Title : Horrible Older Brother

Summary : "Brother," his voice cut through the heavy breathing that entangled the air, his pale lips moving along his precious person's jawline. "Why won't you look at me?"

Words : 2,837

Pairing : Vincent x Gilbert

Warning : Incest, vaguely detailed sexual content.

Disclaimer : I do not own Pandora Hearts or the characters used in this. They rightfully belong to Jun Muchizuki.

His little whispers.

Love me. Love me.

That's all I ask for.

Love me. Love Me.

"Ha…ha… Ngh…"

In the darkness of the spacious room, empty and lifeless to those who looked upon the closed door, low sounds drifted forth from parted lips. Quick, breathy moans spilled from a mouth that could not be touched, but was well within reach. Its possessor did not move as he laid there unprotected by what little cloth could do to save what was left of his sanity. His pale skin left bare and vulnerable to those needy, mismatched eyes that stared down at him as if in waiting for him to return his loving gaze. The older - though feeling incredibly weak underneath that lithe body that stubbornly kept pressed against his own - did not give him the sight of seeing his eyes as he kept them shut in spite. An arm overlaid the bridge of his nose to act as another barrier against that man, how futile and crude the act was to keep him at bay. There was no way he could escape or protect himself when faced with such an opponent; he could only delay the inevitable.

(It was only a matter of time when dealing with him, wasn't it?)

A decapitated doll's head stared listlessly at the only scene that moved in the room that no maid dared to enter for fear or plain distraught at the mere prospect of having to clean up a mess that its creator did not want to be changed. (No. That is my mess, leave it be.) The hollow girl with glassy hues gazed up at the bed, her thin, pale lips neither frowning nor smiling at the picture displayed before her of pure physical indulgence. What should be the act between two lovers was carried out between two lonely souls that clung to each other selfishly. One took comfort in knowing that even when there was no one left in his world there his brother would be at his side, that there would always be someone who needed him. While the other satisfied himself with the illusion that his dearest accepted him as a whole, in mind and body. For it was a sexual experience that evolved emotions, his older brother would not just let anyone enter him as tears swelled in his golden eyes. (It was him, only him at the very end, no matter how much he pretended, wished it were someone else with more golden hair and emerald eyes. He was the only one who would stay by his side, forever.)

Gilbert felt himself slipping, gently kneading and probing the edge as he inched closer towards it tentatively. A rush of air as a gasp filled his lungs with oxygen to steady his racing heart and he was shoved back from thinking elsewhere, his mind wiped clear with an unexpectedly harsh shove to his insides. As he was pounded into, he wanted nothing more than to let the force of it all push him away and out from the other. However, that cursed hand that gripped the protruding bone of his hips kept him steadily in place, the touch gentle as if the fingers were clutching breakable glass. (No, he would not allow the other's thoughts to slip away from what was happening, from what was reality. He must think only of him and not that god-awful brat he treasured so dearly. Think of him, who was there, but of who he refused to believe.) His mouth pursed shut, rejecting to let those gasps or moans escape his being that he was sure would please his offender to hear the sound as his head was sent reeling in pleasure. He fought to retain the last shred of his dignity. He, too, felt that slipping out from his grasp.

"Brother," his voice cut through the heavy breathing that entangled the air, his pale lips moving along his precious person's jaw line. "Why won't you look at me?"

Desperately trying to keep his soft pants under control, his head lulled to the side to face the drawn curtains that kept heterochromatic eyes – one gold and the other of fine red wine – from visually taking in his whole form. So greedy, hungry, desperate to watch him break down, to tie him down and make him his broken doll. Gilbert could not answer the innocent question coming from his little brother's lips, unable to trust his own voice. He knew if he had chosen to speak an explanation it would be a blatant lie, for the truth was better left unsaid. Untruthfulness was the basic foundation of their complicated relationship, a pact formed unspoken, yet both parties were well aware of the circumstances. They simply did not ask unless they truly wanted to know, even in that situation it was unlikely for either of them to tell the other. (Vincent did not want his dearest older brother to know of his crimes to protect him. It was all for him, everything that he did was for the dark-haired male. Because he loved him, so much he would do anything for him.)

Gilbert shamelessly imagined another male took the place of his blood relative. A boy ten years his junior, but incredibly more mature of mind than Vincent could ever dream of being. Sun caressed tresses that were not quite like his; the subtle differences of shades meant the world to him. Emerald green eyes that always shone so radiantly, even in the dimmest of rooms. Ones that he was not afraid to look up into for the guilt of being such a terrible older brother would wash over him. His beloved master, a boy he would trade anything in the world to be with, dirty his hands countless times for, use his own brother and crush his own spirits in the same time if it was all for his sake. (Oz, Oz, Oz, Oz…) Thoughts swirled around that blond obsessively, chronic to keep the duke the center of his selfish, little world that refused the presence of anyone other than him, his master. There was no room in his heart for two, not even his brother's love that desperately tried penetrate him so. Just as the red-eyed man had said, his loyalty had long since transformed from what a normal servant should feel for their kind master.

