It's smut. It's pointless's smut. Yeah. ...Don't take it too seriously? Seriously, this is just for the fun of things and-yes... Update for my mutli fic soon~ And the title's a pun. GET IT?... im lame.

Yes, this is Oz / Gil (and a bit of Gil / Oz) So be warned.

For Heaven's Sake

"You did splendidly tonight, Young Master!"

"You looked so grownup! We're all so proud!"

"Ah, if only your father would here to join us in our happiness!"

A soft blush scorched up through Oz's pale cheeks as the circle of maids continued cooing, gleefully poking and prodding at him. Mrs. Kate had already gone about fussing with his usually messy hair, sighing to herself. A brunette maid, meanwhile, reached to pull off his jacket. Surprised at the sudden onslaught of attention—really, he should be used to this by now, they tried this everyday—Oz gave a small yelp.

"H-hey, I can do it myself~" he hummed and awkwardly tried to distance himself from the three maids. His usually bright green eyes were now a mix of anxiety, trepidation, and exhaustion.

The Coming of Age ceremony had gone off without a hitch. The guests were all respectful ,cheerful, and supportive. After the ceremony had ended, they had all offered their best wishes to the young Bezarius, gave him a hug if they knew him even remotely well, and then left. A few gave flowers, a few gave presents, but for the most part, a smile was the most common gift. Gilbert had quickly vanished after the ceremony, probably due to embarrassment. It was a wonder that the nervous servant boy hadn't tripped or fumbled during the ceremony. It was cute, in a way. Oz had to admit it.

Then again, the whole night… It was odd; to say the least, to have so many people—people he barely knew—congratulating him on something. Was age really that important? Had no one expected him to live till fifteen? He wasn't used to the affection, to the attention, but it wasn't unappreciated.

"But it's our job!"

Oz was wrenched back to reality when Mrs. Kate's glowering face met his, eyes narrowed. "We can't have you ruining such an expensive outfit, it must come off this instance," she lectured and reached forward to begin undoing the buttons.

"Aw…Mrs. Kate, can't you let the boy bask in his glory for a few more hours? The outfit makes the man~"

Mrs. Kate recoiled, glancing sharply over her shoulder at the newcomer. Oscar was currently grinning boldly, as he usually did, standing by the entrance of the room. He hadn't changed out of his formal attire either, just as the maids remained in theirs. It was truly foolish to impress something on Oz that no one else had thought of doing themselves first.

"…But his clothes—" Mrs. Kate began, pushing up her glasses with a frown.

"Will be fine."

Mrs. Kate looked back to Oz—almost with a death glare—and sighed heavily. "….of course," she murmured and gestured for the other two maids to back off the blonde boy. "Expect us first thing in the morning to collect them, Young Master." She gave a small curtsey and all-but stomped out of the room. The maids followed, leaving Oscar and Oz by themselves.

"…Thanks Uncle Oscar!~" Oz chimed in contently. He rubbed the nape of his neck despite it all. That was one chaos averted, thank heavens! Mrs. Kate could be really scary when she wanted to be.

"No problem, kid," the older man chuckled and walked over to the couch in the room, promptly taking a seat. "So, how'd you enjoy yourself tonight? Feel any different?"

"Ah…it was fun, but I feel the same," Oz admitted with a bold, sheepish smile. He scratched his neck again before walking over to Oscar and sitting down. "These clothes aren't that fun, though."

"It adds to the experience," Oscar chuckled loudly and shook his head. "One day you'll look back and wish you could come back to this time."

"And remember the uncomfortableness of it?" Oz grinned and went about removing the necktie, his small fingers fumbling with it. Hm…tricky little thing. "I'm glad everyone enjoyed themselves, though!"

"It's mostly if you enjoyed yourself," Oscar corrected and closed his eyes contently, propping his feet up on the table. "I told your servant to come in after he saw the final guests out."

"Gil~?" Oz hummed and when Oscar nodded, the blond smiled. "Gil did well tonight."

"That he did. I'm proud of you both." After that, Oscar faked a sob and wrapped an arm around Oz's shoulder, locking him in place. Oz, in return, began laughing happily, gingerly trying to push his Uncle away in favor of breathing. Oh the games that were played in the Bezarius household.

