Perception
A Sebastian/Ciel Story
Written by Bligy
..
Disclaimer: S'not mine, if it were, there'd probably be a LOT more innuendo and a little less wtf right now in the series.
Summary: Ciel was not innocent, his hands were stained red, but his soul remained the most sterling white a demon could ask for, and what was a demon if not opportunistic. Sebastian/Ciel
Pairings: Sebastian/Ciel; probably a lot more, most of them involving Ciel.
Rated: Mature (I can't really write lemons, so… non-detailed mature?)
Warnings: It's a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction, which is kinda self-explanatory XP. Shota; Minor; Rape; Murder; Violence; Crack etc.
Author's Note: Erm… kinda love Kuroshitsuji, but I have a MAJOR pet-peeve with every piece of fanfiction I've been reading lately. All of them have Ciel as some sort of blushing virgin who's never so much as thought of sex before.
Has… no one watched or read the series before writing fanfiction? Did no one see the scenes of the poor kid being gang-raped while chained to the ground? As this was seriously starting to bother me, I decided to write my own. I don't really know whether this is a one shot or a continuing thing, that'll depend on people and what my lovely and always-awesome beta says. *finger waves at epic beta* YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE.
..
The cage he was in was poisonous, the reek of his unwashed, uncared for body beyond suffocating. The rags he was wearing had been on his body for weeks now, only being changed when they were so worn that they no longer resembled cloth, let alone proper coverings. He had had almost five changes in the time he'd been there.
The stench wasn't as harsh as it had been a mere week ago, but… many of his fellow children had disappeared in that time. He didn't know whether they were alive or dead, merely that they were… not there. Not that it mattered, they were all broken – had allowed themselves to be broken.
He would not break, he would not cry… not again; he would be free. He would be free and he would see it that every darkened face that taunted him, every putrid hand that saw itself worthy to touch his body would be removed and shoved down the throat of its owner… and he would be alive to see it all happen.
"Die," he hissed again as a hand reached into his cage to remove him for the hundredth time.
"He still has some fight in him, yet!" the man reaching for him howled in amusement as the captive attempted to scuttle away, but his ankle was caught and he was dragged from the box cursing and scratching at his captors.
"The Phantomhive, aye?" one of the many shadowed faces around him asked.
They all came in masks, their voices muffled and snickering, some sounded like nobles while others sounded like they came straight from Whitechapel.
"He's the last one, right?"
They were talking like he wasn't there, like he wasn't listening, like their hands weren't currently groping around his body to check that he had enough flesh on him. They'd tried to feed him well, although he'd denied most of it – attempting to give it to the other captives – but lately he'd regained weight in his lonely little cage. After all, if he didn't eat it willingly, they'd shove it down his throat, and he had a bit more pride than to have them feed him.
He felt familiar shackles latch around his wrists and he felt his body steel against the contact. He struggled a bit more against the arms holding him, but didn't as much as whimper.
"First one to make him scream gets an extra reward," one of the men chortled to the others, who guffawed in return.
Today the men were upper-class. Their English wasn't skewed or rhyming. He hated it more when he knew precisely what they were saying – it made it harder to ignore them.
Those cold hands dragged over his flesh quickly enough and he found himself lifted off the ground and being carried over someone's shoulder to the room with a draft. His skin crawled like a hand trailed down his spine. The room with a draft was worse than any of the others… the room with a draft meant…
His restraints were stretched taught until he was spread out across the floor, his legs wide and his arms helpless to defend himself. Those brutal hands tugged at his meager coverings for a few seconds before they gave and his backside was exposed to the room.
He heard huffs of air, gasps and eager exclamations that he tuned out. He had no wish to hear his captors as they… as they…
There was a rise of heat at his back and the breathy grunts of one of the men grew closer. A hand trapped itself in his hair and yanked his head back. He winced, but made no sounds – refusing them that right.
