A/N: I intend for this story to be a three-shot. Special thanks to my younger sister who spent a lot of time writing this with me!

Oz knew he had been rejected the moment Sharon handed back the flowers.

They were entirely alone in the dining hall, the servants having long since retired to their quarters, the company having vacated the space even earlier. Oz stood with his hands clasped in front of him, fingers twisted amongst each other. When she held out the bouquet of freshly-cut, passion-red roses, he was forced to pull his hands apart and take them all back into his sweaty palms.

"Oz-sama," she said in that sweet voice that had always tugged at his heart, "I am so… so grateful that you feel this way about me. Truly, I – I am very flattered! But I am afraid that I cannot return your feelings. I respect you very much, Oz-sama, so please understand. I do not wish for your heart to suffer on my behalf any more. So I cannot accept these."

Oz found that he could not speak, but it seemed that there was nothing more to be said. Sharon quickly and cordially excused herself, curtseying as she quitted the room. Oz was left alone with the sorry bouquet, which he then dropped disgustedly into the nearby waste receptacle. He had been rejected. The word stung his heart.

Not wanting to be caught here in the main dining hall where he might conceivably be questioned by anyone who happened to see him, and, furthermore, not wanting to be seen with tears striping his cheeks, Oz dashed from the room and tore down the corridor, slipping into the first bathroom he could find. Once he was submerged in the hot bath, he was unable to distinguish the water dribbling down his face from his own tears, a fact that comforted him a little; he did not want to admit, even to himself, that he was crying over a girl, of all things. He found that he could not sit still for long, however, and soon after, he was toweling himself dry, hurriedly dressing in a set of nightclothes that had been left out for guests.

Oz needed somewhere to think, somewhere he could be alone with his thoughts and try and sort through the mess he had gotten himself into. It didn't take him long to discover a sitting room tucked into a shadowy corner on the second floor of the Rainsworth Manor. Peeking inside to make sure that it was empty, he saw that it was a fairly small but cozy room whose fire must have been lit by one of the servants earlier that night, for the flames in the grate now seemed to be steadily dying out. He entered and, after stoking the fire to get it burning more brightly, he settled down on the rug in front of it, drawing his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on them.

He didn't know for how long he sat there, and he was still staring aimlessly into the flames when Gil suddenly entered. He didn't notice him at first, and it wasn't until Gil was standing directly beside him on the hearth that Oz sensed a shadow fall over him. Startled, he whirled around.

"Gil! You scared me!" He clenched his fists at his sides, not entirely in the mood to be interrupted in his brooding by his ever-oblivious servant.

"Sorry," Gil said in his usual bashful way. He didn't say anything else after that, apparently at a loss for words, but Oz was certain he caught Gil's eyes falling to the white boxer shorts, cut just above the knee, that he had pulled on for sleepwear, lingering very slightly over the bare legs his nightshirt didn't cover. He pretended not to notice, and Gil continued to stand beside him as if unsure of whether or not he should leave. After a few moments, however, his awkward hovering presence had become immensely distracting, and so Oz relented to let him stay.

"You can sit down, Gil," he said pointedly, scooting slightly to the left so that Gil could get a share of the fire. Without a word, Gil sat, cross-legged, in the vacated spot, his pink-tinged face turned somewhat away from Oz.

For awhile, both were silent. Gil must have sensed that something was wrong with his master and seemed unwilling to speak before Oz did, and yet Oz wasn't exactly in a chatty mood himself. After a moment, however, to break the tension that had fallen over them, Oz said irrelevantly, "Where's Alice?"

Gil jumped a little, apparently startled by the abruptness of the question, and Oz felt his shoulder brush against his on accident; it was not altogether an unpleasant sensation. "She already went off to bed," Gil answered, his voice somewhat shaky, and Oz merely nodded. That proved to be enough encouragement for Gil to add, "Hey, Oz… Are you feeling all right tonight? I mean…" He fidgeted. "Whenever you get like this, I know you're –"

"I'm fine, Gil!" Oz interrupted, his voice torn between false cheerfulness and spiteful annoyance.

