Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8452774.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Kuroshitsuji_|_Black_Butler
  Relationship:
      Sebastian_Michaelis/Ciel_Phantomhive, Ciel_Phantomhive_&_Vincent
      Phantomhive
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_Sex, really_messed_up_sex, Cannibalism_Play, no_you_definitely
      read_that_right_I_wasn't_joking_when_I_said_this_was_messed_up,
      psychological_horror_in_sex, Sebastian_is_a_demon_and_he_is_not_nice_and
      is_messing_with_Ciel's_head, no_seriously_please_be_aware, Gore, Blood
      Play, kind_of_incest_for_a_moment_there, like_I_said_it_is_psychological
      horror_in_sex, god_please_forgive_me, Technically_I_don't_talk_about
      Ciel's_age_but_he_is_old_enough_to_marry, I_also_wrote_this_when_I_was_17
      so_don't_kill_me_k?, I_also_won_an_award_for_this_thing_lolol, my_mother
      read_this_last_year_and_she_cried, I_am_so_sorry_mommy_I_didn't_think_you
      would_look_through_my_computer
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-11-02 Words: 5272
****** Malum Discordiae ******
by Strange_and_Intoxicating_-rsa-_(strangeandintoxicating)
Summary
     Ciel Phantomhive did not know he signed his contract with the blood
     of innocents. Souls are for the taking, ripe from the tree of life.
     Sebastian, however, is willing to bargain-for a price. A very steep
     price, indeed.
     Note: Does not mention age whatsoever within the confines of the
     story. However, since some people still see him as young, I tagged it
     as such. Plus, I was 17 when I originally published over 8 years ago.
Notes
     Malum Discordiae
     Warnings: Sex, Violence, Gore
     Pairing: Sebastian/Ciel
     Author Notes: This was my debut into the Kuroshitsuji fandom. It was
     messed up and horrifying, and so I definitely wanted to bring it to
     my AO3 account. Also, to clarify--I released this story when I was 17
     years old. Yes. I wrote this when I was 17. Judge the hell out of me,
     I did so myself.
     The name for this story translates from Latin to, roughly, 'the apple
     of discord,' however it is also a pun. Malum can be translated to
     both apple and evil, and I thought it fitting considering the
     content.
     Disclaimer: I, Strange and Intoxicating -rsa-, do not own, think I
     own, or will ever own Kuroshitsuji. Please do notice that I am on the
     lookout for one of those adorable Kuro bears, however.
     Notice: Thank you to Sakura Ketsueki, aka Orchid Butterflies, for
     helping me search out those pesky errors.
 
Ciel Phantomhive crushed the bone-white china cup in his hand, the Darjeeling
tea mixing with blood—hot liquid flooded down the arm of his jacket and
freshly-pressed shirt. The wounds were minor at best, but the smell, something
akin to iron and mornings in the garden, permeated throughout the room. Bathed
in the smell of tea and that musky, almost arousing taint that Ciel could not 
(would not) categorize, he looked away from Sebastian to the wetness of his
fist.
He was still holding the shattered china, each fragment digging deeper. His
hand tightened further, a crunch punctuating yet another heartbeat as
Sebastian's gaze followed him. Ciel felt his organs shrivel and the muscle in
his chest pause as the butler stared at (into) him with red, dead eyes.
Sebastian had always been one for dramatics—he had always been the kind of
beast who enjoyed taunting a boy without reason or provocation, for that
matter—but this was beyond the scope of acceptable depreciation and petty
mocking.
The gilded frame stood at six feet, tickling Bard's chin. The trimming was
delicate, dainty. The picture inside was less so. "It's solid gold," Bard said
as he chewed on a toothpick, twisting it between his teeth. "Had to get Finny
to help me get it up. Where should we put it? Where the last one was, or do you
want it somewhere else?"
"Bard!" Finnian hissed, huffing as he grabbed one side of the painting, shaking
it so hard Bard bit down on his toothpick, breaking it in half. The broken and
useless toothpick (though its usefulness was lost on Ciel) dangled from the
cook's mouth until Sebastian stepped forward, pulling it away, stuffing it into
his pocket.
