Chapter Text
Sophie and Gustave had another falling out.
Alicia - no, she who was once called Alicia is in despair. Because her dear guardian - her fictional brother and father in this Canvas - he’s heartbroken once more.
No gommage. No expeditions dying year after year. And still he is unhappy.
“Why…” his voice is small, quiet in the kitchen of the apartment he shares with Emma and Maelle. White locks fall on his shoulder as the young paintress comforts him, hand laid reassuringly on his mechanical arm, her eyes sad and full of empathy.
“Why…” she joins him in asking towards no one in particular, putting forward the same question but for a completely different reason.
Verso knows it. He is the only one in this godforsaken fantasy world who knows the answer to both of their questions.
He’s joined them this evening, after his usual expected opera play. After Gustave has confined to Alicia, to his Maelle, that he’s broken up with Sophie once more.
Not wanting to do this alone, the girl asked the one being she adamantly demands to be a stand-in for her dead brother to join them. To be there if they need it. Like a good brother would.
Verso agreed, not because he wants to - but because he must.
And because he enjoys it.
Standing on the far corner near the entrance of the kitchen, arms crossed and face deceptively neutral, Verso watches the scene unfold in silence.
Wearing a perfect mask. Like always.
He can’t reflect their sadness to them. After everything that happened, the distance he has shown towards this man - it would be obviously dishonest.
He can’t be angry for them. Verso truly knows almost nothing about the woman who dumped Gustave, faking anger towards a stranger to maybe lift their spirits - that’s beneath him. Especially since he already figures why this has happened, the “why” the others desperately seek the answer to.
And so the true emotion he feels and keeps tightly locked behind his neutral mask is joy. Devilish, hateful joy. But joy nonetheless.
Because Maelle, she who chained him to this existence he doesn’t want, proves once more that even she as the paintress doesn’t hold absolute power over what happens in this Canvas.
No. Verso has some power left. And seeing the anguish it causes them gives his sad existence a flicker of terrible amusement - of anger turned into delicious vengeance.
His smirk hidden with the truth he will never tell them, Verso easily pretends his slight smile to be a silent offer of brotherly comfort.
“And Sophie… Truly, you did nothing to upset her, somehow?” Maelle tries, but Gustave only shakes his head, the corners of his eyes wet with unshed tears.
“I… we talked about children again, a few days ago.”
Children. He still wants them. Verso keeps his mental laughter to himself.
“But I thought Sophie was finally fine with having some with you?” The girl gets up and paces around Gustave, face one of clear disbelief. “Without the gommage, without the paintress at the monolith - you can live your life fully now! Your children can live out their life!”
That’s a lie. You are certainly going to die before that.
Verso turns his head away, knowing that watching this scene would threaten his mask. His heart is already hammering in his chest with hateful joy. The need for revenge has long since replaced the honest worry he once held for Ali— Maelle.
“Yes, but she… Sophie changed her mind and said that… l-like this, we couldn’t stay together.” The broken voice of this man makes Verso’s heart soar, and he doesn’t know.
But then Gustave whispered in anguish, making Verso’s breath stop to a glaring halt. “She said she… didn’t recognize me.”
“What?”
As Maelle panics like never before, her own lies finally unravelled - Verso bites the insides of his mouth. Hard.
He needs to get out of here, soon.
This is too much.
This is too good.
“No. I don’t understand. Why would she say something like that?” She’s gripping Gustave’s other shoulder now, more of an anchor for herself than anything else.
A liar seeking comfort in a broken man. What irony.
“I… think… i-it’s-” Again he tries, but Gustave is slowly approaching his emotional end. “Because of m-my… memories."
The lack thereof, Verso’s mind completes. He shifts and acts like he scratches his beard. Hiding his cruel smile that broke through his mask.
“Oh Gustave…” Maelle cries now as well, arms wrapped around her beloved painting. Her face shifts to look for Verso, who as if on cue acts like the man she wants him to be.
“Give them time.” Verso says to Maelle in a serious voice, knowingly not helping her at all with that advice. “We should give him some time to process.”
“But…” Maelle looks pleadingly at him and then at Gustave, whose tears are silently falling to the kitchen floor. The man simply shakes his head and gently waves for the others to leave. “I-I’ll be fine,” he lies with a fake smile towards his pretend sister. “He’s right I-I want to… b-be alone for now. Yeah?”
