This was inspired by the lovely doujinshi "Karma" by Waltz. It's beautiful and one of the very few doujinshi's that is not just porn. I do think Sebastian is a little OOC there (I hope that's not the case here) but you should seriously check it out.

Disclaimer: I am Yana Toboso and own everything...in my dreams.

His young master has been bathed and toweled dry, cleaned and cleansed. Now Sebastian is buttoning his nightshirt so that the little earl is ready for bed. His dreams will most likely be dark, troubled, filled with death; but there is nothing he can do about that.

He can feel the young lord's eyes on him, watching his swift and delicate movements. One eye is pure, as blue and vast as the sky after which the boy was named; the other eye is tainted, purple like a bruise but bright as the little lord himself, bearing the sigil of their unholy contract.

Sebastian's gaze shifts to where his master's eyes are fixed. His hands are bare, pale skin showing, the mark that binds demon and human revealed, his black nails visible as his deft hands move over the buttons. His snow white gloved were stained with red, warm blood spilled from evil men he had to kill for his master. There was no time for him to go to his room and get a new pair; taking care of the young earl was his first priority.

He wonders what has caught the Phantomhive boy's attention. Is it the symbol of their contract? But he can see the very same thing any time he wishes just by looking at his own reflection.

"Is something amiss, my young master?"

"Your nails..." Ciel speaks. "Why are they black?"

Oh, so that's what this is about. Finished with buttoning his master, he looks at his own hands before his face as though he has never seen them before. Black...like him. Like his demonic soul. Like his corrupted, rotten heart.

"I don't really know, my lord. I suppose it is something of my true nature, left to remind the world of what I truly am. I cannot change them."

There is silence. Given the lateness of the hour, all the servants are asleep. It is a clear night, with no clouds, no wind, no rain; just the big, fat moon shining bright and silver in the dark sky. So, there is absolutely no sound after Sebastian gives his answer; no sound other than his master's soft breathing.

"They are quite disgusting, aren't they?"

The words are out of his talented lips before he can control them. Everything that he ever says is with a certain purpose in mind, as if he is in a play that he himself writes and the world is his stage. And yet, just now, words have escaped his mouth without him meaning them to.

And then, a greater shock follows. His young master laces their fingers together, holding his hands gently but firmly. Sebastian watches in awe as the boy guides his onyx-nailed hands close to his youthful, angelic face and plants a soft kiss on the inside of each palm.

Ciel studies his butler's hands with the utmost attention and devotion. He then guides them over prominent clavicle, thin chest, flat belly, skinny thighs. Sebastian notices that he avoids his private parts, being still a boy of only thirteen years even though he acts as though he is older (with few exceptions where he acts like a spoiled brat or lets his guard down and only the devil by his side can see his vulnerability). Despite that, Sebastian is seduced, drunk in his master's beauty, his hands tingling.

"Your hands are beautiful," Ciel says, "as is the rest of you."

The ancient demon, his arms snaked around his master's small waist, is surprised by a human child. He looks at his little lord and finds no trace of mockery in his mismatched eyes. Only an air of...openness, a weakness that is actually strength in its purity.

"My young master..." He hesitates. "May I kiss you?"

It's the boy's turn to be taken aback now. He blushes, red on his milk white cheeks. He nods slowly, a barely perceptible movement.

His wish granted, Sebastian leans in and captures the boy's lips with his own. Those lips are soft and delicious, like the cake he served him today with his afternoon tea. The cake he can still taste in his mouth when his wicked tongue is given access to roam free and explore. The little earl responds with all his boyish inexperience, untrained in this sort of thing but eager to learn, eager to feel.

He wants to take the boy right then and there. Ravage his small body, have his way with him, find pleasure such as he has never found before in that tight heat. Somehow he knows that sex with this boy would be better than with any other human he has had before, just as he knows that his soul will be the most delicious soul he has ever devoured.

And yet, he stops himself.

Has he grown to develop...feelings for the boy? Care enough that he would forsake his own burning passion so that he wouldn't hurt him?

No. Surely not.

He tucks the boy in bed, making sure he is warm and comfortable. "Good night, my young master."

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