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On the top balcony of the opera house, Vincent gave up on trying to suppress his yawns. He did his best ever since the opera singer started singing, but try as he might, he could not find it within him to even appear entertained by this most boring form of art – watching another person hit high notes with their voice. That’s why instead, he kept playing a game with himself – see in what other creative ways he could cover up his boredom. Eventually, he settled on an idea that sounded like it could be promising.
He yawned for the umpteenth time, and with a stretch, he reached over a gloved hand and placed it on a very familiar knee next to him, which belonged to his brother. The white glove along the black suit was a risky move, but one Vincent was willing to entertain for the sake of staving off his boredom. They were high enough, so he would only have to worry about the other balcony guests potentially seeing him, but they were all too engrossed in the performance. Gilbert also could have fooled anyone that he was actively engaged, (disciplined as he was), but Vincent saw the way his brother was biting the tip of his finger to stay awake. Oh well, complementary tickets to the house of Nightray were complementary for a reason and a noble presence was expected. With no other member of the house being willing or available for the task, the duty was pawned off to the adopted brothers. They showed up, but that didn’t mean they had to like it.
As soon as his hand landed on Gilbert’s knee, Gilbert shifted slightly and looked around to make sure nobody noticed. Despite Vincent’s previous reconnaissance that the action would be safe, Gil still shifted in his seat to angle his body away from the nearest guest, but didn’t say anything else.
Since Vincent didn’t get the reaction he hoped for, he squeezed the knee lightly and massaged it soothingly. With only the quickest of inhales from Gilbert as the only indication that he felt anything, Vincent travelled with his hand further up Gilbert’s leg. He squeezed the thigh, softly, patiently – his trajectory clear. This time, Gilbert finally reacted just like Vincent wanted. The older shifted towards him and in a hoarse voice whispered to him, breath hot against his ear. “What are you doing…?”
Vincent smirked and squeezed the thigh harder, but his voice rang through with admired enthusiasm. “Why, I’m merely enjoying the opera! Isn’t her voice lovely? That soprano is to die for, though personally…” Vincent lowered his voice to a suggestive purr. “I prefer Gilbert’s baritone in the bedroom…”
Luckily, Gilbert’s sharp inhale aligned with the singer’s yet another high note, but the way Gilbert’s eyes widened was only for Vincent to see. That scolding look that Vincent loved so much. The one that screamed ‘are you asking to get punished?’ To which Vincent always replied with ‘yes, please,’ like the good little brother that he was. His hand shifted further up towards Gilbert’s crotch where he could already feel the effects of his words on his brother.
Vincent finally got what he wanted when Gilbert shifted in his seat again, as he desperately tried to move away from the sinful touch. He coughed to clear his throat, Vincent’s name only audible to them both.
“Careful now, or you might start attracting attention,” Vincent smirked wickedly and kept his hand essentially on Gilbert’s crotch. If the white hand on the dark pants wouldn’t do it, then Gilbert’s quickly reddening face would. Goodness, Vincent could practically feel the heat radiating off of his brother and that only egged him to push the poor thing further – to his limit.
With lustful touches, Vincent circled Gilbert’s crotch to get some blood circulation into the slowly awakening member. Gilbert – bless his soul – tried to fight it as much as he could. Vincent saw from the corner of his eye how the older bit his lip and flexed his free hand on the armrest – no doubt itching to get Vincent’s mischievous hand off him. However, Vincent wouldn’t let go. Not until Gilbert snapped in the most delicious of ways. Not until the promise of heavenly sin was delivered to him in the cruelest of ways.
With a steady pace, Vincent worked the length to be almost fully erect. He let out his own huff of amusement over the triumph of his victory. Even the sound of the opera singer faded away into the background as he focused solely on Gilbert’s shallow breathing. ‘Would he really let me…?’
Vincent wiggled a finger closer to the pant zipper, fully intent on pushing this boundary, and was quickly met with the answer to that question. Gilbert’s hand clamped down over his, a warning look in his eyes. There was his boundary. This was too far for a public setting.