The girl relents and nods, wiping her tear stained cheeks with the white frilled sleeves of her dress. She and Verso slowly leave, he’s sure that after the door behind them closes he hears small, wrecked sobs behind the wood.
The streets of Lumière are dark. Maelle rushes ahead, fists balled. Verso silently trails behind her, just waiting for the anger to finally explode out of the girl. They don’t make it far - just rounding a few corners, far enough that she thinks her dear pretend brother won’t hear them anymore.
“What am I doing wrong?!” Maelle all but screams and kicks a lamppost in pure teenager frustration. “Why is this happening again?”
“Again?” Verso carefully steps beneath the orange glow of the flickering lamplight. Moths circle above their heads. So close to their death.
Maelle halts and whips around to face him, seething with rage. “You know damn well what I am talking about.”
“Ah.” Verso nods, his hand unconsciously reaching up to his unmarred face, thumb briefly brushing over his cheek. Unscarred. Varnished. Newly painted because he looks much prettier like this. There is no hurt in this world if nobody sees it. “It didn’t work?”
“No. I did it three times already! I tried so hard! Giving them another chance, a happy life but I just—-”
Her tears flow again, angry and desperate.
It’s the final puzzle piece that completes his picture of revenge. And it makes Verso’s carefully held composure finally break.
Verso laughs. Loudly. Unashamed. Bordering on manic.
She watches him in complete disbelief and confusion, never having seen him like this. Her brittle, horrified call of his name only made him laugh harder, holding his chest in pain from his muscles working overtime to support his full body shudders.
At least she stopped crying, a faint voice in his head offers, as after painful minutes of laughter he is finally able to let it die down. Still with a shit eating grin on his face, he wipes his own tears that have fallen from joy he has never experienced in this painted life.
Joy born from despair can be truly terrifying.
“I- haha… I-I’m sorry. That was… I needed to let this out.”
“V-Verso, what are you —-”
“Hah. I don’t think repainting him again will fix your issue, dear sister.”
Maelle stills, brows furrowing. The air between them shifts noticeably. They aren’t pretending to be siblings anymore. “So? … got any brighter ideas, mister know-it-all?”
“If I were kind with you - I’d say it might be better to leave things broken that aren’t meant to be fixed.” Verso cocks his head, eyes glinting dangerously. “That there are just some people that aren’t meant to be. And forcing them to be won’t help anyone.”
“And what about actually not being a liar for once?” She scoffs, folding her arms in front of her, shooting him a defiant look. A last attempt to stay in control of this situation.
To that he simply nods again, all warmth leaving his voice. The truth, she shall receive.
“He is not her Gustave. And Sophie will always notice it.”
Maelle’s mouth opens as if choking on a silent scream.
“N-no … you don’t… how?!”
“He didn’t gommage like the rest, it’s easy to put two and two together. Not just for me.”
He slowly steps closer. A predator wanting to deliver his final strike. She is crowded against the cold metal lamppost, colour completely drained from her face.
Triumph basks in Verso’s mind. Yes. Feel the fear and despair, little one. The things you put us under every godforsaken day in this broken fantasy of yours.
Of course he would never harm her. Physically.
She could just gommage him. Would be an easy way out if he didn’t know she would just repaint him, over and over.
And so he stops, just out of her reach but close enough for his dark whisper to reach her. “I bet all your friends know, but are afraid to tell you. Maelle.”
“I told you not to lie.” She hisses, but her threat is empty.
“Do I?”
Verso won.
“Or does even your own Gustave realize what he is?”
Whatever Maelle would retort gets drowned out in the explosive sound of a gunshot - completely destroying the silence of the Canvas.
For a few moments, Maelle stays still, gaze locked with Verso. But then a scream follows - a woman. The dark windows around them illuminate one after the other. Lumièrans walk to the streets, trying to find the source.
The streets around them liven up.
But they both know it’s death calling for them.
Another scream. This time the shock isn’t enough to hold Maelle tethered. She immediately rushes, stumbling over her own feet and surely hurting herself in the process. Running, running - back towards Gustave’s and Emma’s and her apartment.
Verso briefly stays. Taking a deep breath.
Weeks of waiting. It payed off wonderfully. And this time it didn’t take much at all, just a single conversation, innocently asking this painted copy about his plans to have children, why he won’t finally get them with Sophie.
