Dedication: Kamixyu

Why? Because we were discussing the small number of smutty Break / Raven things out there...and she deserves this for being amazing? And colouring me that panel. Oh yes bby, I'm calling you out for that. Anyhow, to all others, enjoy?... It's not completely smutty, but it's enough, okay? My attention span for actual lemons is nill and nun. But leave a review nonetheless?


"You should really smile more, Gil. Your face is going to get stuck like that and I'll have a reason to make fun of you forever!"

"Oz, that's-!" It's not that easy.

"Take my hand, Gil. And smile, okay?"

It's just not that easy. Taking his hand, it'd be a luxury.

"Gil, what's wrong?..."

"How long will you be gone?..."

A sad, little smile. "I thought I told you not to bring that up when you're here… Gil, you're such a downer."

It's not that easy.

"How long will I have to search for you?"

"I don't know."

"How long will I be alone, master…?"

"Keep faith, Gil…don't give up, okay?"


His eyes fluttered open, taking in the cool moonlight that painted along the blankets and his tangled limbs. A sigh escaped him, disrupting the bangs on his face. Slowly, the drowsy man threw the blankets off his body, having to adjust his body to accomplish such a feat. Another sigh followed. A hand came up to rest on his forehead, touching beads of cold sweat. A third sigh and then a groan, the image of a blonde boy flickering in and out of focus behind a heavy curtain of eyelashes. The boy's fingers curled inward, beckoning, wishing, pleading, and he tried to reach out, to take that hand from that boy, who was still as beautiful as the day he left, but every time he got close, he fell. Into a field. Down and down into a pit of black feathers, each stained at the tip with blood of the departed. And that smiling boy would frown and turn his back to him.


Automatically, the man reached for the small pack of cigarettes on the nightstand. With a quick flick of his wrist, he had a white stick lodged between his fingers. He groped for the lighter next. The black object, with an intricately carved raven upon it, came ablaze within seconds, teasing the tip of the cigarette. A fire appeared and the strong and heavy scent of tobacco filled the bedroom. It tasted like sins and regrets.

He took a slow, deliberate drag of the object before moving to stand up. The blankets that he hadn't completely removed from his slender form pooled at his waist and then fell haphazardly down upon the bed.

How long had it been so far? Almost ten years now?

The cigarette suddenly tasted far bitterer. He scoffed and moved to the small desk nestled in the corner of the room. Once there, he took a seat. There was a letter from a man named Reim, in regards to his master Rufus Barma, and—and there was a letter from the Nightrays, requesting his return to the household for a week in the future, all addressed to one Raven Nightray.

Had he really fallen that low? That far? Where his old name—GilbertGilbertGilbert—was no longer acknowledged? No longer a part of him? What a damned pity.

After shuffling the letters into a partially neat pile, Gilbert leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, neck making an unpleasant crack. How long had he slept curled up like that? In that weak position, knees pulled tight, closed in. A good while, no doubt.

Somewhere along the line, the cigarette that had been dangling precariously out of Gilbert's mouth dropped. It landed on the pile, producing small embers. Cursing angrily, Gilbert made a move to brush it away but only ended up burning the tips of his fingers. Eventually, though, he put out the cigarette, much to his disdain.

What time was it, anyhow?

"I thought all birds were nested at this hour."

Gilbert twitched. The muscles in his hand tensed, impulsively forming a fist as he brushed away the ashes that his cigarette had caused. "Break, it's late."

"That's what I said," the man chuckled. His form was barely distinguishable in the moonlight shadows, resting against the doorway.

"What do you want?" Gilbert deadpanned, giving the courtesy of flicking his gaze in Break's general direction. Just for a second. Or two, rather.

"I heard scuffling and was wondering why you would be awake at such an hour."

"Does it matter?" Gilbert sighed out and disdainfully offered his full attention to the man.

"Of course~!"

Why didn't he expect that as a retort? "I couldn't sleep—happy?"

"Enthused," Break responded and sauntered casually into the room, one red eye fixed on the man's desk. "What were you reading that you decided to burn, hm?"

"It was an accident," Gilbert muttered, returning to brushing away the ashes. Great, just great. He had burnt the letter from the Nightrays and from the Barmas and now he was definitely screwed if he ever needed to present those letters for whatever reason and - "Hey!"

Before he had time to react, other than an interjection, Break had snatched up the charred letters. A clicking of this tongue ensued. After a few seconds, a single red eye peered over the top of the crisp edges, madly centered on Gilbert. Logically, Gilbert stared back, quite unnerved.


