Disclaimer: Any and all recognized characters featured in this story are subjected to copyright and ownership by Yana Toboso, respectively. No infringement is intended. No profit is being made from this work.
Author's Notes: This is my first foray into writing for the Kuroshitsuji fandom. I daresay I may write more as the muse dictates. This was done primarily as a character study, and to test my own abilities as I haven't written in a first person perspective. As this story stands, the narative perspectives are from three characters respectively, Ciel, Sebastian, and the Undertaker. I have separated the perspectives recordingly, but have not labeled them, as I hope the reader can figure out the perspectives on their own. I hope you enjoy the story, and I request that you feel free to review. All reviews are accepted and encouraged.
As always I would like to thank my darling baby sister Jess for giving this a primary read through and editing it. I apologize for the coronary and nosebleed you suffered because of it. Also I would like to thank my lovely Ou Que Mei who got excerpts of this while I was writing it, and encouraged the madness and suffered a nosebleed and several trips to the freezer I imagine.
-Cassie
Le Prince Bleu
By C.K. Blake
"I hear something out there callin' my name.
No matter where I turn it all looks the same.
I never sleep at night, I just stay up and wait.
But the burning in my blood never came."
–Paper Route "Dance on our Graves"
It's a whisper, a barely remembered voice that is better left forgotten for all the good it ever did. My name spoken in that voice is a blasphemy, especially if she knew; if either of them knew the thing I've become. Logic tells me this isn't real, that with that soft, sweet whisper of my name the screams and the pain are soon to follow. It is the same every time I encounter this dream. Knowing it's a dream, however, does little to alter how it affects me.
What's worse comes after the screams. It should shame me to think there is something worse than the death of my parents, but even at so young an age I know of my vices and shortcomings. I am no longer a creature of innocence and virtue. I'm not even a creature in possession of a soul. That is the price I pay for my own arrogance and my hatred. The darkness that eats away inside of me at all that was taken from me. Several years have passed since that fateful night and I have skirted death on more than one occasion, I've even been awakened after one such experience; my soul apparently not ripe enough for the taking.
I wish I understood my demon servant's logic. How he could hold back his hunger, the hunger I see in those burning red eyes of his. We have a contract between us, my soul in return for his aiding me in gaining revenge. Revenge for the loss of my parents, my innocence, my humanity. Over the years I've come to know many creatures beyond the scope of man, and I feel that I too have become one of them.
Perhaps that is what he waits for. He doesn't wish to devour my soul, rather he wishes to see how much a human soul can endure before the creature it abides is no longer human. It is this that makes me wonder if he would prefer a companion to a meal. I sometimes fear the moment when he will come to me and declare our terms met and seek payment. When I reach the point where my soul, or what's left of it, is no longer human, what then will the demon take as payment?
I have never been much of a creature in need of rest. I'm far from human. It would appear that my young master, growing more into his own, is finding sleep less of a necessity as well. I know how restless he's grown. Pacing long hours in his room once I've left after dressing him for bed. I've also noticed how he's grown. Seven years have passed since our bargain was made, and the contract terms have long been met since he took that bullet and I had the chance to feed…
Even now I wonder what stopped me. Rather than take his soul I merely stole his last breath.
The soul I trapped within him, until I could awaken him once again. That lovely, damnable ring he wears, the curse of his family, that is the true thing that binds us. Our contract goes much deeper than even he knows. He's been mine since the moment of his conception, and he can thank his father for that.
It amazes me the capacity humans have for selfish turns of fancy and emotion. We demons personify sin, self-gratification, immorality, and it is true that we revel in our nature, but humans are quite curious in their selfishness. It is that selfishness that leads them to bargain with us. It was this inherent selfishness of man that drove Vincent Phantomhive to summon me, to make a deal for matters of lust. I daresay that love hardly exists, for how can such an emotion claimed to be selfless bear witness and birth from so selfish an inclination as desire?
My young master's father was foolish. Rather than bear the mark of my contract, for fear that upon our terms being met his prize would deny him, bore a ring as the symbol of our bargain, a blue diamond, my young master's family ring that bears the title of head of the Phantomhive family. A ring that is truly much more than that.
The young master has always been my prize to toy with as I pleased. His father promised the child to me upon the terms of our agreement being met. This game I play is simply that, a game designed to toy with a child, a child that has been mine from the very beginning. If I am seen as merely a pawn when truly I am something much more dangerous, then I have an advantage. Still the young master has grown quite into himself in the years that I have served him.