"Oz…" Gil said hesitantly. "You don't need to lie to me. I've been with you long enough to know when you're upset… I mean, I spent ten years trying to bring you back, but you're exactly the same as you were then."

At this last comment, Oz felt something inside of him break. "Why did you do that, Gil?" he asked. He could already feel tears brimming beneath his eyes, feel Gil acknowledge them with a start. He didn't care. What would playing strong do for him now that he was rejected?

"Oz –" Gil started, but he was interrupted again.

"Why did you try to get me back for ten years? Why didn't you just let it go?" Oz was shouting now, and somehow, he found himself on his feet, glaring down at a bewildered Gil. "What if I never came back? You'd waste your whole life for someone who isn't even that important! You should have moved on!" Oz turned his back to Gil and finished in a low voice, "Unless you also only needed me back for your own convenience."

A clock was ticking from somewhere. Oz couldn't remember hearing it before. Now he heard it loud and clear. Its sound was deafening.

"Wh-what are you talking about?"

Oz didn't turn around. A moment later, Gil made him.

"Why are you saying things like that? Answer me!"

Gil's hands were on his shoulders, applying a pressure there that was at once comforting and restraining. Oz grimaced. That Gil dared to touch him now, while he was like this, both soothed and enraged him.

"Don't touch me!" he spat, slapping away his servant's hands and drawing back. His skin felt tight and hot around the contours of his face, and he wanted to flee, to leave Gil and find a cool, dark place to himself where he could hide away from everything. "Just leave me alone."

"Oz," Gil said, and for a moment, his voice sounded wounded, pitiful. Then he took a step forward, anger flashing in his eyes, and repeated, "Someone who isn't even that important? Oz – you are the only person who was on my mind for ten whole years! No – even before that. From my very first memory – from the day we met – you were all I could think about! I've lived my life entirely devoted to you – and I did it willingly!"

"Oh?" sneered Oz, haughtily. "Well, I'm glad that you're so devoted because Sharon-chan never cared about me at all!"

He hadn't meant to say it. He hadn't meant to drag Sharon into the conversation. In fact, he had wanted her to be the farthest thing from it. Now Gil knew. The situation couldn't have turned more wrong had Sharon walked in on them as he said it.

His face became very red as Gil stared at him, and he deflated a little. He couldn't think of anything to say that might alter the meaning of what he had said, nor could he find any words to negate it. Oz found himself backed against the wall, and he resignedly slumped down against it, bringing his knees up to his chest and tucking his chin into them.

"Oz…" said Gil after several moments had passed in silence, and Oz turned his face deeper into his knees. "What do you mean Sharon never cared? Oz… Are you in love with Sharon?"

The words stung, especially now that Oz knew nothing would come of his love for her. He couldn't deny them, so instead he intoned angrily from between his knees, "Shut up, Gil!" and went quiet.

After a few moments, he heard Gil sit back down onto the floor. Minutes, it seemed, ticked by in relative silence. Oz glared at the rug as if it were the reason for his awful mood.

"You know, I wouldn't take it to heart if Sharon rejected you," Gil said at last, breaking the silence. "After all, she is much older than she looks. She – I don't know – she probably thinks of you as a younger brother or something."

Whipping his head up from his knees, Oz snarled, "Yeah, and I'm also supposed to be ten years older than I look, remember?"

"Ah – th-that's right." Gil seemed embarrassed by his mistake. "But still," he pressed, recovering, "you didn't actually experience those ten years, since to you that time passed by in mere hours. Sharon, on the other hand, did experience all that time; her mind aged while her body remained the same. She's just in a different stage of life than you are right now. I wouldn't worry about it too much." When Oz continued his glaring competition with the rug, Gil added, "Besides, it's not like she's the only girl out there. There are plenty of other… people."

Oz glowered at his servant's ignorance but bit back the smart remark that was on the tip of his tongue. Gil didn't understand. He didn't want just any girl; he had already found the girl that he loved. Telling him that there were others out there was about as helpful as telling him that he could replace Ada with any stranger off the street. Sure, there were other girls out there, but none of them were quite like Sharon.

