Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/142082.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Pandora_Hearts
  Relationship:
      Oz_Vessalius/Gilbert_Nightray
  Character:
      Oz_Vessalius, Gilbert_Nightray
  Collections:
      Yuletide_2010
  Stats:
      Published: 2010-12-20 Words: 4176
****** The Walrus and the Carpenter ******
by Chichirinoda
Summary
     Oz and Gilbert find themselves in a difficult situation, with Gilbert
     injured and the two of them trapped far from aid. But Oz has an idea
     or two for how to pass the time, and Gilbert is more than happy to
     serve if required.
Notes
     Anime canon only. I'm sorry, I haven't read the manga, so if there
     are any inconsistencies, please forgive me.
A hammer smashed down against the cobbles, barely missing B. Rabbit as the two
Chains fought. Cobbles flew in all directions and Gil reflexively tightened his
hold on Oz, drawing him back down the street so they wouldn't be hit by stones
the size of Gil's fist. The river was behind them, but there was a bridge
nearby, and he felt his heel hit the wooden planks of the bridge as he backed
up.
"Gil! Where are we going?" Oz protested, trying to extricate himself.
"Just giving her a bit of room to fight," Gil said. He loosened his hold a
little, but Oz surged forward, and Gil grabbed for him once more, fumbling his
gun out of its holster with the other hand. "Please don't go up there, Oz!" he
exclaimed. "She's fine."
Indeed, B. Rabbit was doing as well as ever, slashing with her scythe as the
doll-like Chain raised its hammer and waved it through the air, trying to smash
her out of the sky. She dodged the heavy weapon and slashed at the human-shaped
Chain's arm, and blood spurted, spattering a nearby building. The thing was
three stories tall.
The Chain's human contractor screamed and clutched at his arm, shouting
imprecations at his Chain and epithets at the flying rabbit as B. Rabbit drew
back to prepare for her next attack.
It was yet another Chain in a long succession of battles that they had fought
over the last several weeks. The trio were all growing frustrated, as they'd
travelled all over the countryside in accordance with Xerxes Break's
instructions, but none of the Chains they'd fought held any of Alice's
memories.
Oz all but vibrated against Gil, watching the fight with concerned eyes. The
taller man's arm wound around the boy's shoulders to hold him back, but Oz
didn't actually struggle against him any longer as Gil cocked his gun and tried
to take aim. Perhaps he could at least give that stupid rabbit a bit of help,
but at this range and this angle he was as likely to hit her as the enemy
Chain.
He pulled Oz another few steps back, further out onto the bridge, then turned
and took aim at the side of the Chain's head. From this angle there was less of
a chance of hitting B. Rabbit by mistake.
A slight movement in an alley up ahead caught his attention and he spared a
look, seeing another man emerge boldly into the street between them and the
fighting Chains.
"Hey, hey there!" Oz shouted at the man over the sound of flying stones and
smashing brick. "Are you crazy? Take cover!"
The newcomer pivoted and smiled at them, and Gil felt a chill. The new man
looked identical to the other contractor, from the colour of his eyes to the
shape of his face.
Twins?
That was when the second massive Chain erupted from the water beneath them and
took out the bridge.
Oz yelled in surprise and grabbed for Gil, wrapping his arms around him as they
both began to fall in a cloud of flying splinters and crumbling stone.
Desperately, Gil twisted about in mid-air, arm still wrapped securely around
his master to hold the boy against his chest, and emptied his gun into the
gaping maw of the creature. It had enormous tusks jutting down from its mouth,
and wide whisker-like tentacles that reached for them from either side of its
huge mouth, reaching to draw them inside.
Gil fired and fired, and the Chain roared and recoiled, turning away. A huge
flat tail rose up like a glistening wall and smashed against them as the Chain
dove under the water's surface, bleeding from the head.
Gil felt the gun spin out of his hand at the impact. Then he had a distant
impression of water rising up to meet them too fast and a shock of cold before
oblivion crashed over him solidly and he knew nothing more.
                                     ~ ~ ~
Swimming up from unconsciousness, Gil heard a distant groan, and belatedly
realized that it had come from his own mouth. He shifted, coughing feebly, then
felt a weight impact him as something heavy was thrown across him.
He groaned again, pushing feebly at the weight, which was making it hard to
breathe again.
Then he realized it was Oz. Hugging him.
