Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2698427.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Kuroshitsuji_|_Black_Butler
  Relationship:
      Sebastian_Michaelis/Ciel_Phantomhive
  Character:
      Sebastian_Michaelis, Ciel_Phantomhive, Arthur_Wordsmith, Lau_
      (Kuroshitsuji)
  Additional Tags:
      horny_devil, Bound, Chains, Cuffs, Restraints, murder_arc, Shota, Ciel
      seems_so_innocent, devilish_child, Poor_Arthur, Poor_Ciel, the_devil
      answers_when_you_call
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-12-01 Completed: 2018-01-20 Chapters: 2/2 Words: 6530
****** When Words Fail ******
by Silverwing26
Summary
     Ciel has been accused of murder. Arthur has been forced into keeping
     an eye on the Earl during the night. Sebastian's hands are full with
     making sure Ciel's plans are enacted perfectly. However, the devil
     finds work for idle hands and Ciel is in no position to do anything
     of consequence chained in the bed next to Arthur.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
***** It Was a Dark and Stormy Night *****
It was an exceptionally dreadful night. Outside the tall, arching glass windows
of the Phantomhive mansion, the pitch black sky was streaked with bolts of
lightning. Rather than dazzling the eye, however, they seemed to convey a sense
of dread and malaise, as if on any blinding burst one might see the eyes of the
devil staring at them from behind the rain-streaked glass.
Sebastian looked out into the night, his exceptionally keen ears picking up the
sound of tree limbs breaking in the distance and of the rain hammering against
the roof. He had just finished escorting the last guest to their bedroom and
lifted his head to the sound of footsteps from down the hall. Charles was
approaching, his pristine white jacked dotted with gray where the rain had
soaked him.
“Here you are, Sebastian. These should do for confining the Earl. As the
Queen’s Royal Secretary, I use them for holding terrorists, you know.”
Sebastian arched a brow, his usual polite smile missing from his lips. He took
the chains from the Queen’s secretary and, with an incline of his head, turned
and headed in the opposite direction down the hall. He rapped his knuckles on
the white wood door politely, and waited for an answer before letting himself
in with a small bow. Mr. Wordsmith was sitting on the edge of the bed, already
in his nightclothes and his head in both of his hands.
“I apologize for the wait.” The butler's tone was formal and darkly rich as he
addressed the author sitting on the edge of the bed. Arthur looked up and
offered a tight grin. His discomfort was obvious, the tension creasing his
brow, yet the butler seemed to pay his state of being no mind. Sebastian walked
forward and set the long chain on the ground. “If you would be so kind, Mr.
Wordsmith. I hope this won't be duly uncomfortable; I'm afraid the Queen’s
secretary is insisting.”
What else could he do? Arthur held out his arm and Sebastian securely fastened
the metal cuff to the author's wrist. He watched the butler drop to his knees
and pass the long chain beneath the bed before rising to his feet again and
making his way over to where the Earl of Phantomhive sat waiting patiently in a
large arm chair.
How had he, Arthur, gotten himself into this situation? Oh yes, he was the only
one who didn't speak up about not wanting to burdened with having to watch the
young earl who was currently being accused of murder by most of his guests. The
sly Chinaman had quickly suggested Arthur watch the boy. Why he had to be
handcuffed to the small nobleman, he wasn't sure. Apparently, it was to prevent
his servants from squirreling him away somehow. He supposed a man - no, boy -
in the Earl’s position could arrange such a thing, if he so chose. Arthur shook
his head again and rested it in his palms. This whole ordeal was confusing and
his brain had been turning the pieces over endlessly trying to figure out the
puzzle.
Could the slight boy of thirteen really have killed another noblemen in his own
home? If he had done so, would he so foolishly have explained how one could
murder a victim in a room locked from the inside? Had he perhaps thought that
by explaining how such a trick could be done, that it would then remove him
from suspicion? Surely the child's brain didn't work like that - couldn’t
devise such a malicious strategy to avoid being suspected of guilt. What motive
did he have? The only one proffered forth by any of the guests was that perhaps
the victim had crossed the young earl Phantomhive's toy manufacturing company.
Come to think of it, it was the sly Chinaman who delivered that theory as well.