He's much different than I would have expected. While his father was foolishly driven by fancy and lust, this boy, the son, Ciel Phantomhive, is driven by an altogether different purpose, pure rage, hatred, and a hunger not much different from my own. In the years that I've granted him my servitude he has proven quite the enigma, far too amusing and surprising an opponent in our little game to be so easily disposed of. It almost gives me an understanding of how such arrogant creatures can turn to demons in aid for their wants.
Ciel is different though. There is an honesty in his purpose, a logical veracity in his hatred. That is what piques my interest. I wonder what he shall do next.
I watch as he grows into a man. He's a fine specimen now at seventeen years of age, long past the conclusion of our contract, but the true contract, the true bargain that I have yet to claim is marked in the ring he holds most precious to him. That ring is a symbol of the mark I have yet to grant him, but the day grows closer when I will finally claim that which is mine, that cold soul will burn for me very soon.
The hinge on the door gives a melodic creak, and that is when I sense the creature's presence. A creature not altogether unlike myself, and yet this creature's nature is dark. Rarely companionable, but this one in particular has an evolving nature, even if he has yet to realize it. He is alone, so there is no need for my games or the pretense of incompetence. He is well aware of what I am, and maybe he has some lovely little tidbit to amuse me with. The demon known as Sebastian Michaelis has grown quite entertaining since first bargaining with the Phantomhive family.
"How long before I can begin preparations for a casket for our fine young earl?" I ask, as I slip out of my most recently finished coffin. It's always best to test the merits of one's work oneself before selling it; at least this is a virtue I've always firmly believed.
The demon's dark eyes burn red for a moment, and it amuses me that I've managed to ruffle his feathers. "You speak out of turn Shinigami. You and your kind have no claim on my young master."
"Ah yes, and when will you inform him of the extent of your ownership of him, or are you really such a masochist that you enjoy serving your 'young master'?" I ask, and I can't help the chuckle that escapes me, because seeing a demon in such a state, especially one as powerful as Sebastian, is quite amusing.
"What is it that you wish to hear?" the demon asks, and there is a note of weariness in his tone. How very interesting indeed.
I bring my hands together, my index fingers pressed against my mouth before I let out a small laugh. "If you wait much longer your young master will be given over to the vice of human society and marriage. I daresay I much rather prefer funerals, but I suppose I have a suit decent enough for such an occasion when the need arises."
"That won't happen," the demon growls.
"Oh? You know the conventions of their society, unless there is something more to the bargain. You do not intend to devour the young Phantomhive's soul. The last time he came to me for information I noticed something very strange. He lacks warmth. How many times have you brought him back from the grave? How many times have you stolen his last breath and sealed his soul? There aren't too many demons capable of such things. Dare I say that your powers echo that of my own kind? You aren't like most demons at all. You, I suspect, could be something else entirely. Perhaps not a demon, but one of the original fallen."
"Careful how you mince your words Shinigami, and what I do with what is mine is at my own discretion."
"Quite right you are, Master Sebastian. And what a master you are at the game you play, but from what I've observed, the young earl is quite skilled in mastering games and is more than a fair opponent. Careful, lest your young master call 'checkmate'."
The demon, as he calls himself, does not stay long after receiving my advice. Just as well. He's served his purpose in making me laugh, though I dare not laugh at his expense while in his presence. He is a powerful enemy that I do not wish to make. A demon, probably more than that, much more, fallen for his human contract. He's just as altered as his prize, and the day when he discovers this promises to be quite entertaining indeed…
I hate this helplessness that my nightmares reduce me to. Their screams filling my head, the knowledge of their disappointment in me if they were still alive to see me. Perhaps in this one instance their deaths were a mercy. I feel as though I'm running and then I'm caught in a steely embrace, arms that are much stronger than they appear. His voice draws me from the last vestige of my nightmare.
"Awaken, young master."
My eyes burst open, the adrenaline from my nightmares washing through my body, my heart racing as I gasp for breath. I have always been sickly, but as of late my health has appeared to be improving. Then again, apart from my nightmares, I rarely overexert myself.
As I begin to come to my senses I realize how close he is to me, his body feverishly hot and wrapped around me, or perhaps I am exceedingly cold. I only notice warmth when he is near me, by my side, or wrapped around me like this. The heat reminds me of our contract, more so than the mark in my eye that I keep covered. The warmth is overwhelming, I would daresay comforting, save that it comes from a demon. It is dangerous to find comfort in, let alone feel comforted by, the promises of hellfire.
"You may release me now, Sebastian," I say, my tone remains even.
