I do not own Kuroshitsuji. I am writing this merely for my pleasure and that of my few readers.
Authors Note— As usual this is not slash of any kind, not even if you squint. It is very short and is only an attempt to gain insight. This does contain some potentially disturbing imagery. Please review.
Ciel lay on his side, huddled under his thick blue duvet, barely asleep. His eyes were restless in their sockets. Hands grasping at soft sheets were Ciel's only visible attempts to anchor himself to reality. Against his will, his mind was forced to relive the two nights, obscenely twisted together, that would haunt him waking or sleeping.
Bright flames licked up the richly papered walls to bubble and crack the painted ceilings. A small Ciel ran along the hallway, heedless of the flames and falling debris. Noxious fumes curled around him as he hurtled towards a large wooden door at the end of the hall. Just as he reached it, hand outstretched to grasp the brass knob, the suddenly overwhelming stench of burned flesh flooded his nostrils.
While the scent seemingly shriveled his entire being, the floor beneath him collapsed in on itself. He fell in a flurry of ash, down into an expanse of chill nothing, to land, winded, on an uneven mass of mangled limbs shrouded in course darkness. Ciel, aware enough of his surroundings to attempt panic, had scarcely formed a plea for help in his mind when a subtle light began to filter through the layers of black and bathed him in its glow. When the slow light had nearly completely diffused the gloom, it in turn was obscured by what appeared to Ciel to be inky black feathers falling, as if from a great height, to swirl around his awestruck form.
A single feather detached itself from the maelstrom and came to rest on his newly bare chest. It was blacker than hell and as soft as sin. As Ciel was thus distracted from his now nearly naked state, a dark form took shape on the edge of his vision, careful to stay in the obscuring shadows.
A deeply smooth voice caressed Ciel's startled ears with vague promises of retribution and revenge for the seemingly insignificant price of one human soul. As Ciel could see no reason for him to want a soul after the tragedies he had suffered, he readily grasped the proffered thread, holding it tightly as if it, and his will, would be enough to rescue him the pit.
There was no verbal agreement necessary to seal the contract, for so it was. A low chuckle echoed around Ciel and reverberated inside his skull as he was momentarily blinded by a horrific pain, as of a firebrand, searing his right eye. As he drifted into unconsciousness, the intense pain, now coupled with near debilitating fear, drove Ciel, even in his dream state, to blindly reach for a slim hand gloved in comfort and call for the one thing he would always want but never admit to needing.
"Sebastian!"
His cry did not reach beyond the far edges of the room yet it had scarcely fallen from Ciel's lips before a cool hand was soothing sweat dampened hair back from his forehead. Ciel's eyes, one of purest blue and the other a contract-marred violet, shot open seeking reassurance in a face of hellish perfection framed by inky black hair.
"Bocchan," Sebastian replied, his face softening around his eyes while an imperceptible tenderness suffused his voice, "I am here. It was a dream."
"No," Ciel exhaled, "it was a memory."
Exasperated with Sebastian for showing foolish kindness, and irritated with himself for accepting, even wanting it, Ciel rolled onto his side so his back was towards his faithful butler.
Ciel struggled within himself for a moment before speaking.
"Sebastian— stay."
The 'please' was left silent, along with the implied but unnecessary order.
With a gracefully obedient inclination of his head, Sebastian's only reply was his customary "Yes, my Lord."
Ciel's narrow shoulders, tensed as if to ward off an expected blow, subtly relaxed. Even so, it was some time before his breathing evened out and he was once more wrapped in sleep, this one immeasurably more secure and restful. Under the protective gaze of his demonic butler, nothing, not even night terrors, would dare disturb the young earl's sleep. Sebastian's mere presence by the bed was enough for Ciel's peace of mind, and any potential predator's unease.
Sebastian's eyes gradually darkened to cordovan before they began to glimmer in the dusky twilight of the room. A devastating smile spread across his devilish face.
Sebastian, always a secretive demon, was nevertheless known for the particular care he took when selecting a soul he deemed worthy of consumption. Many were they who shook their grotesque heads in disbelief and wonderment that such as demon as Sebastian Michaelis, as he was then called, should be so willingly under the command of the Queen of England's adolescent guard dog.
But Sebastian knew what no other could possibly guess. The need, desperate and wild, that all living creatures posses, that poured from Ciel's wounded soul in unmatched strength and quantity, pulled on Sebastian, almost as if begging him to come in and help. It awoke in him the long dormant desire to posses, and be possessed in return.
That untoward desire was almost stronger than the desire to consume Ciel's unparalleled soul.
Almost.