Lau, as he was called by the Earl, was quick to suggest the Earl as the
murderer, and even quicker to explain how it could have been him and what his
possible motive might be. One might draw the conclusion that he was trying to
shift suspicion away from himself, but then the Chinaman was in a room with
several witnesses. He had an alibi for the time of the murder.
Arthur's head was beginning to pound and he squeezed his eyes shut.
Sebastian slipped the dressing gown from his master and set it on the bed as he
set about dressing Ciel in a fresh nightshirt. His features were somewhat more
sombre than normal. His aristocratic features, high cheekbones, smooth pale
skin and ever-present smirk gave the butler the appearance of always enjoying
some private joke known only to him. With his eyes half-lidded and his lips in
a thin line, the man looked... sheepish. It was completely out of character.
“I apologize, master. I had to put him in that room. I had intended to assign
him a different room but that was the only one available when he was ready to
retire. Please forgive me.” Sebastian bowed his head as he finished slipping
the last button into the hole on the boy's nightshirt.
The young earl tossed himself backwards on the bed and with his small feet
swinging up in the air, kicked his slippers off. One of them nearly missed the
butler’s face and he let out a sigh. “It can't be helped, Sebastian. Stop
fretting about it.” The boy tucked one leg under himself and buried his hands
in the duvet atop the bed. “It's going to be cold tonight; don't let the coke
in the rooms go out.” Ciel flashed a half grin-up at his butler and and it was
almost mischievous in the way his lips lifted at the corner. “Even though I
shall be unavailable tonight, you must still give our guests perfect service.”
“Yes, My Lord.” Sebastian placed one hand across his chest and bowed
respectfully as the words left his lips. When his head lifted, his eyes were
half-lidded but no longer clouded with whatever thought he seemed to have been
burdened with earlier. Now the eyes he turned on the boy were intensely focused
and glittering with the same sense of mischief held in the gently upturned
smile the young Earl wore.
Ciel Phantomhive, Earl and successful business magnate, and thirteen-year-old
suspected murderer, clothed in a cotton nightshirt, held out his thin delicate
wrist to his butler. Sebastian, with almost a sense of reverence, closed the
iron manacle about his wrist and locked it securely. Arthur, sitting on the
edge of the bed and doing his best to give the boy what privacy he could –
which wasn't much – heard the click of the lock, and the clank of the chains as
the boy shook his wrist to test the solidarity of the tether.
The butler chuckled as he rose to his feet, a sound that seemed entirely out of
place considering the evening’s events. With a knowing glance towards Arthur,
he slipped into perfect French. “Hmm, perhaps I should ask Charles if I can
keep these when this ordeal is through.”His voice was just as rich and velvety
in French as it was with his clipped British accent.
The boy's eyes grew wide and his small mouth hung open for the briefest of
moments. Then his lips pursed together in a fine line and his face took on a
decidedly childish air. It almost appeared that a small tantrum was coming.
Instead though, the young Earl crossed his arms over his chest, the iron chain
clanking and tilted his head up and to the side, disdain painting his features.
Ciel’s French was well practiced and articulate, unlike his Latin. “Oh, shut
up, you deviant! Trust you to think of something like that.”
Sebastian got to his feet in one elegant motion and bowed his head. “I shall
bid you a good night, then.” He saw the boy into the bed proper, and pulled the
duvet up over his small, bony knees. The butler gathered up the earl’s robe in
one hand, neatly draping it over his arm and with the other he retrieved the
silver candelabra from the bedside table.
“Yes; goodnight, Sebastian,” Ciel managed to squeak out from around a rather
large yawn. He stretched one arm up over his head while the other curled into a
fist to cover his mouth.
Sebastian walked around the bed and bid a good night to Mr. Wordsmith before
blowing the candles out. The room faded into darkness and the butler left,
closing the door behind himself.
Arthur swung his legs into the bed and situated himself as comfortably as
possible in the bed with a chain on one wrist and a most unusual youth next to
him. It's not that he was uncomfortable around children; he had a brother
around the Earl's age. It was simply that Arthur's mind didn't quiet easily. It
was perhaps what made him a decent author. His mind ran through all the
scenarios he could imagine as he tried to deduce if this boy with such large,
angelic eyes could have murdered a guest at a dinner party in his own mansion.
He was jarred from his thoughts and found himself looking through the dim
expanse of bed between himself and the boy; he tilted his head to show he was
listening as he suddenly realized the child had spoken to him. “I'm sorry.