After a moment, a young boy cleared his throat, standing awkwardly at the door. Small hands gripped at the ends of a white, formal outfit—the same one he had been wearing earlier. Oz and Oscar ceased their impromptu game immediately. Oz's gave swept over to the entrance. At once, a bold smile formed on the Bezarius' heir lips. He sprang up from his seat and raced across the room, engulfing the small servant boy into a tight hug. Expectedly, Gilbert flailed his arms in surprise, making small, incoherent noises.

"Oh you boys," Oscar laughed to himself, shook his head, and watched affectionately.

When Oz finally let go of his friend, the smile had not faded. "Gil, I'm so glad you made it!" he exclaimed, the grin from ear to ear.

"O-of course. Master Oz wanted me to go so I did," Gilbert responded awkwardly, poking his fingers together shyly.

"Well, I'm glad Gil did either way," Oz concluded and grabbed his friend's wrist. He calmly proceeded to lead the boy over to the couch Oscar was seated upon. Once there, he hopped up and patted the small space beside him, hoping Gil would take the hint.

He did, albeit timidly.

"I think this calls for a celebration," Oscar declared belatedly, lounging back further on the couch, sparing the two boys beside him an affectionate look.

A murmur of approbation sounded from Oz moments afterwards. "What kind of celebration?" he probed further, leaning forward, hands on his knees and eyes curiously turned up to his uncle.

"You two have to promise not to leave this room," the older man began with a mysterious chuckle. Seconds later, he was up and on his feet, sauntering across the room merrily. A tune was being hummed under his breath, as if going along with a song only audible to him.

"Ah…we promise, but why?" Oz tilted his head, inquisitive. He looked to Gilbert, subconsciously licking his lips in bafflement. "Hey Gil, do you know why he said that?"

Gilbert shook his head and motioned to where Oscar was. Oz's eyes returned to his uncle, eyebrows shooting up on his forehead. The man was currently fumbling with the small servant's liquor cabinet—with the absence of Master Bezarius, the list of things the help could get away with was numerous.

"…Uncle~?" Oz questioned, nose scrunched up in bemusement.

"Hoho… one minute," Oscar laughed and knelt down, sifting through the various bottles within.

Oz squinted his eyes, trying to see just what was in the cabinet that the maids always kept locked. When he gave up on trying to read the labels from afar, he huffed and slouched back. His feet came to rest on the edge of the coffee table, his arms crossed over his chest. A small pout toyed at the edges of his lips, but remained just such—small. On the contrary, Gilbert fidgeted nervously in spot, beginning to poke his fingers again; he said nothing.

"Here we are!" Oscar declared boisterously, turning around with the neck of a bottle tightly seized.

"…Oh~" Oz cooed, though there was a detectable amount of hesitation in his voice. "But aren't we…?"

"That's why I said you had to promise to stay in here. I'll be supervising you until you crash!" Oscar laughed again and walked back over to the pair. Calmly, he set the bottle down. "This one is for you two. I'll get something else for myself. You know what it is, right?"

"Sake," Oz responded automatically and paused again. "Is this really okay~?"

"I-if Mrs. Kate caught us I'd!..." Gilbert flailed, throat going dry at the very idea of being locked up again. "I-I-I don't know I should!..."

"C'mon Giiilllll. Stop worrying." Oz accented his best friend's name with a lazy, cat-like grin.

Gilbert faltered; face turning a dark red in embarrassment. He lowered his gaze and gulped. "I…."

"If Gilbert doesn't want to, we shouldn't force him," Oscar pointed out, looking at Oz with a stern, almost serious look. As serious as the man could be.

"Giiillllll," Oz began again, all-but batting his eyelashes at the servant boy. "I want you to~ I don't want to have all the fun. This is the only chance we'll have to celebrate my fifteenth birthday together."

Guilt trip. He had laid it on thick. "That's!...Young Master!..." He sighed, utterly defeated. "I-If you want me to, yes…"

"Then it's settled." Oz grinned and reached for the bottle, unscrewing the already popped cap. He offered his uncle a beautiful, thankful smile before bringing the red cylinder to his lips. It lingered there. Curiously, he tipped it back, oblivious to Oscar's amusement at how Oz had ignored the glasses he had also brought over. After a few seconds, the translucent liquid met his tongue. Oz scrunched back, bringing the bottle away from his lips. Ah yes, that burned a bit. After a moment, he handed the bottle to Gilbert, licking his lips, trying to process the old, almost milky texture. That was sure…interesting.

Gilbert hesitantly brought the bottle to his own lips. He gazed at it for a long while.