"Stubborn little bitch… let's test him out, then, huh?" the man at his back taunted before plunging his teeth into the young boy's neck.
Another wince, but no sounds later brought the frustrated tormentor to another attempt. One of the boy's nipples was brutally twisted, causing a harsh pant, followed by a clenching of teeth when dry fingers plunged into his anus.
The boy felt every muscle in his body clench in protest against the forced entry and he forced his head forward, tugging his own hair in an attempt to distract himself from the brutal punishment his body was no-doubt about to receive.
"That's right, you whore… take it!" the man screamed moments before the boy's body was pierced and his spine cried in pain.
This was far from the first time it had happened and he was aware that the procedure would become a lot smoother when his body had bled enough to lubricate the activity.
Still, he didn't make a sound.
The man, apparently distracted with the body beneath him, allowed the child's hair to be released and used both grubby fists to hold onto slim hips in an effort to rock harder. This was fine, as the boy was now able to press his forehead against the ground to allow a bit more connection to reality.
"Ciel Phantomhive."
The boy flinched at the calling of his name and at the smooth texture of a glove running down his back. As the glove travelled further, the thrusts of the bastard into his ass slowed to a gritty, overwhelmingly-painful grind that bit at his mind and drove him further into insanity.
He almost broke… almost cried out, pleaded for the torment to end, but remembered himself at the last moment and bit his tongue instead.
"Very well done, young Master…"
Master? Blue eyes opened against a blindfold and, for the first time in the lifetime that he'd been there, he attempted to look around to locate the person calling him. He could see very little beneath the blindfold, only a few different tuxes and occasionally the flash of one of the gentlemen's hair… but they weren't moving, weren't calling out… there was only one thing in the entire room that appeared to have motion, and that was gloved hand currently reaching for his face.
Ciel struggled against his restraints uselessly as he observed that unfamiliar appendage reaching for his body. True, he'd been touched by hundreds of men – he had no doubts – but he never enjoyed it, and he would never give in to it without a fight.
"I've been watching you… your will is fascinating."
The hand touched his hair and instant warmth spread through him from that point of contact. He could have sobbed from the feel of it. It was like his mother's hugs and his father's smile, falling asleep in his parent's bed during a thunderstorm or eating a forest cake made by Tanaka all at once. It was like every wonderful memory he'd ever had, or ever would have all at once.
"So hungry… do you want help, little Master?"
The hand continued down his body, seeming to heal his flesh as he went, filling him with that warmth every place it touched. He barely heard the words as it moved, panting uselessly against the peace he felt, but at the same time, the pain of the man still embedded within him.
"I could remove this… "
The hand paused at the torn entrance to his body, grasping around the man's cock and rubbing his fingers lightly over his own bleeding flesh. A new type of warmth filled him, one that made his cheeks burn and his body hiss with liquid fire. He couldn't breath for a moment and barely heard himself let out mewls of displeasure when the hand left and all that remained was an empty, aching nothing.
"All you have to say is yes, Master, and I'll slaughter this room, everyone who has ever harmed you, or ever will. You will never be hurt again."
Two hands now touched his flesh and he bit his lip to hold back the dual feelings of warm, parental love and bestial, aching lust. Still, as much as his heart was crying out for the saving that this man was offering – his soul was screaming in protest. He couldn't help but agree with his imaginary life-force.
Nothing is that easy… what would I have to give in return? he thought to himself as time seemed to speed up again and the thrusts into his body started to rip agony into his re-warmed body.
"Ever the son of a businessman, I see… well, young master, all I require is the imaginary life-force that you rejected so cleanly mere moments ago..."
Can you read my thoughts? Ciel attempted desperately, biting down harder on his lip as his freshly-healed body was ripped anew as the man continued his mad thrusting.
"Of course… it is only natural for a servant of the Phantomhive family to be able to do such things."
You are not my servant.
