Once upon a time, a demon and a young, virginal boy had spectacularly rough sex. Unregistered by the boy prior to his deflowerment, the demon was — put nicely — a whore. As it was, no more than a week following the first of many trysts, the boy's nether regions grew rather itchy.
"Sebastian, what have you done to me?!" the earl cried.
"Why," ventured the demon looking uncharacteristically perturbed whilst pointedly examining the coarse curls amid which the boy's flaccid manhood drooped, "It would appear that the young master has contracted a rather serious case of crabs."
Unversed in the raunchier consequences of sex, the earl demanded, his voice spiked with vehemence, "What in the bloody hell are 'crabs', Sebastian?"
In spite of his anticipation of an unsavoury punishment at the reveal, the butler could do aught but relent. "To put it simply, my lord, it is a sexually transmitted parasite akin to head lice. I… suppose I had a case, and the irritation they might cause a human went unfelt. Oh come now. Do not bestow me with such a baleful glare. I shall prepare a poultice using only the finest —"
"No, you won't."
"I beg your pardon?"
The young master shifted in his chair, decidedly glaring at the puzzled man before him. "Prepare the remedial rubbish for yourself, but only apply it after a thorough Brazilian waxing."
The demon balked. "A waxing for you or myself?"
Scoffing, the boy said, "You, of course. I don't want to see the shadow of a single strand of hair between your legs. And you will maintain the waxing for a month."
"But my lord…!"
"Two months."
Sorrowfully dreading the fiery irritation that would ensue upon the resurgence of his lovely locks, the demon bowed his head. "Of course, my lord.
"And you are not allowed to scratch."
"Now, I do think that is unreasonable, young master," seethed the raven.
"You think so? You think I want to eat desserts prepared by hands that had spent the last hour tearing at a pair of demonic gonads? Surely you must question your own aesthetic for even considering something so vile."
Before Sebastian could defend himself, the young earl held up a finger to silence him. "Ah-ah. I want none of your complaints. This is your fault. And we still have not discussed my own issue."
"The poultice would suffice," grumbled the butler before he was interrupted again.
"I do not want your stinking pathological concoction," spat the young master in his high-backed chair as he draped one slender leg atop the other. He shifted again in his seat and sat up a little straighter while the hint of a devilishly bemused grin took hold of his face and he tilted his chin with an air just a little too self-indulgent to be regal. "I want you to pick me clean of every single one of the pests you've infected me, and to give me the most mind-boggling head until the last has been removed. Think of it as compensation for the discomfort you caused me."
The butler blinked.
"So?" laughed the earl, "What do you have to say for yourself?!"
Vacantly, the butler conceded by bowing his head and giving the only response he could. "Of course, my lord."
A/N: I will not apologise.