He pulls me tighter into his embrace and my breath hitches in my throat. This is somehow different to the other times I've found myself waking in his arms.
"I am fine now. You may release me," I repeat.
He uses his nose to nuzzle my hair and then the soft heat of his lips brushes the shell of my ear, his warm breath sends a chill up my spine in spite of the heat radiating from his body.
"My how you've grown young master. I've finally taken the time to truly observe you. The time grows short. Now so close to human adulthood, your obligations in their society draw nearer, and dare I say, young master, that I'm rather possessive in regards to what is mine. She will have no claim on you, not when you are truly mine."
"Ah, then the terms of our contract have been met?" I ask.
The dry chuckle that escapes him is frightening in the intensity that it is meant to mask. "Oh young master, our deal has been met long ago, but what you bargained with was not yours to bargain with from the very start. How easy it is to manipulate humans, but you are slowly reaching the terms of a previous contract. With every day you grow colder, more into that which you are meant to be. You are shedding the stifling flesh of your humanity. It won't be long and then I will mark this flesh as mine. How well you've grown my Lord. It is only appropriate that when the time comes I worship you as you deserve."
He's never been so brazen before, and as he shifts he draws a bare hand down my arm and I stiffen in his embrace. His hand, with those long elegant fingers, entwines with my own hand and he brings it to his mouth, brushing his burning lips against my cold palm. My breath hitches once again at this unexpected turn in his behavior.
"It is most inappropriate of a servant to tease their master in such a manner," I say, and I'm amazed that I've managed to keep my tone even and scolding.
Again the demon chuckles. "Yes my Lord, but soon you will no longer be entrapped by human custom. And you promise to be so delicious. As this flesh grows colder your humanity grows fainter. Not much longer at all, young master. And then I will call out 'checkmate' and collect my prize, le prince bleu. Until then I shall abide your human society's custom. Call me should you have need of me, young master," the demon says as he slips, like a phantom, from my bed.
I settle back into the covers as I hear my bedroom door close behind his retreating form. I curl up, embraced by the heat he's left in his wake. It's this heat that reminds me of how cold I've become over the years since I met the demon.
The years have done great things for my young master. The time is so close, I can sense the changes in him. He sheds more and more of his humanity every day. Soon, very soon I will alight that cold flesh of his with hell fire and claim my prize. After so many years of searching for the creature with the right soul I've found it, and that soul was promised to me from the very beginning. Retreating to my room, thoughts of my young master enrapture my mind.
I carefully close the door behind me and then I open my wardrobe. I reach down and gather a solid grey cat into my arms. Stroking the silky smooth fur, I take a seat on my perfectly made bed, deep in thought. The cat's sharp teeth graze one of my fingers and I realize that my hands are still bare from my encounter with the young master. I look down at my left hand, the mark is beautiful on the top of my hand.
"Master, what do you wish? Is it the boy? What is he now? So cold. Not like others… A man, not human…" comes the soft mewling voice of the cat.
A smirk pulls at my mouth. "Not a human, not anymore. He will shed that flesh soon enough my pretty. Perhaps then you might reveal yourself rather than serve me in this form?"
"It suits my preference to have as little interaction with the foolishness of humans as possible. Unless you have need of me in some other form, I will remain like this. There is no pretense as a cat, Lord Sebastian."
"I very much agree with you, but I find the form I now have to be quite useful, and at present, humans very much serve to amuse me and give me leave to toy with them."
The cat curls up in my lap, a low rumble emitting from her body as I continue to stroke her fur. After a moment she lifts her head, her golden eyes meeting my red, and she stretches, her nose in the air sniffing. I'm sure if she's capable of smiling in such a form she would be.
"You desire the boy," she says. "I smell it on you."
"How very observant of you little servant, but mind your tongue. Were I not fond of your current form I might find it prudent to punish such insolence."
She swishes her tail against my wrist, and I smile fondly down at the cat. "Yet another advantage of this form, but I will do as you request, Master."
Since he left my room I've found that I'm unable to sleep. I'm fully conscious as the dawn light slips beneath the heavy drapes of my room. With a sigh I resign myself to await the demon's appearance. The sheets have long since cooled against my body, and while I notice very little difference in temperature, I am aware that something is happening to me. I'm much colder than normal people.
Perhaps the contract has an effect on my body as well as a claim over my soul. It's rather perplexing, one who has a contract with a demon would expect to be warm with the flames of hellfire at their heels. The cold is numbing, and yet there is one source that heats my cold and tempered flesh. That damnable demon.