"You didn't tell me Count Nightray wished for your audience next week," Break hummed, though his words sounded far more sinister beneath that sugary-sweet lilt.

"I'm not going, it doesn't matt—" Gilbert began but was silenced when the letters unexpectedly thwacked him upside the head. "Dammit! What the hell was that for?"

Break smirked lazily, one hand coming to rest on his hip as he leisurely scanned the papers a second time. "But you must. I can't have my spy alienating himself from those rats at such a crucial point like this!"

"…Crucial?" Gilbert grumbled, rubbing his head in the spot Break had hit.

"Quite," said Break before he hopped up on the edge of the desk, "We're close to saving that precious master of yours, after all."

"You've been saying that for nearly ten years—" Gilbert began angrily, eyes narrowed.

"Are you giving up hope, little black bird?" An arched brow.

Gilbert flinched. He recoiled and leaned back in the chair, wincing a second time at the sharp pain that shot up through his spine, half from Break's words, half from the chair. "Of course I'm not giving up hope, idiot. I just don't appreciate you continuing to lead me on like that."

Instantly, Break broke into a chorus of uncalled for laughter.

"What now?"

"You've always been such the charmer, Raven," Break teased, waving a hand dismissively. "To think that you'd be useful in more ways than just a spy! You never cease to amaze me, my little prodigy."

Gilbert's eye twitched. "You are the most insufferable person I've ever had to deal with."

"I would think," Break agreed, "considering you spent the years you can remember in the Bezarius household. The heroes. The family of light. With that splendid little god-like master of yours. How did it go again?" Break's hands had come up to the sides of his face before his fingers violently tugged at his own hair, forcing a look of intense, histrionically fake panic and horror. " 'Y-Young Master Oz, please don't torture me w-with the cats! I'll do anything!' "


"But really, Raven." The teasing lilt was gone for the time being. "You really ought to inform me of the next time those rats message you."

Gilbert deflated, just enough to pass the discarded letters a glare. "It wasn't worth mentioning."

"Oh, but it is," Break refuted and reached into his pocket, producing a piece of candy. With a hum, he brought it to his lips and gave the sweet treat a lick. "Didn't you know? They're trying to recover Oz as well."

"…What?" That was news to him alright.

"I've heard rumors, from Pandora, mind you, that the Nightrays are in close association with the Baskervilles. How, when, and who, I do not know, but what I do know is enough to make me weary of them. I would advise you to proceed to their mansion with caution, if you so do choose to keep ties with that…charming brother of yours."


A nod.

"Right." Gilbert closed his eyes. "I doubt they're going to do anything. I…have Raven, don't I? That's enough to deter them from getting to the abyss."

"You aren't thinking of going on your own, right~?"

Gilbert winced. "It'd be the easiest way to save him."

"And get trapped yourself? Really, you're far too selfish. I'd rather only have to rescue one incompetent fool from the abyss."

A low growl. "Why are you still here?"

"Why indeed~ Perhaps I just wanted to hear a report on our current standings with our operation?"

Gilbert sighed and brought a hand to his head. "Can't we talk about this in the morning? It's late."

"So moody," Break mocked and reached out to flick his fingers against Gilbert's forehead. "You may be in the family that is cast in the shadows, but you should know better. You belonged to the light at first, didn't you?"

Gilbert's throat went dry and he looked away. "I was adopted. They felt sorry for me."

"Are you regretting their hospitality?"

"What? No!" Gilbert looked harshly at the smirking man, trying his best to suppress the urge to shoot him right in the face. With Break, that urge was always present.

"Then don't disappoint your master when he returns. It's simple, really. Stay in the light long enough to bring the one you cherish out of the darkness." Break's gaze drifted to the window in the back of the room. "But, my precious left eye, never fall victim to greed. For the moment you do, any chance of happiness you have will leave you."

"…There you go again, with the things I don't understand," Gilbert grumbled with a shake of his head.

"I often forget I'm speaking to a child, my apologies," Break said with a mocking smile.

"…You're an idiot," Gilbert muttered and folded his arms to his chest.

"And you're no fun."

"You're insufferable."

"You're dull."

"You're on my desk."

"You're in my house."

"You're in my room."

"In my house~"

"…You're annoying."

"You're moody."

"You're insufferable."

"You're repetitive."

Gilbert clenched his teeth together and reached to grab the man's collar, barely managing to take hold of it. "And you're keeping me from sleep."

Break smirked, the initial look of stun fading into bitter amusement. "And you're awfully close, now aren't you, Raven?" He watched as the dark-haired man's face drained of colour. "Tell me, what have those rats made you do? Kill, seduce, charm? Tell me, I've been wanting to know just how low their minds have plummeted into the shadows."