What?”
“I said, I'm sorry to have gotten you wrapped up in this mess, Mr. Wordsmith.
It's must be terribly difficult to sleep knowing you are lying next to a
murderer?” Ciel's lips quirked at the corners and his large, blue eye stared
back with a playful challenge dancing behind his juvenile demeanor.
Ciel did his best not to look too amused, though the tension which flowed from
Mr. Wordsmith was almost palpable. He simply couldn't help prodding at the man
a little. It was a skill he had perfected on Sebastian, needling just enough to
be exceedingly uncomfortable but never break the skin. He was no child and
often found himself vexed that the general public viewed him as such. However,
there were times where his small frame, few years, and cherubic face came in
handy. He considered it another tool at his disposal, like his servants, Lau,
Abberline, and even Sebastian. He watched Arthur's face fade from tense and
wary to embarrassed and then, as he anticipated, the lines around his eyes
softened and he breathed a soft sigh as his expression changed to enchanted.
He has such a sweet face, Arthur thought as a smile broke over him. “I'm glad
you can joke about it, and that the events of the evening haven't been too
traumatic.” This was the Earl of Phantomhive lying in the bed beside Arthur and
he couldn't help but appreciate how young and childlike he seemed. He reminded
the writer of his siblings of just about the boy's age. That big, blue eye
looked at him and he once again asked himself the question, could this boy
really have committed a murder? Arthur scanned his face for anything - any sign
of trauma, any sign of deceit. His eyes once again returned to Ciel's wide,
blue eye peering at him through the dark, and the patch that covered his right
eye. “Do you... do you sleep with your eye patch on?”
Ciel's eye, wide with wonder and innocence, seemed to cloud for a moment.
“I really think you should remove that at night and let your eye breathe.”
Arthur's voice was soft and full of concern, the way one might speak to any
child. He reached his hand out towards the eye patch and Ciel bolted straight
up in bed.
“No! I... I...er, I got this injury when I lost parents. I do not wish to show
it to people. I'm sorry, Mr. Wordsmith.” Ciel's small fingers touched his
eyepatch and he lowered his visible eye in thought. The corners of his mouth,
turned down and he stared at the bed linens instead of looking Mr. Wordsmith in
the face. He exhaled softly in frustration, hoping it sounded as if he were
merely upset. That was a near thing. I shall have to be more careful next
time.Ciel's thoughts were interrupted as Arthur spoke.
“No, I'm sorry. To have lost your parents at such a young age. I cannot even
imagine. I've siblings about your age, so please excuse my familiarity.” Arthur
returned his hands to his side and stared at the boy with renewed concern. What
exactly had this child lived through? What was he capable of?
Ciel's lifted his head slightly, his eye shining with tears gathered at the
corners and refusing to fall. I had better make this convincing; he is more
sentimental that I had originally predicted. Ciel's mind worked exceedingly
quickly and he shook his head with a little sigh. His voice trembled slightly
and he wiped the false tears from the corners of his eyes. “No, no; it's
alright. I didn't mean to make you look foolish. You see, it's just been so
long since I shared a bed like this with anyone. The last time was when I was
very small. There was a terrible storm and I became frightened. I crawled from
my bed and into my parents’ room. They brought me into bed with them and I was
able to sleep curled up in between them, safe and warm, where I knew I would
come to no harm. Do you know, Mr. Wordsmith, what that is like? The sleep one
experiences when lying next to the one who will protect them from the real
monsters and frightful things in this world?”
Arthur's eyes grew wide in the dark. This poor boy had been through so much. It
was a wonder - or perhaps no wonder at all - that he accepted the events of the
evening with such grace. To have been left alone for so long, without his
parents to protect him and make him feel safe, must have aged him before his
years. Yet he still looked so young, still had childlike youth in his eyes.
Surely someone who has suffered so much loss, such abhorrent death, would not
snuff out the life of another person. Arthur's eyes softened and he laid his
hand on the boy's head.
Ciel looked up with surprise at the sudden contact and Arthur drew his hand
back quickly, apologizing profusely for the informality. Ciel merely grinned
and congratulated himself silently for his performance. “Let's go to sleep, Mr.
Wordsmith.” And with that, he settled himself down, nuzzled into the pillow and
drifted off to sleep.