"Gil? Gil! Are you awake?"
Gil tried to reply, but all he could quite manage was another incoherent groan.
He pushed at Oz again and the boy sat up, taking the pressure off of his chest.
Oz wasn't crying, of course, but his eyebrows were drawn together in a pinched
expression of worry, and he looked rather like a drowned kitten with his blond
hair plastered down and his clothing ruined. His forehead smoothed with
cautious relief as their eyes met, and his lips lifted in a tentative smile.
"You're okay?"
Gil squeezed his eyes shut, taking an internal inventory. His head was
pounding, and he couldn't quite count the number of bruises and cuts he
probably had, but he hadn't drowned, so that was a plus. "What...what
happened?" he asked, his voice coming out a bit like a croak. "Where are we?"
Even as he spoke, memories of the fight and the Chains came flooding back, and
he began to struggle to sit up. He felt a firm hand press him back down to what
he now realized was bare earth. There was nothing but starry sky above them.
"We're at least a mile down river, as far as I can tell," Oz said wryly, always
so oddly unflappable in a crisis. Gil paused in his struggles to sit up and
looked up at him, concern making his forehead crease. Oz reached down to brush
a lock of hair out of Gil's eyes, then turned away to look up river. "I hope
Alice is okay."
"You'd know if she wasn't," Gil said with perfect certainty, closing his eyes
again for a moment as a wave of dizziness and nausea passed over him. Sitting
up had been a bad idea.
Oz was still petting him. It was an odd sensation, but definitely not one Gil
minded. He wished the boy would never stop, in fact, as Oz finger-combed
lightly through his wet and tangled curly hair.
He lay there in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the caress as much as he
could with his head pounding and his wet body growing colder and colder with
every gust of wind. But as he thought the questions just grew too insistent to
keep silent.
"How in God's name did you get me out of the water?" he asked finally, opening
his eyes. "Not to mention keep us from drowning?"
Oz smiled a little sheepishly. "There was this big piece of wood from the
bridge, and I managed to get you up onto it enough that your head was out of
the water. And then I just kept...trying to get to shore. It was really hard.
That's why it took me so long to get us out."
Gil smiled softly and lifted his hand, cupping Oz's cheek. Even his gloves were
soaked to transparency and his fingers trembled from the cold. He was sure that
his gun had to be gone forever, but that was something he'd worry about later.
"You are my stubborn master, and I failed completely. I should have been the
one protecting you, but you protected me again."
Oz shrugged, lifting a hand to cup Gil's and pressing against his palm. "You
didn't fail, Gil. If you hadn't been there, that Chain probably would have
killed me. You made it run away instead of eating us when you shot it."
"But I--"
"Stop." Oz's voice was a little stern, but his eyes were still smiling. "Can
you walk?"
Gil honestly wasn't sure. He nodded, though, determined to walk wherever Oz
needed him to go, no matter how uncomfortable it was. "Sure, I can walk."
"Okay, good, because I don't think I can carry you any further," Oz replied
with a soft laugh. "And I'm freezing."
That got Gil pushing himself up with numbed fingers and struggling to get to
his feet. Oz was cold, and possibly hurt. Gil needed to get Oz somewhere safe
and warm right away, before things could get worse.
He got to his feet, swayed a little, and then suddenly Oz was there, pushing
his shoulder up under Gil's arm. He grunted and wrapped his arm grudgingly
around Oz's shoulders, leaning on him a bit more than he would have wanted to,
but it was hard not to when he felt so dizzy.
He lifted his head and looked up river, but there was nothing ahead of them but
trees and the faint impression of buildings in the distance. He didn't know if
he was going to be able to make it all the way back to the city, but he had to
try.
"Are you well, Oz?" he asked, a little breathlessly as they began to walk. A
sharp pain was shooting up his right ankle with every step and he suspected
that he'd twisted his ankle as well. Thankfully his boot was still on, giving
the injury enough support to walk with Oz's help. "You're not hurt?"
"Just a bit bruised," Oz said in a reassuring tone. "Worry about yourself,
Gil."
I can't, Gil thought, falling silent.
The pain got worse with every step, especially as the sand and pebbles on the
shore of the river turned under his feet. Soon all Gil could really feel was
the agony wrapping around his ankle and the pain in his head seemed unimportant
by comparison. He gasped softly with each step, gritting his teeth so hard his
jaw groaned to try to keep in the pathetic whimpers.
