Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6921502.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Kuroshitsuji_|_Black_Butler
  Relationship:
      William_T._Spears/Rachel_Phantomhive/OC
  Character:
      William_T._Spears, Rachel_Phantomhive, OC_-_Character
  Additional Tags:
      Incest, Non-Consensual, Violence, Inspired_by_Kuroshitsuji, Kuroshitsuji
      AU, Teenagers, Underage_Sex, Smut, Explicit_Sexual_Content, Loss_of
      Virginity, Loss_of_Trust, Rape, Homophobic_Language, Homophobia, Male
      Homosexuality, Infidelity, Cuckolding, Threesome_-_F/M/M, Fluff, Angst,
      Porn_With_Plot
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-05-21 Updated: 2016-12-05 Chapters: 2/? Words: 4628
****** Deflowered ******
by ameerkatofficial
Summary
     So I was dared to write a threesome for a terrible, awful crack ship
     my friend and I came up with and well...here it is! Took a night to
     write, got a lot angstier than planned...I am ashamed of myself to be
     honest...but enjoy! An AU of William T. Spears as a teenager and a
     human, who has an older brother named Oliver E. Spears (OC), who is
     engaged to the lovely Lady Rachel Phantomhive. Enjoy this terrible
     midnight rendezvous between them, and try not to judge me too much
     ahhhhhhhh!
Notes
     Good luck
     ~author
See the end of the work for more notes
***** The Night of the Rose *****
“Is this really a good idea?” asked the younger, sitting at the edge of his
bed, a soft pout upon him, but his grey eyes had the watery look of worry.
“Shut up,” the older hissed, spraying the other in the face with cologne, “It’s
a learning opportunity for my darling baby brother…”
William glared up at his brother, who paced feverishly about the bedroom,
awaiting the clock to strike midnight, frustration building in each step. The
clock read 11:58.
The younger fell back onto the bed with a soft flutter of his lips, staring up
at the gentle rose shade of the ceiling, the shade deeper by the soft
candlelight, as his stomach twisted and turned within him like some writhing
snake.
11:59
He flipped over on his stomach then to watch Oliver, continuing on across the
room like a clock’s pendulum, silently wondering what the hell this woman had
seen in him. Perhaps it was his lips, pretty and pink like Mother’s, always
turned up in a gentle smirk at the girls, which they’d all swoon for. Or his
hair, that perfect shade of dark, chestnut brown, lovely and coiffed, while
William’s was straight and nearly pitch black.
12:01
“Are you sure she’s coming?”
“Shut your arse!”
“And what’ll that help if my arse is shut?”
And how lovely he looked with his handsome jaw clenched, his perfect complexion
slowly becoming splotchy and red, as if he had gained a dreadful rash on his
cheeks.
“Hello, I’m here!” sang a voice like a sweet nightingale’s, a soft knock pawing
against the mahogany wood, “It’s me, Rachel.”
Oliver’s dark eyes became slits as he glared at the door, though his complexion
evened once again, as he came to his young brother to shove his head into the
bed.
“Coming!”
The door opened to an ethereal vision, pale as porcelain with softly rosed
cheek, her hair seeming to be strands of spun gold, her gaze looking like
shards of broken sky that The Lord had used to create her eyes, and that
smile—‘twas two petals pink that formed her lips.
“Hello, Ollie!” she gave a soft cheer as she pecked upon his pretty lips with
hers, her thin nightgown swishing about her slender form, teasing his vision
with sweet secrets, though William now averted his gaze to the rug.
“Hello, Rachel, darling. Come, come! Sit upon the bed with little Willy and
me,” he took her hand and led her as if into a dance, a giggle and a twirl
between them, those two perfect, youthful lovers like a painting, even William
could swoon at them.
But she had caught his eye, and for a moment, her bliss had wavered
to…curiosity?
She sat before him, her nightdress flying up to expose her nearly to the knees,
and now William thought he’d surely faint at the sight of those soft, pale
limbs.
“Nice to meet you, William,” she chirped, bringing his gaze up to meet hers in
a moment of breathless delight, “I don’t believe we’ve spoken much before now,
but you’re a very handsome boy.”