Arthur lay in bed next to him for a long while, merely looking at him. His mind
turned the situation over and over and over until he finally realized he wasn't
thinking about the mystery anymore. He was simply marveling at how innocent the
boy looked, and wondering what a life he must lead, having the responsibilities
he had. “I'm really not getting an Earl Phantomhive feeling from him now...
More like... Ciel. He's so charming when he sleeps...” Arthur whispered to
himself in the dark and was startled when a voice answered him back.
“Yes, the young master is much cuter when he is asleep.”
Arthur practically jumped from the bed at the deep sound of the butler's voice
from near the door. He turned and saw the man approaching with a pillow
clutched to his chest. He was just about to open his mouth to ask what he was
doing there when another voice startled him even further.
“You're late, Sebastian.” The young earl was sitting up in bed with his hand
stretched out to his butler. “Let me have my pillow.”
“Of course, young master.” Sebastian handed the boy the pillow he carried in
exchange for the one he had been sleeping on. His lips curled into a smirk
noting Arthur's thoroughly confused expression. “One might call this the young
master's security blanket. He simply cannot sleep without it.”
“IT IS NO SUCH THING!” the boy snapped at his butler and Arthur's head swung
between them, trying to decide what was going on. “I simply like this pillow is
all.” Ciel's voice had softened and to Arthur's ears it had grown small and
drowsy as he threw himself back into the new pillow.
“Of course. Would you like a lullaby as well, my lord?” Sebastian asked and
curled a gloved hand in front of his lips to stifle a snicker.
Arthur's brows raised and he couldn't help but smile softly. At least the young
earl had one person whom he could joke with. At least to Arthur it seemed like
frivolous banter. How appropriate that it would be the young lord’s closest
servant, for whom else would be allowed to speak to him in such a way?
The boy almost seemed to blush. “Oh, shut up. Stop with your nonsense as if you
want to give people ideas. Goodnight, Sebastian!” With a small huff, the little
lord rolled himself over and within the minute was snoring softly.
“Already? He must have been exhausted. He really can't sleep without his
pillow, then?” Arthur turned questioning eyes on the butler who was pulling the
duvet up around the small boy's chin. I wonder if he heard what I said about
him, then? Arthur shook his head; there was no use worrying about it now.
“Yes, something like that. Mr. Wordsmith?” The butler had walked around to
Arthur's side of the bed and leaned down close to him, startling him out of his
thoughts. “I'm leaving the young master in your care. Please watch over him.”
The writer's brows knit together as if he didn't understand, so Sebastian
continued in his deep whisper. “He is of course highly capable, but my young
lord is still only thirteen.”
Arthur opened his mouth to voice his confusion, but he would have been speaking
to the fluttering tails of the butler’s swallowtail coat as Sebastian left the
room and closed the door behind himself.
***** It Was a Dark and Steamy Night *****
Ciel's soft snores were the only sound in the darkened bedchamber as Arthur
finally drifted off to sleep. The boy’s eyes cracked open as he heard the
author’s breathing slow into the even sounds of slumber and he ceased the
charade of sleeping, false snores coming to an end. Ciel slid his small hand
inside of his pillowcase and his fingers curled around an envelope. Slowly, he
drew it from beneath his head and slipped the note out. He chanced a look to
the side, and saw that Mr. Wordsmith's back was to him, and the man was still
slumbering peacefully. The boy held the note up to the the shaft of moonlight
pooling across the bed from the large window and took in Sebastian's elegant
and detailed writing. His little lips curled into a smug grin as his eyes
slowly scanned the note in the dim light. He nodded, quite satisfied with
himself and slipped the note back into its hiding place.
He couldn't see the clock on the mantle, but the boy heard the slow monotony of
the night ticking by. There was no fault with the bed, the linens were fresh
and soft beneath him, he had no worries of his plan failing - Sebastian would
not fail him - yet sleep was elusive. An irritated huff left him as he resigned
himself to a night of sleeplessness. There had been many of them when he was
younger; another one now wouldn't be of any great distress to him, though he
did get rather irritable when he was lacking in sleep.