"Don't just stare at it, Gil~" Oz laughed and contently poked his friend's shoulder. Oscar, meanwhile, had gone back to the cabinet, looking it up with ease.

"Ah…o-of course not, Young Master…." Gilbert whispered as his face contorted into a look of utter determination. Slowly, cautiously, uneasily, he forced himself to take a sip. …And it took everything the boy had to force a swallow as well.

"See? Not so bad," Oz praised and reached for the bottle back, a gentle smile forming on his face at his servant's reaction. It was…oddly cute, in a way.

Oz took a few more sips, adjusting quite well. He closed his eyes, focusing on the unique taste that plagued it. He couldn't help but wince occasionally at a few particularly strong sips. He handed it back to Gilbert after a few moments had passed.

"I just remembered I left my jacket downstairs, I'll be right back," Oscar declared over the silence that had befallen the experimenting boys. He waved to them, almost grinning boldly, and headed out of the room. He seemed to have a small skip to his step, as if having concealed an ulterior motive as to why he was suddenly leaving.

When Oscar was gone, Oz looked to Gilbert, giggling to himself at how Gilbert stared the bottle down. Almost like a cat. "Gil's funny~" he commented and closed his eyes. A small, happy buzzing was going on in his head, and he felt a fraction more weightless than usual. Part of it felt good, but part of it felt funny and bizarre.

"Y-young Master…" Gilbert began after another sip, loosely holding the bottle. He gestured for Oz to take it back, but when Oz didn't, he set it down. "…I-is…the Young Master enjoying his birthday?"

"Hm…of course!" Oz responded, cracking open an eye to smile at his servant. "…The ceremony was a bit much…but like I said, I'm glad you came."

Gilbert nodded quickly and zoned out afterwards.

Oz arched a brow at the sudden disconnection. "Hey Gil~ You okay? You look kinda funny."

Gilbert didn't answer and closed his eyes, reaching up to hold his head. "I…don't feel well, Master…"

"…Ah. Maybe you shouldn't drink anymore," Oz offered and lightly touched his friend's shoulder. When Gilbert's cheeks flared up, he blinked again. "…Gil?"

"….Thirsty." The servant impatiently reached for the bottle, taking a quick sip.

Oz laughed. "Right~"

Gilbert absently clasped his hands together upon setting the bottle back down on the table. He gave a solitary hiccup, followed by a yawn that sounded a bit disjointed. His usually nervous golden eyes were hazed over in a fit of jerkiness and indecision. It was baffling to the mind.

"Gil, you sure you're okay?" Oz refused to comment on the wave of warmth shrouding him. Ha…was he supposed to feel like this?


"…Is Gil lying?" Oz proceeded to turn his body, angling it so that he was sitting sideways, staring down Gilbert. His hands came to rest in his laps, content with the amount of alcohol coursing through his veins. The feeling was foreign and abstract and he didn't particularly appreciate his inability to think as quickly and coherently as usual.

"O-of course not!" Gilbert all but squeaked out. A second later, his hand flew to cover his mouth.

"…Gil, what's wrong?"

Gilbert mumbled behind his hand, face scouring red.

"…Gil~ I can't hear you."

Gilbert mumbled again, parting his fingers slightly, the words still incoherent.

"Gil." Oz reached out and tugged his friend's hand down and away from the boy's mouth. "Okay, now speak. What's wrong?"



"…Had improper thoughts."

Oz blinked, cocked his head to the right, and laughed softly. "Improper thoughts?" he echoed.

"…Y-yes..Please forgive me!"

Oz opened his mouth to respond with a curt, 'Of course I forgive you' but halted. He thought about the words once more. A smirk then took shape. "How can I forgive you…if I don't know what the thoughts were?" Despite his coherent words, his train of thought wasn't such.

"Ah!" Gilbert covered his face in shame again, hands a bit shaky and ill-coordinated. "Forgive me!"

"Gil, you're not making sense," Oz teased and reached out to remove Gilbert's hands again. Perhaps the boy had had too much to drink? When he managed to wrench Gilbert's hands away, he frowned at what he saw. The poor servant was crying silently. "…Gil."

"I'm s-s-s-so sorry, Y-young Master," Gilbert sniveled, body shaking uncontrollably.

"…Ah Gil, it's really okay. I forgive you." Maybe teasing him right now hadn't been a good idea.

