Dear Reader,

This is my very fist fanfiction, and I wrote it like I would write any novel of my own. I hope that you will read it and that you will enjoy it. Please drop any comments you want. If it sucks, it sucks, if it doesn't, it doesn't. This is my first time ever writing a fanfic and I can't say that I am really fond of them, but I do want to try my hand at it, and I hope that this entertains you for however long it may take you to read it. Here's to all the fans of the beautiful Kuroshitsuji. In this first chapter I wanted to play with Sebastian and Ciel. I put them on the stage first. And then I wondered what it would be like if Elizabeth grew up and got hot (and less sugary and annoying), so she is in there as well. But don't worry. She isn't as annoying as she is in the anime or manga. Anyway, hope I haven't bored you already. ENJOY!

Sincerely,

TitaniaFalls 3

~*Volume1: Chasing Butterflies*~

Chapter 1

He studied the crystalline structure of the frostbitten windows as the thin coatings of ice eddied over the edges of the pane.

Sebastian's hands were cold against his pale, naked skin.

He tried hard to penetrate the ice with his gaze as it slowly blurred the world on the other side of the glass.

Sebastian circled in front of him, looming over him like a dark shadow.

He looked up, falling into those wine red eyes, but caught himself before he lost himself completely in that vampiric spell. "Imbecile," he looked away.

Sebastian released a breath of satisfied laughter. "Bocchan," the butler whispered with his voice just before dropping to his knees in front of his young master.

He held on to those broad shoulders, trying not to feel anything as Sebastian calmly held his underwear open for him to step into. He'd often felt like a child around Sebastian.

It has been six years since the demon had found him, six years since the demon had taken post as his butler, and six years since the demon had been dressing him like this. Six years, and Sebastian was still the only one that had ever seen him naked; the only one that had ever really seen all of him.

Six years since his parents had been gone, and he, the Earl of Phantomhive, still couldn't even put on his own damn underwear.

"It is unheard of for any nobleman to do such petty things on their own," Sebastian said as he stood to collect the pants next.

"Am I that easy to read?" he asked.

He noticed that nonchalant smirk across the butler's face; how it filled every hollow crevice within him; how it made the corners of his mouth twitch upward as if he could smile as well. This in turn made him angry.

"Wipe that damn smile off your face," he said when Sebastian came back to stand in front of him, black pants in hand. Maybe his tone was a little more hateful than he meant it to be. "What are you, mocking me?"

"Never, Bocchan," he bowed just his head.

"Then do as I say. That is an order."

"Yes," he bowed again, this time putting his hand over his heart, "My Lord."

The smirk was gone.

Sebastian dressed him in silence, acting as his balance when he needed it as the butler slid his pants up and fixed them around his hips, but didn't button them shut just yet. He held the other man under his gaze as he moved quickly to get him clothed.

Next was the white cotton button up. It was almost like a ritual. Sebastian stood behind him, holding the shirt open for him and he slid his arms through. Sebastian, once again, circled around him like the ever present shadow that he was and buttoned his shirt up to the spill of lace at the neck. Lace spilled over his hands, covering his long piano fingers to his knuckles. He felt like a vampire in that shirt.

The butler fixed the end of the shirt neatly into his pants, pulling his master close to his body as he tucked the back of his shirt into his pants.

The sweet, decadent and rich scent of his butler nearly made him swoon. But he caught himself, realizing too late that Sebastian may have been keeping them close a little longer than needed.

"Tsk," he pushed away from Sebastian, and only then did the butler finish buttoning his pants.

The royal blue vest that went over the shirt had black pin stripes; four double breasted buttons made of real silver that could pay the rent of a commoner for months. The lace of the cotton shirt spilled over the neck of the vest, and then finally the overcoat was added.

The overcoat was also a royal blue with black cords that trimmed the edges of the jacket. Sebastian left it unbuttoned and fixed the coat at his wrists so that the lace of his shirt could spill through the cuffs.

Sebastian grabbed the black high socks off the bedside table and went to kneel in front of him again. And again he used Sebastian as his crutch and balance as he stepped into the socks that reached just beneath his knees. Sebastian clasped the garters on to keep the socks in place so that they wouldn't ride low as socks do.

Royal blue calf high boots with black pin stripes and four inch heels were next to go on. Sebastian laced the boots all the way up his legs and then tied them in place. In the heels, he was almost at Sebastian's height, but not quite.