Ciel's eyes fell closed, shutting out the dim light of the room, and the shadow
of Mr. Wordsmith beside him. Details, timelines, faces, names began to
methodically pass through his mind. The next few days would be critical and the
Earl of Phantomhive was a methodical and thorough strategist. His predictions
about the evening had come to pass thus far and everything was going according
to plan. He merely wanted to assure himself that events would follow his
cleverly laid plans over the course of the coming days, and so he examined his
itinerary again. Sebastian would be his hands, his faithful hound and carry
forth his instructions carefully. Sebastian. His mind ground to a slow halt
with the thought. Perhaps he was beginning to get sleepy for he didn't notice
that he was no longer silently dictating each guest’s moves in his mind, or
where they were at the time of the murder. No. What Ciel was currently thinking
about, with his eyes closed and his lashes fluttering lightly against his
cheek, were two wine red eyes peering at him through the darkness.
Those eyes. Ciel gritted his teeth with mild frustration. Earlier Sebastian, on
bended knee, had fastened a manacle about his master's wrist. All part of the
plan, the boy told himself, but that dark, rich voice with its perfect French
accent poked at him, suggesting that Ciel would for a moment allow such a thing
after this charade was over. The sadistic bastard would probably love that,
having his master chained, but Ciel was the master he assured himself, and
Sebastian the dog. Were anyone to be wearing a shackle, a tether, it would be
him. Still, warmth pulsed beneath his skin and in irritated disbelief, the boy
felt his cheeks redden. Sebastian's eyes glowed at him through the darkness and
without thought, Ciel's legs parted slightly. The slipping of the linens over
his coltish legs sent a shiver through his small body as he envisioned long,
gloved fingers tracing over his skin.
Arthur shifted in his sleep and an ungraceful snore left his lips. Ciel cracked
his eye open and when the author didn't move again, he closed his eyes again
and his mind betrayed him and wandered back to Sebastian. A tingling just
beneath his skin crawled up his thighs as he imagined Sebastian's talented
fingers sliding and pinching him. He squeezed his thighs together as the
phantom hand stroked him and to his embarrassment he felt heat pool in his
stomach and the first twitches of his hardening member. He squeezed his eyes
closed harder and tossed his head to the side trying to banish the image, the
sensation. The devil's dark chuckle echoed in his ear and the boy bit his
bottom lip.
“Be still, young master; you will awaken Mr. Wordsmith.” The devil's rich,
dulcet whisper penetrated the darkness and Ciel's eyes flew open. He nearly
called out in surprise, but remembered himself and closed his mouth against the
shout. Leaning over him on the bed with eyes glowing like lamplights hovered
Sebastian. His clothes were bloodied, and his hair only slightly out of place.
His lips, though, were curled at the corners, like the serpent tempting Eve.
His perfectly sharp teeth were showing in glimpses behind those curled lips and
Ciel arched a fine brow in the darkness. The devil was a beautiful creature and
if Ciel were not careful, he would lose himself in that face, in those eyes,
and his good judgement be lost and damned like the rest of him.
“What are you doing in here?” Ciel hissed as quietly as he could through the
darkness. “Are you not supposed to be somewhere?”
Sebastian merely chuckled softly. “I am where I ought to be, Young Master.
Worry not. Your plan will not fail.”
“Then I see no reason why you are here!” the boy whispered fiercely once more.
“Do you not?” Sebastian leaned down over his small master and Ciel pushed
himself back in the pillow. “You called to me. As I am still able to answer
your call without the ruination of your plan, I came.” His breath was hot and
smelled of cinnamon as it brushed against Ciel's ear.
“I did no such thing!” Ciel snapped a bit louder than he meant to and Arthur
made a noise before shifting and falling back asleep again.
Master and servant remained quiet for a moment until the author’s breathing
evened out again. “Oh, but you did...” And that hot tongue traced the shell of
the boy's ear.
Ciel's eyes widened with the implication, with the sudden spark of pleasure at
the wet heat. Despite orders to the contrary, he did on occasion suspect the
devil of looking into his mind. “Don't you dare, Sebastian! Are you mad? You...
you... deviant...”
Sebastian's tongue licked over his lips, wetting them appreciatively before
sucking on the boy's earlobe.
Ciel tried not to let the moan slip past his lips. Arthur was sleeping right
next to him and not only that but chained to him. The boy’s eyes fell closed
and he bit his tongue to keep himself quiet. His free hand lifted from the bed,
and pushed against Sebastian’s shoulder. “Oh, give over, you great beast,” he
whispered harshly.