Unexpectedly, a pair of lips met his for the first time and he would have cried out in protest if it had not been for the protruding tongue that rubbed against his own sloppily, desirably at the rawness of the action. (Kisses were too precious, too valuable and much too meaningful for him to handle with a person he felt none of those things towards.) Vincent did not want a reply to his inquiry; it was better that way. To let the unsaid filth pile in mounds in the shadows of their souls, that is the type of mutual understanding that two had unknowingly came to. Slim fingers slid into the slight curls of his dark hair to grip it uncomfortably in Vincent's hand, forcing his head to tilt backward and made his presence be acknowledged. He held back the urge to groan out a name that was not the man's that had his bare body lingering over his own, a man he feared would find those shadows and despise him for it.

"You're horrible, Brother…"

(He knew why his brother wouldn't look at him, the reason why he neglected him for all these years, and it made him detest the name of Vessalius even more.)

As that clever tongue left his mouth and traveled south down his jaw line, Gilbert let his head roll back to its previous place, silently agreeing. While he consciously disclosed his bloodied limbs from Oz, he left his ugly self bare for his younger brother to gaze upon and be smothered in those disgusting feelings. Because Gilbert knew that the other would still cling onto him despite it and he took advantage of it. Using – always using his sibling for his own selfish sake, blinded by his own fears and cravings to be needed, to be wanted, to be loved. (Vincent would always love him, his reassuring voice breathed against his neck; he would always need him more than anyone in the world. He loved him so much more than Vessalius ever could. His dependency unnerved him.) All because he was a coward, who was not satisfied, but was too afraid to take any risks that might hinder the current relationship with his master; the delicate balance he fought to preserve.

'I'm sorry I can't be the older brother you deserve, Vince…'

They shouldn't be doing this, it was not natural, and they knew better as the two had both been brought up to act just as proper gentlemen should. He shouldn't be allowing his blood-relative to handle his skin, no matter how careful his fingers were, and lavish his throat with kisses, licks and gentle bites. The least of all, he shouldn't have been urging his behavior further with the slight responses that he let slide, as he knew his brother would run miles with it and take it as a approving signal. (That is all he ever wanted, after all, his beloved older brother's approval, to return his insane obsession.) Why did he not fight it? Why did he not try to dodge the pale lips as they skimmed over the pulsating point of his neck; punch him as he leaned down to whisper soft, sweet, loving words into his ear so huskily that made his resolve dissolve? Instead, he hissed lowly and arched his back into the chest of his little brother, unable to correct his inappropriate actions or morals. What a terrible sibling he was…

Vincent loved the incoherent noises his brother breathed out as his hand came down to grip that overly sensitive muscle, rubbing it in a steady, smooth pace that matched his thrusts.

Gilbert hated the smirking response his brother gave him and how carefully the younger handled him.

"Brother likes it this way, doesn't he?" The voice, always so calm and collected it infuriated him to hear its amused tone muttered sensually into his ear, had not been asking his opinion. It was an observation led with a wide grin as he licked where his breath had touched; the answer was already clear enough to them both. What he was too scared to obtain from his most beloved person he got from his little brother, settling for less while it made the blond the most contented thing in the world.

What a detestable human he was…

He felt the merciful skim of knuckles against his right cheek, curving and carving with utmost care as they moved to trail his jaw. He barely registered the feeling as the pleasure became overwhelming, the other fingers kept gripped around his most sensitive body part. With a scowl that swiftly configured into a gasp, he realized his younger brother was teasing him as his hand's tempo slowed unbearably then proceeded to speed up with that same amount of swift transition. Hips rolled to meet the others consistently changing pace, finally letting his mind draw blanks as he felt his end closing in. Just a little firmer grip, another second, and it would all be over for him to bury, deny and feel guilty. Gilbert was tired; he wanted these selfish games to stop. Vincent was not quite done yet, however.

