it's not cloyingly sweet like Break's mouth.

He pulls back, feeling stupid, and mutters: "You'll have to tell me what I should do."

"Ho...?" Break trills gleefully, lifting his brow. And then, to Gilbert's eternal mortification, he does.


Gilbert ignores the desire to crawl under the bed and never emerge, because he won't give Break the satisfaction. Instead he follows Break's directions to the letter, like he's got something to prove -- except, of course, when following his directions proves simply impossible. ("Stupid! Do you want me to choke and die?!")

And eventually Break seems to lose interest in instructing him in favor of making little half-formed, urgent sounds in the back of his throat, his hands grasping blindly at the sheets, his hips rolling in a slow, jerky rhythm. Break's leg lifts up, bending at the knee to brace against the bed. It's trembling, just a little.

Gilbert thinks he should feel smug, but instead he's just shocked by the transformation. (So he didn't think himself capable of it, after all.) He's even more shocked by the way every little sound Break makes goes straight to his groin, like plucking on a string.

Gilbert shifts against the bed, searching for friction, and just as he does Break's hand flies up and buries itself in his hair, grasping so tightly that Gilbert's eyes start to water. Break's back arches, and he thrusts hard up into Gilbert's mouth.

Gilbert chokes.

"Hey!" he protests, pulling back out of Break's grasp with no small difficulty. "I already told you, I can't do it like you can, so you'll have to hold still!"

Break blinks open his eye and gives him a hazy, thoughtful smirk. "Well, I guess you'll have to make me then, won't you?"

Gilbert sighs, long-suffering, and holds him down.


On one occasion, Gilbert asks why. The pale man laughs his musical, irritating little laugh.

"Have you ever seen what happens to a spring when it's wound too tightly?" Break asks.

"...What are you talking about?"

"You don't get out much, do you, Raven?" says Break. "You're always working or training. As far as I can tell you're barely sleeping and eating. You hardly speak to anyone if it doesn't have anything to do with work. Since you left the Nightrays' house, when was the last time you even saw that disgusting little brother of yours?"

When Gilbert doesn't answer, Break shrugs. "You needed it," he says, unwrapping a lollipop.

Gilbert stares at him, sees the tightness still in Break's shoulders, the cruel glint still there in his eye, and thinks: I'm not the only one who needed it.

Out loud, he says, "Mind your own business." Then he lights up a cigarette, drawing the smoke in deeply, concentrating on the burn in his lungs.

"Ah, but unfortunately, you are my business!" Break sings. "If my subordinate falls apart under stress, then where would I be?"

"You'd find another one."

"I'm afraid that isn't an option. It's come as a surprise for me as well, but you've become quite useful."

There's a tightness in Break's jaw as he says it, and not for the first time Gilbert gets the uncomfortable sense that Break is angry at him. Well, he can be angry; Gilbert doesn't care. Especially not if Break isn't going to tell him what he's angry at.

"I'm not going to fail," says Gilbert quietly, exhaling smoke with the words.

"Ah, yes, how could I forget," Break drawls, mocking. He crunches down on his candy. "Anything for that little master, right?"

Gilbert just ignores him.


That day, Gilbert shoots an adolescent girl in the face.

He'd had orders to capture her, but due to his own carelessness, she and her chain nearly manage to kill him. And so Gilbert shoots her in the face.

The girl had been an illegal contractor. She would have died anyway.

"Careless," whispers the Raven, its voice dusty and dry, creaking out of the farthest corners of Gilbert's mind.

"No one asked you," Gilbert mutters under his breath. Then he lets it tear the girl's chain apart before the Abyss can claim them. All of this would be wasted effort if the chain eventually found another contractor.

Gilbert leaves his coat and hat with the cleaners and reports back to Break. Break shrugs off his mistake. "This takes care of the problem, in any event," Break says, and waves Gilbert away home.

That night, he lets Break fuck him.

He'd thought of Break's face twisted in pain and pleasure, and thought maybe that was what he wanted to feel. But it barely hurts at all; Break knows what he's doing, and he's much more cautious with Gilbert than he is with himself. Gilbert doesn't know why. It's not as if the man hasn't left plenty of bruises all over Gilbert's body already.