William’s lips parted to respond, but only a soft sound like a mewl had left
before he closed his lips, biting them back as he occupied himself with staring
at the lacey hem of her nightgown.
“Don’t talk to him too much, darling,” Oliver rolled his eyes, crashing onto
the bed beside them, “You might break him…”
His coiffed head laid in her lap as he grinned up at her chest, but she paid no
attention to him, save for her svelte hand that combed through his hair, “It’s
alright if you’re shy. My little sister is shy too…maybe you’d like her…” her
lashes fluttered gently, like a fairy’s wing, and the younger brother nearly
smiled at her, even as his heart had begun to race.
“Oh, he won’t be shy for long, Rachel dear!” the elder clicked his tongue, “No,
he’s going to be our plaything for the night—” he reached out to suddenly grab
his brother by the shirt-collar, “—aren’t you, Willy?”
He rose then, however slowly, so that the two of them sat up face to face, his
hot breath beating down upon poor William’s face, causing the thin hairs on his
cheeks to bristle, but he only grew closer with those menacing, dark eyes…
…just like Father’s…
But Oliver didn’t stop, and William felt his stomach begin to tight further,
tighten into knots until he felt it, the sudden rush of warmth that shot into
his spine, running down to his toes to the top of his head.
“Mmmh—!”
But Oliver didn’t pull away as he usually did, spitting out how it was a
“joke”, for William to stop being such a “girl”. No, this was real as William
was, his hands that gripped to the younger’s chin, those pink and pretty lips
that pressed into his as they slowly fell backward onto the bed. William
protested with a muffled cry, but soon succumbed out of fear as he felt those
hands reach beneath his nightshirt and grasp hold of him, a jolt of heat
hitting his stomach.
In a frantic motion, William pulled his own head down, slamming it into the
mattress with a hushed cry of “Oliver, please—!”
“Stiff as a rod! Well would you look at that, my love? My brother’s queer.”
William held back tears at his brother’s triumphant grin, his grey eyes shining
with them, chin wrinkling as his hands struggled to pull down his nightshirt,
only to have it suddenly pulled away by the other.
“Have to admit, you’re a rather decent size,” Oliver climbed off the other,
pulling up the nightshirt more fully, “What would you say, Rachel?”
“A bit bigger than you, dear, don’t you think?”
Oliver regained that splotchy look, his dark eyes aflame, and surely they could
have set poor William aflame as well with that look, to which William cowered
further into the mattress.
Slap!
“Ah!”
“Shut your arse…”
This was precisely where the boy had been struck, though not a tear left him,
and instead came a tingling of his cheeks, surely crimson by now as Oliver left
him, leaving him in full view of his young betrothed.
“Make use of your lips, darling,” the eldest instructed his lover, “and de-
queer him for me?”
William laid back, staring up at the rose shade of the ceiling, deeper a shade
now by candlelight, though surely it couldn’t have been deeper than the shade
of his face, his terribly countenance that his brother had marred with his
pretty, pink lips.
“Hello…”
His heavy read rose to see that glorious sight, the golden-haired fairy whose
porcelain complexion was now changed over to a faint peach as she smiled down
at him with petal-lips, and he couldn’t help but have the urge to reach up and
take them into his own.
“Hello,” he replied in the same whisper, his breath heavy and failing, his
heart sure to burst. And perhaps it did when he saw her smile, heard that bell
of a giggle grace his ears.
“Your brother said to de-queer you, so I’ll do just that, alright—oh!” the
smile suddenly dropped from her face, and he noticed then that his brother had
disappeared just behind her now, the hem of her gown climbing.
“Rachel…?”
Her head dipped down before she could reply, and he suddenly felt why. He felt
those lips, those soft lips like petals upon him, a wet, pink tongue, and his
tears had at last sprung from his damned eyes as he laid his head back down and
became completely still, “Oh…”
They continued like this for a while, reality beginning to escape William, slip
away between his fingers like sand as his breath built speed but lost depth, as
the room seemed to swirl and concave around him, and all he heard was her
gentle, breathy moans and his deeper, growling voice just behind, and perhaps
he himself followed, though his own voice sounded foreign to his ears, even if
he felt his own throat create it.
“He hasn’t fainted, has he?”
“No…his eyes are still open…perhaps he’s dead?”
“Dead?! He better not be dead! Mum will kill me!”
William suddenly sat up to meet her smile, to meet his great sigh of relief,
only to have his shirt-collar yanked at as he was forced forward.
“You know how to please a woman, Will?”
William didn’t respond, only his face growing three shades paler as his eyes
widened, before he was tossed aside, where he now regained his air.
“You’re going to learn now. Get over here!”
He timidly approached to find a completely nude and ruddy Rachel Phantomhive
lying across the bed, her chest rising and falling softly, shifting her breasts
like gently breathing white hills.
“H-How…”
“Just get on her.”
He obeyed without another word, albeit timidly as he held her clouded gaze,
asking a silent permission which was granted with a twitch of her lip. He
straddled her stomach then, though shifting the weight to his knees to not hurt
her, his eyes drinking in the sight of her unblemished porcelain skin, wishing
to touch her all over with his hands, though he couldn’t bring himself to try,
to even fantasize…
“Raise your arse up, Will, and suck on her breasts,” the gruff voice
instructed.
“Her breasts?!”
“Like a babe, yes. Just shut up and do it already!”
He looked back up to meet her gaze, warm and melting, as if the sky had begun
to rain, though there was no sorrow in her eyes. Instead there was a twinkle
through them, like a rainbow through the mist, and a soft huff left her as she
shifted beneath him, her stomach hitting his heated flesh.
“Will!”
“Alright, you prat!”
He knelt down and immediately buried his face between her breasts, kissing
tenderly at the skin, gentle pecks at first, though they became greedy at her
mewling and he found himself suckling upon her delicate skin.
But he was very aware of another warmth just behind him, the rhythmic,
undulating movement, the soft, damp beat that kept in time with the girl’s
sharp gasps, followed by a low, guttural groan of that smooth, dark voice. What
a happy pair these two made…
William also became aware now of a creeping presence drawing ever closer to
him, until he, too, drew in a sudden breath, as he felt a moistness invade him,
just in his rear. But he made no complaint of it, instead suckled harder upon
her breasts as his own rear was guzzled down so ravenously.
“Ah, William…” ‘twas a sensuous, private word, a wisp of a wind that could only
be gathered by young William’s ears. But it formed a lump in his throat that he
swallowed down along with the sweat that collected upon her skin, along with
his own spit that had accumulated, but he was so careful to not let teeth graze
her to damage that beautiful skin, only wishing to inhale her, her lovely scent
forever into his mind, like lilies.
But without warning came a sudden impalement, like a bullet driven into him. He
couldn’t help but give a scream into the room, but couldn’t help but feel his
spine arch, his cries turn into moans as he felt something unlike he ever had
before, the form of two fingers pressed into him that drew from him such heat,
such lewd noises that he could hardly contain, making him drool openly as he
pushed himself back onto those thick fingers, his head thrown back in the
height of absolute pleasure—
“Oliver!”
Both William and the girl seemed to cry out that cursed name almost
simultaneously, and he felt his heat dripping, or running a river down upon
her, trickling in white which he saw before his eyes, a flash of white, perhaps
Heaven’s dear light, come to save him from this blessed Hell.
“Damn…already, Willy?”
He looked down and found dear Rachel too overcome with bliss to speak, her eyes
dazed and unfocused as high-pitched gasps flew from her heaving chest. Could
she see him, see William upon her?
But his question couldn’t be answered, for he was pulled away once again.
“Lick it out of her, you’re next,” ordered that deep voice, growing ever more
crude by the moment as he gave another harsh strike to William’s bottom, nearly
sending him toppling forward.
The younger soon regained himself, shifting downward to her own dripping heat,
the sight, the smell hypnotising to him, seeming nearly holy as he tentatively
peaked out his tongue.
The initial taste was bitter and crude, stinging his mouth, but he didn’t stop
himself, his tongue delving in deeper, deeper still and he felt at last as if
he were alone, alone with a beautiful woman named Rachel, whom he would happily
make love to in the gentlest way she deserved. He thought of this as he
ingested his own kin from within his kin’s bride, his lips upon her as a seal
as he consumed her, peals of shrieks like church bells pouring from her divine
lips.
