The house is dark when Gilbert gets home the next day, which is strange really because his brother should be home by now. Bare traces of the streetlights filter through the closed curtains, and Gilbert thinks the house feels just a little to bare all dark like this. He grits his teeth. At his age he shouldn’t be bothered by the dark, though really it isn’t the dark that bothers him. His brother is far too neat; Spartan, one might call it. Tidiness never bothered him before the war, before the wall. Now it just reminds him of bare floors and bleached walls and cement that seemed to stretch on forever. Old Fritz would be ashamed of him.
His photo is missing; he’d realized that about half-way home, and he has a sneaking suspicion he knows exactly where it is. If he’s really lucky Elizaveta was so angry she never noticed it. He doesn’t want to think about what will happen if he wasn’t that lucky.
There’s a note for him on the bare kitchen counter. Gilbert finds himself grinning as he reads it, laughing at Feliciano’s little sketches and the curls of his y’s. So that’s where his brother has gone. It’s just as well, Ludwig’s been working far to hard lately. Not that its anything new.
Distracted as he is, and relaxed in the safety of his own home, Gilbert doesn’t hear the footsteps behind him. There is a creak in the floorboards, and he freezes, the note dropping from his hands. He doesn’t have time to spin around before something heavy crashes into his head and the world goes dark.
~*~
Gilbert’s head is pounding when he finally awakens. The first thing he notices is that he’s on his back, on something soft. The smell of bed clothes and down tickles his nose and he knows he’s on a bed of some sort. His brother’s bed, from the smell of it; he doesn’t know anyone else who uses that detergent, not off hand anyway.
The second thing he notices is that his arms are above his head, and something tight is wrapped around his wrists. He tugs at it carefully, slowly, just to see how tight it really is. Whatever it is, it’s soft and it’s not rubbing his wrists raw at least. Whatever is going on here, it can’t be intend to hurt him too badly. Or someone is just trying to lure him into a deceptive sense of safety.
The bed dips, and his eyes flash open, red-framed pupils darting towards the moment. He snarls when his eyes alight on the cause. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Elizaveta grins devilishly at him and taps her cheek with one long finger. “Well, you keep harassing us,” she tells him. “We thought we might return the favor.”
Gilbert can see Roderich against the wall behind her, watching him with that damned aloof look that just pisses him off every time he sees it and he snarls, tugging at his tied wrists. “Let me go,” he hisses. His voice is a warning, a warning that, much to his dismay, Elizaveta cheerfully ignores. Instead she’s sweeping her eyes down his body like he’s some sort of prize she’s won. It’s about this time that Gilbert realizes he’s not only tied to his brothers (far too big, it’s Feliciano’s fault anyway) bed, he’s also naked. Very naked.
He refuses to shiver, even though he’s cold, damn it (who turned down the thermostat, it wasn’t this cold earlier was it?), and the way Elizaveta is looking at him is, frankly, disturbing. She reaches a hand out to trace his hip with her calloused fingers and it takes more willpower then Gilbert wants to admit to keep from flinching.
Then her hand starts wandering south.
Gilbert jerks his head towards Roderich, who is still just standing there watching as if his ex-wife is not touching him like she’s about too… He gasps, his back arching as Elizaveta fondles his softened cock. The touch sends shivers down his spine and his head goes fuzzy with them. This is not happening. The thought flashes through his mind for just an instant and he clings to it. This has to be some sort of crazed dream.
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(Anonymous) 2009-03-13 01:15 am (UTC)(link)His photo is missing; he’d realized that about half-way home, and he has a sneaking suspicion he knows exactly where it is. If he’s really lucky Elizaveta was so angry she never noticed it. He doesn’t want to think about what will happen if he wasn’t that lucky.
There’s a note for him on the bare kitchen counter. Gilbert finds himself grinning as he reads it, laughing at Feliciano’s little sketches and the curls of his y’s. So that’s where his brother has gone. It’s just as well, Ludwig’s been working far to hard lately. Not that its anything new.
Distracted as he is, and relaxed in the safety of his own home, Gilbert doesn’t hear the footsteps behind him. There is a creak in the floorboards, and he freezes, the note dropping from his hands. He doesn’t have time to spin around before something heavy crashes into his head and the world goes dark.
~*~
Gilbert’s head is pounding when he finally awakens. The first thing he notices is that he’s on his back, on something soft. The smell of bed clothes and down tickles his nose and he knows he’s on a bed of some sort. His brother’s bed, from the smell of it; he doesn’t know anyone else who uses that detergent, not off hand anyway.
The second thing he notices is that his arms are above his head, and something tight is wrapped around his wrists. He tugs at it carefully, slowly, just to see how tight it really is. Whatever it is, it’s soft and it’s not rubbing his wrists raw at least. Whatever is going on here, it can’t be intend to hurt him too badly. Or someone is just trying to lure him into a deceptive sense of safety.
The bed dips, and his eyes flash open, red-framed pupils darting towards the moment. He snarls when his eyes alight on the cause. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Elizaveta grins devilishly at him and taps her cheek with one long finger. “Well, you keep harassing us,” she tells him. “We thought we might return the favor.”
Gilbert can see Roderich against the wall behind her, watching him with that damned aloof look that just pisses him off every time he sees it and he snarls, tugging at his tied wrists. “Let me go,” he hisses. His voice is a warning, a warning that, much to his dismay, Elizaveta cheerfully ignores. Instead she’s sweeping her eyes down his body like he’s some sort of prize she’s won. It’s about this time that Gilbert realizes he’s not only tied to his brothers (far too big, it’s Feliciano’s fault anyway) bed, he’s also naked. Very naked.
He refuses to shiver, even though he’s cold, damn it (who turned down the thermostat, it wasn’t this cold earlier was it?), and the way Elizaveta is looking at him is, frankly, disturbing. She reaches a hand out to trace his hip with her calloused fingers and it takes more willpower then Gilbert wants to admit to keep from flinching.
Then her hand starts wandering south.
Gilbert jerks his head towards Roderich, who is still just standing there watching as if his ex-wife is not touching him like she’s about too… He gasps, his back arching as Elizaveta fondles his softened cock. The touch sends shivers down his spine and his head goes fuzzy with them. This is not happening. The thought flashes through his mind for just an instant and he clings to it. This has to be some sort of crazed dream.