"Do you really love her?" Once again, Gil's voice shook him out of his reverie. Oz ignored him, mentally kicking himself for allowing Gil to stay with him in the first place.

"I mean, I wasn't under the impression that the two of you were well acquainted," Gil added, as if to justify his blunt remark. "How can you love a person that you don't know very well?"

"It's called love at first sight, Gil! Haven't you ever heard of it?" Oz snapped.

Gil was silent for a moment. Then, quietly, he said, "I can't say that I believe in that exactly." Oz glared up at him, looking scandalized, and he hastily added, "I just mean that love, true love, takes longer to develop than anything 'first sight' can offer. Love that is quick to form is also quick to fade."

Oz raised his eyebrows. "And how is it that you are so knowledgeable in affairs of the heart?" Part of him was only teasing as usual (because nothing thrilled him more than provoking a flustered Gil), but the other, more love-spurned part of him felt genuine curiosity. The change in subject also presented him with an opportunity to shift the focus of the conversation away from himself and push it onto Gil.

As expected, his servant's face turned an unhealthy red in a matter of seconds, and he began spluttering and coughing all at once, but Oz would not back down. "Tell me, Gil," he said softly, leaning forward in anticipation. "What is love to you?"

Gil kept his eyes to the ground, remaining tight-lipped. Oz scooted closer and rested his hand on Gil's knee. At once he saw a surge of panic flicker through the latter's eyes. The sight excited him. How he had missed teasing Gil the way he had when they were both kids!

"Ne, Gil?" he prompted.

Gil swallowed thickly and licked his lips. "L-love…" He paused to clear his throat. Still flushed, he endeavored to speak again, head bowed and eyes tracing over everything, everything except Oz. "Love… makes you feel elated and lightheaded and nervous all at once. Love makes you think about that person nonstop – no matter what you do, they're – they're always in your thoughts. Love makes you want to do anything in your power to make that person happy. Love makes you desire what is best for that person, even if it denies you your own selfish desires. Love makes you…"

Here Gil swallowed nervously and raised his head. For the second time that night, his eyes were on the pale, slender legs exposed from Oz's nightshirt, his expression a mixture of repulsion and something akin to… was it lust? Discomfited, Oz resisted the urge to readjust his nightshirt and forced himself to keep his eyes on Gil's. With what appeared to be an enormous effort, Gil dragged his own gaze back up to Oz's face. "…m-makes you want to embrace that person and to feel the warmth of their skin against yours..." His voice cracked.

Oz now attempted, discreetly, to stretch his legs out flat, but he found that his shirt had bunched up around his lap, exposing a decent portion of his boxers. He hurriedly tugged the shirt down and sneaked a glance at Gil. Face bright red, his eyes remained glued to the spot where Oz's thighs had been. He shifted uncomfortably, hands trembling. Warm sweat formed on Oz's temples as Gil slowly slid closer, tearing his gaze away from his lower body to look him in the eye.

"Love..." Gil's clothed leg brushed against his bare one. Oz inhaled sharply.

"Makes you…" He was right beside him, leaning in closer, whispering.

"Want to…" His breath was hot on his face, and Oz's heart beat so fast it would surely explode –

And then Gil's lips were on his.

Time froze. He couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't feel anything except for the soft lips pressing against his. He was captivated, enraptured by the feel of Gil's lips, the rapid beat of his heart, the trembling hands that rested on his shoulders. He had never done this before, never thought he would be doing it now and with his servant of all people. His head felt light, swamped in a cloudy mass of inextricable and unidentifiable emotions. And then his head started to clear. And then he realized that Gil was kissing him.

He put his hands on Gil's chest and pushed but to no effect. Gil was much stronger, and he refused to budge. Panicking, Oz tried to turn his head away so that he could command Gil to let him go, and after a bit of twisting and turning, he managed to free his lips. Gasping for breath, he exclaimed,

"Gil! What are you doing?"

Gil's gold eyes were wild, like a beast's. Without sparing a moment to respond, he grabbed Oz's face and kissed him again, this time keeping a hold on his jawbone. Oz was suddenly hot, despite the fact that they had moved away from the fire, and a sensation of dizziness had claimed his vision, causing him to see everything in blurry doubles.

Why is this happening? He pressed his hands against Gil's shoulders, squeezing his eyes shut tight as his head was forced against the wall. I expected this to happen – wanted it to happen – but with Sharon-chan! Not with Gil! He brought his foot up to Gil's abdomen and kicked, breaking the kiss as Gil doubled over.

"Gilbert! What was that?" he shouted, slapping his arm protectively across his mouth. "Why are you doing this? This is wrong!"

Grasping his stomach, Gil straightened up, his eyes wet and serious. "Th-there is nothing wrong with my feelings for you," he said softly, slowly getting to his feet. "I… I want you, Oz!"

Before Oz could protest further, he found himself being grabbed around the waist and hoisted over Gil's shoulder. His shirt rode up under him, leaving much of his stomach uncovered against Gil's sturdy clavicle and the entirety of his scantily-clad bottom pressed to his face and neck. To his further humiliation, Gil opted to put his hand on his exposed backside, keeping his palm firmly over it to hold him steady and allowing his long fingers to drape over the bare skin of his inner thigh. Red-faced and dizzy, Oz angrily started to pound Gil's back with his fists, demanding to be released.

"Let me go, Gil!" he growled, trying to kick as well but being restrained at once by Gil's free arm, which went to pin his legs securely to his chest. He then tightened his hold on Oz's rear, causing the latter to grow shamefully hot in the face as well as in the lower extremity. He suddenly went quiet, realizing that he was causing quite the ruckus and blanching at the thought of someone overhearing him and coming to see what was the matter.

Gil took him to one of the many unused bedrooms at the Rainsworth Manor and tossed him rather unceremoniously onto the canopied double bed. As Oz struggled to reorient himself on the duvet in order to pull his shirt back down over him, he heard the sliding of a bolt and realized that Gil had locked them in.

The room was dark, the heavy umber drapes pulled tight across the windows, and the only source of light was in four chandeliers with shuddering flames, one in each corner. It was scarcely furnished, containing only the bed, a night stand, and an old wardrobe which Gil was presently rifling through. He emerged a moment later holding a woman's white dressing gown, and before Oz had the time to marvel over the absurdity of the garment, Gil had pulled from its loops the tie used to fasten it before dropping it carelessly to the floor. The next thing Oz knew, Gil was on top of him, straddling his hips as he kissed him all over and roughly stroked his face.

Through the bursts of air he was able to claim in the brief intermissions of Gil's kisses, Oz managed to gasp out, "Gil… Let me go… Why… are you doing this…"

Putting his lips just beside Oz's ear and causing a shiver to break out over him, he whispered, "I want you to enjoy this, Oz… as much as possible…"

Then, before Oz could react, Gil grabbed his wrists and yanked them above his head. Oz cried out in pain, then shuddered as he felt the cool silk of the dressing gown's tie weave in and out around his wrists before it was pulled taut, knotted, and then stretched to the bars in the headboard where Gil promptly and securely bound it. Hopelessly, Oz tugged at his bonds but to no avail.

Hardening his eyes to try and mask his fear, Oz leveled Gil with a venomous look and demanded, "Gil! Let me go this instant! What do you mean by tying me up like this?"

"I already told you," Gil murmured, lowering himself, surprisingly gently, on top of a quivering Oz's chest. "I want you to enjoy this." He ran his fingers through Oz's hair, causing him to shiver again, and trailed them down his face where they stopped to cup his jaw. He put his mouth to Oz's ear and kissed it before nibbling slightly on the cartilage. Oz cringed, then shuddered when Gil's tongue slid down his neck to his clavicle. Soft lips pressed against the protruding bone, tenderly caressing it with his tongue for a moment before gliding down lower and lower until –!

