In the thirteen years of Ciel's life he had rarely played a game he did not enjoy. He was still juvenile, after all; even if he was plunged into perpetual darkness; even if he carried heavy burdens upon his still-growing, fragile shoulders.
Meanwhile, in his ironically longer life, there were only few times Sebastian had been surprised by a measly human. As the keeper of the household's agenda, he knew that course that day would take: every event organized, every minute scheduled. With his clumsy colleagues he knew what inevitable catastrophes would thereby render his timetable useless. As a demon, he had been upon humankind long enough to guess their every moves; predict their reactions to specific situations; and, being the two-year butler of the Phantomhives, he had grown to know what to expect from his proud, stoic Earl.
But, despite all of this, he had missed something. He must have... There was no rational explanation for it: no explanation as to why he was standing in front of a chessboard where the players stood still and steady in disinclination.
A chessboard that wasn't being used.
Yes. Each player stood untouched on the squares of black and white- and, oh, how it mocked him!- though sat behind the ornate desk, fingers laced neatly and ankles crossed, was the usually-playful young Earl, who had been handed his game ten minutes ago and had not yet moved to play with it.
Sebastian was so wholly taken aback by the unforeseen twist of events that he simply found himself staring at the neglected chessboard, wide-eyed and mystified. And in return the boy who he was Contracted to and therefore served observed his startled servant with watchful mismatched eyes: his face lax with that customary expression of casual apathy.
A full minute passed, choked with an eerie silence that was filled with questions and the scent of Earl Grey tea. But as the silence persisted on, it began to become heavy until it became scornful, and almost seemed as mocking as the unused chessboard itself.
So it was not unexpected when Sebastian severed it few tentative moments later, almost lacking his usual eloquence, finesse and courteousness. "You aren't playing your game, my lord," Sebastian commented incredulously.
The Earl arched a delicate eyebrow. "My goodness," he droned, his bland tone dyed with monotonous sarcasm. "It seems nothing really does get past you, or does it, Sebastian?"
So now his master was mocking him. That was great.
Carrying out his facade of polite indifference despite his piling aggravation, being his policy and all, Sebastian reluctantly put a slender, long-fingered hand over his heart and bowed in a show of remorse. "My apologies, my lord. It is just I have never seen the young master turn down a game before. Is the game not to your liking?"
He looked up in time to see the thoughtful- yet somehow amused- expression chase its way across his master's pale, childish face, who leaned back in his gilded chair, placing his intertwined fingers presently in his lap.
A pause. "Something like that," the boy then agreed, his long, dark lashes brushing his cheekbones as his eyes closed casually, his lips quirking.
Sebastian only stared in scepticism. Since when did Ciel not like a game?
"As of late," Ciel continued, "I have become quite bored of the same old games; the tediousness of playing chess and cards all of the time has put a strain on my entertainment. I now wish to play something... unconventional."
Sebastian blinked slowly, as if to make sure he wasn't trapped in some sort of weird dream. Unconventional. What the hell did that mean? "I-er-I'm afraid I don't know of many 'unconventional' games, master," he confessed after a moment, his tone hinted with confusion.
"Perhaps 'unconventional' isn't the right word then," Ciel drawled decidedly, drumming the pads of his fingers on his right hand in between the knuckles on his left. His blue family ring on his left thumb twinkled up at him, his golden ring on his right middle finger secretly blinking in kind. "How about...unusual?"
Sebastian blinked again. "I'm at a little bit of a loss, my lord," he admitted, which was, to him, very highly frustrating, seen as though there was obviously something specific his master was after. "Shall I take the liberty of naming different games in alphabetical order for you, or does the young master have something specific in mind?" he asked, his perpetual smile wavering with an exasperated edge. The Earl, however, was unperturbed by his demon butler's palpable irritation- in fact, the only result, it seemed, was for that smirk on the childish face to get wider.
Ciel only hummed for a few moments, tapping his high-heeled foot against the floor of his study in a leisurely, unheard tune. "I do," he admitted after a moment, and his smile curled up higher. "But be warned, for I am in the mood for a messy game."
"Messy, my lord?" Sebastian repeated, now as baffled as ever, and raised his eyebrow in disinclination- after all, the Earl wasn't the one who had to clean up the remains of this so called 'messy' game.
A languid smile. "Yes."
"And what is this messy game you have in mind, my lord?" Sebastian inquired, exerting himself at keeping his palpable irritation at bay.
Steepling his hands underneath his chin on the table Ciel leaned forward. Oh, yes, his young master was very entertained.
Ciel Phantomhive loved games. But his favourite game would always be playing with Sebastian.
"Have you ever heard the expression 'Don't play with your food', Sebastian?"
"Indeed," Sebastian affirmed, eyebrows pinching together, "I have. But what does that have to do with-"
"Because," Ciel interrupted him smoothly, "I am in the mood to play with some cream, Sebastian."
