A/N: Hello all! Welcome to my first attempt into the world of Black Butler. So far I've only seen the anime but God, it's so awesome. 8O I don't think anything will ever be the same. There's lots of cool BB fanfics out there (that I shamelessly stole some of the interesting elements from, but I'm pretty sure none of your BB fanfic writers even know where half of those began your all using them so much, so…) so I hope I don't screw this up too bad. As always, my fanfiction isn't ever really that serious, but reviews and critiques are appreciated! And before you ask, YES, I think I've got a crying fetish or something… (Also, side note: I am actually pleased with Apple. iOS 9 is allowing me to upload Mircosoft Word docs from Dropbox onto fanfiction, so no more weird *italics!* It's more like italics now, y'know? WOO!)
UPDATE: Since this 'one-shot' has gotten so much attention, it will be continued, and this chapter has been updated to match the ongoing plot.
WARNINGS: Abuse, mentions of rape, sexual themes, nudity.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Black Butler. (Sadly.) But I do own my stuff, y'know, characters and plot and such, so don't go claiming that as your own.
The hours were pitch black, unnerving, dragging on and on as she sat in the stillness. They came and went, and she sensed them, sensed what they were. How wicked, what horrible creatures; their sneers and cackles echoing in the void of her prison. The things the others did to her were less painful than they were demoralizing. Touches where she hoped to never be touched; caresses she knew should not feel so loveless. And then, with the slam of a door that she had heard many times, she somehow knew they were all done with her. It had ended.
And disturbing her peace was a faint whisper. It has just begun.
Gatherings amongst demons were rare, Sebastian knew. Never to congratulate a fellow damned on their latest finished contract, and never just for the company. Demons were not social creatures; they were in competition after the mortal creations' souls, after all. No, something was off here. He knew that the only time demons were called together was to discuss issues… And if the Devil was involved, punishment could also be the subject…
The raven haired demon stood before the Lord of the Underworld with some trepidation because of these facts. Around the pantheon - their gathering place - flocked dozens of new and old faces, hundreds of hellish eyes watching the proceedings with interest. It had not been long before he returned home - moments, actually - before a messenger had stopped him and demanded his presence in the deepest layer. And when he had arrived, he was shoved into the Devil's audience in a matter of minutes.
So he stood and waited; apparently there was quite a bit of commotion to do with this meeting, and he knew it was in his best interests to be patient, eager though he was to return home and check on his estate.
Finally the Dark Lord turned from the small group surrounding his throne to regard Sebastian. Sebastian, ancient as he was, knew Ahasuerus quite well. And the smirk adorning his face was quite unusual for the King.
He stood up, taking a walk towards Sebastian leisurely. He stopped in the dirt and dust of the pantheon floor and brought his hand out to Sebastian, which the demon took. "I'm sorry for all the fuss, but we have rather good news for you… And a bit of bad news."
Sebastian was skeptical, but nodded with a quirked brow. "And it couldn't wait?"
The Devil sighed, shaking his head. "No. It could not."
He grinned. "Someone found your mate."
The chains rattled, laughs echoing in the hall, making her breathing excelerate. The man holding her tied hands kissed her roughly, hands traveling. "Don't worry, little scout, your time is up." Yanking her by her hair, he dragged her out, she not making a sound.
Speckles of light occasionally flickered from a candle or torch, though she wished the place would stay in total darkness. Screaming men, women, and children, all a cacophony of horror together, was what invaded her ears. Deeper into the complex they went, and further to what she knew must have been her end.
A door swung open and the man walked through, pulling her to her feet. It took her a second to adjust to the blinding light, and a few more moments to see the statues before her were actually living men. They stood at the walls and in the ceiling, only two figures standing in the blinding light.
One, she recognized. The perpetrator. The leader. His name was Harvard. And she hoped that would be the last thing she ever knew about the man. His eyes were mad, his hands stained in real, fresh blood. And the man next to him she did not know. But she knew he wasn't a man.
Blazing red eyes tracked her, seeing things, smelling things no human could. She had met many of the disguised demons in her time here, all of them leaving her a few moments after laying eyes on her. But this one was different, she could tell. He acted as if he had been expecting her for a while now, something of a relieved smile on his face.
Harvard spoke. "She is yours." Simple, clear, and direct, which made her tremble. The demon approached, taking her from the man that led her here.
Their eyes met, and she swore his blazed just a bit more on contact with her skin. A hand reached up to grab her jaw, a thumb brushing over her lips. The almost hysterical smile grew wider. "You have a very special specimen in your hands."
His hand went to the hem of her shirt and jerked it over her head, leaving her bare in the light. His eyes settled below her breasts, on the dark mark that had been cut and sawed away at for the past few months. Her captors had tried everything to rile the demon they thought held her in a contract, and were always angered by the empty crying that went unanswered by a hell-spawn. "Yes. Quite valuable. To the right demon, at least."
He looked up at Harvard, then back to her, blazing red eyes catching on her features once more. He looked absolutely ravenous. "Are you sure?"
"She is of no use to us." The leader stood perfectly still, then added: "You know your end of the bargain."
The demon's face did not falter, but his eyes leaned a bit murderous. "Very well then. I will take my… payment in advance, as you suggested."
Hair covered his face as he bent forward, looking down at the girl through lidded eyes. She stared up in horror, unable to move as he covered her mouth with his own, though not passionately as had the men before him. A tongue pushed past her numb lips, exploring as if momentarily lost, then darted down her throat. It burned a trail through her body and into dark depths that she did not know she could feel. And then, the tearing began.
It escalated quickly - something not of her but most definitely her, perhaps on a different pane, being rent and torn from it's surface, then bit at piece by piece. A pain she could not single out blossomed and spread like wildfire, consuming her whole. His eyes were closed, but she felt more than saw his ecstacy - a small moan passing into her oral cavity, his grip on her shoulders tightening. Tears spilled and dropped to the floor onto the demon's shoes, and her vision began to fade, the pain and his face dissolving as the lights started to dim.
But then, it simply stopped. Shouts that should have been louder to her called out, and the demon dropped her abruptly as the world came rushing back. She laid on the floor and watched the figures fall, feeling blood splatter over her feet and face.
And when it was quiet, she sat up, still dizzy with her near death experience. She looked for a living soul and found only one: a pair of simmering red eyes. He crawled out of the darkness like a wrath, surrounded by the death but untouched by it's red stains. Falling black feathers followed his path over the bodies strewn about, radiating a raw power that the demon before could not rival. He stooped down slowly, watching her frozen gaze pin him still. His eyes did not blaze but smoldered, hues different than the other demons she had met. He reached out to touch her mark.
When his hand met the dark circle nestled in between her ribs, she gasped. Through the darkness and exhaustion, pleasure suddenly blossomed from the spot. His fingers made one gentle pet and she was trembling, groaning out. He looked shocked, the shifting pools of flame brightening. "You are my mate."
And with those final words, she let oblivion take her, falling to the floor. Sebastian caught her before she hit the stone, scooping her up and cradling her in his arms.
She didn't know how long it was before she woke again, but she felt the pain immediately. A dull ache in the strange place where she was but was not lingered, and she trembled vigorously, eyes opening. She was wrapped in blankets warm with her heat, still in the tattered clothes of her captivity. She swam in the images of the dead men, the demon, and her savior.
She bolted upright, her abused body groaning in protest. She was in a dark, simple room, with spartan furnishings and soft candlelight. Her eyes darted over the place, seeing only one exit. But she was paralyzed as soon as that door opened.
A dark, tall figure entered the room, shutting the door softly. Black bangs hung over his lowered face, but she could see the bemused smirk on the man's lips. He looked up, revealing deep and warm amber eyes.
He approached carefully, head tilting as he observed her. His clothes were simple; fabric she could not place, but all dark colors. He stopped a few inches from the bed, looking down at her.
"How are you feeling?" Were his first tentative words, and suddenly, she knew him. Dirty red was replaced with smoldering coals, and those eyes belonged to the man that had killed them all. Not a man, but a demon. A demon that had killed them all so easily.
She jumped away, feeling tears already brimming at the corners of her eyes. The otherworldy ache intensified, and she remembered the darkness that tried to envelope her when the first demon had grasped her soul. She almost stumbled off the bed but froze, unsure what she would do. Because what could she do? He would devour her, just as easily as the other demon had, and she knew it was no use to run.
The man before her froze, hand outstretched to her. His eyes softened, gaze following her movements. Words came out of his mouth in a soft tone, calming, his voice a pleasant high tenor. "I know you're scared, and I know why. So I will assure you: I do not intend to harm you, m'lady."
She trembled, tears still spilling over her cheeks onto her dirty blouse. He must have replaced it, and the ghost trail his hands made in her sleep suddenly crawled, making her shiver. He again approached closer, raising a knee onto the bed. "I know you want an explanation, so I'm going to give it to you."
He reached for her hand and grabbed it before she could snatch it away, grip firm but careful not to hurt her. "Please," he gave a small tug on her arm. "Sit."
She paused, sucking in a breath and considering her options. She waited for him to lunge, to attack, but he just sat still, waiting. She trembled, holding in a sob, and moved back to the middle of the bed where she had been sleeping, pulling the covers over herself.
He helped tuck her in, smoothing the covers over her. He scooted closer, resting fully on the bed before he began. "You know I am a demon, as was the man that tried to take your soul," he stated, waiting for her to nod before he continued.
"I recently finished some business in your world and had just returned to my home." He trailed his fingers over the thick threads in the blanket covering her thighs. "I was informed that a large amount of summonings were being performed by a cult. One demon that answered a summoning claimed he saw an imprisoned human with a demon's mark… A specific mark. A mark that identifies a person as being a demon's soulmate."
He locked his soft gaze with hers, his voice still gentle. "That captured human was you." He lifted a hand, the first thing she saw being his midnight nails, fingers flexing briefly. But as he turned his palm toward him, revealing a black symbol on the back of his hand, she realized that that patch of tattooed skin was familiar. She had seen it many, many times, in mirrors and looking down in baths, and recently, in torture chambers. "You bear my mark, and are thus my soulmate."
He leaned in, and somewhere in the conversation the smirk he had worn had disappeared, leaving a genuine smile. His fingers flicked away the tears off of her cheeks, and then brushed back her dirty hair. "I know this is all much to take in. The best thing to do would be to get you cleaned up and ready for bed, so would you allow me to assist you?"
She gulped, still terrified of him, but nodded slowly. He pulled back the covers and slipped his arms underneath her legs and her back, picking her up. She squeaked in her throat, tears still falling down her cheeks, and he paused. He hugged her close, leaning down to murmur in her ear tenderly. "It's perfectly fine to cry, too."
It took her a second to register his words, but then not a moment longer to take the liberty he offered. Her breaths hitched, sucking in air and then letting out a long wail. He stood and rocked her, switching her position from being carried bridal style to holding her flush against him, one hand on her back and another arm underneath her bottom. Her legs wrapped around his torso on instinct, trying to stay secure in his arms to avoid being dropped. She buried her head in his shoulder, sobbing and sucking in breaths to sob some more. He whispered nothing in particular in her ears, slowly making his way towards his bathroom.
Once inside the stone room, he set her on the counter and attended to her for a few more moments, allowing her to calm down. She sniffled and hiccuped, still grimacing with the effort to hold back tears every few moments. "Now what did I tell you," he admonished gently, wiping her cheeks and nose. She sobbed weakly at that, and he cupped her face in his hands, brushing over her cheekbones and temples.
He left her once she was calm, and she then had a moment to observe her surroundings. A porcelain bathtub was the only thing that was of her world, stone walls, ceiling and floor dominating the atmosphere, like the bedroom. A couple of stools and a chair sat agains the far wall, dusty. Candlelight from half-melted, but recently re-lit sticks illuminated this space as well, the countertop she sat on set with plain tile. Her feet hung, then kicked backwards, finding an open space beneath the shelf.
He returned, a warm rag wiping at her eyes. She let him, but didn't know exactly why she let this stranger be so intimate with her. One hand pressed the rag against her sore eyes and the other grabbed her hand, kneading her joints and fingertips as he seemed to examine her nails. She realized that perhaps a more pressing question was not why she let him do this, but why he wanted to do it.
He was picking her up again, holding her flush against him like an infant and murmuring soothingly into her ears as she started up a small wail. He walked forward a few steps and she realized that water was running, and turned her head around to look.
He had drawn a bath for her, and how inviting the scents were. A thick layer of bubbles frothed the surface like whip topping, and she almost leaped out of his arms into it. But he set her down, turning her around to face the tub and pulling up the hem of her shirt.
She yanked it back down, spinning around as she clutched herself. He held his hands up, smiling. "I promise, I'm not going to hurt you, and you will need help cleaning yourself. This will be painless, my dear."
She sucked in a breath, eyes brimming yet again, and she began to get mad at herself. Why was she crying so much? She had never cried in front of anyone, for doing so meant weakness, and weakness meant punishment. She turned away from Sebastian, hands going to her face to stifle the tears. He turned her back around, though, his embrace becoming more and more familiar as he pulled her into him.
"I think you just need some time to let it out, don't you?" He whispered into her hair, his breath warm on her scalp, his lips warmer when he kissed it. "Yes, let it out… Better now than later."
She clutched at his clothes, weeping bitterly. When her voice started to go hoarse he sat down at the tub's edge and pulled her into his lap. She didn't really know how long they sat there while her tears stained his shirt, or exactly when he started undressing her and lowered her into the tub. The next thing she was really coherent of was his gentle hands scrubbing away at her back, occasionally putting in a long therapeutic stroke down her shoulders and spine.
