Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1076291.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Kuroshitsuji_|_Black_Butler
  Relationship:
      Sebastian_Michaelis/Ciel_Phantomhive
  Character:
      Sebastian_Michaelis, Ciel_Phantomhive
  Additional Tags:
      Power_Play, Light_Bondage, Teasing, Dark, Demon_Sex, Spanking, Mind
      Games, Dubious_Consent, Sadism, Blood_and_Gore, Rape/Non-con_Elements,
      Shota, Flashbacks
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-12-09 Chapters: 1/3 Words: 2602
****** Dangerous Games ******
by soulless_lover
Summary
     “Will you still pretend to sleep?” Sebastian’s voice was strange,
     something like the growl of a wild beast mixed with the soft, echoic
     ring of a glass of water being rubbed around the rim with a wet
     fingertip. “Oh, but you do love dangerous games, do you not?” He
     pulled Ciel’s night-shirt up further, those long nails scraping the
     delicate skin at the top of his thigh, and for the first time in the
     Earl’s life, he found himself wondering why he didn’t wear
     undergarments to bed. “I’m glad.” Higher, higher, clawing over the
     soft swell of Ciel’s backside, the hollow of his narrow back. “So do
     I.”
     WARNING: Sebastian is pretty frightening in full demon form - and
     pretty cruel sometimes, too... but Ciel's memories are even worse.
     This is the darkest Kuro fic I've ever written.
Notes
     i recommend listening to this_song while reading.
i'm always here when you need me / i'm always right beside you if you like it
or not / all your clever lies don't deceive me / just sit back and relax i know
you'll like it a lot
-------------------------------------
“Young Master, it is time to wake up.”
Ciel knew very well what time it was – he’d been awake for almost an hour, but
had just been lying there staring at the bedside clock, waiting for the hands
to read exactly half-past eight, waiting to hear those footsteps in the hall…
waiting for him.
Sebastian finished tying back the heavy velvet drapes and turned to the tea-
cart; Ciel heard the clink of the silver strainer being set into the china cup,
the fluid sound of tea being poured. “In preparation for your very busy
schedule today, I have prepared a strong black tea from Twining’s, and a highly
nutritious omelet made with fresh eggs and newly-harvested vegetables from the
manor’s own garden. After breakfast, you have an appointment with—Young Master,
please do come out from under the blankets! Really, you haven’t the time to lie
abed this morning.”
He sounds so exasperated, Ciel thought. Good.
There was the clatter of the cup and saucer being put down, and then Sebastian
was standing beside the bed; Ciel’s eyes were shut, but he could sense the
demon there, could feel his presence hanging in the air between them like a
heavy mist. “Young Master, come along now, it is time to get up.”
The Earl didn’t move, refusing to allow his eyelids to flutter in the
slightest. Slow, deep, even breaths, inhaling the butler’s warm, deceptively
sweet scent. He can’t force me to do anything I don’t want to; I am the master
and he is the servant, and this bed is now a chessboard upon which I will test
my strategies as I like.
Sebastian sighed. “Do you think you’re fooling me, pretending to sleep like
that?” His footsteps came nearer, the weight of his closeness a nearly tangible
thing. “Well. This is a new game – though as usual, you’ve chosen a most
inopportune time to try it out.”
What will you do, Sebastian? What reaction will you have when I simply refuse
to get out of bed? Will you be angry? Lose your carefully maintained temper? Is
it possible to provoke you so severely that your perfect butler façade cracks,
leaving you sputtering in impotent rage? Or will you be absolutely dull and
just resign yourself to canceling all my appointments for the day? The thought
of his harried butler having to go to all the trouble of rescheduling
everything because of his mercurial master’s whim was sort of amusing, but
still terribly dull. Get irritated, Sebastian – get angry, get frustrated, do
something interesting!
Sebastian made a little sound through his nose that was half sigh, half laugh.
“Honestly... you are such a child sometimes.” Ciel lay perfectly still,
refusing to rise to the obvious bait, and the demon bent down closer, so near
that the boy could feel Sebastian’s breath on his cheek. “Are you not going to
even do me the courtesy of explaining the rules of this game to me? Would you
have me invent my own, then?”
There was something ominous in his tone, some thinly veiled threat… but of
what, Ciel wasn’t certain. This could well be a huge mistake – but at the very
least, it should be interesting.
“Very well, then, Young Master.” The claustrophobic closeness vanished as
Sebastian moved off, and then the duvet was being pulled away, slowly, gently.
“I would have you do your work directly, without fuss… but if you need a bit of
encouragement, then so be it.”
Ciel realized Sebastian must have rolled the duvet completely down to the foot
of the bed, because he could feel the cool air in the room over his entire
body, all the way to his toes; he was face-down on the mattress, head turned to
the side atop the fat goose-feather pillow, and it suddenly occurred to him
just how vulnerable he was at the moment, lying there motionless in only his
night-shirt.
