Small Sharp Voice
"Sebastian?" called the small, sharp voice in the darkness.
"Yes, my Lord," came the reply.
It sounded far off, though he knew himself held tightly in capable arms. But he could not see. The night was dark, if night it was. There was nothing but endless shadow now.
"Don't leave me." The dark muffled, but he spoke.
"Never, my Lord."
"Because I command it?" His voice was less assured, though he willed away the blackness.
"Yes, my Lord." The answer came quick and sure.
"Why else?" He was fraying at the edges.
The resounding silence threatened to draw him under.
"Why else, Sebastian?"
"Because you belong to me."
The arms tightened around him and he could feel once again.
"You belong to me, Ciel Phantomhive, in this and every possible world."
He could feel the smile behind the words. As he tipped his head up, he watched as familiar crimson eyes grew bright and pushed away the darkness.