"Not much further," Oz whispered. "Gil, we're almost there."
That was bullshit.
"I...I'm all right, Oz," Gil gasped.
Which was even more bullshit.
Suddenly there was a structure looming above him and he looked up, blinking
sweat from his eyes as he realized he'd been walking in a haze for the last
several minutes. Oz smiled at him and reached out, pulling at the door of the
small fishing shack. It opened with a groan of water-warped wood and they
stepped into the interior gloom and the strong scent of smoked fish.
There was a cot and a rickety table with a stool, and a few cupboards as well.
It actually looked as if it had been recently in use, and a mouldy heel of
bread lay in the corner, surrounded by nibbling rats. Oz led Gil to the table
and Gil sank down onto the stool with a grateful groan.
"Is it your foot?" Oz asked worriedly and dropped to one knee, examining his
booted foot.
The boy reached to unlace it and Gil quickly grabbed his hand, shaking his
head. "Don't. It'll be better to leave it on or it'll swell even more. It won't
hurt me to leave it alone for now."
Oz looked up at him, blue eyes faded slightly with worry. "O-oh, okay. But we
should really get out of these wet clothes, too."
Gil felt his cheeks reddening, but he had to acknowledge the truth of that. He
cast his eyes over to the cot with its small rat-chewed blanket, and sighed.
"We'll be cold."
"The clothes will dry," Oz said, jumping to his feet. "And then we'll be warm.
I...I'll see if there's any food, while you, um."
"And you?" Gil asked stubbornly.
"I...I'll just..." Oz made a vague gesture and then buried his blushing face in
the cupboard, rummaging through what sounded like cans.
Gil sighed and began to undress. He'd fight one battle at a time, and right now
the biggest battle he felt up to fighting was getting his pant leg over the
heel of his boot, since he couldn't take that boot off or he'd never be able to
walk back to the city.
Assuming he'd ever be able to walk back to the city in the first place. Maybe
some kind soul would come by to fish and have a horse-drawn carriage with them.
Maybe pigs would fly.
He wound up pulling out his pocket knife and cutting the cuff of his trousers
before they would come free. The fabric peeled off of him like the skin of a
fruit and he shivered as cold air hit him directly.
"There's nothing but canned oysters in here," Oz complained, straightening and
turning to Gil. Naked Gil.
Gil squeaked and dove for the bed, stumbled on his bad foot and sprawled on the
mattress. In a few quick movements, he had himself covered by a blanket, and
watched as a blushing Oz crossed the room and picked up his discarded clothing.
In the wake of that embarrassment, Gil tried to focus on how well Oz was
moving. It looked as if he really hadn't gotten hurt in the attack, thank
goodness, though he moved with some stiffness that bespoke bruises. Unlike Gil,
who had a stupid knot on his head and a completely pathetic sprained ankle.
"Never mind food," Gil said, his eyes tracking Oz across the room as he laid
the clothing out to dry on whatever furniture he could find. "What now?"
Oz was still blushing, the colour high on his cheeks. He looked at Gil, then
quickly away. "Turn around."
"Huh?" Gil blinked down at himself. "Why?"
"Just do it!"
Slowly as Gil turned to face the wall, it dawned on him that there was really
only one solution. He'd thought of it before, of course, but the wish
fulfillment had been way too obvious, and he'd been focusing on other things -
like pain and cold. But now that he lay shivering under the blankets, he felt
himself beginning to tense up in anticipation.
As he expected, soon he felt a slender body slip under the blanket next to him
and press up against his back.
"O-Oz!" Gil exclaimed, feeling the chill of Oz's fingers and toes as the boy
burrowed against him. "You're so cold."
"I'm sorry!" Oz exclaimed, twitching away, but Gil turned around to face him
and wrapped both arms around the boy, pulling him tight against his chest.
Behave, please behave, Gil told himself sharply, as if he could will away ten
years of a furtive, shameful fantasy life with a few moments of sheer
determination. Already he could feel his body beginning to flush as he warmed
in an entirely different way, and he buried his face against Oz's hair, trying
to keep control.
Slowly the two relaxed against each other. Gil felt Oz's muscles loosen under
his hands, the body unknotting and settling against him. As he lay still, the
throbbing in his head finally eased and even his foot let out only an
occasional mutter of complaint.