“Are you certain you still want to play this game?” Sebastian caressed the sole
of Ciel’s left foot, lightly, his gloved fingertips sliding along the sensitive
arch, but Ciel was not going to lose this game, even if his villainous butler
resorted to tickling. “If you get up now, I shall dress you and we shall go
about the day as if nothing unusual has occurred… but if you force me to play
this foolish game with rules of my own choosing, I promise you, Young Master:
you will never forget this day.”
That chill that just ran down my spine wasn’t fear, Ciel told himself firmly.
It was excitement.
“Very well, Young Master… you cannot say I did not warn you.” His hand left
Ciel’s foot, and after a moment returned bare, his skin very warm, almost hot.
He chuckled softly. “I must say, I do wonder how long you will keep this up.
Perhaps this new game of yours will be more amusing than I thought.”
His fingertips slid up over Ciel’s heel, trailed along the smooth curve of his
calf; and suddenly there was something sharp – several somethings – scraping
over his flesh, as though Sebastian’s fingernails had suddenly become talons.
It did hurt a bit, but it was more irritating than painful, rather like walking
through brambles, and he didn’t think he was bleeding.
“I shall put the timer-glass on the bedside table,” Sebastian said, in a voice
that somehow reminded the boy of a swirling pool of black ink, “and you will
have until the last grain of sand falls to come to your senses. After that…”
Those sharp claws scratched across the back of Ciel’s knee and up the length of
his thigh, dragging the hem of his night-shirt upward as well. “After that, my
little lord, I will hear none of your pleas.”
There was the soft tmp of wood on wood as he set the timer down; the room was
perfectly still and silent; even the birds outside the window seemed to have
gone quiet; and although he knew it was nonsense, Ciel thought he could almost
hear the fine white grains of sand in the timer rushing down into the lower
glass.
“Will you still pretend to sleep?” Sebastian’s voice was strange, something
like the growl of a wild beast mixed with the soft, echoic ring of a glass of
water being rubbed around the rim with a wet fingertip. “Oh, but you do love
dangerous games, do you not?” He pulled Ciel’s night-shirt up further, those
long nails scraping the delicate skin at the top of his thigh, and for the
first time in the Earl’s life, he found himself wondering why he didn’t wear
undergarments to bed. “I’m glad.” Higher, higher, clawing over the soft swell
of Ciel’s backside, the hollow of his narrow back. “So do I.”
Calm, careful breathing. That was what was key, Ciel decided; no disgraceful
panting or shaking, no flinching away from the devil’s wonderful, terrible
touch. I shan’t move a single muscle no matter what you do, demon – there is no
game I cannot win, and you are only humoring me by even playing.
“The sand in the glass is half gone,” Sebastian suddenly murmured, directly
into Ciel’s ear, and the boy very nearly jumped. “There is still time to change
your mind.”
He keeps saying all these vaguely threatening things, Ciel thought, but I know
that’s only an attempt to intimidate me into behaving; he isn’t going to
violate the contract by killing me over something so trivial as a bit of
mischief, and he wouldn’t dare to harm the fragile human vessel his dinner
resides in – really, the worst thing he could do to me is withhold my sweets
for a week, and I doubt he’d do even that much, because he knows I’d make his
life absolutely miserable if he did such a thing. It’s all posturing, and I’m
not falling for it.
Sebastian pulled the cloth even higher, until it was bunched up around Ciel’s
shoulders; suddenly both his bare hands were running down the boy’s back, those
long talons reaping red, stinging rows across that pale skin, all the way down
to his thighs. Ciel could feel the gooseflesh rising and was embarrassed, but
there was nothing that could be done to stop it. The demon laughed, a truly
diabolical sound that sent another chill down Ciel’s spine, bringing with it
another wave of gooseflesh. “My, my,” he said, still chuckling. “Whatever could
you have taken to induce such deep sleep? Your body seems to be much more
responsive than you are.”
Ciel really wasn’t sure what to think anymore; the game wasn’t turning out
quite as expected, and while it certainly wasn’t boring, he was somewhat
apprehensive. He wasn’t a bit afraid – it was only Sebastian, after all – but
Sebastian was a demon, and therefore well-versed in the most depraved and
sadistic torments imaginable… torments that would not necessarily kill Ciel or
even seriously injure him, but could still be unspeakably cruel.
“The upper glass is very nearly empty,” the butler said, and Ciel fancied he
could actually hear the evil smile in his voice. “This is your final chance,
Young Master – if you do not wish to play this game, speak plainly now, and we
shall get on with the day with no mention of this. If, however, you continue to
‘sleep’, then I shall wake you with whatever means I choose, no matter how
forcefully you command me to stop, no matter how sweetly you beg for mercy.”