Oz gasped as the mouth covered his nipple and began sucking roughly. He recoiled as cool fingers slipped underneath his nightshirt and ghosted up his hips to his waist, then back down over his chest, his stomach. And Oz couldn't think to stop him, so distracting was that tongue, those nimble fingers. He couldn't object as those same keen fingers dared to glide under the waistband of his boxers and tease the sensitive pelvic bone just below the surface – couldn't choke back the pleasured moan from tearing out of his throat as the hand grasped him firmly and began, with unhurried, tantalizing jerks, to pump him, sending jolts of pleasure careening through his body. Head spinning, he squeezed his eyes shut and trembled from head to toe as he struggled to regain control of his mind – no, of his body – so that this madness would end. Yet at the same time, some small, aberrant part of him didn't want it to stop, for this was his first time experiencing anything of the sort, and as wrong as he knew it was for him to be doing this with Gil of all people, he was almost too aroused to care.

Caught up in the moment, Oz yelped when he felt cold air rush across his lower body. Opening his eyes, he realized that while he was distracted, Gil had succeeded in removing his boxers. At the sight of his swollen, erect member, Oz turned his face away in shame, breathing erratically. By this point, he had ceased to struggle for an escape; his wrists, sore from chafing against the restraints, relaxed and hung loosely above his head. He allowed his unfocused eyes to float up to the satin canopy, completely overwhelmed by the throbbing between his legs and the humiliation he felt in his lack of control over his own body. He lay there, tied up and hopelessly aroused, entirely at Gil's mercy as the silence wore on and neither of them moved.

Closing his eyes in a futile attempt to will his arousal away, he was caught completely off guard when something warm and wet slipped into his belly button, tickling him and making his stomach clench. Before he had time to comprehend what had happened, the warmth vanished, only to be replaced moments later at the tip of his erection. Eyes springing wide open in a flash, he propped himself up on his elbows to find Gil's head bowed, his mouth wrapped around his member. This time he could not prevent himself from emitting a sharp cry of pleasure. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever experienced. Gil's tongue softly caressed the head while his hand grasped the base, his thumb rubbing circles on the underside of the shaft. It was so much stimulation at once that Oz thought he might explode; lightheaded and sweaty, his heart thundered against his ribcage as his body tensed and squirmed against the bed, his head thrashing from side to side. Quiet whimpers escaped his lips as he trembled like a leaf. Although he was consumed by guilt and shame to admit it, he needed something to release this unbearable tension in his body, and if Gil would do that with his tongue just one more time he would certainly –

Suddenly, the warmth around his erection was gone, leaving him feeling hollow, unsatisfied. He kept his eyes closed as his chest heaved, torn between feeling disappointed that he had been so close to going over the edge and mortified that he had actually wanted to. The bed creaked as Gil leaned forward and caressed his cheek with his thumb.

"Hah… Gil… Why'd you st–"

"Oz," Gil interrupted, voice hoarse and unsteady, "look at me."

As Oz's eyes grew accustomed to the semi-darkness, he saw Gil's face hovering right above his, eyes reflecting a mixture of apprehension and desire. Gil appeared, Oz noted, just as worked up as he was – face flushed and slick with sweat, hair plastered to his forehead, trembling lips bruised and wet. And yet somehow, he still struggled to speak.

"What is it, Gil?" demanded Oz, growing impatient as his arousal throbbed.

"I – you – do you –" His face flushed deeper, and he averted his eyes. "Do y-you want to go all the way?"

Nervously, he shifted his eyes back onto Oz's, and suddenly Oz was stuck by the desire to laugh. Only Gil would ask such a question at a time like this, when they were already too far in to turn back. Figuring that his servant would not appreciate being laughed at, he contained his amusement with a smirk.

"Why would we only go halfway?" he retorted as innocently as he could. All thoughts of Sharon, of retaining his pride, everything fled from him in that moment, for he could only see the discomfited man before him and his own bright, ravenous passion. Gil, meanwhile, gawked at him as if hardly daring to believe what he was hearing. Oz could barely hold back a lightheaded smile.

"Screw me, Gil," he murmured, and he thrust his head up, lips catching Gil's in a quick, chaste kiss.