“Quite so.” Sebastian chuckled ever so softly against the ear he was licking
slowly, sending jolts of pleasure through his small master’s body. “I think you
are rather enjoying this, Young Master.”
“I am not!” Ciel panted as he felt those teeth nip his skin sharply but then
the devil’s hot tongue was caressing the back of his ear and his small cock was
swelling beneath the linens. Arthur shuffled in his sleep and Ciel’s heart
nearly leapt from his chest. “Idiot!” he whispered harshly and lifted his other
hand to thump soundly against the devil’s other shoulder.
Sebastian growled but the inhuman sound was nearly imperceptible in the
stillness of the bedchamber. “Ah ah,” he chided and sucked on the skin of the
boy’s neck. His long fingers wrapped around Ciel’s wrist, pinning it to the
pillow before he could raise it more than a few centimeters. Sebastian’s grip
was firm, and he felt the boy’s fingers flex and his thin wrist press against
the metal of the shackle. “You’ll wake Mr. Wordsmith if you flail that arm
about.” The devil lifted his head to look into the boy’s face, creased with
both disbelief and the effort of controlling his arousal. Sebastian’s eyes were
glowing fiercely, casting a red pallor across his pale cheeks. “I suppose I
shall just have to help you keep still then, shall I, my Young Master?”
“Seb-!” Ciel started, but the sound was quickly cut off by long, tapered
fingers sliding into his mouth, stroking against his tongue. He could scarcely
believe this. Here he was - chained in a guest bedroom, to Arthur Wordsmith
with his elaborate plan hanging in the balance - and his deviant butler
hovering over him doing the most licentious things. Ciel’s brain was growing
foggy, his good sense being lost to lust. He could feel the weight of his
butler pressing atop his body, could feel his own need pulsing between his
thighs, and the devil’s thick erection growing firm against his legs - the
realization of which, did nothing to quell his surging desire.
Sebastian smirked through the darkness; he petted that sweet impudent little
tongue and he rolled his hips slightly against Ciel’s still squirming body. Oh,
this is delicious, he thought. Squirm, my little Lord; show me your
embarrassment, your wanton desire. Become shameless in my eyes. Open yourself
to me as you would no other. The devil’s lips parted in a wicked grin and then
he was sinking those long fangs into the boy’s shoulder and delighting in the
way Ciel sucked on his fingers feverishly. “Eager little thing… Did charming
the gullible fool excite you so?” he whispered against the bitten skin as he
lapped scant drops of crimson blood from porcelain flesh.
You absolute BASTARD, Ciel wanted to shout at the dark mass pressing him to the
bed, but that would be ruinous in more than one way, so he stroked those long
fingers fiercely with his tongue and then bit into Sebastian’s hand with his
sharp little teeth.
The devil hissed through his teeth as the pleasure of his master’s hot little
tongue mixed with pain of his teeth. The devil chuckled softly against the
boy’s skin. He lifted his head, tracing the vein running just below the
devilish little imp’s ear before whispering to him in honeyed tones. “You will
likely regret that my Master.”
Ciel’s embarrassment and arousal mixed and he could feel little jolts of
excitement emanating from wherever Sebastian touched him, licked him, bit him,
and race straight to his hardening cock. He was furious with himself, and with
Sebastian, but he was also losing focus. His thoughts were beginning to flee as
the sensations crawling beneath his skin became stronger. Ciel rolled his eye,
you great braggart, he thought just as the first drops of Sebastian’s blood
touched his tongue. He wasn’t sure what he expected the devil’s blood to taste
like, but it wasn’t this. Unlike human blood Sebastian’s blood did not taste of
copper and salt. His blood … was difficult to explain, Ciel realized, as his
tongue eagerly lapped at Sebastian’s fingers. It was sweet, and spiced, and the
flavour kept changing, with every sweep of his tongue.
Sebastian growled softly, his ever hardening length pushing against the
squirming boy beneath him. He was remarkably dextrous for having one hand
pinned to the bed around Ciel’s wrist, and the other trapped in his small
contractor’s mouth. He used his knee to gently nudge the boy’s thighs apart,
and much to his amusement, Ciel did so with enthusiasm. He ran his hot tongue
over the curve of his jaw, and tasted the perspiration already forming on the
boy’s skin. Ciel’s body was flushing beneath the weight of the devil atop him,
and he had begin to make quiet little whimpering noises.