He feels himself being stretched, filled, and clutches at the headboard to brace himself, his heart pounding. At this angle, he can just see the outline of Break's ruined eye in the shadow of his bangs, and Gilbert stares at it, transfixed. When Break starts to move in a slow, steady rhythm, it's nearly overwhelming.

But it isn't enough.

None of it is enough.

After a little while he gets used to it enough that he reaches up and grabs Break by his hair, glaring at him, tightening his legs around Break's waist so that he can't move. Break falls still, eye widening in surprise.

"What are you doing, Break?" Gilbert growls at him.

Break's lips quirk. "Why, Mr. Gilbert, I'm fucking you; I thought you'd realized that much."

Gilbert pushes himself up a little on one arm, annoyed. "It's not like I'm going to shatter."

Break just blinks at him.

"I'm saying to stop being so careful, you idiot!" says Gilbert, yanking on Break's hair and pulling his face close. "When have you ever been careful before?"

Break's lips curl slowly across his face, pulling back to show teeth. "Ho...?" he asks. "Are you sure that's really what you want? Raven."

The look on Break's face makes Gilbert's heart trip over itself in apprehension; he remembers how he's treated Break every time they've fucked, and the thought settles uneasily into the pit of his stomach. But he just stares back at Break and says, "Don't make me say it again."

So Break pushes him back onto the bed and leans down to put his mouth against Gilbert's ear: "All right, then; but don't forget that you were the one who asked for it."

Gilbert shudders.

Then Break makes him scream.


Sometimes it's like a game; make the other person say "stop". But that never actually happens.

Gilbert wonders if one of these days they'll make a mistake and seriously hurt each other.


Break's hands are wrapped around Gilbert's throat now, squeezing -- not hard enough to choke, just enough to fill Gilbert's head with an uncomfortable, pulsing pressure. It's a strangely seductive sensation, sapping the strength out of his limbs. He feels his body going lax beneath the other man, feels his eyes drifting closed.

Break's riding him, slow, torturous, milking him with his muscles. He's saying something. What is he saying? Gilbert tries to piece the sounds together. Something about Oz.


Gilbert's eyes snap open.

"Ah, but you'd never do this, not with him. Would you, Raven?" Break murmurs silkily. His thumb rubs circles into the tender flesh of Gilbert's neck. "Something so filthy."

Gilbert wrenches Break's hands off of his neck, and even as Break's mouth is opening in surprise, he throws Break off of him, flips them both over and slams the man to the floor. Break cries out as all the air is knocked from his lungs.

Gilbert wraps his hands around Break's neck now, squeezing hard, not for play. Break makes a strangled, panicky sound, his fingernails scratching at Gilbert's wrists.

"Don't," Gilbert snarls hoarsely. "Ever."

Break squints up at him, face contorting as he struggles for breath, and Gilbert sees real fear flicker briefly through the man's eye. Gilbert finds that he likes it.

So he takes one hand off Break's neck, still squeezing with the other, and guides himself back inside, plowing the man into the floor as he strangles him. Gilbert wants to squeeze harder, wants to feel the windpipe crushing under his hand, but instead he puts that anger into fucking Break as hard as he can, as Break clings to his wrist and makes pleasing little choking noises.

Later, Gilbert is appalled. "I," he says, staring wide-eyed at the dark bruises around Break's neck. He remembers the way it felt, so soft and delicate, and starts shivering. He feels nauseated. "I didn't..."

"You didn't what?" Break asks, looking amused; but his voice is raw.

Gilbert can't find an answer. He wants to say, "I didn't want to do that," but it isn't even true. Perhaps he means, "I don't want to have wanted to do that," but that hardly makes any sense.

"It's fine," Break tells him, seemingly unconcerned. "This will cover the bruises." And he ties his cravat and it's like nothing ever happened.


Gilbert's arms are tied behind his back again. This time he'd known what Break was doing, and he hadn't made even a token effort to stop him. It's rope, this time, and unlike the silk of his cravat it bites into his flesh, rubs him raw.