Ciel finally dropped the slivers of the teacup, the pieces that didn't stick in
his hand plunking down on the mahogany desk. Blood and tea splattered across an
implicit differentiation mathematical equation, before seeping through to the
French texts for colloquial language (street urchins who are puerile to
delicate, intelligent conversation.) He could barely register that his warm
blood and morning tea were now puddling on the floor of his office, swallowed
into the floorboards as human sacrifice. All that mattered was the two cool
sets of red eyes staring at him (into him, so deeply into him that he could
feel a chill in his very marrow.)
"Does our young master not appreciate his gift? I must say that I am shocked;
such hard work went into its creation. Lady Elizabeth commissioned it for you.
She thought," Sebastian grinned, his sharp, deadly teeth glistening in the
morning sun, "that you would feel so passionately about it that you would write
to her and concrete the affair in a few months time."
He is indulging himself in my discomfort, Ciel thought as he straightened his
back. "Remove it from my presence. Burn it, and inform Lady Elizabeth that
there was a grievous error. I do not care what you tell her, as long as that
monstrosity is removed from my home." He reached down to grab a quill from the
pot of ink, readying himself for a mundane apology to Elizabeth, only to notice
that he could not feel his hand, let alone close it. With choler, he slammed
his other hand into the ink, sending it tumbling over, dumping its contents
across the desk before shattering.
"Get out," he growled, only Finnian and Bard daring to move the slightest. He
wanted to sit down and attempt to contain his anger—no. He wanted to scream and
grab the bone-white china painted red and dig the canvas open. He wanted to
curse the Phantomhive family. He wanted to yank Sebastian's black hair from his
skull and... he wanted to...
"You have heard the young master. Lean the picture against the wall; I'll
remove it after speaking with him, alone," he accentuated the word, almost
breathlessly. Sebastian's demon eyes flickered to the left, the glow reflecting
off of the gold. Finnian and Bard, who were more clever than they let on,
awkwardly bowed, taking great care not to drop the heavy frame, leaning it
against the nearby bookshelf. It was balanced in a way that the eyes in the
painting followed him, watching with such scrutiny and precision.
Both servants exited the room in haste, not wanting to bear the brunt of Ciel
Phantomhive's fury.
The door clicked shut, and Ciel reached up to his hairline, running blood-
soaked fingers across his face, removing the patch over his right eye. The
patch fell into the massacre on his desk, but he paid little mind to it.
Instead, he focused on the thrumming power from inside of the bundle of nerves,
feeling the demon's pact caress his mind. It was not painful, but it took an
infinite amount of self-control to keep his body from fighting against its
will, to scratch out his eye; his body recognized the threat and naturally
wished to erase its existence. The contract was an unmitigated shadow in him.
"Do you remember the reason why the first painting was removed, Sebastian?"
Ciel asked. His voice quivered with thinly-veiled anger. "Or, better yet, why
there was never another added in its place? Sebastian, you should have informed
me of Elizabeth's ploy. I would have handled it." He brought his hand away from
his face, looking into the eyes of his demon butler.
"Ploy, my master?" Sebastian's lips lifted at the corners, his pink tongue
running against his top teeth. "Lady Elizabeth wanted to hold memorial of
happier times; who am I to interfere with the planning of a young girl's
estates? The wedding is scheduled to be in the fall, but Lady Elizabeth has...
certainly begun to suit this mansion to her tastes. She is comforted by the
idea that your parents, the noble Phantomhive's, will watch over her. She was
quite fond of your mother... especially your father. She simply adored the late
Earl as a child."
"You know this marriage is a farce. There will be no wedding, so there is no
reason for her to be moving around my things, or," Ciel motioned to the
painting, his hand flippantly dripping blood across the desk in a sweeping
motion, "putting things here that do not belong." He deliberately ignored his
monster's claim regarding his parents. Sebastian spoke of things that did not
concern him; it was customary for Ciel to ignore half of what his butler said
at all times, the other half suffering heavy editing.
"I am sure that she will be surprised to learn of this unforeseen
disappointment. To believe that she is ready to marry you, master, would be
such a distortion of her adoration and compulsion to the Phantomhive lineage—"
"Pardon me?" Ciel felt his tongue swell and his throat close. "'Compulsion'?
Sebastian, what trite nonsense are you babbling about?"
A sneaky, half-grin, half-leer escaped, and Sebastian leaned away. He took a
few meticulous steps toward the painting as he removed his glove.