He knew he should be quiet. He knew they were in genuine danger of being
discovered if he couldn’t keep quiet, but Ciel couldn’t help himself. His head
had gone light and warm and his body tingled so tantalizingly under each of
Sebastian’s caresses. His body ached for the devil’s touch and a part of his
mind began to realize, he should be horrified at how quickly his legs spread
for his butler, and how his mind silently began to scream Hurry! Hurry
Sebastian! Do it!.
“What a deviant little master I have.” Sebastian cooed into Ciel’s ear. His
cock, thick and heavy and leaking enough fluid to dampen his wool trousers
pressed against the boy’s bare skin. “Do you feel quite well, little Master?”
he chuckled and slipped his fingers from the boy’s mouth. His little imp nipped
at his fingertips as he pulled them free, not a trace of the demon’s blood left
to be seen.
“Seba-” Ciel began in a harsh whisper, but his words were cut off as Sebastian
kissed him. It was deep and possessive and Ciel could feel the heat rising in
his demon. The very perversion of taking his master in the bed next to one of
their guests had him in a proper pique and Ciel could taste the perspiration
already gathering on his butler’s perfectly smooth upper lip. He sucked on the
devil’s tongue, and realizing he still had a hand free, he laced his fingers
through Sebastian’s hair and began to tug on the raven locks.
Sebastian was losing his carefully crafted patience. His little contractor was
so hot, so enticing, so embarrassed and so irate. The boy had also lost his
head completely to his lust and desire and the effects of Sebastian’s blood.
His free hand carefully opened his flies and freed his aching cock. He broke
the kiss long enough to growl softly through the darkness, “Patience little
imp. I will give you what you crave.” He watched with delight as the boy chewed
his bottom lip with his perfectly straight teeth in an effort to keep quiet.
Ciel no longer cared that Arthur was in the bed next to them. All he cared
about was the deviant beast rolling his hips slowly against him. Stop teasing
me you filthy beast! he screamed in his mind. He released Sebastian’s hair and
curled his fist against the back of his mouth, pressing it to his lips firmly
trying to keep his pants from echoing in the darkened room.
Sebastian’s free hand pulled the tiny vial of oil from his waist coat pocket.
He was fortunate it wasn’t damaged in the ‘accident’ he had before coming to
his master’s call. He looked down at the boy beneath him. His body was
quivering and flushed, his legs splayed wantonly waiting for his fiend, his
eyes were glazed with pleasure and his nightclothes smeared with blood.
Frankly, he looked absolutely delicious. Sebastian could contain himself no
longer. He poured the oil over his length and stroked himself. His thoroughly
slick cock began to slide up and down the cleft of the boy’s rear. His eyes
glowed fiercely as he watched the desire and lust dance across the boy’s face.
His brow arched as he felt those tiny fingers try and stroke the hand that was
quite deftly pinning him to the bed. The devil chuckled. “More, little master?
Is that what you are trying to tell me?”
Ciel gritted his teeth against his clenched fist and glared at his devil with a
look as would kill.
Silently, deftly, smoothly, Sebastian wrapped his hands about the boy’s small
thighs. He positioned himself at Ciel’s entrance and stroked him softly over
and over again until tiny mewling whimpers spilled around the boy’s hand, and
then he pushed into him. Ciel’s back arched from the bed and his legs wrapped
about Sebastian, trying to pull him deeper. The devil chuckled and snaked a
hand beneath Ciel’s nightshirt to pinch and roll a sensitive pink nipple. With
perverse delight he watched the boy’s head toss on the pillow, felt his inner
muscles tighten around him, and felt his pulse race beneath his skin. “You are
mine, my master and mine alone. No one else shall ever possess you and I will
mark you as mine over and over and over again. I will make you crave the things
you should loathe, delight in that which should horrify you; I will make you
find pleasure in pain, and clarity in insanity. You. Are. Mine.” His word were
growled into the darkness reaching only Ciel’s ears.
Ciel’s eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure surged through his sweat soaked body.
He knew he wasn’t going to last long like this. Sebastian was too hot, it all
felt too good, and when those words reached his ears, his hand gripped
Sebastian’s so hard he left tiny crescent shapes in the skin. His hips rolled
and he tried to pulled the devil closer, he wanted more, he wanted it all, he
wanted everything Sebastian could give him and then some. His cock twitched and
dripped and ached, and with a soft grunt he expressed his frustration.