"I killed only those I had to," Gilbert said in defense of himself.

"And how many was that? One, two, ten, a hundred?" A brow quirking. "How far will you go for that master? How far will you go to keep that light in your life?"

"You just!... You're confusing."

"This again? Very well then." A smirk. Out of nowhere, long, pale fingers found the side of Gilbert's face, drifting along his chiseled face, tediously and with purpose. "You're pale."

"So what? You're scrawny."

"Ouch, Raven." He watched as Gilbert tried to shrink away from the fingers, but instead remained in place defiantly. "You're trembling, aren't you?"

"You're too inquisitive for your own good."

"You're not funny one bit."

"You're invasive," said Gilbert, golden eyes trained to Break's hands that had decided to slip down his exposed neck, tracing over his artery. Impulsively, he gulped.

"You're still a child."

"You're wrong."

Break cocked his head to the side. The implications of that statement were intriguing, to say the least. A moment of silence rang through the bedroom before Gilbert cleared his throat, unnecessarily loudly, hoping to deter the man. "Am I?" he finally asked, silvery eyebrow lifted. "Are you not a child anymore, Gilbert? Would you care to demonstrate what makes you an adult, other than your physical appearance and numerical age?"

"…Excuse me?"

"I don't believe you, little black bird. I call your bluff." A charming, sinister, sarcastic, and daresay seductive little smirk.

"Break!" Gilbert growled, a bit too loudly, which resulted in a swift smack to the head. The man remained close, uncomfortably so, even after the fact.

"Speak too loud and you'll wake the Princess," he warned, mocking a pout.

"You're…" Gilbert groaned and shook his head. "I'm not a child," he repeated, the evidence obvious.

"Oh? So you think killing makes you an adult? My hope in humanity is depleting. And depleting."

"I'm not saying that—"

"But that's what you said, did you not? Or implied." That smirk was back. "But, if you insist that's not what you meant, tell me. What makes you an adult, Gilbert? Because in my eyes, you're still that servant boy I found cowering in the cold forest, lost and afraid."

"Why don't you believe me?" Gilbert's eyebrows knitted together in frustration. That stupid smirk on Break's face was really grating on his

"I told you, if you become their adopted child, you will definitely stain your hands in blood," Break recited flawlessly and reached down, still on the desk. He stole one of Gilbert's hands and brought it to the space between them. "And these hands are definitely stained."

Gilbert winced and looked away, despite the warmth that flooded through him from the contact. It was rare that the idiot wasn't wearing his gloves, nor was he, and he had forgotten what actual contact felt like. "And what if they are? I've done everything to bring Oz back. I don't regret it."

"Of course you don't."

"You don't really need to believe me. You should just use me. Just as I am going to use you."

Gilbert blinked, surprise filling his eyes. He watched in disbelief as the Pandora member brought his captured hand up to his lips. For a second, time stood still. A snicker followed before a pale, teasing tongue slipped out, darting along the tip of his index finger.

"…Break?" His throat was tight and dry.

"Didn't I tell you that all those years ago?~ Then use me, Gilbert. I've used you, haven't I? As a spy and a subordinate. And a bodyguard for Miss Sharon."

Gilbert watched in morbid fascination as Break's tongue curled around his finger. His face scorched a fetching shade of red in the moonlight, accompanied with a knotting sensation in his stomach. Not one of worry or suspense, but one of the warm kinds that made it suddenly very hot in the room.

"Or are you really still a child?"

Gilbert snorted, torn between defeat, embarrassment, disgust, and a childish drive for competition. He was always at odds with this man. Always fighting, always trying to impress him—for some goddamn reason he didn't even understand himself—always trying to be better and stronger. Yet something caught his attention, more than the lack of an eye, the Chain, and the way he carried himself.

There was darkness.

There was a pain in that single red eye that enthralled him. A shared pain—a shared lost. This man had lost something precious to him, just as he had. His attempts, Gilbert had concluded, had ended in vain, and instead of turning him bitter and harsh, instead forced him to put on a mask.

Sure, there were smiles and grins and laughs, all-the-goddamn-time, but none of them were real, Gilbert had decided early on. It was the same day he realized most of Oz's smiles later in life had been fake.

In a way, Break was like the both of them. Putting up a front with a twisted, dark past. Fake like them.

It was tempting and it was like Oz and it was right in front of him this time, teasing, coaxing, pushing, just like Break always did.

"You're disappointing," Break teased, making a move to drop the hand. "And you're obviously tired, so I shall leave you to your rain-cloud, Gilbert. Do sleep well, because tomorrow will be quite busy and I'd rather you didn't fall asleep in the back of the carriage, even though you're so cut—"

Break was pointedly cut off from his lilting rant when hands took up residency on the desk on either side of his thighs. Break spared a glance down at them and then at Gilbert, who was meeting his gaze with a furtive stare.

"Yes, Gilbert?"

Gilbert used his hand placement as leverage to lift off the chair, feet still planted firmly on the ground. He lifted enough to slam his lips against Break's up-turned lips, rendering the pair of them senseless and speechless.

Neither did anything for a moment. The locking of lips had obviously been one of those power-struggle attempts to shut the other up, creative as it was, but neither moved from it. They were used to various types of abuse from one another; ten years had that effect, but…

"You really ought to quit that nasty habit of yours," Break whispered against their lips, fighting back a snigger.

"Would you shut up?" Gilbert growled, reaching up to fist a handful of Break's hair. Forcefully, he dragged the man closer, feeling his body slump, nearly falling off the desk.

"Another sin of ours?" Break teased, easily taking control of the kiss as he regained his balance. His lips, cold and yet endearing, pressed hard back against Gilbert's, effectively capturing his lower, rolling it between his own. His hands soon after found Gilbert's shoulders, playfully toying with the ends of curly black hair as he flicked his tongue to the man's lips.


Gilbert quirked a brow at the pronoun but said nothing, returning the messy clashing of lips. His mind began to become bogged down by a circulating, desirable warmth. His skin pricked from the heat, his body stirred, and his breath grew hoarse. When Break finally let his lips go, swollen and the deal, he gawked at the Pandora member wordlessly.

"Speechless?" Break teased with that charismatic smirk back in place. "I always knew I was talented, but~"

Gilbert scoffed, half in stifled laughter and half in annoyance. With Break, it was always a mixture. "I'm going to hell for this," he murmured decidedly, knowing that, somehow and some way, he was betraying Oz. He was betraying everything right about society, and even betraying himself.

Didn't he hate this man?

Didn't he want to shoot his brains out for being an insensitive pest?

Then why the hell did he want this so bad?

"Weren't you already?" Break tsked, fingertips drifting down Gilbert's biceps before they came to rest at the man's wrists. With a smirk, the Pandora member curled his fingers around Gilbert's wrists, using the connection as leverage to hoist himself up and off the desk—and pointedly into his subordinate's lap.

"…Break? The hell?"

"It was becoming uncomfortable sitting on such hard wood," Break explained care freely, that wicked smirk oh-so dazzling. "However, I don't think this is much better, now is it?"


Break giggled in amusement, that mocking little laugh that a man shouldn't possess, and brought his lips to Gilbert's once again. And that effectively shut Gilbert up.

It wasn't that hard to find the buttons on Gilbert's pants, nor was it any harder to remove them, despite the man being in a sitting position. It was even easier to dispose of Break's, mainly because the man's hips were just that scrawny and the way he moved…it was like he did this all the time.

The shirts, though, remained. There was some form of understanding between them, unspoken as it was. Even if Gilbert knew nothing of the full seal on the man's chest, he knew well enough to not make a move to remove the article after the first time his fingers were nonchalantly brushed away from it. And Break knew full well not to mess with Gilbert's, because of the scar that littered his previously unmarred, beautiful skin. The shirts remained, despite how awkward they were. It was almost as if they desired to remain attached to this moment, rather, than face the gruesome past of one another. To be reminded of where they were in life; what they had done.

"I didn't know you could be this vocal, my little black bird," Break chuckled as his lips descended down Gilbert's arched neck, causing the man to arch off the back of the chair, right up against the other's hips. A low moan escaped Gilbert's seconds later, the smallest amount of friction driving the otherwise sexually deprived man off the wall.

It wasn't like he even liked Break this way…but the pleasure, oh damn the pleasure, was well worth the embarrassment. His body needed, craved, wanted this, and right about now, he didn't care to argue.

"Keep moving that much and you'll deprive yourself of dessert," Break mused as he nipped at Gilbert's neck, smirking when the man released a muffled groan of satisfaction.

As Break's lips traveled down Gilbert's neck, warming the skin with both heat and moisture, his hand roamed to where Gilbert's shirt ended. The hem of it was innocently concealing what lay beneath. What had previously been undeclared off-bounds.

"Why do you talk so damn much?" Gilbert breathed out in annoyance, hands fumbling down the man's back as he traced over the pale skin he could find. It bothered him to no end that he was making all these pleased, hot, desperate noises, and Break was, apart from his chatter, no doing anything like that. He was just being his usual insufferable self.

"Does my voice displease you, Gilbert?" Break wondered, removing his lips from Gilbert's neck with a soft pop. He smirked, head cocked to the side lazily, bangs still hiding where an eye once lay.

Gilbert merely muttered in response, breathing heavily. Without warning, his hand slid from the man's hips, down upon his thighs. He watched carefully, stubbornly, waiting for a change in Break's person. Anything, really.

And when that change did come, as Gilbert timorously moved his hand up along his thigh, coming to brush against hardened flesh, it struck home.

The usually playful, caricature-filled man's face contorted. Contorted into a look of undeniable conflict. Struggling. Struggling not to give into the pleasure. He noticeably bit his lip and kept his hips still, forcing out an amused, fake little chuckle.

"Someone's eager, isn't he~?" he teased, but it sounded far more spaced out than usual, laced with a heaviness previously unknown.

And, oddly, Gilbert liked it.

"You're such an idiot," Gilbert grumbled with a small shake of his head, chest rising and falling rapidly, as his fingers brushed along the side of the other man's shaft, up to the tip. He watched in fascination as Break fought back a moan, only for the sound to come out a few seconds later, broken as it was.

"You know," Gilbert began, tilting his head closer to brush his lips against Break's ear, "you don't have to be an ass about this—just be normal for once."

A hum grew in Break's throat in response, but it was lost when Gilbert's roughened fingers traced over the slit of his erection. An indisputable moan escaped him.

"Was that so hard?" Gilbert questioned in all seriousness, brow quirked, as he toyed with the slit, index finger becoming covered in a thin layer of liquid.

"My….how the tables have…turned, Gilbert," Break breathed out, voice weighted down with shuddering pleasure as he pushed into the hand, head tipped down shamefully. His bangs hid his only eye, keeping his gaze away from Gilbert.

He was really far too proud, wasn't he?

Gilbert opted not to respond and instead moved his lips down onto the man's neck. A soft noise fluttered from Break's lips in response, followed by a muffled grunt of pleasure from the hand on his member.

"Break," Gilbert began, noting how badly the man was trying to cover up each and every action, as if he was going to be ridiculed.



"Kevin," Break corrected, voice airy and disconnected as he chanced a glance up at Gilbert, that usual twinkle in his red eye. "If you're going to use me in such ways as this…Gilbert, then I'd prefer it if you called me by my real name, no matter how much I wish to be distanced from it."

Gilbert blinked a few times, trying not to blush from the mischievous look that had grown in his 'friend's' eye. He swallowed and nodded, still a bit confused. It was odd, that name, because he had always known Break as Xerxes Break and just—just Kevin was different.

Even when he was reducing Break to such a state of writhing 'submission', the man still had aces up his sleeves that easily shoved Gilbert back into place. Back into that servant position, no matter how noble he had become.

"Now, finish what you've started, hm?" Break lilted, hand coming to rest on Gilbert's hip.

Gilbert nodded absently, still trying not to fume over just how infuriating Break could be. His hand adjusted itself and gave a pump to the man's erection. The hot puff of breath that followed sent shivers down Gilbert's spine. How a person could be so maddening and yet so addictive was mindboggling.

But it's not that easy.

Even with Break on top of him, his own back pressed tightly to a chair, mouth searching along Break's neck, tasting, biting, nipping, exploring, even with his hands pleasuring the man, reducing him to moans, even with him being in control for once, it just wasn't that easy.

"You can…be a bit rougher, Gilbert, I'm not going to break~…"

Because, between the kissing, the tongue, the hot breaths, the mouth that was going down—and down, and down—and the fingers in his hair, and the taste of pre-cum in his mouth, and the way Break tried his damndest not to mutter his name in obvious satisfaction, and the way he was getting too hot and bothered himself, his mind still traveled.

To that innocently beautiful blonde master from ten years ago. To those mischievous smiles, to the laughs, to the dreams, to the torture—everything Break was doing, was saying, was emanating, reminded him of Oz.


It was a sick way of looking at things, but it was true, and it frustrated Gilbert, because it just wasn't that easy.

"Gi—" His name was choked out, as if a hushed prayer. It was amazing, he had to admit, to see Break react so positively to this kind of 'torture'.

Even when he was on a chair, seducing the man who he was supposedly working for, even when they were tightly locked at the mouth, frantically trying to get closer and closer and grinding, it just was not that easy.

Because life wasn't easy. Forgetting wasn't easy. Killing wasn't easy. Saving Oz wasn't easy…and neither were the games he was involved in.

And Xerxes Break was definitely not any easier.