"I-I-I d-don't deserve you," the servant stammered through pathetic sobs and tears.

"…Gil, you didn't do anything wrong." All right, what was going on?

"I-I…" Gilbert reached for the bottle again. Oz perked up, noticing this at once. Clumsily, he reached for it as well.

"I think Gil has had too much~" Oz admitted with a weak laugh, curling his fingers around the warm bottle just as Gilbert did. Oddly, the servant boy gave a feverish shake of his head, opposing such an idea. Dogmatically, he tried to pull the bottle closer to himself and away from Oz.

"Gil, let go~" Oz sang, a slight edge to his voice.

"I-I-I'm sorry M-Master but I must dro—" Gilbert began in a jumbled up, completely ludicrous ramble before giving another tug. "P-please let go! I-I'm still thirsty and—"

Oz sighed. This would definitely be the last time he allowed his servant to consume alcohol, birthday or not. The effects were just too pathetic. They weren't even cute anymore. This was just sad. With a second sigh, Oz let go of the bottle, figuring Gilbert would eventually stop drinking when he felt satisfied. Unbeknownst to Oz, Gilbert had begun tugging harder at that exact moment. As an act of Murphey's Law, when Oz let go, Gilbert's frail form lurched backwards, the contents of the sake bottle spilling all over the dark-haired boy's outfit.


Oz couldn't believe this—and really, he probably would have avoided this entire situation from the get-go if he didn't feel so clumsy himself. Maybe Oscar's idea was bad after all.

A loud whimper escaped Gilbert as his back collided with the armrest; small frame sprawled out on the couch quite pathetically. Not only was he soaking but he was now sobbing again, hands rubbing at his eyes to try to get the hot tears to cease.

Oz exhaled deeply, bangs fluttering in the air dramatically in result. "…Gil." He shook his head in dismay, and subtle amusement, before creeping closer on the couch, reaching out to lightly grab for Gilbert's wrist. With a tug, he lowered it for the third time that evening. "…Let's get Gil cleaned up before Mrs. Kate finds you like that~"

"I-I-I'm so sorry," Gilbert whimpered and shook his head.

"…It's fine, really~ Let's just go to my roo—"

"B-b-but we can't leave here."

"…Ah, that's right." Lack of a short term memory; Oz was plagued with that flaw all of a sudden. "…Then since Oscar closed the door, we'll just have to get you changed here!"


Oz blinked at Gilbert's outburst. "…You can wear my jacket? It's big enough to cover you until Uncle Oscar gets back." A benevolent smile.

"B-but Master!"

"You'll get sick if you don't change," Oz argued stubbornly and went about finding the buttons to his servant's shirt. Usually only a flick of his wrist was required to undo such nuisances, but considering he had the rice-wine gushing through his veins, such a mundane task as this was becoming trite and tedious.

Gilbert was oddly silent as Oz struggled with the button. The blonde produced small noises of irritation, face contorted into a hardened, determined expression. After a moment, the servant's face surged a hot red colour again. "I-I'm sorry!"

"…Ah, what for now?" Oz wasn't really paying much attention. When had his vision gotten blurry? He brought his hand up to his eyes, groggily rubbing at them. Surprisingly, the effect faded for the time being and he went about continuing to remove Gilbert's shirt, still on that first button.

"T-t-the thoughts are back…" He trailed off, as if forgetting what he originally wanted to say.

"Thoughts…" Oz also trailed off. Ah yes, those improper thoughts. Hadn't Gilbert been talking about that earlier? Why was he thinking of their friendship now when Oz was just trying to get him undressed—Oh.


…Oh my.

"…Ah…are they really?" Oz's throat went dry and callous. Subconsciously, he licked at his lips, steadily growing warmer. The simple task of helping his friend out of his soaked shirt transformed into an act of sin. He gulped and averted his gaze, finally managing to undo the first button.

"Y-yes…" Gilbert occupied himself with the ceiling, squirming a fraction under Oz's maladroit touches.

"Gil, stop moving so much," Oz complained, still eager to finish his task. A thought struck the Bezarius heir and he smirked, the glint of mischief he usually possessed finally surfacing. It was weighted down by sake, but nonetheless, it was there in all its glory. "Why is Gil having such thoughts?"

"I!..." Gilbert looked at Oz, eyes wide and terror scribbled all over his face. His small hands balled into fists. The poor kid looked about to cry again. "I!..."

"You what, Gil?" Oz pressed and finally managed to get the second button opened.