Sebastian was keeping him relatively still so he wouldn’t wake Mr. Wordsmith
and the boy thought he might soon die without release.
The devil rolled his hips, sliding in and out of his impish boy. He watched
sanity shattering around Ciel’s ears as his colour rose and his patience
thinned. The boy was nearing the end of endurance and Sebastian laughed softly
to himself. How he loved to watch this boy come apart at the seams. Finally, he
wrapped his long talented fingers around the boy’s small dripping cock. Ciel’s
leg’s twitched at the sudden sensation and he began exhaling long hot soft
breaths in an attempt to not pant and moan. Sebastian’s thumb brushed over the
tip, spreading the generous wetness over the head. He squeezed on each upward
stroke and soon Ciel was biting into the back of his hand again to keep from
crying out.
Ciel could feel his release coming. He bucked into Sebastian’s hand, his hips
rolled against the devil’s hard cock. He found Sebastian’ eyes glowing above
him in the darkness and his lips curled into a beautiful and cruel smile. “Mark
me devil. Fill me with you. Claim me if you dare.”
Sebastian’s brow rose and his teeth gritted as his eyes blazed with hellfire
and his pupils narrowed to slits. He growled and lowered himself to the bed
again, gathering the devious creature into his arm. “Do I DARE?” he growled
into the boy’s hair and his hips hammered into the dastardly small creature
beneath him. He bit the boy’s lips, and swallowed his cries as Ciel’s hand
fluttered against Sebastian’s neck, his nails scraping at the smooth skin. On a
particularly hard thrust, Ciel’s eyes flew open wide and he cried into the
devil’s waiting mouth as he spent furiously, splattering the devil’s bloody
shirt and waistcoat. Sebastian groaned, “Young Master,” and climaxed with this
thighs vibrating from the effort and inhaling the boy’s intoxicating scent.
They lie there, breathing heavily listening to Arthur’s deep snores. “I dare
say you will sleep now, Young Master.” Sebastian whispered against the shell of
his ear.
“Oh shut up you great beast. How is he still asleep?”
“The drop or two of Laudanum I slipped him could be responsible.”
Ciel’s eyes widened and he thumped Sebastian with his free hand. “You planned
this?” he hissed.
Sebastian chuckled and bowed his head. “I did not. I merely took precautions.”
“Liar.” Ciel huffed.
“Not to you.”
Ciel searched the devil’s face, but it was as unreadable as always. Still,
Sebastian was forbidden to lie to him. He did an awfully good job of not
telling the whole truth sometimes, but this was a fairly uncomplicated issue.
“Oh alright then.”
A short while later, Sebastian had redressed his little contractor in a fresh
nightshirt and tucked him back into the bed.
“Sebastian?”
The devil tilted his head to show he was listening.
Ciel looked at the wounds his devil had suffered. He gently reached a hand out
to touch the holes in Sebastian’s clothing. He was stopped as his butler
wrapped his hand about the boy’s wrist.
“You will dirty yourself, Young Master.”
Ciel looked into the devil’s face for a long moment.
“I am perfectly fine, my lord.”
“I know that. Why would I worry about such a thing. It’s your job as my servant
to enact my plans perfectly.” The boy huffed with embarrassment and then rolled
over in the bed.
Sebastian smiled through the darkness feeling the heat from his master’s blush
from his position next to the bed. “Of course, Young Master. Do forgive me.” He
chuckled and slowly made his way to the door.
“Sebastian?”
“Yes, Young Master?” he whispered.
“... You did well.”
The devil’s brow rose and he bowed deeply and let himself silently out of the
room.
                                   Epilogue
In the morning, the household would find Sebastian murdered before the fire
place, and when Ciel sat upon his chest to cry and curse him for his early
demise, no one would hear the boy chuckle and whisper into the devil’s ear.
“Payback will be cruel my devil,” as he discreetly rubbed his small cock
against his butler’s groin.
End Notes
     Thanks for reading. This second chapter was a long time in coming. I
     had a lot of fun trying to figure out how far I could push them with
     Arthur in the bed. I hope you enjoyed. If I can ever convince SLL to
     do a collab fic with me for this idea, I'd love to write this one
     again with his input. I loved this idea and I'm always better with
     him than without him.
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