"Yet…"
Ciel choked down a gasp as his rapist reached his completion and he felt warmth flood his body. It burned… it entered into his wounds and festered like acid in his bloodstream. He didn't even know how many countless men's filth he'd taken into himself, but he felt each time, each droplet of liquid was like pure hatred within him. He wished his body would collect a sample from each so that he may categorize and find them again to personally introduce a bullet into their craniums.
"I could help with that too…"
The whispering voice was back, as were the gentle hands healing his insides and making him tremble.
What do you want? Ciel demanded as he held in his cries as the next man began to push into him.
"I would receive your soul upon the successful completion of your mortal goals, whenever that may be… as well as other… luxuries that may be given to me during that time."
A breathless, soundless shout of pain escaped him as the bastard behind him pushed harder.
"Think on it, little master."
All at once, the hands on his back disappeared and the pain was that much worse.
He turned his face so that his arm was hidden in his trapped shoulder as he screamed out his misery.
…
It wasn't until later, much, much later, when he was lying in the pile of rags the bastards who were keeping him mistook for clothing that he really thought upon the voice's offer.
Revenge…
What the voice was offering him was revenge, in exchange for nothing but his soul… a feature he was disinclined to believe in regardless.
"Are you there?" he called out to the room, wondering if he really knew what he was doing, whether this was really wise… whether he even cared.
"I am always here, little master."
"It's young Master, not little…" Ciel scowled at his addressing.
"You accept then, young Master?" the voice asked, the sound tangible and smooth, directly above him.
He opened his tired, puffy eyes to see a beautiful pale face haloed in black hair and accented by a pair of brown eyes so malicious that he would almost say they were red. He felt something fall on his arm and he turned briefly to see a black feather touch his skin.
"What are you?" Ciel asked in a whisper.
"I will answer any questions you have of me, once we have agreed on a contract between us," the demon stated, leaning forwards and attracting Ciel's attention as the man's unwanted lips came dangerously close to his own. He flinched back and scowled at the smirk that spread over his tormentor's face.
"You will serve me, follow all my demands and see to it that I am perfectly content at all times. Upon the completion of my revenge, I will… allow you to…" Ciel trailed off, watching as the man's eyes glinted from that teasing brown to an almost crimson-red.
"Yes…?" the man goaded, waiting for the rest of the statement.
"You may claim my soul," Ciel finished.
"So you sign the contract?" the man asked, once more getting dangerously close to him, but this time Ciel didn't flinch away. He stared directly into the man's eyes as the came so very, very close and challenged the bastard to close that distance, to see just how deathly serious Ciel was about not wanting people close to him.
"I… I…" despite not believing in it, despite not knowing whether or not his belief was solid… despite not wanting to lose control over himself or his destiny, he knew that he was damned should he stay here. He was already going to hell for the sins committed against his form, even against his will, at this very hellhole that he'd been forced to linger in for majority of the past year.
He knew that this man above him was his best chance at escape, but looking into those crimson eyes that promised him both his deepest wishes and his most painful agonies, he couldn't help but hesitate.
"I…"
The door opened to his room and he turned to head to see men in black entered into his small, ill-protected haven.
"Well?" the man above him asked again with a knowing smirk.
"Pack 'im up, got 'nother 'un!" the brute at the door barked out, and Ciel felt his blood run cold.
"Kill them…" Ciel commanded, hissing the words under his breath.
"Do you sign the contract, young Master?" the man demanded once more.
"I sign the contract. KILL THEM!" Ciel shrieked forcing himself into a sitting position.
"Yes, my lord," the taunting figure above him stated before an inky blackness descended upon the room and the sound of screams echoed in the air.
Ciel had never heard a sound more musical. He howled with uncontrollable laughter as the people were killed, tears streaming down his face as his weakened body struggled to keep him upright.
He was in such a state of hysterics that he didn't even notice the blistering pain that rushed through his right eye moments before his vision went black and a bright, burning lavender seal appeared where there had once been blue.
…