Ciel didn’t know how much longer he could keep so calm and still; every scrap
of self-preservation instinct in him was shouting at him, telling him to just
sit up, laugh it off, and call Sebastian stupid for even thinking Ciel would
ever allow him to exert any control over his master at all… but he couldn’t
bring himself to do it. He was too curious, too fascinated by the black
promises the devil was making, too eager to find out just what, exactly, he
planned to do to try to win the game.
“Young Master,” Sebastian murmured into the shell of Ciel’s ear, his voice as
cold as hoarfrost. “Your time… is up.”
The night-shirt was roughly yanked over the boy’s head, bringing his arms with
it; Sebastian twisted and knotted the fabric until Ciel was well bound,
ensheathed from wrist to elbow, then grasped his wrists together in one hand
for good measure. “Ah, me,” the butler sighed, trailing the claws on his free
hand up and down Ciel’s spine, “I go to such trouble to ensure that your
household runs smoothly, that your meals are nothing short of perfection, I
take such care in planning your appointments… and yet here you are, refusing to
get up, playing a naughty child’s game of pretending to be asleep.” He cupped
Ciel’s backside, his hand warm against the boy’s skin, squeezing ever so
slightly; the temperature in the room suddenly dropped, and when Sebastian
spoke again, his deep voice had a sweetly sinister note to it. “You are a
naughty child, aren’t you?”
I will not move. I will not open my eyes. I will not lose. I am not afraid, and
it’s only Sebastian.
The demon’s hand lifted – and immediately came right back down on the tender
place where Ciel’s buttocks met his thighs, hard enough to raise a burning
surface sting throughout the entire area. “I will not,” Sebastian said firmly,
punctuating his speech with increasingly more painful slaps, “have you lazing
about and neglecting your responsibilities when there is so – much – work – to
– be – done!”
He paused to allow Ciel to catch his breath, which was a good thing because at
some point during the barrage of smacks, the little Earl had lost his ability
to keep his breathing slow and even. He was fairly gasping for air, his butt
felt as though it were on fire, and the chill in the room was creeping around
his naked body like tendrils of smoke – but he had endured far worse in his
short lifetime without a sound, and so he decided he would endure this as well.
You have not won the game yet, devil.
“If you go on gasping into the pillow that way, you will surely suffocate,”
Sebastian chuckled, the tips of his nails scratching slow, almost gentle
circles over Ciel’s sore behind. “I shall have to remedy the situation, for
your own safety.”
There was a swip sound, as of a sash being pulled, then a short pause; Ciel’s
arms were carefully freed of the night-shirt; he heard the garment fall to the
floor; and then his arms were being pulled behind his back, and Sebastian was
binding his wrists together with something strong, yet soft and smooth… It
couldn’t be… it was… his cravat. That evil bastard is tying me up with his
damned necktie. I. Am going. To kill him.
“There, now,” Sebastian said, almost cheerfully. “Let’s have you over on your
back then, shall we? I’m sure you’ll find it much easier to breathe when your
face isn’t pressed into the bedding.” He flipped Ciel over easily - despite the
boy’s efforts to be as heavy a dead weight as possible - then settled him back
against the pillows. “Having your arms tied behind you like that does make your
back arch quite a bit, though… even with the increase in air, I doubt you’re
very comfortable.”
He’s absolutely right, Ciel grumbled internally, the wretch. To keep from
resting all his weight on his bound arms, Ciel was forced to arch his spine and
jut his chest out; this of course pushed his hips back, which in turn put more
weight on his backside, which was already aching and very likely bruised. It
was uncomfortable to the point of pain, and Ciel was certain that was the
devil’s intention.
Sebastian sighed, an odd, wistful sort of sound. “Oh my, how thin and frail you
are… one would think I never feed you.” His hands brushed over the delicate
rungs of Ciel’s ribs in light, tickling strokes, black claws pricking at his
fair skin like thorns. “Ah, whatever shall I do with you, Young Master? Here
you are, already as bony as a little bird, and yet you shall have to miss
breakfast this morning, due to your mischief.” His lips suddenly pressed
against Ciel’s sternum, much to the boy’s shock, and his voice became almost
reverent: “So fragile…”
This isn’t right, Ciel thought, almost frantically. This is my game, I’m the
one in command here – in spite of what Sebastian thinks – and yet I’m the one
who seems to have no idea what’s going on anymore. He had expected the demon to
torment him somehow, yes: teasing, pinching, threatening to withhold his
sweets, perhaps shouting at him, or hauling him out of bed by force… even the
spanking hadn’t been all that much of a surprise, given his vulnerable position
and Sebastian’s sheer inability to pass up a perfect opportunity to dole out
corporal punishment. But to have his demonic butler bent over him, clawed hands
splayed across his nude, helplessly bound body, that wicked mouth leaving a
trail of hot, wet kisses over his chest, his ribcage, his navel, his hipbone…
it was utterly perplexing, and the poor boy could do naught but lie there and
let the devil do as he would.
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