“William…please…” she begged at long last, “…just put it in…”
And he did so without protest, without question or delay, sinking into her
creamy flesh, grasping her thighs as he pushed in, pushed in again, not wishing
this moment to end.
But when he looked up to wonder at why her breaths had ceased, the sight sank
his heart, the sight of his handsome brother kissing and groping at her with
his thick hands, at her bruised breasts, the very touch causing her to tremble
as she donned an expression of complete serenity, her lover embracing her lips,
his brother embracing her hips.
His thrusts became angry then, even maddened as he held back a sob, until his
spine arched and he gave a great shout, animalistic in nature, surely
permeating the papered walls.
And though he was filled with bliss, a deep shame was instilled into him as he
caught the sight of his brother smiling wickedly at him.
“There’s a fine lad,” he chuckled darkly, cupping Rachel’s breast like a pear,
“Now that you’ve had your fun, see what you’ve done here! You’ve hurt her,
Will!”
Within his hand was the evidence, he chest bruised terribly, purple blooms
staining the white porcelain. But even then along her neck were the same marks
that were certainly not of Will’s craft. He eyed them suspiciously before
making the mistake of opening his mouth.
“Haven’t you done the same to her neck, Oliver—”
“That’s not the point!” the brunette roared, though suddenly a softer look came
about him as he looked upon his sweetheart, a gentle pout to his pretty, pink
lips.
“What do you think we should do? Punish him for what he did to you?”
Sweat beaded William’s brow as he looked to the girl in desperation, hoping
that she’d somehow end the madness, perhaps run away with William instead,
perhaps to Switzerland, to the mountains where they could live happily for
eternity.
But William instead watched in horror as the girl offered him a coy smile and a
slow, deliberate nod.
“That’s what I thought…” the wicked boy grinned as he shifted over to his
younger brother, a gentle hand grasping the other’s soft cheek, pulling the
limp, nearly lifeless lad in for another long kiss.
“Lie down, Will…” he instructed once again, however sweetly this time, watching
him as the boy laid down into the sheets, about to retch out his stomach. But
he obeyed.
“Rachel, my love,” Oliver sang to his future bride, “You can clean yourself out
on him if you’d like.”
“I’d be delighted!”
Before William could think upon what that meant, he suddenly felt that impaling
force drive into him once more, only this time greater, heftier than before. It
drove into him gradually, but every inch was felt just the same, each causing a
tremble to come over his already sensitive skin, jolting his body awake, alive,
until he felt the hilt against his hip, the full force of it, was it in his
stomach by now? He hadn’t a clue! Only that he was suddenly drooling, suddenly
moaning and writhing which each thrust, just as Rachel had. What an unholy
union this was! And yet how wonderful it felt, to be full, to be pushed in, to
have his own soul depart from him so well, leaking from his lips.
He hardly noticed the sudden change from light to dark, only noticed the change
in the air, suddenly thick, suddenly creamy, until the bitter taste made him
realise that Rachel had joined in on this brotherly bliss. He licked
aggressively, though his heart felt empty. And still he drooled into her,
moaning deep inside of her whilst she let them pour out from past her lips.
And then there was a rush, but it all came so fast. It was the rush of her, her
sweet taste pouring into his mouth, which he consumed wholly. There was a rush
of Oliver filling him with that dripping heat, that cream that burned within
him, leaking out as that fullness was pulled out of him as well. But he felt at
once drowned and on fire, his body coming to a boil, his limbs uncontrollable.
He was screaming.
“Surely he’s dead now,” chirped one sweet voice, “His eyes are empty.”
“But he’s breathing,” growled another, “Maybe he just couldn’t handle my
girth.”
William lay there like that for a long time, and surely the maid would face the
truest Hell when she came to change the sheets in the morning.
***** Morning Blooms *****
Chapter Summary
     Another addition to the sin and a guilty admission
Chapter Notes
     For my dearest lover, Rachel. I regret everything.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
It was a sickening feeling in his stomach, one that shot up bile to his throat.