Rather than being dismayed by the defeat, Vincent only shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and leaned in to whisper along Gilbert’s ear. If he couldn’t ruin his brother with actions, he would just have to do it with words. "You know, I've always wondered what it would be like to get fucked by a classy gentleman in a tail coat. Maybe I'll go to the bathroom and find out…” After all, they didn’t dress up for nothing to an event like this.
With practiced grace, as if he didn’t just scramble Gilbert’s brains, Vincent left his seat, though he allowed his hand to linger on and squeeze Gilbert’s manhood for a moment longer before he turned around, and with a sweet promise of depravity, made his way to the bathroom.
On the way, he dipped into the cleaner’s closet where he found a useful ‘closed for cleaning’ sign which he pasted on the door to the men’s bathroom. Inside the luxurious bathroom, he thanked the heavens for the prime space to commit unspeakable atrocities. The marble sinks counter and mirrors lined the entire wall, the chandeliers were nothing but exquisite even in the bathroom bathed the room in their warm yellow light.
With no time to dwell, Vincent discarded his pants and underwear, but kept his top half on since he knew what Gilbert would truly need from him. Fairly enough, just as Vincent got on the sink to settle back against the mirror with one knee tucked up while the other leg dangled lazily, the door flung open and Gilbert’s wonderfully familiar long strided footsteps filled the room. Vincent smirked to himself when he heard the click of the bathroom door being shut out to any outsiders. That, paired with the sign on the door would guarantee no interruptions. In a moment though, Gilbert stormed from around the corner of the marble wall, and Vincent, without missing a beat, reached out the small bottle of lube he had prepared in advance.
“Vince, you are so debauched!” Gilbert hissed as he stomped over, the sounds of the opera far in the background – only their depraved desire for each other present in the bathroom.
Vincent only grinned wider, that devilish smile danced more prominently on his face. The sight of Gilbert’s flustered anger will never cease to amuse him. Despite knowing that Gilbert could and should push him away, there his older brother stood, pupils blown wide, erection pushing at the seams of the fabric of his pants, his hand turned up in an impatient demand. Vincent flipped the bottle and squirted the lube onto Gilbert’s palm. “I’ve been called worse.”
Without any other formalities, Gilbert shoved two fingers inside Vincent, intent to make it hurt, just like Vincent liked. Vincent barely had time to close the lube before he was forced to groan in pain and close his eyes to focus on relaxing, that first penetration wrapped around the base of his spine like a coil.
“Do you want me to call you worse?” Gilbert breathed dangerously close to his lips, and Vincent cracked open his eyes to peer at the alluring liquid gold.
“I want Gilbert to call me whatever he sees fit,” he gave his usual submissive response, laboured as it was while Gilbert fingered him relentlessly on the sink counter. Still, he wouldn’t miss it for the life of him. To be able to watch the way Gilbert’s mouth fell open while he concentrated on scissoring Vincent and stretching him to completion. Vincent breathed heavily through it all, and let the yearning for his brother guide him wherever it may lead.
"My depraved little brother... about to be fucked in the bathroom of an opera house…” Gilbert drawled in a dangerously sweet voice, and finally retrieved his fingers. Instantly, he unclasped his buckle and pulled down his pants and underwear just enough to pull himself out of the confines of his undergarments. Meanwhile, Vincent scooted closer to the edge of the sink to allow Gilbert easier access to his entrance and spread his legs wide for his brother. “Let's see what notes I can make you reach when my cock hits your prostate,” Gilbert’s voice was silky smooth. So enticing and so dirty.
Vincent barely had time to react before he was stretched fully, a broken ‘ah’ ripped from his throat while his hands flew out to grip the shoulders of the man that was about to make him see the gods. Each pass of Gilbert’s cock along his insides was a siren song taking him under. If there was one thing he never minded drowning in, it was Gilbert’s unyielding devotion to him. Though, with the unspoken sin that their incestuous love manifested, each groan and erotic cry felt more like sacrament. That’s why, with a white knuckle grip on Gilbert’s shoulders, over and over again, Vincent allowed his brother to hit that sensitive bundle of nerves, knowing this was his only salvation in this world – to be used for Gilbert’s pleasure.