Ciel saw a hint of purple in the corner of his gaze, the pentagram on
Sebastian's hand glowing. A heat exploded through his eye and his mind reached
out for a coldness it would not meet. He bit back on the scream; instead, he
reached for a larger, more rigid shard on the desk. It tug on his skin when he
rubbed his finger over the curve, and he hissed when it did nothing to dull the
blazing heat throbbing against him, stabbing at the warm gray matter inside his
skull. The entire cosmos was falling into hell and Sebastian was the one with
his hands wrapped around the galaxies, plucking them from the sky and smiling
as he let them fall through his fingers like a sieve (bright constellations and
nebulae; little particles of debris that sparkled with life, turned into rocks
and dust with a thoughtless touch.)
"Young master does not seem pleased." Sebastian clucked his tongue before
patting his pocket with his pentagram-emblazoned hand. He pulled out the pocket
watch, dangling it on its chain, swinging it back and forth before tossing it
into the air. The chain kept it from soaring too high, and the butler caught it
expertly, opening it in midair. "No matter," he muttered, inspecting the time.
"You are late for your arithmetic tutoring session. The professor has refused
to work with you, citing your thick-headed, obstinate attitude in regards to
your work ethic."
"If you cannot already see Sebastian, I am in no mood for your theatrics. What
did you mean by 'compulsion,' beast." It was not a question, but a demand.
Sebastian turned, hiding the pocket watch from sight. "Oh, young master, you
have created such a mess. I would only hope that your lessons are salvageable."
He laughed, the air around him chilling.
"It does not seem so."
"That was an order, Sebastian."
He sighed, raising his hand to touch his forehead. The pentagram seemed to
glisten, and Ciel jutted his head to the side, hoping his hair would
miraculously fall in front of his eye and provide a sort of barrier between
them. This did not dull the ache, but there was little hope from the beginning.
"Of course, my Lord." Sebastian licked his bottom lip before continuing, "When
I assumed my position as your most loyal dog, I not only snared your soul, but
any soul of your whelps." Sebastian grinned, churlish and haughty, before
leaning down to whisper into Ciel's ear. "I am sure I have mentioned it...
perhaps once, while you were busy with your trousers unbuc—"
Slap.
The red mark spread across Sebastian's cheek, though the Ciel's blood
disappeared into his skin (human sacrifice) there was a distorted aura that
left a trail across. His lips turned down and he sighed. "It seems that you
would have preferred this extraneous addition to our contract to have been
highlighted at a previous time."
Ciel reached for a glass bauble and threw it with all the force possibly,
considering his hand could not function as well as he hoped. It cracked into
Sebastian's head with a sickening crunch. "Contracting innocents to your
hellish appetite?" Ciel stood, his wooden heels clanking harshly against the
floor. "This is preposterous, Sebastian."
"But there's more," Sebastian said as he reached up to pull the bauble's shards
from his skull. He didn't move from his position on the floor (so submissive,
his own personal whore) but bent his neck down. "Those of your line, who have
already left this plane... Should I continue?"
He... My mother? My father? Has he already consumed their souls, taken them
from their holy land? Ciel looked up to the gilded frame and its contents. Both
of his parents, so beautiful and silent, their eyes watching him. He could
almost feel their presence come from within the canvas, his father's red eyes,
more kind than Sebastian's, looking into him. His mother, her hands folded at
her waist, so delicate they could have been snapped with a twitch.
"I can already hear your question, young master. When did I take your father's
soul?" Sebastian leaned up, grabbing hold of Ciel's shoulders. The boy couldn't
feel anything, though he knew there were hands somewhere. Sebastian continued,
his voice never giving way to the gravity of his words, "Before I came to your
world. You were shaken from the time spent on your back, if I remember."
Sebastian's actions mocked the implications, and he smiled genially while Ciel
winced (it wasn't real, wasn't real, wasn't real.) "It was cordial not to bring
up such delicate matters during timorous beginnings."
Ciel closed his eyes, feeling the pressure of Sebastian's marked hand slide up
his shoulder, dark nails raking over his throat, reaching out to pet the skin
around his eye. "And?" Ciel questioned.
"And? What else concerns you, young master?" Sebastian traced the red stains
around the boy's face, fingers grazing over the darkening blood. It was a touch
that Ciel could recall from his childhood, a gesture of comfort and solstice.