The privilege of release, the ability to clean himself off and walk away briskly after redressing himself had been taken away from him quite suddenly as the hand retreated. He was left there on the brink of a climax, harshly panting in his desperation. The body above him had stopped rolling its hips into him, pushing him to the edge before bringing its victim back in. Gilbert was a yo-yo to be played with in the younger adult's eyes, something to become possessive over no matter how childish the reason seemed to others. A mere toy to smile and laugh at with amusement by the way his broken toy bent and curved at his will. (Because he no longer had a heart, he could not stop the manipulation or the poison that Vincent cleverly soaked him in.) Vincent wanted to see what his brother would do with every action he made; he wanted to test how far he could push him and still manage to pull him back in open arms. Gilbert would never leave him. He needed Vincent's love as much as the littlest brother needed his presence to use as his air to simply survive. He knew this, they both knew this, and they used it to their advantage. What terrible siblings they were to each other…

For the first time in that entire night, the curtains were drawn to the side of the windowpane, letting the glorious glow of the moon filter through the glass. Gilbert's arm shot up from its place to obscure his face in protest, gripping the dark sheet in the opposite direction as Vincent pulled on them. His shoulder hissed in protest to the discomfort it experienced from the odd positioning, but Gilbert fingers remained tightly curled into the fabric of the curtain. He would not let go. A small tug-of-war ensured for as the two physically debated over whether the curtains were to remain closed or should they be opened much to one's discomfort and the other's satisfaction.

"What are you doing?" Gilbert demanded in a calmer tone that he had expected to hear from himself in that sort of situation. They had made an agreement before all this, before the lips started to trail his neck and hands began to undo the buttons of his long coat. The curtains were to remain shut at all times and they must relieve themselves into each other in the dark. (Because he could not handle seeing whatever faces his little brother made at him and he could not allow him to see his either. The loving gazes he could not return ate him from the inside with the intense feeling of remorse, disgust.)

Those heterochromatic eyes did not reveal any surprise from Gilbert's actions or words, not the least bit upset by it. As if he could see through everything that he did, Vincent let out a relaxed smile for his precious person to gaze upon, making that said person feel mocked in return. "I wanted to see what type of expression Brother would make," he answered honestly, bluntly, tugging once again at the curtains. There was no longer a need for either of them to be modest; they had both been through this very song and dance many times in the past and no longer kept anything physically disclosed from the other. They knew each others bodies as well as they knew the lonely games they played together.

A scowl formed about Gilbert's facial features, showing his displeasure as his hand fell from the sheets that obscured the room from the moonlight. As always, he could do nothing more than enable Vincent's behavior. His stomach sunk into the mattress at the realization. What a horrible older brother he was…

The curtains parted as the blond male pulled them open, allowing the once dark, lifeless room to bask in the gentle glow of a reflection from the sun. He could see the other's face clearly now, the pale skin that hugged close to toned muscles and the long, fair hair that shone in its brilliance. The elder brother had wondered when the two were first reunited how they could possibly be related to one another, him with his dark tresses and Vincent with his golden mane. However, he looked upon those naturally narrowed eyes – one golden and the other red as magnificent wine – and knew they were kin. They had the same exact shape, which made their expressions so similar to one another; the resemblance was unmistakable. ("If you make those eyes, you look exactly the same as your brother.")

Gilbert only realized he had been staring up at him when those mismatched eyes closed with a pleasant smile, one that split his face into one of pure, untainted joy. Oh, how the thought was so unfitting of one such as Vincent who took pleasure in bringing others down to his level of darkness. That childish face almost stunned him, unmoving as the curl of lips came closer until they were touching his sensually. His golden eyes closed into the kiss, releasing him from the material world as the pace was swiftly picked up once again by his brother's hands. He laid there on a silken spread, moaning and withering with Vincent's ministrations on his unprotected body. In the end, he only gave into the need, the want and the desire to know that someone was there, until the end.

"Gil makes the most beautiful of faces when he goes over the edge in pleasure~"

What a horrible older brother he was.

So, it's been a while since I've submitted anything onto my Fanfiction account. u _ u The reason? I simply haven't completed anything until this point. I've been having a lot of ideas swarming around in my head, but I've just been a lazy bum about actually sitting down and writing it. For those of you who have read "Aftermath" and are anxiously awaiting a update on it - there won't be. I'm discontinuing that story altogether. I lost all my interest in the pairing and I have no idea where I wanted to go with it, so I'm simply stopping. I apologize to those who liked it and wanted more. D:

I have been in a really Vincent x Gilbert mood lately. I love this pairing so much and it's so under appreciated in the shadow that is Oz x Gilbert. Hopefully I have made the small fanbase grow or fall more in love with this pairing? :'D I equally love both of these pairings, but I like my dark and twisted relationships and it's fun to write. I enjoyed doing this piece and I hope you enjoyed reading it as well.

I would greatly appreciate critiques or something of that nature. I want to improve my writing and the only way I can is if I get some input from you, the reader. c: