The shinigami were far and away the best part of Kuroshitsuji, so of course I had to write some fic for them.
"Oh, Will~! Close your eyes and I'll give you a nice surprise."
A long familiarity kept him from looking up at that playful call. He had long ago learned that Grell had a siren's voice, less in terms of being irresistible than because to orient toward it would be to fall into a trap.
"Get off of my desk." He kept his eyes on the report spread in front of him. He had felt the faint tremors in the wood and knew that Grell was at least leaning on it.
"Don't you want your surprise?"
"I want your report on the last soul you were sent to collect. I want the paperwork confirming that your death scythe conforms to regulations before I am forced to confiscate it again. There is nothing I want from you that would be a surprise."
Since Grell didn't seem to be about to leave him alone, Will finally deigned to look. He found Grell leaning on his desk, as he'd expected. The impetuous shinigami had both elbows propped right in the middle of the surface with a complete disregard for order, chin resting on interlaced fingers and a shark's grin across that all-too-close face.
"But you don't even know what it is yet," Grell purred. "It's a special service just. For. You."
Goosebumps rose on the back of Will's neck and he felt a sudden chill between his shoulder blades. He used his scythe to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose in irritation, refusing to see how Grell's lips were pursed suggestively at him.
"If you're offering to take on an overtime job-"
"Aahn," that little cry Grell made only helped the feeling of unease spread down Will's spine. "Ooh, you make it sound so dirty."
Before Will could say that he was only thinking about work, Grell's hand had snaked across the space between them. Gloved fingers brushed his cheek for a split second before they curled around the earpiece on his glasses and tugged, trying to slip them off. . . .
Will reacted without thinking. He heard Grell squeal in surprise and pain almost before he registered the splash of warm blood against his cheek.
It wasn't until Grell snatched back the injured hand and cradled it that Will fully processed that he had stabbed the other shinigami to protect his glasses. Will had thought himself completely desensitized to the smell and the sticky warmth of blood, but Grell was looking at him with teary eyes and making the worst sort of hurt puppy noises.
Will fished a handkerchief from an inside pocket and used it to wipe the fresh blood from his face. While he would have liked to dismiss that hurt look as nothing more then crocodile tears, he at least had the sense to know when he was completely, personally responsible for something. He stepped out from the perceived sanctuary of his desk and approached the fiery-haired shinigami, ignoring the little complaints Grell kept making about his ill-treatment.
"Give me your hand."
The look of sulky distrust Will found himself faced with made him take Grell's hand more gently than he had intended. He cradled the injured hand in one palm as he peeled off the black glove to get a good look at the wound.
It wasn't nearly as deep as he'd feared. Even caught off guard, it seemed Grell had moved quickly enough to escape a deep stab wound. That, or Will needed to hone his own reflexes more thoroughly. Either way it was something Grell would heal quickly enough.
"Will. . ."
Why did he have to look up at that call? He knew it was a trap. Grell was looking at him with wide, innocent, teary eyes that seemed impossible after seeing the manic at work, fingers curled in front of that dangerous mouth in a ploy to look cute. Will wasn't falling for any of it.
"Kiss it better?" Grell pleaded.
"No."
"You're so cruel! I give you everything and you can't even offer one little kiss to heal my wounds? When did my beloved Will become so cold to poor little me. . . ?"
For just a minute Will had to wonder if it was worth the effort. He had no qualms about smacking Grell if it kept the trouble making to a minimum, but stabbing a fellow shinigami was on a completely different level. If this was the only way to make reparations and shut Grell up. . .
Will raised Grell's hand in his own and touched his mouth to the narrow wound, coming away with Grell's blood on his lips. He licked his lips to get rid of it and then, without thinking, lowered his head to drag his tongue across the open wound.
Mortal blood was sickeningly sweet and thin with a metallic bite to it. Will had fastidiously avoided letting it splatter on him since his first accidental taste. He could never have guessed at the rich, bitter taste of Grell's blood that lingered on the back of his tongue like ambrosia from the grave.
Raising his eyes to meet Grell's, Will continued to lap hungrily at the pool of blood. His tongue traced the edges of the wound by feel as he watched Grell gasp and squirm. He couldn't even seem to respond to the whimpers and moans of pleasure echoing in his ears. His tongue was far too busy lapping up every last drop of blood to waste time telling Grell to shut up.
With an inarticulate cry, Grell suddenly toppled forward to fall against his shoulder. Will stopped, the tip of his tongue still just brushing the tip of the wound, as he was jolted back to his senses.
"Ah. . ." Grell whispered, cupping Will's face with both hands so that the powerful scent of fresh blood completely invaded his senses. "You're so good. You make me weak in the knees."
The only response Will had was to shove Grell off to sprawl backward onto his desk. He forced Grell's injured hand open, so that he could get one last good lick across that wound without Grell cupping his face. This time he could actually feel Grell writhe against him as he did it.
Grell's hair was fanned out like rivulets of fresh blood across his scattered papers. Will took a good long look at his handiwork, forcing himself to breathe slowly. His eyes traveled over the taunt skin of Grell's bared throat, the narrow chest that shuddered with each gasping breath, hips that jerked toward him in an obscene gesture and trembling legs that came far too close to wrapping around his own.
One unthinking reaction had obviously dovetailed into a far worse one. Grell's behavior must be rubbing off on him. Will forced himself to remain calm, wrapping Grell's hand in his own bloodied handkerchief rather than trying to throw the trembling shinigami off of his desk and to the floor as he would have liked to do.
Before he could work out how to clear his desk again, Grell had sat up and flung both arms around his shoulders, making him tense.
"You didn't even let me give you the special service I promised. . ."
Grell's uninjured hand crept up his cheek until Will felt fingers curl once again around the earpiece of his glasses, where they were still not welcome. He grabbed Grell's wrist to halt the motion.
"Do you want me to stab your other hand?" Grell would not be getting any sort of apology this time, either.
"Mm?" Will could practically hear the gears turning in Grell's head, finally processing that the glasses were staying on no matter what. "Could it be you can't bear to look away from my face? Ah! You're such a romantic. Please let me oblige you. . . ."
Grell drifted closer, and it was all too easy to guess what would have happened if Will hadn't slapped one hand over those puckered lips.
"William," Grell whined pitiably around his blocking hand.
"Need I remind you, I'm working right now. If you don't have any paperwork ready for me you can get out."
The hurt look only lasted a split second this time, no more than a flash before Grell was grinning at him again. Will could feel the sharp teeth being bared under his hand.
"Mm. . . then I'll just have to help you unwind once you can drag yourself away from this musty old desk," Grell purred in an ominous promise.
Will would have his peace and quiet to finish his work, but there was no telling how Grell would try to make him pay for it later. Grell sashayed out of his office, only pausing in the doorway to make sure Will was watching before pressing a playful kiss to the bloody handkerchief.
Getting to return to work should have been a blessing. Will searched for the report he had been working on before he was so rudely interrupted, but for a moment all he could see was the vision of silky blood-red hair spilling across his orderly papers in the most beautiful mess.