"I'm such a bad servant I'm so sorry!" Gilbert rambled, clenching his eyes shut.

Oz shook his head in dismay and offered a noise of irritation. He undid the last button and stared at the boy's skin with interest. So unmarred and pale. And now with small drops of sake gathering in a thin blanket of sheen. It was amusing how all of this transpired so rapidly. Oz eyed the lingering culprit and blinked thoughtfully. Without another second of thought, he tipped his head down. Small lips descended onto the wet skin. His tongue slipped out not a second afterwards, curving down to collect the beads of alcohol.

A startled, surprised, and terrified noise emitted from the dark-haired boy immediately. "W-w-what are you…" he stammered, words small slurs and tone heavy as he breathed heavily. Why was it suddenly so hard to complete such a necessary task? Why were his thoughts veering off the path of safety?

Oz grinned impishly, thinking belatedly that the sake tasted a lot less bitter on Gilbert—it almost had a sweet taste. He brought his mouth slowly up from the middle of Gilbert's chest to his collar where he lapped at the alcohol, a small suckle subsequent.

"Y-y-young Master," Gilbert whimpered, eyelashes falling over heavy golden eyes. His hands, useless things they were, balled at his sides, nails digging into the soft flesh of his skin. If he had been in his right mind, he may have just fled the scene in embarrassment for acting the way he was. Instinctively, he stayed put and tilted his head back a fraction. Oz's hair tickled against his neck and—and his tongue felt so sinfully right but ticklish and—and god

Oz finally removed his mouth from Gilbert's skin, leaving the area not only damp but a red, as if suffering from a rash. Curiously, he looked up. His throat became dry again at the look of on Gilbert's face. He remained silent; watching as his best friend struggled to breathe, taking deep breaths. His chest, below him, was rising and falling quickly, shallowly. It was beautiful. Licking his lips yet again, Oz averted his gaze, trying to will the image away. He still tasted the sake on his lips—and the taste of distinctively Gilbert—and found himself memorized by running his own tongue over his lips.

Idle hands are the devil's playground.

Oz's right hand shortly after sought out Gilbert's hip, taking hold of the area. His gaze did not return to Gilbert and lingered on a far-off object. His breathing at that point had become uneven as well. He wasn't sure what to blame at that point—his own devious actions, the sake Oscar had given them, or Gilbert's reactions.

But that shirt needed to go.

Oz's attention returned to the opened shirt. With ease, he slipped his fingers under the silky folds, pushing it to the side. The shirt slid effortlessly off Gilbert's shoulders, down his skinny arms, off his limbs, and onto the floor.

Neither said anything about the location of Oz's previously mentioned jacket.

"…So what thoughts, Gil?"

Oz's voice was rough, shaky. The wavering of it surprised him beyond belief. He wasn't one to become flustered. He wasn't one to lose his composure. And yet here he was, confused, baffled, and utterly intrigued to the point of childish clumsiness.

"W-what?" Gilbert asked, shivering.

"Those thoughts you had," Oz explained and allowed his eyes to traverse Gilbert's exposed chest—he had seen it before, but for some reason… "What were they exactly?"

"T-t-that's….I don't…" Gilbert shamefully shut his eyes and tried to shift away, but Oz's position above him prevented that. The couch was only so big.

"…If Gil won't tell me, that's okay," Oz began, lowering his mouth once more. This time, instead of Gilbert's soft chest, his lips timorously found the boy's navel. His tongue darted out and collected the drops of sake that had soaked through Gilbert's shirt earlier. In one fluid motion, the sake was on his tongue and down his throat, leaving him thirsty for more.

A strangled whimper escaped Gilbert at that. The boy's lips involuntarily, on their own accord, rose and his small frame twisted. It tickled and it caused a sharp wave of something to run down his spine and then throughout his body.

"Y-young…Master…what…are you … doing?" Gilbert whispered, mind bogged down from the feeling and the sake still pulsing through his system. He wasn't sure which was more powerful.

"…Helping you clean up~" Oz responded matter-of-factly. His lips cascaded against his servant's skin again, teasing the flesh around the small indent with a suckle. An amused noise left the back of Oz's throat. Gilbert's little squirms and noises were adorable and—and just what was he doing. Why was he taking so much pleasure in this 'aid'.

"…M-master is kind, then," Gilbert choked out and blushed hotter.