I notice the sound of the door opening, and I'm careful to pretend to be asleep, although the demon is more than likely aware of my ruse. It is part of the game we play, and after last night I'm interested to see if his methods for waking me have altered in some way. He takes his time, preparing my clothes, and then he's by my bedside, his hand descends upon my shoulder to rouse me.
"It is time to awaken young master," the demon says, his tone brisk as always. So impersonal, but last night wasn't a dream. It couldn't have been. I felt his lips on my palm and against my ear. I heard his words. What kind of game is he playing with me now?
I sit up in the bed, throwing my legs over the side, my feet reaching the floor. His long, deft fingers make short work of relieving me of my bedclothes and I am naked before him. A nervousness takes hold of me as I feel his burning red eyes examine me. Something has changed, there is a growing hunger in his eyes, and I dare not give voice to my fears of what that hunger might mean. He says the terms of our bargain have been met. How long before he comes to collect what I owe?
As lost in my thoughts as I am, I do not realize that he's nearly finished dressing me until he's buckling my shoes. I look down at my attire, and notice that I'm dressed in blue. This gives me pause. What was it that he called me last night? Le prince bleu. The blue prince. I'm tempted to ask him to redress me in some other color, perhaps green, or even red would be preferred. Before I can make such a request he speaks and I notice immediately the distaste that has crept into his tone.
"A carriage has arrived on the grounds and will be pulling up to the house in a few moments. It is prudent that you ready yourself for breakfast and your unexpected guests," my butler informs me.
I raise my right brow in inquiry. "Who would come without calling first?"
"That would be Lady Elizabeth and her mother. I suppose the negotiations for their contract with you are expected to be discussed after breakfast," Sebastian says, and again I detect the distaste in his voice.
"Very well, I will perform my duties as a Phantomhive. Ready breakfast and see that my guests are properly tended to upon their arrival," I say, and I watch his retreating form as he leaves to carry out my orders.
Taking up my cane I let out a sigh. Today promises to be a long and tedious day filled with more obligation than usual.
I am displeased to discover how correct I am in my assessment. Lizzie is as bright and bubbly as usual, and her mother is just as austere as always, but what can one expect of the Marchioness Frances Middleford?
"Your butler is as indecent as ever and your household just as unruly. How do you expect my only daughter to be wed to you and become mistress of such an estate in tatters?"
I pinch the bridge of my nose in the hopes that I can still manage to mind my tongue around the woman. It's best to avoid conflict with her when at all possible. At any rate the momentary look of annoyance I catch on Sebastian's face, before he once again assumes his passive and stoic expression, is something that amuses me, even if I can sympathize with his assessment of Lizzie's mother.
"And to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit my Lady?" I ask, in the hopes that our business will end quickly, though I hardly think that is the case.
"Your eighteenth birthday will be in less than six months, and my daughter is of the age to be presented as a proper wife, Ciel. It is time you live up to your duty. I've already made a few arrangements as to the organization of your marriage, especially as I assume that a young groom would hardly busy himself with matters of a wedding with the exception of meeting with a reputable tailor."
I reach for my teacup and take a sip of the richly flavored Earl Grey, perfect as ever, but I never question Sebastian's ability to blend the perfect tea. Still, I can hardly delay my response further. I am actually surprised when Marchioness Middleford is addressed before I can utter a word.
"Madame, I think it prudent to inform you now, before things can progress further. My Lord Phantomhive has obligations that outweigh any marriage contract he may have with the young Lady Elizabeth. As unfortunate as this news may be, might I make a suggestion that you seek a new marriage arrangement while the young lady is still of marriageable age?" Sebastian says, and my left eye widens as I look at him in surprise. How dare he act in such insolence by speaking for me in such a candid manner?
Apparently this is something that both myself and Marchioness Middleford can agree upon.
"How dare you speak for your lord in such a matter! I may owe you thanks in having protected my daughter on occasion, but dare I say sir that you remember your place in this household! Such insolence from servants! I have never! And what is this about other obligations? Ciel, is it true that you intend to cancel your marriage contract with my daughter?"
"Ciel? I… Why? When you know how I feel?" Lizzie adds in her soft, girlish voice almost pleading.
I narrow my eyes on my butler, and notice the smirk on his face, and then it is I who make demands. "Sebastian, explain yourself at once."
"Yes, my lord," he says, that smirk still firmly in place as those burning red eyes meet my steady blue gaze. "I regret to inform the Lady Elizabeth and the marchioness that Master Phantomhive was already promised in a contract before his betrothal to the Lady Elizabeth was agreed upon. This contract into which my master was promised is binding in such a way that he cannot be allowed to marry the young lady."