Now there was something inherently ugly about it, perverse in nature; sweet
flesh melting off bone, fruits ashen, tea poisoned.
"You know I will tell you."
Ciel felt his teeth clench before saying, "That is what I fear."
Sebastian continued to run his fingers over Ciel's skin, butterfly touches that
were only noticeable by the sting it left. "Your father attempted reason; he
was an intelligent, mulish thing. Much like yourself, my young master,"
Sebastian whispered as he helped Ciel to his feet, so softly that he did not
notice until he felt the edge of the desk against his lower back, grinding into
the base of his spine. It sent chills to his groin. "He offered to take your
place, to allow your soul to be free."
Ciel laughed—part mocking, part broken. "He loved me." Ciel shuddered, refusing
to open his eyes. He could still feel the lacing pain in his hand, to his back,
across his face where Sebastian's fingers left invisible prints.
"What does it matter. You took his soul. There is nothing left that you can do.
I cannot mourn a man dead for so many years." Ciel knew Sebastian would see
through his words; their souls, their souls.
"I did devour his soul; it was flavorful, like your rich chocolate. You know
that particular experience well. Would you like to taste?" he said as he slid
himself down Ciel's legs, palms gyrating against his trousers. Ciel knew he
would be smiling, the demented, nefarious smirk that tricked needy beings into
servitude. He had done it to him, once. In that basement, the cold cobblestone
sliding against his back and digging in when Ciel was weak.
Soul, body, blood—the price was steep, but overall worth it. But now, was it?
Sebastian breathed against his cheek, and Ciel felt wetness from the corner of
his shut, pentagram-scarred eye, to his mouth. The tongue licked at the cracks
in his lips, begging for entrance in, and he allowed it access. There was no
taste to him, just hotness and his own saliva. The warmth slid through his
mouth and clashed against his teeth, and Sebastian grappled with the belt
around Ciel's waist. There was a click and he felt the pants drop, puddling
near his feet.
The demon pulled away and Ciel heard the creaking of his chair; he was forced
further against the back of the desk, feeling china dig into his back, blood,
tea, and ink coating his ass.
"Why do you keep your eyes closed? Is this not as enjoyable for you as it is
for me? Or are demons the only beings which have such carnal desires?" Another
snap and Ciel finally opened his good eye. He was straddling the chair,
Sebastian's trousers down and his cock jutting forward, pearly white drops
sparkling at the tip. There was sparse, dark hair, curled like little ribbons,
and the demon smiled, so softly that a person more foolish than he would have
fallen into the trap. "See, Earl of Phantomhive, my young master, you do seem
to have carnal desires."
"Tell me what you did to him," Ciel countered, his fingers digging into the
mahogany desk. He could hear the wood give way to his fingernails (as the tips
snapped off and small swells rose from the skin.) "Tell me what you did, how
you did it. Did you enjoy it?"
"Very much so, my young master. His soul was exquisite. Let me show you."
Sebastian, without warning or explanation, grabbed Ciel by the hair, pulling
him to meet the monster in a grueling, hellish kiss. There was something
different, though. Ciel felt it the moment his tongue was lashed violently to
the side, and something began to crawl and slide down his throat. It tasted of
dead animals and rotting flowers on the London streets after a storm.
He choked, both eyes flying open, and he bashed his fists against Sebastian's
arms, mentally screaming at the highest of pitches. All that came from his
mouth was a half-gargle. Red eyes were looking down at him, face rapidly losing
pigmentation, and there was something sickeningly black (those dead stars
falling through his fingers) spilling from his mouth. When Ciel grabbed, feebly
for something to stop the pain, (is this what it feels like to have your soul
eaten?) something caught his gaze.
The red set of eyes in the painting were moving, watching him, and they
glistened with fear and anger and revulsion. Though the face stayed utterly
still, those eyes were screaming at him, watching and bleeding and there was
hell in those eyes. Vincent's soul... portal into the real world?
Ciel spat, again and again, trying to rid the crawling of bugs inside of his
mouth and down his esophagus, deep into the pit of his stomach; it did no good.
Sebastian he watched with childlike glee as Ciel writhed on top of the desk,
clothing tearing to ribbons, blood still streaking down to his elbows, even has
he dug his fingers into his neck, hoping that he could will the crippled soul
from inside of him.
