Hello, everyone. This is my very first full-length novel for Kuroshitsuji. I have written a few one-shots but never a full story. I hope you enjoy it.
Just a few warnings:
This is rated M for a reason. In this chapter, there is a very, very gruesome scene that is not appropriate for weak stomachs or immature readers. I am not joking when I use the word "gruesome." Please take this warning seriously.
There is SebastianxCiel romance. If this is not a pairing you support, then this story may not be right for you.
Disclaimers:
I do not own Kuroshitsuji. But if I did... let's just say I won't listen to my editors. ;)
And now, without further ado... The first chapter of my first Kuroshitsuji full-length story, A Perfect Disguise...
Where's the pervert?
That was the one thought running through the boy's furious head, his large blue eyes frantically searching the ballroom for sight of the man whose blood he dreamed to shed.
Fixing his small pink hat one more time, adjusting the feathery mask around his face, and making sure his dress was not wrinkly from the back, he once more scanned the ballroom for the man.
The animal, he mentally corrected. He's the one hosting this party. He should be here. Where is he? I can't be here for long… I must go back to my… room…
Finally, he found him. There, walking through the doors with a smug smile on his face, dressed in a sophisticated black suit, greeting and shaking hands with his visitors. His hands… the boy mentally shuddered at the memory of those hands, feeling their way around his body, in his body. But he had to do this. He had to allow those hands to touch him one more time before he stopped them dead in their tracks. Dead in their tracks, he thought, internally snickering at the irony of the expression.
The boy did what he practiced a hundred times in the mirror. He lidded his eyes, held his hands closely and gently near his chest, and pouted his lips. I can't believe I'm doing this…
He quietly, slowly made his way toward the man. The man looked up to meet the boy's gaze, and an appreciative expression took over his face, a glint in his eyes, and he licked his lips sensually, also beginning to approach the boy.
The thoughts came in a rush of panic in the boy's head. He's coming… he's coming… This is working… this is too perfect… but… I don't want… to go through that again… And what if he notices me? What if he notices me? Still, he forced himself forward, but all of a sudden, he bumped into someone walking in the opposite direction.
"I—I'm sorry," the boy quickly apologized, not focusing on the person he bumped into, just focusing on the one and only reason he was here.
"It is quite alright," a velvety, smooth voice responded, "milady."
The boy fumed at the title, but he quickly remembered it was expected considering his disguise, and refocused his attention back on the man he was here to kill, still not daring to look at the owner of the velvety voice.
"Say, milady," the voice began, "may I have this dance?"
The child's face flushed at the question. "N-no!" He turned to look at the owner of such a voice, but he paused as he took in the man in front of him. The man's hair was dark, as dark as his suit. And his eyes… his eyes were a bloody, dangerous red. His lips were curved in a polite smile, and his face was pale and… perfect.
This man is so strange! But he is not what I am here for. I need to find the pervert, get him in a place alone, and kill him. Yes, he reminded himself, this is what I am here for. Not to talk to this man or notice how strange and unnatural he is.
The boy once again attempted to walk to his victim, but his victim was the one approaching his own predator, dodging the swarms of people, his eyes set determinedly on the boy across the room.
"Why not, milady?" the voice called out.
If he calls me that one more time, I swear—
The boy kept walking away, purposely avoiding the persistent stranger.
"Milady—"
Maybe I should change my murder victim here.
"Your corset… is not tied properly…"
The child turned on his heels to glare at the smugly smirking man, his face red with both fury and embarrassment. I worked hard on that corset!
The man continued, unfazed, the smirk widening. "Would you like me to tie it for you?"
"NO! Leave me alone!"
The boy quickly made his way through the crowd of aristocrats and focused again on the pervert. Finally, he reached him, and he forced himself to look down to the floor "shyly."
"Good evening," the pervert greeted the boy, his arms snaking around his waist. "May I have this dance?"
"Of course," the boy responded, gulping his disgust and willing his voice to take on a feminine pitch.