That was all it took to break through Gil's inhibitions. Oz looked on as Gil fumbled with the buttons on his pants, feeling a sudden urge to undo them himself so that he might accidentally brush his hands against his lower regions and revel in the hitch in breath that would undoubtedly follow. When Gil finished undressing, Oz gaped, faintly apprehensive. Gil was a lot bigger than him. Would… would it all fit? Before he had much time to consider the matter, Gil's fingers were pressing gently at his lips. Oz raised his eyebrows.

"For – you know," Gil hurried to explain. "I-I couldn't find any lubricant, so I thought – saliva –"

Before he managed to complete his sentence, Oz permitted the fingers to enter his mouth and sucked hard. Gil's surprised moan shot straight to his groin, encouraging him to suck harder, wrapping his tongue leisurely around each finger. When he felt that the fingers were sufficiently coated in saliva, he pulled away, waiting for Gil to regain control of himself. Mere seconds later his entire body tensed when something wet brushed up against his entrance. Noticing this, Gil caressed his cheek with his free hand, murmuring,

"Just relax. It'll be worse if you're tense."

Exhaling shakily, Oz did his best to remain cool and collected as the finger slid in, but the intrusion felt so uncomfortable and unfamiliar that his attempt at relaxing was rather unsuccessful. A second finger was added, causing Oz to cringe and squeeze his eyes shut in pain. Gil brushed away Oz's damp bangs and ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to soothe him. A stinging pain suddenly shot up his backside as the fingers began making scissoring movements.

"Ouch, Gil! What are you doing?" he demanded, trying to prevent the pain and fear from slipping into his tone.

"Making it so that it won't hurt as much later," Gil panted, sweat dripping off his forehead as he concentrated.

"Gil!" he cried, startled as a third finger was added. He had never felt something so invasive and uncomfortable in his life. Biting his lip, he forced himself to ignore the pain as Gil pushed his fingers in and out deeper each time until they brushed against something that made Oz see stars.

"Nnh, Gil what –"

Encouraged by his moan, Gil aimed for that spot again, causing Oz's member, which had deflated somewhat from the pain, to harden again. Over and over again his fingers stroked that sweet spot, eliciting more haggard moans from Oz's sore lips. Whatever those fingers were doing, he no longer desired them to stop. Right as he thought this, however, they withdrew, once again leaving him feeling empty and needy.

"Gil - AH!"

Before he had time to protest, the tip of something much larger than a finger brushed against his entrance. Eyes flying open in alarm, Oz opened his mouth to tell him to wait a second, but before he could emit a sound, Gil was already pushing his erection inside of him. Throwing his head back into the pillows, he dug his heels into the mattress and yanked against his restraints, wanting nothing more than to sink his nails into Gil's back as he groaned piteously. He tried to take deep, steady breaths as Gil pushed himself all the way inside. The room was silent save for Oz's labored breathing. After a few minutes, he realized that Gil had stopped moving and shot him a perplexed look. He may not have been very experienced in this field, but he was pretty sure that there was more to it than lying there awkwardly like this. From within a mess of tangled black hair, Gil was carefully observing his reactions, brows knitted in concern.

"Oz…" His voice was timid, uncertain.

Although Oz was in a great deal of pain, just sitting there would do nothing to alleviate it, so he nodded his head slightly, indicating that he could continue. Gil didn't budge.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Gil… I'm fine. Just move already!"

Oz gritted his teeth as Gil pulled out an inch and then pushed back in. Oz groaned miserably. Wasn't this supposed to feel good? When would it stop being so painful? Upon hearing Oz's groan, Gil stopped again, but Oz nodded vigorously against the pillow for him to continue. He pulled out again, this time a bit farther, and slid back in. Each time Gil pulled out a bit farther, but he always pushed back in at the same, torturously slow speed. He waited, feeling Gil quiver against him, but Gil still didn't pick up the pace. Wow, Gil has a lot of self-restraint. I never would have guessed. Or maybe…

"Gil," interjected Oz abruptly, suspicion creeping into his tone. "You do know what you're doing, right?"