With a single gloved hand beneath his master's smaller hand, Sebastian walked closely behind him as he led his young Bocchan to the full length mirror by the bed.

He looked at himself in the mirror, trying to harden the glacier already there in his dark blue eyes. He had eyes the color of true sapphires, save for one that was like amethyst with a burst of ultraviolet like a supernova exploding over his iris. In the center of that explosion was a pentagram. It was so faint that you could barely see it, but when it was alive and glowing with power it shone like UV light. It was the mark of the beast.

His beast.

The thought was a faint whisper through his mind, making his body ache with need as he watched Sebastian through the mirror. He shook his head. A demon and a human? What a silly thought! Yet it was almost as entertaining as a man and a man.

His eyes were laced in long, thick lashes that could shame any woman and rested beneath a scowl that left such a young face so jaded. No matter how hard he tried to erase it with such a hard look he still had his mother's softness, as if her face would forever be immortal in his.

He had that exotic tilt to his eyes that she once had; that almond shape. He had her perfectly straight nose, her round cheeks, full lips, and even her softly squared jaw. None of him was his father except for the prominent scowl in his eyes. His father used to get that look every time he'd concentrate on something hard or even when he was just reading. Perhaps one of the reasons he scowled so much now was to preserve his father's memory in his face as well.

If it weren't for the scowl, people might mistake him for a girl for real.

Sebastian worked a brush through his glossy black hair. There was never a strand out of place, never an imperfection. He always kept his hair trimmed just below the lobe of his pierced ears. The bangs were always longer than the back, sometimes falling in his eyes so that he looked like a predator peering out of the tall grass at his prey. He liked it that way. He thought it kept him ominous.

The dark butler tied his black leather eye patch in place, covering up his right eye, hiding the stain that was there.

Placing a royal blue top hat with a large black bow to the side of it on his head, Sebastian finished dressing his master just in time.

"What do you think Bocchan?" Sebastian asked as he studied his master's reflection in the mirror.

What did he want him to say, that he thought the blue in his outfit echoed the blue in his eyes, making them stand out? That he thought that the darkness in Sebastian's suit coordinated well with the clothes that he had put on him?

"Where do you find such ridiculous clothes, anyway?" he fought to make his voice bitter and void of any feeling and won. "Honestly, Sebastian, heels? Aren't I a little too old for heels now?"

Sebastian's eyes stayed on the reflection of his eyes. For a moment they stood like that, just staring at each other through the mirror. This time he couldn't be spelled by those enchanting red eyes of the beast. Not if he stared at them in the mirror, for Sebastian's reflection alone had no power over him.

"You've just turned eighteen and you're suddenly too old for everything."

He couldn't read the look on Sebastian's face as he said that. It was just as blank as a doll's face, just as beautiful, just as ethereal, just as unreal. He hated that face. He hated the way those narrow eyes held shadows and darkness as if whatever he was thinking couldn't be pleasant, as if Sebastian saw right through him. He hated the way those eyebrows arched arrogantly over those eyes, how those lips practically begged for his attention. He hated the way his suit fit his body so perfectly, hated the way that even those damn white gloves turned him on. But most of all, he hated the way Sebastian could make him react at all.

"If I am old enough to marry, then certainly I am too old to wear heels anymore," he shot back.

Sebastian remained as blank as only Sebastian could.

He felt his eyebrows crease in a harder scowl than his usual one. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Sebastian suddenly closed in him, hugging him from behind, but not wrapping his arms around him so that it wasn't a full embrace. The dark butler leaned in close, breath hot against his young master's ear as he purred "Would a Phantomhive butler forget the most important décor of Phantomhive appearance?"

He shivered. He couldn't help himself. His eyes fluttered shut as Sebastian slowly slid the sapphire heirloom onto his thumb. "Say it," Sebastian purred in his ear.

"S-Sebastian," he managed in a faint voice. He faltered backwards, falling into Sebastian's arms. His eyes flew open.

Sebastian stood behind him smirking at his reflection, eyes burning with something nefarious.

"You knave!" He snatched himself away from the taller man.

"Since when does my Bocchan faint?" The butler challenged.