Gilbert's on his knees, and Break's fingernails are digging into his scalp as he forces Gilbert's face down into the pillows. He wonders if he'll suffocate; but Break isn't pushing hard enough for that. The man's other hand is clenched with bruising force around Gilbert's hip as he fucks him from behind, rough and hard.

In this position, with Gilbert's body pulled taut and arched so obscenely, Break can thrust into him deeper than anything he's ever felt. His arms strain against the rope holding them pinned, wanting to grab onto something, wanting to brace himself; but he can't, and Break just keeps pounding him into the mattress. Gilbert struggles for air and bites down on the pillow.

It hurts.

It hurts.

His cock throbs painfully, dripping and unattended. When Break finally reaches beneath him and wraps his hand around it, he leans over, jerking Gilbert's head up to whisper behind his ear: "Come."

Gilbert comes almost instantly, his shout choked off as his vision bleeds to white.


"Stop...?" Break murmurs in surprise. Gilbert's hand is clenched in Break's sleeve, and Break looks at it like he doesn't know what to do with it. "You want to stop? Well, that's fine, but... Why?"

"Because," Gilbert mumbles, looking at the floor. "Because I'm afraid. I'm afraid something bad will happen." Gilbert tears his gaze up, forces himself to look at Break. "Your throat," he says. "Is it still...?"

Break stares at him for a long moment; then he snorts incredulously, stooping and shaking as a torrent of laughter breaks over him. Gilbert lets go of Break's sleeve in confusion, his hand just hovering uselessly in the air.

"We can stop any time you like, Mr. Gilbert," Break says when he finally regains control of himself, "but please, don't be concerned on my account." He pauses to wipe a tear from his eye.

Gilbert feels his face reddening, though he doesn't know what he's got to be embarassed about. "But I," he says. "You..."

Break gives him a look that's almost pitying. "Do you honestly believe I couldn't stop you any time I wanted?" he says, and his smirk says: oh, how cute.

"But... But I!" Gilbert stammers, his ears burning. "I don't want to get hurt, either!" he finally manages.

"That won't happen." Break pops a candy into his mouth.

"How can you be sure?" Gilbert demands.

A loud crunch. "You're my subordinate," says Break. "That won't happen."

Gilbert realizes with a jolt that he believes him. Break absolutely will not hurt him more than he's willing to be hurt. "When have you ever been careful before?" Gilbert remembers asking. But the truth was, Break had always been careful, hadn't he?

Then Gilbert realizes with sudden, helpless surety that he's far more a monster than Break is. And maybe he'd sort of realized that already; but right now it's making his throat tight with grief.


He tries to remember Oz's face, his voice, his smile. All he gets is a blur.


"Look here," says Break, the sound distant and glassy, mixed up in the pattering of rain upon the windows. "You won't want to do this after you've got that master back, anyway, hmm?"

Gilbert shoots a glare at him, annoyed at the way he seems to read his mind.

Break lifts his hands, palms out, placating. "It's true, isn't it?"

Gilbert doesn't answer, just rests his head in his hands, feeling tireder than he can remember ever having felt in his life. Whenever he finally retrieves his master from the Abyss, Gilbert thinks, he won't even be able to touch him anymore.


Later on, when Break pushes Gilbert down, Gilbert just lets him. Gilbert lets him do whatever he wants.

He'd like to hate the other man; but it's not like Break made him this way. Break had merely shown him what he was.
karayan: Disney's Aladdin: Mozenrath (God I'm so evil.)

From: [personal profile] karayan

... this is so fucked up. ♥ IN A VERY, VERY GOOD WAY.
sarashina: (Raven and Oz)

From: [personal profile] sarashina


From: (Anonymous)

Haha, the world needs more Gil/Break in any shape or form XD

From: (Anonymous)

Mm. Break/Gilbert ~ ♥
You have made me one happy person. ♥♥
This has to be the best I've seen written on these two. xD

From: (Anonymous)

Yeah, this is completely, absolutely fucked up. In a wonderfully good way.

Great job.~

From: (Anonymous)

Seriously, you've done a great job keeping them in character (esp. Break). wow!

lim⋅i⋅nal ho⋅ri⋅zon

a place only seen through a green door.


July 2010

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