Of course he knew she would say no. He has the pretty reason for it tightly - lovingly - secured.
It’s finally time to celebrate with him.
Verso’s smirk is locked in place as he then walks towards his own apartment. Unhurried. Just above the Opera, in the same building, he lives in a small space. Easier to practice for him when living that close to the concert stage, he said to Maelle. It’s sparse, closely tied to his pianist career. The excuse of work is a good reason they would never unexpectedly and freely visit him.
Like this, he can hold his most precious secret teasingly close to them. Without them ever knowing.
“Mon cher, I’m home~” Verso calls in a singing voice, sickeningly sweet.
The muffled, weak sob he hears coming from his bedroom makes his eyes grow soft, vengeful joy now joined by something deeper. Something that he knows is much, much darker - born from emotions he declared dead decades ago.
Verso methodically takes off his shoes, then his black suit and waistcoat, only leaving him in his white dress shirt and perfectly fitted, albeit by now slightly spoiled pants, judging by the wet spot crowning the very prominent tent at his crotch. Well, he’s just that excited to celebrate, he muses with a chuckle to himself.
Verso loosens his tie as he strides towards the bedroom door. With a flick of his wrist he gives the Chroma induced lock his permission and then gently presses the door handle to open.
The sight that greets Verso makes his heart soar higher than ever before.
There he is. The real Gustave that he had secretly repainted with the Chroma he had kept from the Stone Wave Cliffs, a few weeks after Alicia decided to force him into this life.
Gustave is mostly naked besides a pretty gold and black choker around his neck, the ring at the front attached to a heavy chain. It tightly secures him to a hook at the ceiling, forcing him to sit upright in a sitting position on Verso's bed.
Verso speaks softly to him. “Ahh. I got great news for you.” He switches the lights on. Without hurry. “But let me first check if you’ve been behaving during my absence, my dear.”
°*°*°
Glossy brown eyes look at the other man, pleadingly.
Spit runs down Gustave’s wet chin as he tries to form words around the nearly two inch big metal ring forcing his mouth open, a black leather band wrapped around his head tightly securing it to his face.
A weak, moan-like sound leaves him, making Verso chuckle all too lovingly.
The pianist smiles widely at him, eyes greedily drinking in Gustave's form. Starting from his warm eyes to his deep red cheeks and the tear tracks that are trailing down them.
Further down his bruised and bite marked neck area, to his heaving, fuzzy chest and his pert pink nipples. He can’t hide anything with his bound arms in a thick leather sleeve behind his back. Verso’s eyes reach Gustave's small waist and thighs that still faintly hold marks from Verso’s fingers, gripping and slapping him harshly just this morning.
Finally his gaze goes to Gustave’s aching, painfully hard cock, kept at attention by the large, ribbed dildo shoved up his hole, the position forcing him to take it and stay on it. But there’s another ring at the base of his cock, and another metal one at his crown with a short rod shoved down his weeping slit, keeping him from coming prematurely. That is: without Verso’s approval.
“Mh. Seems like I don’t have to punish you this time. Good boy.”
Verso purrs his words out as he stalks closer, Gustave jerking in his tight constraints as the feral gaze of the other man eats his pitiful state of arousal up.
“Let me reward you instead with a nice meal, mh?” Verso leans closer and grips Gustave’s bearded chin, forcing him to stay still as he licks up the fresh spit drooling from Gustave’s mouth.
Gustave tries to pull back, avoid the touch - unsuccessfully. He rasps out a shaky “o”, the metal ring stopping him from properly voicing his protest.
Verso tuts. “No? Surely you don’t want to starve?”
Briefly, Verso looks over Gustave - completely stopping in his tracks. The chained man makes an unnatural move with his bound hands and Verso is all smiles again.
“What a pity… you need to stay healthy though.” Verso leans in, teeth grazing Gustave’s earlobe. The man trembles under his breath. Verso’s voice reaches a lower register. “So I guess I’ve got to force you to your happiness, non?”
With a desperate head shake and another whimper, Gustave tries to stop his fate.
But it’s no use.
Verso is already moving him, pulling the chain attached to Gustave’s collar off its hook and forcefully drags him off the dildo he’d been mounted on with an obscene, wet squelch.
Gustave loudly groans, his abused hole twitching in protest. His chain taut, he feels the collar straining his neck as his body is pulled, leaving a wet trail of lube and precum from the bed to the floor.