Every drag of Gilbert’s cock along his insides made Vincent bend to Gilbert’s will. His body was strung tight like an instrument only Gilbert knew how to play. Head tipped back against the mirror, Vincent knew who owned him as his mouth hung open with Gilbert’s name reverently on his tongue.
So entranced by the familiar stretch of Gilbert inside him, Vincent didn’t notice the fingers in his mouth until Gilbert spoke up again. “There, that’s it, you sound better while your mouth is wrapped around something.”
Truly enough, Vincent instantly clamped down around the digits in his mouth and moaned lowly. He even cracked his eyes open to note how Gilbert was looking at the mirror behind him – looking at them. He was about to question that when Gilbert pulled himself away completely and dragged Vincent off the sink. “Turn around. I want you to look at yourself while I reduce you down to the whore that you are.”
A bolt of electricity shot straight to Vincent’s groin and made his cock twitch in excitement. For all the brooding puppy dog faces Gilbert put up in public, behind closed doors lurked a very depraved beast. One that Vincent helped create – something he took great pride in. Because now, bent over a public bathroom sink, his hips held tightly and legs spread wide open, Vincent got to bear the fruits of his conditioning. He gripped the edges of the nearest basin – tried to keep himself steady while Gilbert just. Kept. Fucking. Him.
Fucking in front of a mirror was a welcome change. It allowed him to see what Gilbert looked like while he took him from behind. A sight Vincent quickly grew to worship. Still, he allowed the constant rhythm of skin slapping on skin to take him away. He was about to rest his head on the edge of the sink counter when a sharp yank to his ponytail snapped his head back up. He cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure as his eyes zeroed in on Gilbert’s. His chest heaved; his back arched. He was indeed Gilbert’s little whore.
As his heart hammered in his chest at the implications, Gilbert leaned in and murmured lowly into Vincent’s ear. “Is this classy enough for you?”
Vincent almost forgot what led them to this moment to begin with. Almost. He couldn’t help the lapses in judgment he made when it came to his brother. This was certainly one of them. What were they thinking getting this carried away in the public bathroom of an opera house? The answer was: they weren’t. They allowed lust to take the wheel and were now much better for it. Now, Vincent knew exactly what it was like to get fucked by a man in a tail coat, and he would do it again in a heartbeat. The way Gilbert’s curls slowly came out with each effortful thrust of his hips. How his own ribbon wrapped ponytail looked between Gilbert’s gloved hand. Vincent couldn't deny wanting more.
As if Gilbert read his mind, he pulled on the ponytail harder. Vincent’s back arched even more and made Gilbert hit his prostate just that much better. “Let’s see if my cock can make you sing countertenor,” Gilbert inquired hotly.
Vincent whimpered. Gilbert’s voice mixed with the actions beckoned him towards his orgasm. He moaned highly, once again thankful for the opera singer somewhere far away in what felt like an unspoken competition for the highest note. Not that Vincent could hit a soprano, but Gilbert knew Vincent’s range well enough to know that countertenor, though rare, was achievable – and what a better place to hear it again than at an opera house.
“Gilbert…” Vincent’s voice rose in pitch. With each measured thrust, with each hit against his prostate, Vincent felt himself leaving the standard tenor he would usually moan in. He couldn’t keep it low. Not while his hair was pulled and his back arched almost at 90 degrees, and he got to see his brother leading him towards the edge. “Fuck!”
“That’s it… My good little brother. So perfect for me,” Gilbert murmured next to his ear, his voice dripped unreal sweetness. The words wrapped around Vincent like a warm blanket. All he wanted was to just be good for Gilbert, and there was his brother praising him like someone actually worthy. Vincent choked on his next moan and tears sprang to his eyes. Soon, so soon he’ll feel the tension snap in his groin, but not until Gilbert unleashed it all inside him first. He needed to be used first. Needed to earn it, to feel worthy, and that was the only way he knew how.
“Gilbert, please, come inside me. Use me as your cum dumpster,” Vincent murmured, highly, feverishly. He felt like he could come just from that thought alone, from the mere idea of this ungodly action.
Gilbert’s next praise only pushed him further towards that destination. “Hmm, you know what? That’s not a bad idea…” Then, more authoritatively, he added. “Come in your gloved hand and I’ll come inside your needy ass.”