"But he's been betrothed to my daughter since childhood. His mother Rachel and I made the arrangements," the marchioness says, her eyes narrowed on my demonic butler.
"This contract was made with Master Vincent, and it was before the birth of the young master, but that agreement remains intact. Now if you wish to depart once breakfast is finished I can have the horses ready, or you are welcomed to stay, however my master wishes," Sebastian says and then looks expectantly at me.
I pull my chair back from the breakfast table, my meal left as untouched as the meals of my two guests, and I get to my feet. "To my study at once Sebastian, for there is much we need to discuss," I growl, and then I turn to my two guests, Lizzie and her mother, and I apologize.
"See to that brazen man. No servant should ever act in such insolence. I would recommend seeing him depart from your servitude and this manor," the marchioness sneers.
I stiffen and then turn to her, the ice in my veins adding a chill to my words. "Until a moment ago I was going to ask you to stay, but if you insist upon running a household in which you are not a part, then I must insist upon you leaving when you've concluded your meal. Your horses and carriage will be readied for you. As insolent as my servant may be, I am more than capable of handling him. Now good day to you Madam, and Lizzie, I'm sorry. I will send word when I can of this newly arisen situation. Until then I wish you safe travels, good day."
I am playing the role of insolence as I lean back against his desk, awaiting his arrival. I can only imagine how angry he is, especially as I've never publicly addressed him in such a manner… At least not without killing all witnesses directly afterward. He does not disappointment with his temperament as he bursts into his study. His body is heaving with his anger, his perfect eye icy with his rage, and then he tosses his cane onto one of the chairs near the door, stalks across the room, and in an unexpected move he strikes his cold hand across my cheek.
Truly an unexpected move on his part, but far from unwelcome.
"How dare you behave in such a manner in front of guests, and in front of Elizabeth and her mother no less! Never have you been so insolent, and after all of these years of reminding me of proper behavior! What were you thinking? And what was all of that about a contract with my father? I've been engaged to Elizabeth for as long as I can remember, it is expected that I marry her. Certainly I would be aware of such an arrangement!"
I can't help but chuckle at the show of temper in my young master, not so young as he was when first we met, on the verge of true manhood at seventeen years of age. He's shed the skin of a child, shed the skin of humanity. Now is the time as he stands before me, an icy visage of a creature once human and now something else entirely, something cold and perfect, something that only my warmth can touch.
"I will allow that strike, but now, young master, it is time you know your place," I say as I remove my glove to reveal the mark of our Faustian contract.
I see how he stiffens, his hand rising to his eye patch, and then he takes in a sharp breath and pulls the patch away revealing his own mark. "So the day has come then?" he asks, his voice precise and measured, careful to hide any of his fears or apprehension, my young master so full of pride, but no longer is he my young master.
I smirk. "Our contract has long been met Ciel Phantomhive. It was a contract made before yours that I've been waiting on to mature. Now that contract has come to fruition. How well you've grown, how completely you've given in to me and met those terms as I always knew you would. Even creatures like me are capable of virtue, for haven't I long been patient? Twenty years I've waited."
"What do you mean?" he asks, and it is then that I truly laugh, a rough sound not unlike a crow cawing. He looks frightened now. This is good. A healthy dose of fear will make this all the more fulfilling for me.
There is something different in the demon. There is a feverish glint in his eyes that is both frightening and exhilarating at once. I have never seen Sebastian in such a state over me before. He advances toward me and I know not what to expect. I've asked him a question, and I'm not certain that I want an answer.
"Twenty years I've waited for the terms of my previous contract to come to term, and so you have," Sebastian says, his red eyes blazing and his tongue running across his lips.
"How am I a term in a contract you made before I was even born?" I ask, curiosity winning out over my fear and common sense.
He chuckles, and I find the sound annoying, but much more pleasant than his earlier laughter. "Your father summoned me, Ciel. He was desperate, mad with lust for your mother, but she would have none of him in the beginning. I found his desperation entertaining and decided to make a bargain with him. Vincent was a very interesting man. He wished for your mother's happiness, but he wanted to be the cause for that happiness. Foolish really. He could have easily accepted her sister, your Aunt Angelina, but what he wanted more than his very soul was Rachel. Still meddling in the affairs of human emotion and possession is more costly than just a single soul.