"Isn't it lovely, young master? The taste, the texture, the wildness of it.
Souls are just ripe for the taking, so easy to corrupt and to extract. Your
father is always watching; always has been." Sebastian licked his fingers,
rubbing them together against his sharp, callous tongue. He licked them until
they glistened, reaching down into Ciel's top drawer, removing a little bottle
of oil. He set the bottle to the side and turned to Ciel.
He was still choking on his father's tainted soul, the sticky black tighter
than a hand wrapped around his fragile neck. He couldn't... he couldn't take it
anymore. Ciel Phantomhive did not beg, but this torture was enough to make him
strangle out a painful moan.
"It does not seem like you're too pleased with my gift to you," Sebastian
murmured as he prodded Ciel with his barely-wet fingers. Sebastian looked
displeased, a small frown marring his face for only a brief moment, or so it
had seemed. Ciel was in no state of mind to tell if the world was black and
white, technicolor, or deep imposing red. The entire world seemed to be
dripping of it, the borders the torn souls he still felt inside him like a
festering wound.
"Get it... get it out," Ciel wheezed, hacking and struggling. "Sebastian, get
it out."
"Which one, young master?"
"Don't...don't play... coy," he spat, shivering as those fingers probed him
deeply (as that soul probed him deeper.) "What do you—ahhh," Ciel grunted as
the monster's fingers plunged in deeper. "Stop it, stop it. Just...what do
you want?"
Sebastian leaned close, his dark hair sweeping against Ciel's nose and eyelids.
He nuzzled his nose into the boy's mussed hair, whispering, "I could do it if
you wanted me to, young master. Do you want it?"
"Want what? Stop the circles, Sebastian. Please."
A lofty, guttural, chilling laugh punctuated the gasps of pain and, though Ciel
would deny it at any later date, there was pleasure, as well. There was
something so wrongbut so very lovely about it (bloody and gory and so hellishly
deplorable.) "My young master, how humorous you are. I can give you your
parents' souls back. I can return them to their resting place, to save your
children the pain of being hunted by me for your contract. Tell me, young
master, are you willing to make a deal to save their souls from further
torment?"
Ciel slammed his head back, the cracking reverberating throughout the room,
pinging off of the office walls. "Why do you do this to me? Is this amusing to
you? Do you take pleasure in my misery?"
"You shouldn't need to ask that question. By this time, we have been so
acquainted with one another that the answer has no answer. I am offering you
such a simple thing to me, but something of vast importance to you. So I ask
again..." Sebastian leaned down, crushing his body down against Ciel's,
effectively pinning him down to the table (crucified, hands driven through with
spikes.) "Do you want it?"
Those fingers invaded his body again, and Sebastian's tongue plundered his
mouth. That dripping, filthy and wicked mess of soul that made Ciel's entire
body shriek (getitoutgetitoutgetitout) was shaking in his throat, grappling
down to something so much deeper than the pit of his stomach. It didn't want to
come out of him—it was Vincent's soul, and from the desperation it had to
continue to cling down, to refuse to leave, the father wanted to stay with the
son. But Ciel did not want him there, not inside of him, killing him. Ciel
didn't want his father to be there with him, not anymore. Vincent was dead.
The soul came out like a newborn screaming. Ciel had experienced paranormal
activity since he first met Sebastian. There were the demons and angels;
superhuman little boys and nearly immortal cooks; soul-sucking and shinigami
life-cutting. But the experience of actually having a soul that wasn't his own
ripped from him (he feared having his own soul taken out, but this was far
worse) was much different than how it had come in. It was just a sudden rush to
his head and then air. There was still the screaming, but he
could breathe. Never again, never could he ever stomach the idea of a soul
being in him that way—it would better to be dead.
"It's an acquired taste," Sebastian said before pulling his body up and
grabbing the oil. Ciel closed his eyes, not caring anymore what went on. God
could smite him, Sebastian could rip out his soul and serve it with a side of
Lemon Drizzle cake, his father could continue to choke him with squelching,
slippery imaginary fingers. Death was going to be a bliss worthwhile.