Oz felt guilty and he brought his lips away, about to move away and find that jacket. True, he may be suffering from an alcohol-induced high, but he knew the consequences of his actions. Gilbert wasn't stupid. He'd realize that this wasn't just kindhearted help. No, this was something forbidden, lustful—but damn did it feel great.

Gilbert's hand found Oz's face before the boy could recoil too much.

Oz blinked.


"…Y-young Master's hands are…" Gilbert's hand dropped from Oz's face and found Oz's left. Without finishing his statement, the servant boy sheepishly stared at the appendage he had captured. Oz was about to question what the young servant was getting at but he ceased all cognitive skills when a warm, wet, tight sensation found the pads of his fingers, engulfing his index and middle.

Gil was…

Oz's throat was dry again and he was becoming uncomfortably warm. He laughed a bit uneasily, trying not to let that feral noise escape him. He gulped and watched out of the corner of his eye as his friend cleaned his fingers of the drying sake, tongue shyly touching each and every pad.

Something was just so dreadfully wrong about what they were doing.

Gilbert released Oz's hand and he offered a small, loyal smile. His eyes were still lost in a haze. The image of loyalty, innocence, submission . Oz's mental stability snapped and he brought his hands down upon his best friend's shoulders. His breathing was unsteady and his heart racing. Thump. Thumpthumpthump. Gilbert's eyes widened at the sudden pressure but he said nothing, a small smile still present. Oz watched him, a similar haze filling them.

Neither said anything. The small, little game they had played—friend to friend, master to servant, servant to master—was declared a tie. There was no need for any more advances.

Oz wasn't a stranger to what he was about to do. The library was expansive and his young mind was curious and the gossip around the estate always caught his ears and—

And the thought of doing this with Gilbert never crossed his mind seriously until the boy had panted his name like that earlier and just damnit, it was the only time Gilbert had ever managed to get him so damn flustered.

Oz's lips connected with Gilbert's, desperately. His tongue slipped out immediately, poking at the servant's lips. Gilbert responded eagerly, messily, hands finding Oz's sides. They remained inert apart from that, idle and useless.

As the kiss progressed from awkward, warm, wet meshing to full-blown, passionate, get-as-close-to-you-as-possible kissing, Oz's hands found his friend's hips once more. His tongue traveled along Gilbert's lips and then inside the moist, hot mouth. It was interesting how different a person could taste. It was unique and it was distinctive. Oz's tongue continued tracing the shivering cavern, gums, teeth and all. It was new to him but it was nature and just—Gilbert.

When the kiss broke, a glistening strand of saliva connecting them, Oz buried his mouth against Gilbert's neck. He was laughing, almost brokenly, and clutching at his best friend for dear life.

"Y-young Ma—"

"Please, Gil…Oz," he whispered against the flesh, breathing unstably and shuddering.

"I…" Gilbert processed the name and didn't say anything more, a bit alarmed. "….A-are you o-okay….?"

Oz laughed weakly again and looked up to Gilbert, a flash of something different in his eyes. "…More than I've ever been." Because without his mother, he had been without true affection. His father was naturally a cold person and now that Gilbert was able to provide this…his heart was swelling and he didn't feel quite as alone—quite as worthless.

Gilbert flushed at that statement and awkwardly began looking at random objects.

"Gil…" Oz smiled; honestly smiled, and reached up to brush his friend's bangs back. He tilted his head down and kissed the servant's forehead, inhaling his beautiful scent. Like a small little cat, Gilbert leaned into the touch.

Oz allowed himself to treasure the small moment—adding it to a small box in his mind of things never to be tainted by future darkness or woes. He stayed like that for a few seconds before bringing his mouth near his servant's ear, breath warm against the sensitive cartilage.

"…Hey Gil?"


"What…you did earlier," Oz whispered, lips lightly touching the shell of Gilbert's ear.

"….Yes?" Gulp.

Oz didn't respond, unable to think of a proper way to ask for what he desired. His body was painfully warm and his pants, oh his pants.

"…M-….Oz?" It sounded so strange.

"…Can Gil do it again?"

"…O-of course, whatever the Young Master wants. B-but why…" He trailed off when Oz moved his face away, blushing deeply. Gilbert took the hint and his mouth formed a small 'o'. He nodded and moved to take Oz's hand again but paused. He watched his master with unwavering curiosity and happiness. A certain thought entertained him. Eventually, the boy took Oz's hand. Instead of giving the fingers innocent licks as he had previously had, he engulfed the fingers once more in heat. Once the digits were in his mouth, he shyly curled his tongue around them. When he withdrew his tongue, he sucked inward, eyes closing in concentration.