"So, the bargain was thus, he would have happiness with his precious Rachel, for the cost of his soul and the soul of his first born child. I would collect his soul on the tenth birthday of the child. He had conditions concerning the child, that I would be unable to claim the child were the child to retain his innocence. I could only collect the child if the child lost all of his humanity. I accepted the bargain. However I was robbed of your father's soul on the night of your tenth birthday, the shinigami took him before I could. This is why I have been so diligent with your care. I thought I'd lost you as well until you managed to summon me."
"My father? But with his death wouldn't his bargain have been broken? If you couldn't collect his soul?" I ask.
"Ah, yes, but his mark still existed, in fact you were given his mark, that precious ring that you wear as the head of this household was your father's mark. He refused to be branded as he put it, so I gave him that ring, the ring which you've worn since his death. Now I have met the terms of your father's bargain. He had thirteen years with your mother, and his soul escaped my appetite. And having made our bargain, watching you lose your humanity over the years has been a pleasure. Serving you these years has filled me with anticipation for this very moment."
"And now you can finally collect my soul. How can my soul be so valuable if it lacks humanity? Is it the sin you will feed from?"
Even as he has grown my young master has managed to retain some vestige of vulnerability. I smile at his question. What he must think of me; simply as some common demon. How surprised he will be when he truly sees me for what I am. He's turned his face down. I bring my hand with the mark up and lift his face with it so that our eyes meet, and then I lean down, my warm lips meet his cold ones, and his eyes widen in surprise. At first he tries to pull away and then I see the moment where his pride comes to the forefront and he accepts that this is his fate, that I will soon feed and he will die.
How very naïve.
As he resigns himself to this, I shrug out of my coat, my marked hand then goes to the back of his head, fingers twining in his hair, and even though he's grown I'm still taller than him by a few inches. He's perfect, deliciously cold and melting from my heat. As I pull his head back he opens his mouth and my tongue slips between those lips, tasting him, drinking him in.
I can feel the change as my true form emerges. My nails lengthen, my clothes alter, I seem to grow in height, but really it is my shoes that have changed to high heels, my teeth sharpen and I catch Ciel's bottom lip with them. I know my eyes are slitted and glowing red, and then I feel the last of the change, a sharp pain at my shoulder blades. I pause and cry out into Ciel's mouth. He pulls back then and I open my eyes to see the shock on his face as he looks at me, sees me for what I truly am.
I stumble back from the kiss, wondering if that is how a demon eats a soul. My eyes flutter open, and I don't even remember having closed them, and the sight before me leaves me stunned. Before me is Sebastian, dressed all in black, his features essentially the same though his nails have grown longer, and his eyes are no longer even close to human. The wings are the most startling thing about his transformation. Large, powerful, iridescent, black feathered wings, and I wonder what he is. Surely a demon couldn't have such a magnificent form as this.
I can't help myself as I pull off my gloves, tentatively approach him, and then reach out, my fingers brushing along the feathers, slimy from having emerged from his back, still beneath the vicious liquid and torn flesh I imagine the feathers are quite silky to the touch. I notice how he shivers at my touch, and for the first time in many months I feel warmth growing inside of me, in the pit of my stomach, and I realize the power I possess over Sebastian.
"You are no ordinary demon," I state.
"I am just one hell of a butler," he replies mockingly as he brings his gloved hand up to his mouth and pulls the glove free.
I tilt my head to the side and lock eyes with him. I reach up with my bare hand, untainted by the residue on his wings, and draw it down the cheek I struck earlier and he closes his eyes and leans into the touch, almost as though he savors the sensation. How long has it been since he has been subject to such a feeling? He almost seems to crave the ice of my touch.
I am surprised when his strange, glowing red slitted eyes open and the tables are turned as he grasps me and spins us around, pressing me against my own desk as he looms over me. A strong wind fills the room as he flutters his wings, the sludge hitting the walls of my study and I can only imagine how difficult that will be to clean. Still his wings are beautiful to behold. I gasp as he presses against me, his crotch collides with mine and my breath hitches in my throat as I realize just how aroused we both are.
"What are you?" I ask.
He grins, his teeth sharp, and I run my tongue across my bottom lip, noting how tender it is from him having bitten it. "Aside from one hell of a butler, young master? Would you dare learn my true name?"
"Your true name?"
"My prize should know to whom he is promised," he says, and then he leans down, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear just like the night before. "I am Azazel, fallen Seraphim. Mankind has never regarded me as one of the fallen though. They once dared to sacrifice goats to me, which only proves how foolish humans can be. I am one of the great tempters of humans. I taught man about warfare, weaponry, and armor, and I taught women about deception, ornamenting their body, painting their faces, and the arts of witchcraft. I once led an army of rebel angels alongside my brother the Morning Star. You are not the prize of a demon, but the prize of a fallen Seraphim."