"Your Bocchan?" he raised an eyebrow. "Tsk," he pushed past Sebastian, heading for the door. "Grab my cane." He didn't wait for the butler to respond. "She should be here at any moment. I don't want to keep her waiting. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner she will be gone, and the sooner I can get to my business."

That was just like him. He always had his eye on the true prize: revenge. It was what he lived for, what he breathed for, what drove him every day. The time of death was closing in at any moment, and not even his fiancé was going to keep him from it.

"Did you miss her?" Sebastian asked out of sheer curiosity, or perhaps out of spite.

The question made him pause. It had been a while since he'd last seen his fiancé. Did he miss her?

"Don't make me give the same order twice," he didn't even turn around.

"Yes," Sebastian bowed to him, "My Lord."

oOo

Lizzie felt her fluttering heart drop into her stomach. She hadn't seen her fiancé in well over six months. Being called away to her sick mother's side had really put distance between the young couple in the last few months. With death threatening her mother at every turn, there had been no room for laughs anymore, and all smiles had been broken under the weight of worry. The only happiness that Lizzie ever found was when she was with him.

But lately her concern for his wellbeing was growing stronger than she had anticipated. She had seen him lose his smile, had witnessed the tragedy that shattered his happy life all around him. With her mother slowly dying, and with the fact that her fiancé was slowly losing all hope at all, Lizzie felt as if all of her happiness was slowly deteriorating as well. How long was it going to take? When would she lose her smile, when her mother died, or when her fiancé finally lost it?

In her white laced gloves she clutched the professionally wrapped box. She had gone out and got him a nice broach just this morning. She hoped that he would like it. Even though she knew that showering him with gifts meant nothing, even though she knew it wouldn't really bring the smile back to his face, she hoped it showed how much she cared.

"My Lady," Pamela's voice was hesitant. Lizzie moved just her eyes to look up at her nanny.

"What is it, Pamela?" she asked.

"He will love it," she assured her. "I am positive."

Lizzie gave her brightest smile that she could muster. It didn't even reach her eyes.

Ever since her mother fell sick and hired Pamela to look after her, Lizzie had never been fond of having Pamela around. She was more of a liability than a nanny. Sometimes Lizzie found herself having to look after her hurt feelings and mop up her tears instead. She knew that Pamela meant well, but there were days where she could do without her.

She sat anxiously perched on the end of her chair. What was taking him so long? Sometimes she wished she could make him feel that hole that carved itself in the left side of her chest when she had been far from him for too long. She wished that she could make him feel the butterflies taking flight in her stomach. Sometimes she got so anxious she'd faint.

When the doors to the conservatory opened, she nearly collapsed. Walking through the door with one hand on his cane and a dark shadow of a man trailing after him was her beautiful Ciel looking as fashionable as he always did.

"C-Ciel," she breathed.

Her sexy contralto voice purred over him, making him ache with need. He had to pause for a second to look at her.

She was a vision of pink and gold. Long, honey gold baby doll curls fell down her back, brushed her buttocks. Her bangs were straight, however, framing her heart shaped face. They were long enough to cover her eyebrows and grew long at the sides to brush her collar bones. Someone had tied ribbons in the curls so that the lace dripped here and there. Swimming emerald eyes dominated most of her face so that she looked years younger than her actual eighteen. Silver burst over the irises speckled with gold.

"Ciel," she said again, this time more strongly. He watched her slowly begin to smile.

"Elizabeth Middleford, Daughter of the Marquise Middleford, welcome to the Phantomhive estate." Ciel's voice was as lifeless as his beautiful face.

Now he watched that smile begin to fade.

"Did I upset you?" The worry was instant through him. Elizabeth upset equaled disaster, or, more accurately a nuisance. He didn't want anything getting in the way of his plans. He didn't have time to play fiancé and clean up tears.

"Do you have to be so damn formal?" she shot.

He was surprised. All of these years of hearing that annoying soprano screaming his name every five seconds had him a little jumpy around her. He sometimes forgot that she was now a woman and less frightening, even as she stood in front of him looking like a wet dream.

"Are we not engaged to be married soon?" she challenged.

"You are quite right, Elizabeth. I apologize –."

"There you go again," she interrupted. She shook her head and looked down. He held his breath, prepared for the crying banshee wailing his name. But what he got was a surprised giggled that sent chills down his spine. When she looked up, she was smiling. "Are you ever going to call me Lizzie, or do I have to make you?"