Taken off guard, Sebastian blinked, once, twice, three times running. "Cream, sir?" he repeated dumbly.
"Yes, indeed," Ciel drawled, "for, you see, I am also quite hungry."
Well, at least it's progress. "Well then," Sebastian said, relieved, "I must once again compliment you for your impeccable taste, my lord. Might I suggest having some chocolate-glazed strawberries with said cream-" He broke off.
Ciel was shaking his head.
"Ah, well, very well then..." A pause, as Sebastian racked through his brain for desserts with the desired cream. "Well, then, perhaps a slice of Victorian sponge cake for the young master?"
"Are your eyes as disfunctioning as your ears?" Ciel interrupted coolly, though his eyes- if Sebastian had thought Ciel couldn't have gotten more entertained, he was wrong. "I have already told you what I want, have I not? I want some cream."
Sebastian stared at him. Ciel stared back, undeterred.
Sebastian cleared his throat. "Very well," he said. "Would the young master prefer me to bring the cream in a bowl with a spoon, or would he wish to eat it with his hands right out the jar?"
The sarcasm wasn't lost on his Contractor; Ciel snorted, dropping his interwoven hands from beneath his chin down onto the desk with a loud thud. "Good heavens, no," Ciel drawled delicately, his lips curling in airy distaste. "Don't be disgusting. And of course I don't want to eat it plain."
Sebastian released his breath. Thank goodness for that.
"You said play with the cream," Sebastian recalled slowly. "What do you mean by that, my lord?"
A tentative pause. "What I meant by that," Ciel declared resolutely, "is I want to play a game where I consume the cream off of your chest, Sebastian. To be more specific, your chest, your stomach, and maybe if by then I am not already full your lower regions."
Sebastian blinked- again- and looked at his master dubiously, wondering distantly how many times this clever little human Earl had taken him aback that night.
Ciel lounged languorously in his chair as Sebastian let this rattle around in his mind, trying to figure it out. But when it came down to it, he knew what was happening here. His master was making a highly sexual advance. And he was aware of what he was doing, too- Sebastian could tell by the innocent yet seductive look in his master's eyes as their gazes locked.
Neither looked away.
He was digressing now, and Sebastian opened his mouth to speak:
"I don't suppose you are razzling me, my lord, as part of a secret game you are already playing?"
An offered, pleasant smile. "No, Sebastian. I am not."
Sebastian just stared at him, his usual eloquence dried up in his mouth. It was strange, after all, to hear such demands coming out of a child's mouth; but, then again, Ciel Phantomhive had always been vastly more mature than others of his age.
Ciel continued with a saccharine smile, unperturbed by his butler's silence: "As you must know, Sebastian, cream makes a very sticky mess. So might I suggest that you remove your clothing prior my sweet cream consumption to save us both time and money?"
His words said 'suggest' but Sebastian heard 'command'. And he was obliged to follow any order his master gave him.
Sebastian smirked at his condescending master. "Of course," he purred, and purposely fell into a bow that caused their noses to brush. Neither started, or flinched, or even blinked. No, they were both too stubborn and prideful for that...
Ciel reached out and meaningfully toyed with his butler's tie, catching crimson eyes with a coy glance beneath his dark lashes.
"But there is something else," the butler suddenly warned, catching Ciel's lapels and refusing to let go. "Through two years of servitude I have come to notice that the young master is a notoriously messy eater. I fear that it is not only my clothes that will be made sticky during your game and meal..."
Sebastian let the insult hang between them like poisonous gas, eyeing his master beneath raven lashes like black ink strokes.
Ciel only snorted, though wishing to defend his impeccable manners. "... very true," he finally agreed. "It seems my clothes will have to be rid of, too."
Sebastian's hands slid over the desk, and he leaned closer, bridging over the table, then beginning to loosen Ciel's cravat- until Ciel found use of the leverage he had earned and suddenly flipped him over, his back landing with a very large thump against the desk, a hum of surprise leaving him. Moments later Ciel's smug face hovered over his own, and there was a hot pressure between his legs- where their hips were pressed together.
Ciel had climbed onto the table and was straddling him, blocking his view of the ceiling overhead.
"Hmm, very eager," Sebastian commented with a smirk, while his hands slid around the Earl to cup that far-too-tempting ass. "I haven't even taken the liberty to go and get your cream yet..."
Ciel snorted and pointedly grinded their hips, utilizing his position. "I have changed my mind," he declared. "I desire a different type of cream, if you would give it to me."
A sultry smile, already understanding. "I would be happy to oblige, my lord," Sebastian purred up to him.
Ciel hummed in reply. "Will it be sweet, Sebastian?"
A chuckle. "If the young master wishes it to be."
"Well then," Ciel said, and smirked down at him. "Let's play."
Sebastian reflected the smirk, all too willing to oblige. "Let the feast begin, my lord," he returned.
Ciel didn't need to be told twice.