“Gil?” Vincent’s eyes widened. Coming before his brother went against everything he believed in. Gilbert was supposed to use him, not the other way around. Vincent ejaculating was more like an unfortunate byproduct of sex with Gilbert. A sign of his inability to control himself around his brother.
Gilbert gave a firm slap to the side of Vincent’s ass. The sound bounced off the marble walls and tiles while the younger yelped and bit his lip. A renewed fire blazed in Vincent’s groin. He let it spread to the rest of his body until eventually it pulled on his hand to stroke himself – to come for Gilbert. “Gil…” He whimpered. Gone were all signs of composure that might have been present earlier.
“That’s it. Keep stroking that cock,” Gilbert murmured against his ear and pulled on his hair again to lick the shell of his ear. “Or should I keep calling you dirty names until you bust?”
With the way that stars danced across his vision, Vincent was sure he would black out from the pleasure. Luckily, his release came before his body reached its limit. His voice rose to an exquisite note, higher than anything he’s ever let out. The cock in his ass pushed him all the way over the edge and then just kept dragging him down until he fully drowned in Gilbert. His note cracked into a broken plea, crying out for salvation and redemption as he emptied himself out onto the white glove that captured every drop of white sin that his body produced.
He shattered beneath Gilbert’s ruin. Worst of all, he loved every moment of it. Loved the way Gilbert’s fingers dug into his flesh possessively. Whether in admiration or lust, it didn’t matter. Loved the way he was reduced to nothing but a pleading, begging and whimpering whore that cried out to be filled. Vincent wasn’t even sure if he was uttering words anymore, the euphoric feeling blended into one giant ecstasy that circuited through his entire body and milked him dry.
He did as instructed. He was a good boy. He came into his glove. More broken sounds were trapped in his throat while his vision danced. Now it was all up to Gilbert to use him as his brother saw fit. With a relieved exhale, he slumped forward. His ruined hand came to rest under his forehead as he noted Gilbert let go of his hair. Unable to focus on anything else, he let the soothing rhythm of Gilbert’s thrusts carry him away while he endured this punishment as pleasure.
“Fuck, Vince, I’m gonna come,” Gilbert laboured out, both hands now firmly gripped Vincent’s hips. Vincent only raised his head. He had to see this through. Had to see his brother’s face contort in beautiful pleasure while he filled him up inside beautifully.
“Ruin me,” Vincent pleaded.
The dangerous smirk from his otherwise gentle brother sent an electric bolt down his spine. “Heh, my cum inside your ass is not what’s going to ruin you tonight, dear brother.”
Vincent wanted to question that threat veiled as a promise, but he ran out of time before Gilbert released his seed inside him. The sensation felt like a blessing from within. Acceptance in its finest form. His brother yet again marked him as his with physical evidence as proof of that. “Gil…” he whimpered reverently, because no one could fuck him like that like his brother. Not that he would let anyone try anyway. With others, he did the ruining. His brother was a whole different story. A story drenched in sin and debauchery.
Done rearranging Vincent’s insides, Gilbert took a deep breath and leaned forward to rest his head on Vincent’s back. Vincent watched him in the mirror like a hawk stalking its prey. It happened again. Gilbert used his body for his own release. If there was proof that salvation existed in this world, this was it. If this was the only way he was allowed to exist in this world, he would gladly keep on living like this.
Normally, this would be the moment where Gilbert would pull out and clean him up. However, not this time. Once he was done regaining his breath and composing himself, Gilbert lifted his head to lock eyes with Vincent, still buried deep inside him. “Give me your glove,” he commanded hoarsely.
The demand caught him off guard. Vincent tried to straighten up a bit to look at his hands, his vision still hazy. He looked between his cum stained hand and the clean one and reached for the clean glove to take it off. Instantly, Gilbert cut him off. “No, not that one. The other one.”
Vincent’s eyes widened and he flicked his gaze up to meet Gilbert’s determined one in the mirror. Without breaking eye contact, he took the correct one off and handed it to Gilbert over his shoulder. When his brother accepted his stained glove, the older leaned in so their faces would be side by side. “Remember how I said my cum won’t be what ruins you tonight?” He brought the glove up as a hint to what will be Vincent’s ruin. Vincent’s insides twisted at the insinuation.