But how more sickening was the feeling of the other’s flat chest against his
desperate palms, of his heat, his smell, that gentle musk and cologne, and how
it made him salivate and seethe as William tried to pull away and still was
drawn in closer by harsh lips in dark corridors, breathless and grasping and
gasping as he wrinkled the older man’s shirt in his fingertips before
consciousness suddenly struck him in the back of the head.
“Get away!” he shoved the other off.
The man sneered, “Got stiff quicker this time. That’s a record, my lad.”
But he was right, even as William stood with his chest out; he was ruddy and
panting, plain as daylight.
Oliver had kissed him before—a game, he had said. Each time had left an acrid
taste in his mouth, but only so brief were they. But after that night, that
awful night…acidity remained, and yet something spun his head, caused his eyes
to roll back and sigh, as if out of possession by The Devil himself, for what
else could be the cause?
But morning passed on, bleak and grey. Now as he laid out himself in the sun
room in the golden afternoon, a cello’s bow balanced upon his chest, he felt
fluttering feeling, a fairy’s wing, somehow trapped in his stomach, and how he
wondered at the sensation of being filled to the brim with air, the sensation
of being primed to drift off into the blue sky, as he calmly stroked each fine
horsehair, imagining them blonde, yes blonde, golden like the sun still quite
low in the sky, shyly peaking out from behind the trees.
“Hello…”
The boy suddenly bolted upright, a look of succumbing to the spirits upon him
as he turned pale white, his grey eyes wide, wringing a peal of laughter from
the uninvited guest of his ponderings.
“Oh, don’t be afraid of me! I don’t bite, much…”
And still he regarded her warily, though he did relax at his shoulders, though
he held to the bow with all his might, the wood sure to snap under his grip as
he quietly gazed upon her ivory form, seemingly pristine now, despite how pink
she was beneath the rose coloured ceiling, how violet she had become at his
hand…
“I-I…I hope you’re not especially feral today, Lady Durless…”
Brief confusion passed over her face, but like the bleak morning, it passed on
and bright eyes soon succeeded, another tinkling laugh and a shake of her head.
“I hope for your sake as well, dear!” she cheered as she sat herself beside
him, her skirts reaching the edge of his stocking-ed feet. William simply
stared at her, as if a spirit had suddenly appeared before him, as he gently
stroked each string upon his bow, long fingers running along each horsehair,
imagining them blonde…
“Why are you here?”
“Why am I not?”
He furrowed his brows the slightest bit, the stroking intensifying as he let
off a short sigh.
“Are you playing games with me?”
But she did not reply, responding by shifting herself closer, closer until he
could feel her heat against his toes, where the young Countess of Durless sat
and smiled and stared longer with those crisp afternoon blue eyes.
“Play for me.”
“Play what?”
“Cello!”
His stroking stopped, and he considered for a moment in his poisoned
mind…surely the thought was illogical! Pure fancy and foolishness—but…
“Marry me, then,” he muttered, his eyes downcast as he prodded his toes with
the end of his bow.
“Alright.”
William’s gaze suddenly lifted, a slim brow risen, though he managed a short
nod as he placed his feet on the tiled floor and lifted his cello in hand,
raising his bow in the air.
“A request?”
“Chopin.”
The boy pressed his lips flush together, though he nodded once more as his
unruly, straight black hair fell over his eyes, giving a slight shrug before he
laid bow to string.
It was a gentle melody, romantic and yet richer than what the genre was given
credit for. The boy lacked speed, was not a master of the instrument, but the
feeling was clear in the gentle vibrato, and at times it seemed the instrument
was the master of him instead, swaying him with the floating notes in the air,
pulling him, stealing him away, fingers moving faster along the length of
smooth spruce wood, until he was left exhausted, but returned to his own self
by the end, where he glared at the girl with his quiet, grey eyes, slowly
laying down his cello.
“Satisfied?”
Her pink lips smiled back at him, her chipper voice resonant in the sunroom.
“Quite.”
By the morning dew, William often imagined himself at a moor, marshy and wet by
the coast in the fog, where he’d often wander when his family vacationed in
such an environment. He’d imagine there were wolf-men lurking about, hunting,
and it was up to him to hunt for them with his wooden sword and his crew of
loyal ghosts.