Gustave is forced to kneel, naked knees on hard wooden boards, face to face with Verso’s crotch who has his chain pulled tight around his left arm.
“You know it well darling.” Verso coos, his darkened eyes fond. Twisted. “Just relax and let me take care of you.”
Deft fingers open Verso’s belt and sleek pants. He’s exhaling in relief as he’s getting out his hard member, then pushes forward slightly to rub the underside of his cock against Gustave’s cheek.
Verso’s gaze is holding his teary doe brown eyes that stare up in what his twisted mind interprets as reverence.
"See what you do to me, Gustave. Knowing you always wait for me to come home to you, to take care of you - like only I can.”
Gustave can only groan in protest. Fresh tears run down his cheeks as Verso’s tip brushes against his glossy lower lip.
Loving the filthy view, Verso puts his hand around his shaft, stroking his fully hard length in long, urgent motions. Coaxing out more precum to paint the rim of his pet’s forced open mouth.
“I see you’re so thankful for this it makes you cry, I know - I know. I won’t keep you waiting for longer.”
A calloused hand grips Gustave’s locks tightly, eliciting a hiss. With the chain wrapped around his hand holding Gustave’s head steady, Verso takes his other hand to angle down his cock.
He pushes it trough the ring of Gustave’s gag, and down his mouth. “F-fuuck yes.”
The way the ring rubs along his girth is a nice bonus to the heavenly feel of the hot throat Verso immediately, thoroughly invades.
He presses his hips forward until he sees the bulge expanding the other’s beautiful throat - and groans euphorically.
“Mh - such a well trained boy, deepthroating me like you were made for it.”
Gustave makes a choked sound around his cock, hips twitching upwards as Verso pulls out half way, enough to closely watch how the drool of the other drips down his shaft.
With another possessive moan Verso slams back in a moment later, Gustave only able to gargle out a noise that tries to convey his discomfort. Again. And again.
Verso doesn’t care. He uses Gustave’s mouth like a toy, pubes meeting his nose over and over, pistoning uncaring and unrelenting, in and out with increasing speed and force that makes Gustave’s eyes slowly roll back from lack of air.
The wet slaps of Verso’s hips pounding against Gustave’s face echo through the room. Verso only slows down briefly, when Gustave stops noticeably fighting against his tight hold.
Verso fully pulls out, then slaps his cheek to check if he’s still conscious. And when brown, half-open eyes twitch and a wrecked noise of pain leaves Gustave, Verso quickly resumes to plunge back in with an unabashed moan.
Over and over Verso checks and confirms that he is indeed experiencing every second of this. Ensuring that Gustave can hear the string of filth and praise whispered through the sex noises by the very man who holds his chain like a leash.
“Mhh - perfect. You are so perfect for me - Gustave. I’ll keep you - keep you forever if I could.”
Verso ferally face fucks him, the force he’s putting Gustave’s body through making his knees and legs scrape against the wood. His own dick throbs helplessly, painfully around its metal plug, neglected - and shamefully wanting.
Gustave uses his tongue, pressing against the underside of Verso’s cock. Trying to please, hoping it will get him to his peak faster.
It works. Verso’s thrusts turn shorter, railing the other’s throat urgently, meanly.
He curses, starts spouting words in ecstasy. “Prettiest man that finally got no insulting copy running around anymore. There’s only one - the true and only Gustave who’s all pretty crying for me and my cock. Nhh- f-fuck I’m close… gonna feed you good, mon cher.”
The words bring lucidity back to Gustave and he desperately tries to make sounds of disagreement around the cock abusing him, trying to pull back and wrestle out before—
Fingers dig into his skull as Verso grinds down his throat and cums with Gustave’s name on his lips, thick spurts defiling his aching insides. Gustave’s final yelp his muffled - his eyes close tightly as he has to swallow it all, Verso’s balls contracting against his spit covered chin.
The man on his knees sobs, his cock throbbing in embarrassing arousal. His own peak is denied as Verso keeps grinding deep against his throat, using him throughout his orgasm. Until the very last drop of cum is safely deposited in his belly.
Only then does Verso slowly pull out, letting Gustave’s tongue and the roof of his mouth feel him before exiting, a long string of spit and cum following his trail out and only breaking off after a few long seconds.
Gustave tries to heave in air, sputtering with his open mouth. He’s making pitiful, croaked sounds, left at the brink of unconsciousness, only held up by Verso’s chain.