She wasn't quite prepared, though, when he ventured lower, and almost jumped out of the tub when he ran the rag over her hips. He held her by them, setting her back down and leaning down to whisper in her ear once more. "I will not hurt you. I give you my word."
She sat still again, trembling slightly when a soapy wet hand came to pull back her hair as the other continued it's travel. But, when he found her bottom and began rubbing in circles around her seat bones, she finally lost the last of the tension she had been carrying. She leaned forward, allowing him full access as he finished her bathing.
Once he was done massaging her feet and she was adequately sleepy, he returned to her head at the other end of the tub. He lathered shampoo into her hair, taking his time kneading her scalp and rubbing around her ears. He felt her dozing of in his hands, her head falling limp. He smiled, satisfied that she would be ready for bed as soon as she was dried and fed.
After rinsing her hair out, he helped her stand up, wrapping a towel around her and picking her up slowly. He smiled at the sight of her face, eyes half-lidded and staring blearily at him. He set her on the counter and laid her out, hands rubbing up and down her sides as he contemplated if he was done with his new toy or not.
He touched the smooth skin of her calf and decided no, he would give one finishing touch. Picking her up to move her to a high-backed chair, he pulled a pair of boy shorts on her and a nightgown before setting her down again. He reached into his cabinet and unscrewed a jar, returning to her to find she was already asleep, head lolled to the side and breathing deeply. He chuckled, kneeling down and pulling a foot into his lap, taking some heavy lotion out of the jar and beginning to work it into her legs and feet.
Once all of her skin was thoroughly hydrated, he took her back into his bedroom, letting her sleep while he prepared her dinner. Beans and rice was sadly all he was able to acquire at the moment, but reflecting on it, he realized that was probably for the best. After seeing how thin her bare body was, he knew that she had been malnourished, and would be sensitive to rich foods. He would be careful while feeding her to make sure she didn't become sick.
Propping her up with pillows, he stroked her face to awaken her, offering the spoonful wordlessly once she was aware. She opened her mouth after a moments contemplation, blushing when he fed her. Her eyes darted over the room, curiosity lighting her pupils, but it also seemed she just felt awkward in her predicament. It took quite a bit of power to not grin at her adorable countenance.
After half the food was gone he decided that would be enough, stoking the fire once more before climbing into bed with her. She stiffened slightly when he wrapped his arms around her, but then relaxed when he kissed her hair and murmured more comforting noises. She was unsure how she felt about this entire evening - it was as if this man was working some kind of strange magic over her, but her tired brain would only allow her one question before going back to sleep. She turned over to him, eyeing him suspiciously.
"You never told me your name." It was the first words she had ever spoken to him, and how captivating the sound was - something reminiscent to a certain boy earl he remembered from many, many years ago. It was childish and innocent, light and airy with hesitance, ending with what was almost a quiet echo.
"Sebastian." He supplied, reaching up to brush a knuckle over his mark on her, loving the way her breath hitched even through the fabric of her nightgown. He never knew having such power over another being would be so satisfying. "Though I have had many names, that's the one you are going to be most comfortable with. You never told me yours, either."
She paused, contemplating, wrinkling her nose. She was silent for several long moments, avoiding eye contact. "You can call me Scout."
"Scout?" He parroted, quirking a brow. "That's not your given name, is it?"
"No." She replied, stopping suddenly, her mouth gape like a dead fish as her sore eyes darted over the threads in the sheets. She appeared uneasy for more reasons than that he was a demon, shaking her head sleepily and then yawning. "But that's what I am. Scout. It's why they found me.. I was scouting for a group against… them."
"Ah." Was all Sebastian could say in reply, though he felt his hands tighten possessively around her as she spoke of her captors. "But they don't have you anymore, do they? So why keep the name?"
She paused again, her response abrupt when she continued. "Because they'll always have me. Behind my eyes, they do." Her voice was no longer that almost infantile, spacious lilt, but an empty space, hollow.
He almost growled, but what ended up escaping him was a rather ominous chuckle. "Not if I have any say in it."
He pulled her even closer if it was possible, his leg wrapping over hers. "I will not allow anyone to touch you again, for you are mine. Completely mine, every inch of you, and you will never be anyone else's."
He pulled her up to his face, kissing her on the lips with a shaky resolve to not take her abused body there and then. "Mine."
She blushed, eyes wide, numbness keeping her from registering until he dragged his fingertips over the mark again. She gasped, trembling and shying away. He pulled her back in though, wrapping his arms around her, rocking and shushing whenever she whimpered or sobbed. Only when she was finally sound asleep did he allow himself to rest, breathing in her scent to reassure himself that she wasn't moving until he did.
Mine, was his last conscious thought, his hands cupping over her mark.