A barely audible grunt of pleasure came from Oz. The blond was quite glad Gilbert's eyes were closed because at that point, not only was he shivering, but he was shifting, trying to ignore the painful throbbing that was centralizing south.

After a few minutes, Gilbert released the fingers with a soft 'pop'. He looked to Oz, noting the sudden look of discomfort. "…D-d-did I do something wrong?" he asked worriedly.

Oz shook his head, breathing heavily again. "…No…it's nothing…don't worry, Gil~"

Gilbert seemed to believe those words, but his actions caught Oz off guard entirely. A small pressure was suddenly where he so desperately wanted it. Just a soft palm against the fabric of his pants and—oh god.

"Gil…" Oz whimpered, hips pushing into the innocent touch. "How…where…" How did the young servant realize what he was skirting around? How…Was Gilbert more assertive when he had sake in him? More assertive and passive all at once?

"…M-M-Mrs. Kate m-made me learn a-about things l-like this because s-s-she didn't want me to….to accidentally do s-something not knowing the consequences," Gilbert whispered, his ears burning. "T-there…were b-b-books and…"

Oz nodded in slow understanding. "…Of course," he whispered and hung his head low, trying not to shamelessly push against the hand. He felt so pathetic having to ask his servant for such things—shouldn't he be the one pleasuring the boy and just—

"P-Please relax," Gilbert urged softly, so softly, and his hand pressed down, moving in a circular motion.

Oz's admirable restraint broke and he moaned his best friend's name, shuddering increasingly. His mouth fell slightly open, bits and pieces of words falling from them as the dark-haired boy shyly continued feeling his friend through his pants. It was clumsy, it was awkward, but it was perfect.

"G-gil…" Oz choked out and couldn't help but tilt his head back, gasping for air. The plethora of pleasure that was gushing through him was so incredible. He was certain that if he had been standing he would have collapsed on the spot.

Gilbert acknowledged his name with a shy nod and he increased both the pressure and tempo, mentally berating himself for considering touching the area directly. Whatever Master Oz wanted he'd give—even in his hazed mind he knew that much.

New to the experience, it didn't take long for Oz's body to go over limit. His senses shut off for a second, being trapped in a dazzling array of satisfaction. Utter bliss. His muscles spasmed and he arched forward, clutching at the couch beneath him as he came, whimpering his friend's name along the way. His hips moved into the warm hand, even after his orgasm hit. The pricks of lingering pleasure that came with the after-orgasm remained for a good minute before dying off, leaving him numb, shivering, and giddier than usual. And quite sweaty.

"…Gil," Oz said when he managed to regain his voice. Sweat-laced bangs clung to his face, concealing his eyes.

"Y-yes?" Gilbert whispered, face still burning.

"…Thank you," he decided in a whisper.

Gilbert blinked in surprise, nodded, and smiled. "…A-anything for you…"

Oz shivered at the statement and found Gilbert's mouth with his own, engaging the two into another searing kiss. His motor-skills were severely lacking and he felt suddenly tired. His sake high was ending and it was becoming hard to breathe and—

Oz retreated from the warm kiss. He clutched at his head, a wave of nausea assaulting him. Too much too soon and—and now he was getting a headache and…

"…Y-you should p-probably lay down," Gilbert suggested, as meek as ever.

Oz nodded and peeked back at Gilbert. Despite his undeniable urges to do things to the boy, the alcohol side effects prevented him from acting. He averted his gaze and extended his hand. "…W-we should both get cleaned up and do that, yeah."

Gilbert nodded and he blushed again. "…H-happy birthday," he added on, timidly finding his master's hand. He held it gently—fingers even gentler in their caresses.

Since the first time in quite a few years, Oz didn't mind feeling weak or defenseless. Maybe he didn't need his mask all the time. Maybe if he maintained that childish demeanor for a bit longer, he'd be happy. But no matter what, this made him happy. Gilbert. Gil.

The Bezarius looked back up and smiled, tightening their hands. "…Stay with me for the night after we finish?" A simple request.

Gilbert gulped and nodded shyly. "….Of course."

Oz grinned and then closed his eyes. He'd get up eventually.

"…Thank you."

For everything Gilbert.