The look of awe on his face is delicious as I take his face between my hands and I lean down. As I draw closer he closes his eyes and my lips brush across each eyelid. When his eyes reopen they are both perfect and unmarked, and the mark on my hand has faded. He blinks as if he doesn't believe that his eye is unblemished. I descend again, my lips capturing his and he opens his mouth. My little Ciel, so submissive. I wonder how long I have before his pride comes into play and he begins to fight me for dominance. The thought amuses me.
The whine in his throat is a beautiful sound. I pull back and then begin to kiss down his throat as my hands make short work of the buttons on his shirt and waistcoat, exposing the pale expanse of his young, cold, tender flesh. His hands come between us, but I am surprised to find that rather than push me away he's trying to work past the barriers of my clothing.
"I've been so cold for so long," he whispers. "Too cold. It's how I know I'm no longer human. How long has it taken you to steal that away from me?"
I decide to help him and shed my torn shirt, revealing myself to him. His reaction is one of curiosity. He reaches out timidly at first, but when his cold hand collides with my blazing flesh something changes in him. His legs wrap around my waist and he's drawing me down to him, his mouth eagerly capturing mine, and now I know he's truly mine for the taking. I make short work of his clothes, removing them until he is naked beneath me, his legs once again firmly circling my waist, his arousal evident as his erection curves upward against his stomach, the tip weeping. I close a hand around the shaft and I am pleased to find that I am warming his cold body.
"I never stole your humanity. The moment you allowed yourself to feel hatred and summoned me, that is the moment you forsook your humanity. That is the moment you first gave yourself to me, and now I am here to claim you," I reply, as I begin to lick and nip my way along his collar bone, my hand continuing to glide up and down his heated flesh, reveling in the noises escaping him, seeing him lose all of his carefully wrought composure.
I use my free hand to remove his legs from my waist and then I kick off my boots and free myself of my trousers. He jolts and shudders as I grind my own erection against his, his back arching at the sensation, and it is then that I strike, sinking my teeth into his neck, not enough to break the delicate skin, but enough so that he knows he is mine.
He reaches down, his hand curling around me, exploring my flesh, and a growl escapes me.
I pull his hand away and then I shift, kissing and biting my way down his chest and stomach. My hand firmly grasps the base of his shaft and then my mouth descends hungrily. He bucks and whimpers, bracing himself on the desk with his hands as he struggles to catch his breath while riding through the sensation of my mouth upon him. He is beautiful in this state of wanton lust. My other hand I bring to his mouth, and my clever young master is quick to realize what I want of him. He takes my fingers in his mouth, licking and sucking them. True he lacks experience and finesse, but there will be time for him to learn.
I am careful to control the grip I have on him with my hand as I work over him with my mouth. He will come only when I wish him to.
Once my fingers are suitably wet I explore his backside. I find his puckered opening, and he tries to squirm away from my finger, but I get my index finger in to the knuckle. I'm careful as I distract him with my mouth. Two fingers in and I find his prostate, which has him writhing madly. When I manage to scissor three fingers inside of him I know he is ready. I pull my mouth away from him and work my hand up and down his length, allowing his release. He does not disappoint me as he comes, covering both of our stomachs.
I dip my fingers into his fluids and use that to coat myself and then I position myself at his stretched opening. My head falls back as I guide myself inside of him. His usually cold body is flush, strung tight like a bow, and he cries out. He's so tight, and it pleases me that I am stealing away the last vestige of his innocence. Mine, mine from the beginning.
My whole body is alight with fire, burning from my very core, and I feel him as he enters me, stretching me more than his fingers did and I cry out at the burn of it. He's tearing me and it hurts. I am surprised when his mouth caresses the base of my throat and then he whispers into my ear, "Relax and the pain will ease."
I struggle to comply, forcing my body to relax. His hand is once again around my spent manhood, and soon he fills me completely. My eyes are tightly shut, and then he begins to move, slow movements, a wiggling. I hear him calling my name. I open my eyes, and I see the burning depths of his red gaze and that is when he pulls out completely and slams back into me. It's so brutal. He continues at a ferocious pace, and it hurts more than anything until…
Oh God! He's found that spot inside of me, the same spot his fingers found. Brushing against it sends shivers up my spine and warmth blazing through my blood stream, chasing away the cold. My arousal returns, and as he fills me I feel his left hand grip my right hip and his right hand work over my growing arousal again.