This time of his life was over now, and instead he only imagined the marshland
engulfing him whole, holding him there in slumber for eternity, preferably, as
he laid beneath a tree, enveloped by the wet, green grass, his fingertips
brushing over his lips as he sat and wondered at how well his heart could beat.
“Hello…”
Was it a sigh through the springtime grass? A whisper through the trees?
William bolted upright to catch the sight of a nymph roaming about the grounds,
her hair adorned in flowers as it hung golden and straight down to her waist
whilst she roamed about in a pure white shift, translucent by the morning glow
so that it revealed to his gaze a shadowy silhouette of her figure.
“Rachel…” he breathed in reply, realising suddenly to keep his gaze upon hers
rather than elsewhere, and so his grey eyes stubbornly met her blue as he sat
in cold silence before her.
But she paid his silence no mind, settling in the grass before him with a
languid posture, her shift freely hanging off of one shoulder as a stray curl
hung past her cheek.
After some time of silence, she suddenly begged the question “What?” as a note
of annoyance quietly disrupted her peacefully pest-like expression, “Are you
not going to greet your betrothed?”
“Betrothed?” the boy sputtered softly, taking a moment to cough the word out of
his lungs, “Y-Y-You…are not—”
“—but of course I am. Do you not remember yesterday, silly Willy?”
He flushed at the nickname, teeth gripping the inner part of his cheek, brows
furrowing, though after a moment he shook his head and took to fiddling with a
blade of grass beside him.
“I believe you are actually betrothed to my brother…”
“And don’t you wish you were as well?”
William suddenly looked up, his eyes wide, horrified at the girl, as the blade
between his fingers snapped damply.
“I-I-I do not…”
“Please, Will, I saw the expression on your face that night…your body betrays
you, dear…”
The boy gained a look of sickliness, pale and winded as his lashes fluttered,
as bile reached his throat once again. His lips parted to respond, but he could
not find the breath for words—was he caught then? His perverse feelings towards
men, towards his brother—was he at last caught by the eyes of The Lord?
“You know, I had kissed my sister as well…”
He blinked, grey eyes wide as his parted lips rounded to a look of surprise, to
ask questions, to ask so many questions that could not possibly be phrased with
any word in any language.
“I liked it, and I believe she did just as well—though perhaps it was just the
feeling of it being…forbidden…” The countess began to move closer towards
William, her gentle smile at ease as her voice grew all the time more soft
against the hush of the morning. “Yes…the wonderful sin of it all…was this what
had drove me towards the act? How dirty it is?”
But the boy did not respond, if only with a quick glance down as her hand
touched upon his chest, a sudden anxiety arising that she may feel his rapid
heartbeat against her palm.
“Does he touch you like this, Will? Does he…ease onto you, until you don’t even
realise that you’ve touched his handsome lips? That he has slipped his hand
down the front of your trousers?”
A sharp breath emerged as he backed into the trunk of the tree, flushing,
panting, panicking, as she came closer, closer still, laid her hand upon his
trousers, “S-Stop talking about this, Rachel!” he wheezed
“Marry me, then.”
So it has come to throwing his foolish outburst back at him, then? So it has
come to this groping, this taunting, this serpent with flowering face
enchanting him further into flame?
How far gone was he?
“But…you will marry my brother?” his trembling lips inquired, just a hair away
from hers as he held back a sob.
“I will marry you and brother both.”
“…Alright.”
The words were exchanged in hush against the leaves of the trees and the soft
grass, against the warmth of lips that soon touched and tasted the morning dew
off the other, again, again, until he laid her and tilled her, sowed within her
upon the springtime grass and the morning dew, her shift gathered at her waist,
trapping his knees whilst her slender, pale legs captured his waist, bare feet
edging the small of his back.
Was it madness that caused him to bruise her neck and shoulder again? Was it
madness that shuddered his breath as she cried out to the breeze between the
leaves on the trees and the glades of grass?
 
 
 
 
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     To be quite honest I don't know how long I'll keep this going. Maybe
     I'll stop now. Maybe I'll stop when I die. Maybe I'll die now. Who
     knows!
End Notes
     I'm so sorry.
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