A/N: Something that kept nagging me until I wrote it. Just a small drabble, because those are my specialty. ;)
You fuck him raw.
The bed makes a dent in the wall because of the force of your thrusts and you fuck him, you don't stop when you smell the first drop of blood, you don't stop and you don't want to stop.
You fuck him and you know you're hurting him and it's exhilarating and fuck you're so angry at him, the little brat, at yourself, at everyone and everything.
You don't say anything, you don't need to, he knows what you're thinking, what you're feeling.
He revels him it, in the pain, in his, in yours and he tells you to fuck him harder and you comply, you do it, you ram into him and you hear the walls crack and the bed is about to give out, but you don't care, you don't care, you don't care.
When you come, it's bitter and it's acid in your mouth when you sink your fangs into his neck, when his blood touches your tongue and you want to spit it out on his face, but you still have a little pride left and you're one hell of a butler and butlers don't spit blood on their masters.
You leave and you hear him say good dog, Sebastian and the candlestick cracks in your hand.
You want to poke his fucking eye out.
The contract one. Your personal… well… Hell.
You want to rip it out of its socket with your nails and squish it between your teeth.
It wouldn't kill him. But maybe it would make this contract null, it would make him suffer and you wouldn't have to fucking see it all the time now, because he likes to flaunt it around you, to remind you of everything's you've lost. You've failed me, Sebastian. You've failed yourself.
He likes to make you bake him cake, even if he doesn't eat it anymore.
He knows it takes time and he likes to make you watch as he throws it out of the window of his study before making you clean it.
You've started putting rat poison, any kind of poison in it since he's turned. He likes to take a bit of it before wasting it.
The first time, he did choke on it. And you wanted to laugh, laugh, laugh in his face, but you simply raised an eyebrow and watched him choke and spit and curse you and you never went to him.
You stab him 59 times.
He asks why not 60?
Sometimes you find dead cats in your room.
Cold, dead cats.
Sometimes their head is missing, sometimes it's only their head that's present.
You know it's him.
Who else could it be?
So you take the rests and you put them with his clothes so they'll smell disgusting and you can pretend your Master is just rotting slowly and one day you'll be free.
You fight with Grell and you nearly bash his head in, but you don't because he's the only one who's ever going to want to fight with you and you need this so much.
He's bloody and his chainsaw is broken again and he's spouting those godawful poetry lines, so you hit him and then you fuck him.
He's screaming and you don't know if it's from pain or pleasure and you don't care, you just want to hear more.
You make him come, because he needs to want this again, needs to want you again, or you won't have a punching bag anymore and you come inside of him with Master on your lips.
He starts wearing the eyepatch again and it makes you so fucking angry.
You should have let him die on that altar.
He makes you play chess with him and you let him win because you know there's nothing that riles him up more than someone going easy on him.
After a while, he snaps and orders you to play seriously. So you take all his pieces and his king and his queen and when he's left with nothing, you break the board in two before leaving the room.
He never grows up.
You need to move again.
You see Lizzy while you're out shopping with him.
She's radiant with her blond curls and her pink frilly dress.
It makes you cringe. It makes him cringe.
You call out to her and your master glares at you, his eye flashing red and you just smirk, fuck you.
She's all talk and what happened and are you okay and your master deflects like a pro, distracts her and takes her hand to lead her in a dark alleyway.
He comes back two minutes later, a blond curl around his finger, blood on his chin, perfectly dressed and isn't it a wonderful day, Sebastian?
You stare at him with cold, dead eyes and wipe his chin, yes, Master.
From the ashes of hate
It's a cruel demon's fate
On the wings of darkness
He's returned to stay
There will be no escape
'Cause he's fallen far from grace
A/N: Wrote this while listening to the song: "Demon's Fate" by Within Temptation. The lyrics at the end are also from the same song.