Gilbert straightened up and brought the glove towards Vincent’s ass. “Now, can’t have this cum leaking all over the place, now can we? Let’s see if we can plug you up nice and snug with your glove…” Gilbert’s voice dropped in concentration as he maneuvered himself to do just as he promised.
Vincent watched his brother’s focused face in the mirror in fascination. He exhaled hotly when Gilbert pulled out and tried to keep himself relaxed for what was to come. He felt the cloth press against his backside, already catching the cum that was spilling out. He trembled all over with the sheer dirtiness of the action. Not only did his brother just fuck him like his own personal sex doll in a bathroom, but he was about to use him even more. He was going to make Vincent carry both of their loads inside him while they were out in public. Vincent’s cock revived in excitement at the mere thought.
“Ah, yes, just like that, stuff me, Gil,” he begged for the umpteenth time that evening. He didn’t care what he had to do or how he had to act to appease his brother – to make Gilbert treat him this way – like a broken doll. The lazy smile on Gilbert’s face was all Vincent needed to feel alive. Along with that, he felt more of the glove make its way inside him as Gilbert pushed his fingers in through the fabric.
Vincent moaned and dropped his head. He focused on breathing, doing his best to relax against this new penetration. He wasn’t at all surprised to feel himself getting hard again. This was going to be a long evening. Maybe the opera would prove to be more interesting as a result. He couldn’t wait to go out into the audience and to pretend like he wasn’t just ruined and rebuilt in the most beautiful way. Pretend like he wasn’t carrying mixed sin inside him. To smile, nod and clap like a nobleman while inside, his ass was full of a dark promise. A cruel secret he had to keep hidden from the rest of the world. A world that will forever be robbed of the knowledge who he belonged to.
Soon enough, he felt Gilbert stuff the final bits of the glove in and Vincent had to focus on the new feeling. “How does it feel?” Gilbert asked quietly, his caring and tender self poked through for a moment. It was something that Vincent appreciated, but ultimately was not needed. Not like he could ever change that about his brother though, so Vincent gave up trying.
“Dirty,” was all Vincent said playfully. That earned him a harsh slap on his ass and Vincent smirked. He straightened up slowly, to test out how it felt to have something of this calibre inside him. It was certainly different from a penis, and had he not been this turned on, maybe he would have even found it uncomfortable. Be that as it may, he couldn’t view it as anything but hot and desirable in that moment given all the circumstances.
Gilbert spun him around and took in Vincent’s aroused state. “Mhmm. This should be even more interesting than I initially anticipated.”
Vincent shuddered in Gilbert’s hold. How could his brother look at him like someone worthy of even being in his presence, let alone given all this attention?
“Get dressed,” Gilbert said softly and motioned with his chin towards the discarded lower clothes of Vincent’s suit. “I want to see how you move all stuffed up like that.”
Fire burned in Vincent’s groin and he only gave a submissive nod and stepped away to do just as instructed. Gilbert already put away his own erection and fastened his pants by the time Vincent unfolded his underwear and slid them on slowly. The feeling of the fullness aside, what really made this moment most triumphant was the desire and lust with which Gilbert decided to do this to him. First his brother fucked him senseless, and now followed by this? Was the opera that inspiring for Gilbert?
He shimmied into his pants slowly but he could feel Gilbert’s gaze on him. Truly enough, Gilbert stood there with a thumb between his lips as he eyed Vincent up. The younger suddenly felt very self conscious and he flicked his gaze around nervously. “What…?”
Gilbert only shook his head and grinned. He walked over to Vincent once the other was dressed and pressed his lips to Vincent’s forehead tenderly. “You look good carrying my cum inside your ass like that,” the low voice with which Gilbert murmured that sent ripples of satisfaction through Vincent’s entire being. Pair that with the forehead kiss and Vincent blushed like a schoolgirl. Compliments from his brother weren’t rare, but they were something Vincent was convinced he’d never get used to. Plus, it’s not like Gilbert just gave a generic compliment. This one was lewdly specific. Almost as if his brother liked to keep him on this nice/nasty swing.