The parts between, though, were a little more problematic.
When Gil had been a fifteen-year-old boy, lost and alone, his master stolen
away from him to the Abyss, he had dreamed of Oz often. Some of those dreams
had left him panting and blushing, his sheets sticky, but over time, Gil had
come to accept it as something he couldn't change. Even as he passed into his
twenties and the dreams of his teenaged master had come to feel more and more
creepy, he couldn't make them stop.
Now he had Oz in his arms, for real. And it was cold and damp and it smelled of
fish and was the most unromantic situation he could imagine. Yet just having Oz
here warmed him from the inside out.
Oz's breathing evened out and the boy settled slowly even closer against him.
Gil reddened as he felt the boy's thigh brush against sensitive skin, but he
didn't pull back. It was more important that Oz have all of his body heat to
warm him, and besides Gil was pretty sure Oz was asleep.
At least, he was sure Oz was asleep until Oz wrapped a hand around his cock and
began to stroke.
Gil stiffened and nearly let out a yell of surprise, but Oz's other hand came
around his shoulder from behind and covered his mouth, muffling the cry.
For a couple of seconds, Gil held very stiff, his eyes closing tightly as Oz
pulled slowly at his shaft. One of his arms was trapped under Oz's body, but
the other one was free, and Gil used it to pull the hand away from his mouth.
"What...what are you doing...? Oz, I..." His voice was slightly breathless, not
just from the sensations, but from surprise.
Maybe this entire experience was some kind of dream, but he'd never dreamed so
vividly before. This was real. It was real, and Oz was really jerking him off,
with a look of mischief in his eyes shining over his deep crimson blush.
"You want me to stop?" he asked, the red on his cheeks deepening still further.
"N-No..." Gil gasped. With a soft whimper, he shifted and buried his face in
Oz's chest.
Oz's other hand combed through his hair, snagging on snarls in the curly locks.
"Is...is it really for me?" he asked wistfully, as Gil began to gasp and
shudder against him.
Gil was incapable of truly lying to his master. Not like this. Lies of omission
were one thing, though he was terrible at even keeping silent in response to
Oz's questions when he felt the need. Right now, he couldn't even keep silent,
as Oz's deft fingers squeezed his shaft and his thumb rubbed over the sensitive
head of his cock with each stroke.
"Yes..." he whispered, shame thick in the syllable. Please don't hate me.
"Oh," Oz murmured, and Gil felt his heart sink. He was disturbed, obviously,
and who wouldn't be? Gil was a good ten years Oz's senior, an adult, and Oz was
still a child in many ways. To Oz, Gill had aged ten years in a matter of
hours. Perhaps there was a part of Oz who still saw Gil as his childhood
friend, but surely it was more likely that he saw Gil as an adult he'd met only
a few months before, completely separate from the boy he'd known.
Gil shuddered again, giving a ragged gasp as a spasm of pleasure went through
him. Suddenly he felt dirty and shamed. He grasped desperately for control and
clung to it, refusing to give in to the pleasurable sensations that spiralled
through him, refused to profane Oz further by coming, spattering him with his
bodily fluids.
Then Oz whispered into his ear. "I'm so happy." His lips moved against Gil's
earlobe, and then he lifted a little more and closed his teeth around the ear
cuff Gil wore, tugging on it lightly. "You...are so amazing, Gil. Come for me."
The command was given in a playful whisper, but a command it was. Despite Oz's
obvious nervousness - Gil was sure he could feel the heat of his blush even
through his hair - he had no doubts. He wanted this, and was happy that Gil
felt the same way.
Come for me.
And Gil came, helplessly, with a soft cry that he muffled desperately against
Oz's neck. He shuddered through the orgasm, his fingers curling into tight
fists as his body spasmed.
He dropped back onto the moth-eaten pillow, gasping for breath, and opened his
eyes, his cheeks still flushed with embarrassment, but a deep tingle of
contentment running over his whole body.
He watched as Oz lifted his dripping hand and gave an experimental lick, then
made a face and wiped his hand off on the threadbare blanket. Oz looked at him,
grinning, though there was something a little sheepish in his expression.
"Are you...ah," Gil stammered. "I mean, do you..."
Oz reddened, but inclined his head as if accepting an invitation at a dance.
"If you don't mind."
"I don't mind," Gil said, a little too hastily. But the smile Oz gave him in
return eased the nervous beat of his pounding heart.
Gil shifted up onto his hands and knees. This was going to be a bit cold, but
now that their bodies were dry it seemed less chill in the small cabin than
before. "Please, lie back, master," he whispered, drawing the blankets back and
carefully crawling down to settle himself between Oz's legs.
"Gil..." Oz murmured, still blushing, but oddly calm.
There was no doubt in Gil's mind that Oz had never been intimate, either with a
woman or a man, but the boy's strange unflappability persisted despite the
blush on his cheeks. Perhaps it was something of Jack's influence over him,
that same thing which Gil suspected compelled Oz to hand roses to women and
flirt so outrageously that it was almost out of character. Or perhaps it was
Oz's determination to accept what was.
Either way, it calmed Gil to see Oz this way, in command of the situation
despite his youth.
Oz's prick jutted hard and flushed from a nest of soft honey-blond curls at the
junction of his legs. It was perfect to Gil's eyes, just as the rest of Oz's
body was - other than the mark on his chest, which stood out like an angry
black brand on his skin, demanding to be noticed.
Focusing on the shaft, Gil lowered his head, taking it into his mouth. He was
rewarded by a soft gasp of pleasure and looked up to see Oz's head dropping
back onto the pillows, mouth open in an 'O' and eyes squeezed tightly shut.
Pleased, Gil opened his mouth wider and began to bob his head up and down. Oz's
hand snuck into his hair once more, petting and caressing almost like Gil was a
favoured pet, as Oz began to gasp more loudly, giving soft moans and even cries
every couple of breaths.
The taste was exquisite. Gil hadn't done this before, but he worked hard to
hide his own inexperience, determined to give Oz all the pleasure he could.
It wasn't too difficult. Oz's youth and excitement conspired together to make
Gil's job easier, and soon the boy was writhing and crying out, salty fluids
flooding into Gil's mouth. He pulled back, swallowing before he could choke,
and quickly wrapped his arms around Oz, holding him tight once more and pulling
the blanket up over them both.
Oz shuddered and gasped for a few long moments, face buried against Gil's chest
as he slowly recovered.
"Wow," Oz whispered, and Gil felt himself flush with pleasure.
"I hope I didn't disappoint you," Gil murmured, which only made Oz laugh.
"No, I'm not disappointed at—" He broke off, lifting his head and cocking it.
"Do you hear horses?"
Gil blinked and listened hard, but it took a minute longer before his ears
caught the sound: the clop of hooves and a rumbling of wheels. "A carriage?"
"Oh no--!" Oz dove from the bed and began throwing clothes at Gil,
simultaneously struggling into his still-wet pants while hopping on one foot.
Gil had just managed to work his own pants over the damned boot and gotten them
fastened when the door flew open. Alice stood framed in the doorway, hands on
hips.
"There you are!" she declared, pointing at Oz. "I've been looking all over for
you two. How dare you run off when I was in the middle of fighting those
Chains?"
"We didn't run," Gil snarled, getting to his feet - or foot. He couldn't put
much weight at all on his hurt foot now.
Oz hurried over to him and Gil leaned on him gratefully. "I'm glad you found
us, Alice," Oz said, beaming.
She sniffed. "Come on," she said, turning her back on them. "This place
stinks."
Xerxes stood beyond, holding the horses still and watching them with a smirk.
"I hope you weren't too terribly bored while waiting for us, you two," he
lilted, and as his eye travelled over them Gil thought with sudden panic that
he somehow could tell what they'd been up to.
"Not too bored," Oz said with a straight face, helping Gil hop out over the
threshold and over to the carriage.
As Gil settled himself in the carriage and began to struggle back into the rest
of his clothes - shoved at him irritably by Alice - he couldn't help sneaking
furtive glances at Oz. Had this been some weird aberration? Just a one-time
slumming experience for Oz, or some momentary whim?
Suddenly Oz turned towards him and their eyes met and held. The boy smiled and
gave a slight nod, straightening up. "Later," he mouthed.
Gil straightened, pulling on his shirt and buttoning it to hide his scar.
Though he wasn't sure if Oz meant 'later we'll talk about it' or 'later I'm
going to jump your bones again', he felt reassured. Either way, he had Oz
beside him, and that was all that really mattered to him.
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