She couldn't help it. She was moving before she knew it, ready to show him exactly how much she's missed him.

She sauntered up to him and he couldn't take his eyes off of her. Whoever had designed her dress had kept her curves in mind. The dress itself was pink. The shoulders were puffy and the sleeves hugged her thin arms, spilling lace over her forearms. The neck left a square of chest exposed. Her pink and golden embroidered corset hugged every nook and cranny making sure to emphasize each line and swell. It helped push her breasts in place so that the tops of them were spilling out like mounds of temptation. They swayed seductively as she moved.

The skirt was nothing but pink lace that was short enough in the front that she had to be careful as she moved so not to flash the room, but long enough in the back to brush against the back of her knees. And on her feet were white baby doll shoes with cut out hearts and frilly bows at the ankles.

Lizzie was one of those people that had been born as cute as a doll and had grown into that innocence. But instead of cookies and cupcakes and rainbows, she made him think corruption, chains and whips. The thought made the corners of his mouth curl into something wicked. It would have been very nice to grab those long, golden curls in his fist and make her cry out; to make the peaches and cream of her skin flush all over. He found himself dreaming of what lie beneath her pink and golden corset.

And those lips; he didn't know what excited him more, the breasts or the lips.

They were pink, those lips, like peaches, and full. No one on earth should have lips so lascivious, so pouty and full. They were sin, those lips, and so ridiculously full.

Come suck me full, he thought.

They were the same height in their shoes. Placing a hand on the right side of his cheek, she began to lean in.

"You smell like candy," he whispered against those pouty pink lips.

"Sweet and sticky just for you," she whispered back right before letting it all go, right before he had time to react to the shocking revelation.

All the butterflies in her stomach were released. They seemed to descend into her womb, taking flight on silken wings. Her heart pounded against her chest, threatening to take flight as well.

Could this be real? Had that sweet girl made of sunshine and lollipops transformed into the vixen burning him alive? Could she really be the reason for the swelling between his legs?

She moaned from somewhere deep in her throat. It was a sultry sound that sent an electric shock down his spine. He couldn't help himself. He flicked his tongue out lightly, tasting her. He felt her falter, but it didn't last long. She opened to him, letting him taste her.

He ate her moans with tongue and teeth, indulging in the feel of her curls as soft as down, forgetting everything, forgetting himself. God, her lips were soft, like the petals of a rose. They tasted sweet, like honey.

Lizzie let him taste everything: her urgency, her longing, her need for him. This was it. This was what she had been waiting for.

A single sound broke the spell. She pulled away first, looking somewhere behind him.

The red head with the bright round glasses was standing in the doorway beside Sebastian holding both of her hands over her nose. When she pulled her hands away from her face, they came away with blood.

"Meiran," she said, "are you alright?"

"It's nothing. I was coming to tell you that your boat is ready and I got a little hot!" she yelled before running away.

Ciel rolled his eyes, sighing deeply.

"I believe Bocchan has missed Lady Middleford more than he thought."

Sebastian's voice made Lizzie's heart stop cold. It wasn't entirely wrong to be attracted to that pretty face with those wicked eyes of his. They were the red of garnets, or dark red wine. He looked down at her with a smile on his face, but she knew better. There was something in that smile, something dangerous, something dark and nefarious.

"Good morning, Earl Phantomhive," Pamela curtsied.

Lizzie had forgotten all about her nanny. Her face flushed strawberry red.

Ciel looked at the tall and leggy brunette. She had hair the brown of autumn leaves and a face as pretty as the next girl. Elizabeth once told him how Pamela cried more than she did. He didn't need Lizzie's word for it. He could see the naïveté in her big brown eyes. He'd often felt sorry for her. Souls like hers were the easiest to break.

He used to think that way about Elizabeth, but he figured that if she had not grown tired of him yet and was still hell bent on marrying him, she was stronger than he had given her credit for.

"Do you like my dress? Pamela made it for me?" Elizabeth posed for him.

"It's lovely," he answered truthfully. Offering his arm, he said, "Are you ready? We will sail across Phantomhive Lake and have dinner in the gardens. Is that fine with you? I remember last time you didn't like the gardens so much."

Her smile was instantaneous. "I would sail in the rain if I could be with you, Ciel," she confessed.

"Then let us be on our way."

For Ciel, she didn't even hesitate.