The whole world seems to fall away as I wrap my legs around his waist for leverage and that shifts the angle ever so slightly for the better. I know my cries are incoherent, and his teeth scraping against my throat adds to the sensations overwhelming my senses.
I feel a slight wind picking up around us, and as he buries himself in me one last time, his body shuddering with his release I realize that we are in the air, his massive wings flapping and holding us aloft, caught somewhere between the high ceiling and the floor below, our feet free of the ground.
I feel my second release coming as his lips collide hungrily with mine. That is the moment when the pain takes hold, the fierce burning racing throughout my icy body.
I pull away from that sinful mouth with a howl of pain as my body lights aflame. Surely he is taking my soul now.
I'm startled as the young master… No, my Ciel, begins to scream in my arms. His body is feverish. I lower us back to the floor until I am kneeling, my wings settle against my back and then I curl protectively around the boy in my arms. Even at seventeen he is so young. He writhes in my arms, his body trembling and convulsing, and I watch in fascination, and there is something in me that does not like what I am seeing.
I have witnessed pain throughout my existence, caused pain, and reveled in it, but this time I find no pleasure in his pain. My wings curl in tighter, shielding us from the world as his body's shudders begin to slow, and finally he's left trembling and panting in my arms, clinging to me and covered in sweat.
When his blue eyes open I notice immediately the change in him. Ciel Phantomhive has been altered. There is no mistaking it. He is no longer human, his blue eyes are slitted like that of a cat or demon. I inspect the rest of his body as it grows still. His body retains the heat that was built between us, and I see that his flesh is unblemished, even the mark of his enslavement from when he'd been sacrificed is gone. His body is perfect, flawless, almost as though he's been reborn.
His breathing has slowed and his eyes slip shut as he slumps against me. He's sound asleep, unconsciously burying his face against my chest.
I make quick work of delivering him to his bedroom. I tuck him in, as I have many times when he was a child, and then I assume my human form and retreat to my room to dress. I return to his room with a teacart and refreshments. I sit in a chair by his bedside, waiting for him to awaken.
By the time his eyes open again the tea has grown cold.
He sits up in the bed and turns toward me. He brings his hands to his face as if seeing them for the first time. I am stunned when his eyes meet mine. They are slitted, and then he blinks and his eyes look like those of a human once more. He tilts his head at me and then drops his gaze to the teacart. I give him a slice of the chocolate and raspberry cake I've made. He devours the dessert, and then he looks up at me, his eyes blinking, and I see his new eyes before they return to their human form once again.
He sets aside the plate, and I raise my brow, knowing that surely there are now crumbs for me to clean in his bed.
He laughs then, a sound I haven't heard since his childhood before the death of his parents. A rich, vibrant sound that actually startles me, though I hide this particular reaction. I wonder why he is so amused. Does he not realize now that he is mine?
The hinge of my door cries out as the two creatures enter my establishment. I sense how altered the pair are immediately. I step out of my most recent creation with a cackle. I bring my hands together below my chin, my index fingers pressing against my mouth in an attempt to hide my glee.
"I see that the young earl no longer has need of my services. Mores the pity. The casket I could have made for you… I had envisioned it," I say, a whimsical tone in my voice, and I do not miss Phantomhive's look of disgust, nor how his eyes change as he blinks, still blue, but slitted like that of a demon. The power emanating from the boy is immense. I then turn my attention to the demon butler.
"So I assume you come on business then?" I inquire.
"I wish to know about the night my parents died," the boy asks, and I smile. This day has been long in coming.
"I suggest you tell him that which he wishes to know, Shinigami," the butler says, and the power radiating from Sebastian is not that of a demon.
I grin and nod. "But of course. Still my services and information come at a price."
I must admit that I am quite surprised when that devilish butler grabs the front of the boy's coat and drags the boy closer, their mouths meet hungrily, and I consider that payment in full.
Watching the pair I wonder if the fallen angel realizes that he's as much servant as master. He will always serve his newly altered demon-boy. They are now on a more equal footing, both having power over the other. Still it is the young master, le prince bleu, who has captured the king.
Checkmate.
End.
"Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if I had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
-Robert Frost "Fire and Ice"
Author's Notes: The lyrics used in the beginning are from Paper Route's "Dance on Our Graves", a fantastic song. The concluding poem as noted is Robert Frost's "Fire and Ice". Again I hope you have enjoyed the story, and I greatly encourage and appreciate reviews!
-Cassie