The man leaned down to grab a glass of wine from the table next to him, and quickly, the boy was snatched away from his hold. The boy looked up furiously to find the strange red-eyed man, gently holding his arm.
"Why won't you dance with me?" the man asked, an almost disappointed look on his pale face.
"G-get—get away!" the boy growled angrily, eyebrows furrowing. "Desperate pervert!"
"Oh? And the old man over there," the man addressed the boy's victim, pointedly lifting his chin toward him, "isn't a pervert? You are far younger than him… you should not be seducing him."
"W-what—" the boy's face flushed drastically as anger boiled through him, "I'm not seducing him! And—and I'm far younger than you, too!"
"Yes," the strange man agreed, a smirk on his face, "but I am closer to your age than he is. Dance with me instead, milady… you haven't danced with anyone at all since you came to this dreadful New Year's Eve party."
"How did you know?" the boy glanced at a clock on the wall… It's 11:58… Close to 12:00 AM… Close to the end of the party. He had to get to the pervert. "Let go of my arm!" the boy-disguised-as-girl yelled, trying to free his arm of the strange man's hold.
"Fine," the stranger agreed in defeat and disappointment.
The boy breathed a sigh of relief and again focused his attention on reaching the old man, who was now adjusting his tie and smoothing his hair back.
11:59.
The boy was desperate now… he had to get to the man before 12:00 AM… he had to get to him, even if it was right at 12:00. Maybe the old man will take him up to his… bedroom. The boy's heart thumped at the same rate that the hand of the clock moved, counting down the seconds.
And then…
The clock struck. The candles were lit out to allow the people to witness the fireworks outside. Celebratory screams were heard. The boy was grabbed and pushed against a wall.
An arm wrapped around the boy's waist, and lips rested gently on his.
Who is kissing me?
The boy did not know the answer to his own question, but the kiss was heated, soft, gentle, compassionate… nothing like the old man's rough, painful, and often slobbery kisses.
He closed his eyes and gave into the kiss, relieved to find such comfort after years of pain and agony.
He could feel the hands of the person kissing him move up to stroke his hair, and then… to untie his mask…
Untie my mask… the boy's mind was in a haze, unable to think or realize… and quickly, suddenly, his mind switched on. Untie my mask! The boy realized what was going on with a gasp, but it was too late. His mask fell softly to the ground as he opened his eyes in shock.
The person who kissed him… was the red-eyed stranger.
"H-how dare you?" the boy's voice shook angrily, incredulously, his eyes widening and face reddening, only to be returned by a triumphant smirk from the raven-haired man in front of him.
The entire ballroom was staring, but only one pair of staring eyes mattered: the old man's. Now the old man knew it was him. The old man knew his eyes very well. The boy's disguise was uncovered. He would be severely punished for this, the boy realized quickly by the dangerous expression in the man's eyes.
"CIEL PHANTOMHIVE!" the old man barked. He quickly dashed across the room to grab the boy, Ciel, roughly by the arm. He smiled at the confused aristocrats, feigning politeness and kindness, and said, "Just a moment. Please do enjoy the celebration. Happy new year's!"
The aristocrats continued with their chatter, good wishes, and wine. Only one person in the crowd did not take his attention away from the situation. The red-eyed stranger.
"Dressed up as a girl, eh?" the old man spat out once he and Ciel were alone in the pervert's room. "Tryna seduce me? You really wanna have sex that bad, boy?"
"No! I—I don't—"
The man sneered before pushing the child onto the bed and climbing to hover over him. "Been resisting all this time… I actually thought you really didn't want it… but today, you really proved you did," the man said smugly, the sneer refusing to leave his wrinkly face.
"Th-that's not true!" Ciel yelled out, his hands sliding over the dress to grip against the knife tied with a garter around his right thigh.
"Oh, really?" the man said, smiling to show browning teeth and to release a horrid breath.
Ciel held his breath in disgust at both the man and the scent rushing into his nose.
The old man quickly slid his hands underneath the child's dress, and Ciel silently and desperately, worriedly prayed for those hands to go anywhere except on the knife.
