Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji
"Write about him. Capture the memory of him fresh in your head. Perhaps come to terms with the fact that you may never meet such a person, but cherish the beauty in the knowledge that you have such an image." – A beautiful friend, Faith.
Possible OOCs, incorrect detailing, crazy ass chronology and change of third person point of views etc. It's fanfiction, these things often happen.
Yaoi (Male/Male): if you decide to continue reading after this 'warning', that's your fault if you want to leave a comment expressing your rage and hatred against homosexuality and for ruining your image of William T. Spears and Grell Sutcliff and whatnot. I can't be blamed in anyway because of your curiosity to see how it ends.
Enjoy.
Intoxication.
By book definition, intoxication means a state of drunkenness, to affect temporarily with diminished physical and mental control by means of alcoholic liquor, a drug, or another substance, especially to excite or stupefy with liquor – overpowering exhilaration or excitement of the mind or emotions. Pathologically, intoxication is just another word for poison.
For Grell, intoxication meant to love something non-existent. There were four stages to his intoxication: acknowledgement, shock, disappointment and intoxication.
The first stage was acknowledgement. Grell never acknowledged the all B-grade student as an exam partner. What was it about a plain boy who only did the minimum requirements to get by day to day and yet intrigued him so? It was only when he experienced that man did he begin to acknowledge him.
It came as a shock realisation that that feeling he'd always felt rising in his chest was strong admiration turned love. Even after acting all cool and collected that one time, it still shocked him that those strong harboured feelings was legitimate love. For now, he would just accept it.
The fact that he was him did he learn to settle for disappointment. The words he whispered so dearly, so lovingly, so passionately warm clung to him. He craved for those soft touches, delicate touches, touches softer than gliding a hand on the surface of water. The beautiful kisses that left his skin burning, frozen, greedy for something finite and not infinite. He was what he wanted to submit to; never had he wanted to submit to anything like this. Sex was not what he'd ever experienced, not what he'd ever imagine with a man like him: the slow rhythmic pushing and pulling was fulfilling, satisfying, perfection. Even as he reached the peak was it intensely slow, so beautifully warm and loving, the sweet soft satisfaction melted rather than exploded. To be shielded against himself by such a man was all he desired, but even that could never please him, ease him to content. After all, disappointment was the next best thing.
Intoxication: the last of them all. He was intoxicated by a man who was non-existent. A drug far stronger than the first time a human takes heroin to experience a euphoria only to chase after one try, a gravity far more crushing than that of the planet Jupiter, a warmth far more comfortable than the best distilled scotch ever made. Maybe in his dreams could he have the man he was disappointed with but nothing could compare to the reality of that beautiful cold glare, the constant need for his throw backs, the voice low with duty and completion; this was what dragged him into the world of intoxication.
Grell Sutcliff was more than 'in love'.
He was intoxicated by that man, William T. Spears.