“Magnificent.” Verso whispers, thumb pressing down Gustave’s spoiled cheek, appraising his fucked out state in awe. “My wonderful cum sleeve, mhh?”
Finally showing a little mercy, Verso releases the gag around Gustave’s mouth. It falls to the floor with a heavy thud, a puddle of spit around it.
Gustave moans weakly and licks his painfully stretched out lips, only barely recovering until Verso tugs his chain once more.
“You were good.” Verso purrs, pulling Gustave upward, his body hanging on with only his lower legs touching the ground. Soft blue eyes regard him. “Does my pet want to cum now as well?”
Gustave’s face contorts. And then he spits at Verso, hitting his cheek.
“Connard. Go to hell you rapist!"
Verso holds his spiteful gaze with a perfectly calm expression. One second. Then another.
And suddenly Gustave is kicked in his chest. He contorts in pain with a groan, then slumps to the floor.
“… seems a punishment is in order after all. Shame.”
He drags Gustave by his chain along the floor, ignoring his kicks of protest. His eyes widen in horror as Verso pulls him to another door, arms straining in its restrains. “N-no. Anything but—"
“Ah ah. No back talk now. You need to be disciplined, love.”
Verso opens the storage room. But it’s not used for this purpose.
Instead it’s outfitted with two more hooks at its ceiling, matching clasps at the walls, and a wooden spreader bar attached to the floor.
“V-Verso, don’t—”
“Shut it. You can beg for forgiveness once you’ve learned your lesson.”
Verso hooks a squirming Gustave up by his collar, he cannot overcome his tight restraints. His neck chain is pulled tight, securing him to the ceiling once more. Then Verso silently holds down both his ankles with the spreader bar, stopping him from moving any further.
Gustave cries, mumbling a litany of no’s and curses at Verso. But that all halts when out of a shelf nearby, Verso pulls out the instrument of his punishment.
Another, large chain with a way larger hook. At its end the metal forms a large, cone shaped plug. Gustave shakes his head again, brown curls whipping his face.
Verso holds it up, making sure Gustave’s eyes meet the plug. “I want to hear ‘please’.” Verso growls out. “Then I’ll spare you some lube for it.”
Gustave rattles in his restrains, and bites his lips. He’s crimson red, resolve slowly breaking.
He knows how much it hurts without lube.
“P-please.” Gustave breathes out barely audible.
Verso nudges his head. “Come again?”
“Please.” Gustave clenches his teeth. “S-sir.”
“Good.” The word comes with a pleased rumble out of Verso. “Now stay still, and you’ll get through your punishment faster.”
Verso picks up the lube he’s stored in this room just for this reason. Lathering the end of the hook in Gustave’s view.
He tries to push his legs together. But its no use.
Verso attaches the chain to the second hook above, and then prods with the plug shaped hook at Gustave’s entrance, the coldness of lube and metal making him shiver. “Here we go.” Verso says right against Gustave’s ear as he pushes. The man inhales sharply and then grunts, the hard plug moulding his insides into its shape.
Verso keeps pushing until Gustave’s hole is stuffed once more. He smirks. “Now hang on.”
Verso pulls at the chain and a scream tears out of Gustave. The hook stiffens, pulling at Gustave’s rim, forcibly lifting his ass up a tiny bit higher. He can’t move even just a millimetre anymore without the metal end digging into his prostate, edging him right between searing pain and blinding pleasure.
“You look so pretty like this.” A finger traces Gustave’s still plugged cock, he twitches involuntarily - and his moving hips dig the hook deeper into him.
Gustave’s eyes cross, a long whine escapes him.
“Just a few minutes, yeah?” Verso attaches the end of the chain to a clasp at the wall. He walks up again, and kisses Gustave’s temple. Like a lover.
And then leaves him hanging, closing the door behind him.
Gustave closes his eyes, and lets his strained head fall back. Now that the door is closed, he licks his bruised lips and moves his hips with purpose, fucking himself on the hook with a blissful groan.
Always thinking of Verso’s hauntingly beautiful eyes, how he kept them focused on him as he ruined his throat, his groans, the feel of his cock spurting inside him.
Only Verso can do this to him.
Only he asks no second questions, and just does what he wants. What Gustave wants.
Even if it’s a goddamn rape fantasy.
Fuck, he loves him so much.