When Gilbert pulled back, he looked Vincent up and down. He reached out to fix Vincent’s appearance to make them presentable once again to return to the performance. “My cum stuffed little brother…” he mused while he ran his fingers through Vincent’s frontal locks in a futile attempt to hide the actions of their sins.
Vincent once again blushed at the softness with which Gilbert was handling him and cast his gaze down. “Gil… I’m already getting hard enough because of this…” Every word that came out of Gilbert’s mouth was like an arrow straight to his groin. He couldn’t help but bloom under Gilbert’s attention, whether it be verbal or physical. Now, he had both, in combination with some very vivid memories of what just transpired.
Gilbert did not seem phased nor surprised by this revelation. If anything, he looked intrigued. “Good. Because now, I want to go back out there first and then watch you navigate your way to our seats knowing how hard you are and how full you are with our cum. Then, I won’t take my eyes off you for one moment as you settle back into your seat and are forced to sit through the rest of the evening as if you aren’t being stretched from the inside, every shift in your seat a reminder of what’s – of who’s – inside you…”
Vincent’s eyelids drooped closed with each word, his cock already ached in anticipation over the torment that was just about to begin. Then, without a warning since his brain was hovering somewhere between the real and fantasy world, Gilbert’s lips pressed against his, firmly, possessively, yet in a typical Gil fashion, softly and lovingly. “You started this, little brother. I will be the one to finish this.”
With that, Gilbert stepped back, and with a final look over Vincent, he turned around and headed towards the door of the bathroom. Vincent was left to stand there and gather all his scattered thoughts – for once at a loss for words. What Gilbert just suggested was the most fitting punishment of them all. Yes, Vincent did start this when he first placed his hand on Gilbert’s thigh. However, not even his wildest of imaginations could have anticipated this most fortunate turn of events. He allowed a few more moments for reality to settle in before he squared his shoulders and turned to give one final look in the mirror before he headed out as well. He patted his hair, adjusted his earrings, and tightened the ribbon in his hair. With a final smoothing down of his jacket, he made his way back to his seat.
Back on the balcony, at the edge of their row of seats, Vincent felt like a bride walking down the aisle. At his destination sat Gilbert with an ankle over his knee, his thumb promptly against his teeth as he feigned interest once more at the opera singer. Only once Vincent made his way towards his seat did Gilbert turn his attention towards the approaching newcomer, and Vincent’s insides stirred at the attention. ‘Yes, look at me just like you promised while I carry both of us inside me…’ Vincent thought and focused on breathing through each step.
He gave his usual apologies as he maneuvered around people, but the entire time his eyes were locked on Gilbert and the position his brother was sitting in. No doubt Gil kept his legs spread like that to accommodate the well concealed erection his brother was sporting. Despite the dim lighting, Vince could still make it out ever so slightly and that made his own cock twitch in excitement. A most inopportune moment also as he was passing by a lady’s face. He kept his hand respectfully over his lower stomach until he made it to his seat, and slower than usual, settled in with a silent exhale.
Though Gilbert didn’t acknowledge him, Vincent could feel Gilbert’s gaze devouring him from the side. Try as he might, Vincent couldn’t focus on anything but the glove inside him. It was honestly a miracle he even made it to his seat without dropping somewhere along the way from the pleasure. With the way Gilbert was looking at him – his own sensations threatened to overwhelm him. Not to mention the knowledge that his brother was just as hard sitting next to him. That, in itself, was its own form of torment knowing he couldn’t just take and be taken as he pleased. On the other hand, the glove inside him would need to be taken out eventually, and something told Vincent he wouldn’t be doing that alone.
Gilbert’s next words solidified that belief. “Good boy…” came the barely audible whisper above the shriek of the opera singer. “You’ll get your reward at home…” The words cascaded down Vincent’s spine and settled into the pit of his stomach. He somehow became harder than he already was, which at this point, was just a crime.
Despite the beautiful promise though, what truly warmed Vincent’s heart was Gilbert’s praise. He wasn’t a bad boy. He was a good boy. The best one for Gilbert. That’s all that mattered.