Sebastian's cock went in before Ciel could slow the rhythm of his aching heart,
(boomboom boomboom) the deep penetration making Ciel rock back, his knees
buckling. Sebastian half-stood, half-sat (like a king readying his sword
forexecution) in Ciel's chair, his face devoid of any human emotion, only the
feral and hungry gaze of a wolf snapping his jaws around the lamb's throat. He
jerked out, a trail of oil slipping out of Ciel, before slamming back in and
sending the desk an inch forward. The legs scraped the floors and something
fell from the desk with an audible thud.
"He screamed and pleaded," Sebastian explained as he pounded in and out, the
motion hypnotizing. Ciel's innards constricted around Sebastian, harsh heat
spreading from the core of his stomach outward. They had their trysts, their
painful fucks in oblique and too-cold rooms, but this was by far the most
brutal they—Sebastian—had ever gone. The demon was in no way moralistic, but
preferred not to fillet Ciel between glass and his cock.
Ciel growled, his hands reaching blindly out. He grunted once, then twice when
Sebastian managed to push against that one spot inside him that sent tremors
through him, and managed to latch onto a handful of the beast's hair. It felt
like cool silk between his fingers, and when a particular thrust made
Sebastian's head come down close, he could smell it. There was the rose garden;
the soft touch of a woman and a little boy; a rich, pale white tea. There was
smoke, too, and it tickled his nostrils (it burned.) 
No, Sebastian. This is low, even for you.
"Seba—aahhh," Ciel grunted and forcefully pulled his face away from his hair.
He stared painfully into deep, warm red eyes and bit down on his lip to keep
from crying out as Sebastian's cock thrust deeper and deeper, as if searching
for salvation (condemnation) inside him. "S..stop. Sebastian, no—ehhh."
Not this, not him, not now. Sebastian, if I have ever done such a deed worthy
of this punishment, then I am more of a demon than you.
Sickness churned inside Ciel's stomach with the pleasure as Sebastian's face
took a soft, almost lovingly painted, mockery of Vincent Phantomhive. That
smile, the one present in that painting with those eyes that followed him,
passed over his lips, and Ciel almost let go of his hair.
"My little baby, my Ciel. Your mother would be so proud of the handsome boy
you've become."
Ciel cried out as the waves of pleasure came unbidden, and it all came to him
in a moment of unbridled disgust. "Stop it, stop it!" Ciel yelled, yanking
Sebastian (Vincent) away from his face, where he tried to lay a kiss.
"Sebastian, I command you to—"
"Sebastian, Sebastian. Ciel, can you not recognize your father? I'm in here,
I've been in here for so very long." A peaceful, serene smile came over his
features as hebuckled and pulled out, a pop coming from between Ciel's thighs.
"Little Ciel, sitting on my lap, playing with his toys. Daddy loves his little
boy." He grabbed his penis, rubbing the head across the cleft between Ciel's
cheeks, teasing him. "Can't you see what your Sebastian has made me?"
"I command you to stop this." Ciel shook, hoping that Sebastian would not see
it. Instead, he tightened his hands in his hair, fingers locking. "Your toying
has gone on long enough. I am your Lord and you will obe—"
Sebastian slammed back in.
"Little Ciel. Does he not care about his father's plight? Having been torn from
Heaven, forced into Hell. My little boy, so precious. Did you not know what
your actions would cause?" Even though the hair was falling out, cutting at the
soft flesh, Ciel didn't let go. Those red eyes were still so very soft, staring
into him, not blaming...
They never blamed me.
"Make a deal, let our souls go to rest. Save our family, save our
blood." He grinned as he pet Ciel's hair, running the pads of his fingers over
his eyebrows and nose, then his lips.
Ciel moaned as Sebastian's long nails pulled his mouth open, his tongue playing
with the demon's fingers. The warmth was growing, the pool inside of his
stomach aching with need for his release. Ciel could feel his erection between
his legs, pressed against Sebastian's butler uniform, leaving little pearly
beads of pre-come like decoration. This was foul, but he felt so very right
inside of Ciel, and his clenching muscles agreed.
"A—ahhhh, deal?"
A smile spread over his face, before he said, "Yes, a little," he punctuated
his words with a shallow thrust, "deal. Just say yes, and we will be free." He
removed his fingers from Ciel's mouth, raising them up to his own. He licked
and sucked, body rocking back and forth. Little strings of saliva pulled
between his fingers. Ciel could see the smooth, branded skin of the pentagram
glaring back at him, reaching in, looking for something. "I will be free,
little Ciel; don't you want that?"