Startled by the sudden question, Gil accidentally slammed into him – right against the sensitive area that those fingers had previously stimulated – and Oz positively moaned, such was the pleasure that erupted from that spot. Eyes half-lidded and mouth agape, Oz gazed up at Gil in a daze, no longer interested in receiving an answer to his question. Gil, oblivious as usual, failed to realize that he had just given Oz exactly what he wanted and spluttered,

"Wh-what do you mean? Am I hurting you?"

"No, no, you're fine," Oz breathed hastily, wishing he would start moving again. He sighed mentally. He should have realized that having sex with Gil would be a rough experience. "It's just… You can move a little faster, you know?" This last bit was mumbled almost incoherently and accompanied by a noticeable reddening of the face.

Bemused, Gil said, "Oz, what –"

"Faster, Gil! You're supposed to move faster and harder! Don't you know that already?"

Gil gaped at him, completely stunned. "What are you insinuating?" he cried, indignant. "That I've done this before?"

"Well, haven't you?" retorted Oz, haughty. "Never mind," he added quickly when Gil opened his mouth to retaliate. "It doesn't matter. Just pick up the pace, would you?"

Gil turned bright red at Oz's demand but obeyed without further ado. He pulled out until the tip of his erection was just inside and then slammed in rapidly, causing Oz to cry out. Again, he begged silently. Hit that spot again… Please! As Gil pulled out again, Oz wrapped his legs around his lower back, bringing their heated bodies flush up against one another. When Gil thrust against his sweet spot again, Oz's legs twitched and tightened around his back as he threw back his head and moaned. Never before had he felt something so amazing. The pain was still there, but by now it was almost entirely overwhelmed by the pleasure. Vaguely, Oz noticed that Gil's hand occupied itself with stroking his erection, pumping the shaft in time with his thrusts, which were quickly becoming more frantic and sloppy. His stomach clenched and unclenched as he neared his climax, and he opened his eyes to catch a glimpse of a similarly aroused Gil. And suddenly, Oz yearned for his arms to be free so that they might wrap around Gil's sturdy back and feel the muscles contract and relax against his fingers. He longed to run his hands across his chest, his back, his face, and that wavy, tangled mat of hair, hair that truly did, Oz marveled, resemble seaweed. Oz groaned without restraint, toes curling against the sheets and back arching involuntarily. Gil leaned down and captured his lips to silence him.

"O-Oz, you'll wake the whole house with that mouth of yours!" Gil panted.

"Nngh… Sh – ah! Sh-shut up!" Oz snapped. "Ah! Uhn…" His stomach muscles coiled, and he felt so hot and dizzy and ready to explode –

One more sloppy thrust undid him. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he cried out, arching his back in time with his orgasm. At the same time, he felt something hot fill him up, driving over him another intense wave of pleasure. After a few seconds spent panting, Gil pulled out of him and collapsed at his side, clearly exhausted. He then wrapped an arm around Oz's chest and held him close, trembling violently. Oz stiffened at the contact. His semen had grown cold and sticky on his stomach, and his backside was already starting to ache. The afterglow had faded, leaving him feeling cold, dirty, and guilty. What had he just done? Had he really just had sex with his best friend? Was he that desperate? At the moment, he desired nothing more than to take a hot shower, clamber into bed, and forget about everything that had just transpired between him and Gil. Abruptly, he made to turn onto his side before recalling that his hands were still bound.

"Untie me, Gil," he snapped, giving a quick, irritated tug at his restraints, and Gil hastily reached over him and undid them. All the tension in his strained shoulders vanished as he brought his arms down and crossed them over his chest. His wrists were red and sore and stung when they made contact with his cotton nightshirt. Eyes hardening, Oz turned away from Gil.

"You're trembling," he said after several moments, when the silence between them had become too much for him to bear. Gil did not immediately respond.

"I'm fine," he muttered at length, his voice rough and distant. "I just… I never… you…" He struggled to form a coherent sentence. "I just never imagined that I'd be able to do that with you!" His voice cracked, and he slipped his arms around Oz's slender torso, drawing him close to his chest and burying his face in his neck.

"I love you, Oz."