Vincent, Sebastian, whoever was inhabiting the demon's body, smiled softly and
moved his hands to cup Ciel's hips, one continuing down, slithering to between
his legs. It was slow, burningly beautiful and deep, and Ciel moaned, wanting
nothing more than to wrap his legs around his hips. The tingling sensation was
beginning to crest, and Ciel knew that it would only take a little more
pressure to send him over the edge, into a crescendoing orgasm. But there was
that thing (bloody fingers and angered screams) that kept his aching sac from
bursting, even as fingers cupped him.
Ciel let out a lengthy huff.
"Just say yes, allow him to have the Queen, and it'll all be fine. Just fine."
The lulling wave that Ciel had allowed himself to be carried away with froze,
and though his body continued to keel and plead for release, his mind was sent
into sharp disarray. The Queen?
The dog biting the hand that feeds it. 
Ciel's fingers finally released from the black hair, strands twined between his
fingers. He put them against the table and pushed his body up, and looked at
the beast before him, devouring his body, the tiny bead of sweat racing down
his brow. His muscles clenched as Sebastian (not Vincent, not him) rose harder,
deeper, faster inside of him. His own cock was lively and red, and Sebastian's
fingers were marvelous...
"I..."
"Yes, Ciel?"
The boy leaned forward, his lips brushing against Sebastian's before saying,
"No."
Sebastian's face turned into a snarl, red eyes flaring from lenient to angry,
fierce red, and as he came inside of Ciel, the boy gripped two broken pieces of
china (red and black and smelling of Darjeeling tea) and drove them through the
soft, fleshy eyes. The blood came in a gush, spraying across his face, into his
mouth, into his eyes. The demon only breathed harshly as Ciel screamed and dug
the china deeper, to the point where his fingers were inside of the sockets,
feeling the mushy pulp of his desecrated eyes.
He twisted his thumb and index finger and with a jerk Ciel stared into the
empty cesspools, Sebastian's eyes and thick veins in his fingers. It felt warm 
(burning) and he raised the eyeballs to his eyesight as Sebastian's fingers (so
elegantly for a demon with no eyes) tightened around his cock and pulled.
He crushed Sebastian's eyes as he came, spurting onto his stomach and into
Sebastian's hand. His body, drained, fell back and hit the top of the desk with
a thud. Sebastian lifted himself from the chair, fingers still languidly
touching at his drained, softening cock, before leaning over Ciel, his empty
eye sockets red like his (or what had been) his irises. They were still framed
with dark lashes, Ciel noticed as he shook.
"Young master," Sebastian murmured as he trailed his lips up and down Ciel's
face, his lips crushing down on anything, everything. After a moment he lifted
himself up, Ciel watched with morbid fascination as the demon's hands, covered
in semen, reached between them and he twined his fingers with Ciel's, white
come mixing with red blood and blue veins. "Young master..." he said gently,
rolling his thumb across Ciel's knuckle (it could have been the touch of a true
lover, a true friend.)
Ciel bit back a cry and closed his eyes.
"What is it, Sebastian?" he asked after a few minutes of quiet. His voice was
hoarse, his throat pained. He wanted water or tea, something soothing. He
wanted a bath and to have his hair cleaned, like usual.
"I will remove the painting, if you still desire."
Ciel almost laughed. (Almost.)
"Move it to the south-eastern parlor, where Lady Elizabeth enjoys to throw her
parties."
He opened his right eye and looked down to see Sebastian looking up at him, his
new, growing eyes cataract. Ciel watched silently as Sebastian raised their
hands up to his lips, and sucked hungrily with tongue and teeth. The blood that
streaked down his face was gone, faded like a shimmer.
"And..."
"Yes?"
"Cancel the wedding. I do not care for children without souls."
Ciel could have swore that Sebastian smiled as he licked up his palm, the meaty
pulp of his eyes disappearing into his mouth. He leaned up a moment later
smiled, so easily, and placed his lips to Ciel. They kissed, and Sebastian
pushed a little piece of himself into Ciel.
He chewed before swallowing (and it tasted exactly like chocolate.)
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