"Such smooth skin…" the man said, his eyes half-closed, a glint of desire overtaking them. His hands traveled upward, and Ciel flinched at the touch.
The man laughed sadistically at the discomfort of the boy underneath him, and his hands continued to travel upward until they reached his thigh.
Shit.
The man's hands rubbed Ciel's thigh until the old man felt the knife and immediately paused.
Memories of his plan ran through Ciel's frantic head. Once the old man was gone to prepare the party, Ciel had snuck into the kitchen and had gotten hold of the sharpest, best, but smallest knife in there. The old pervert deliberately hid guns away from all the children in his manor. They all shared ill feelings toward him, and he knew that. He needed them for business… for money, to sell them nightly for money and occasionally to take advantage of them himself. He couldn't have them kill him. But Ciel had managed to find a way to kill this man without a gun: with a knife. He had planned to seduce him during this party, and he knew he couldn't do this publicly if he was dressed as a boy… so he hid under the disguise of a woman, using the dress of an aristocratic girl who was also a sex slave, who supported Ciel and dreamed for the day of the old pervert's funeral. It had been going so well…
Until now.
The old man above him quickly pulled the knife out of Ciel's garter and held it close, shock and disbelief filling his face.
Run. Run now.
Ciel frantically sat up and struggled to escape from underneath the man. But the shock on the man's aging face quickly switched to anger as he pushed Ciel back down with his hands.
"Wanted to kill me?" he yelled out.
Ciel did not respond. Instead, he struggled and squirmed even more.
The man turned Ciel over, laying him flat on his stomach, and yanked his dress up. He thought again about what to do, and then quickly ripped the dress off Ciel, exposing his tiny body. Then, he roughly slid the boy's underwear off his slim legs, and… shoved the knife inside the boy's entrance.
The child screamed in agony, tears welling in his eyes at the pain and feel of the knife ripping through him, trying so hard to escape the man's grip. He pulled himself toward the edge of the bed, holding onto the bed sheets for support, only to be pulled back down by the old man. His wig slid off as a result of the violent struggle he was going through.
How could such an old man have such strength?
"D-don't—please don't!" the boy begged and screamed, tears now flowing down his cheeks, as the knife was pushed deeper into him and moved right and left, up and down, adding to the pain and the screams.
The man laughed sinisterly, an evil glint taking over his dead black eyes. He was pushing the knife so deep in that the handle of the knife almost touched the child's sensitive skin. The boy screamed and kicked violently, but one of his ankles was pressed against by the man's feet, and the other ankle was held by one of the man's unnaturally strong hands. The boy still thrashed with his upper body, but it only caused the man's anger and impatience to increase, and soon the entire knife, handle and all, was shoved deep into the boy's entrance.
Blood quickly rushed out, drenching the bed sheets and the clothes of the man above. But the man did not care. The boy was soaked in blood, his chest pressing against the wet, warm red substance. The old man then took out the knife, and the boy audibly sighed in relief, but he was still sobbing and whimpering in pain. Maybe now I can finally die alone and in a little less pain. The old man laughed cruelly, and the boy's previous resistance only strengthened the man's actions as he unbuttoned his pants to release a very excited part of himself.
The boy was raped. Again. Just like every night.
This night, however, it was especially painful, especially disgusting, and especially bloody. One forceful thrust from the man caused so many things: spurts of blood, weak whimpers, hot tears, and… pain.
Minutes passed like hours, and Ciel was doing nothing now but lying there, just waiting for it all to end.
I wait every night. Every night, I silently wait for it to end… whether they are customers or this animal, everyone always leaves. Always. Tonight will be no different.
When the old pervert was finished, he called for several customers in the hallway. "There's a boy in here. You can have him for free tonight."
The men rushed in eagerly, each taking a turn on the emotionless, quiet child who was doing nothing but silently crying and hoping for his quick death.
Their hollers were loud, all of them pleased and excited, but they got bored easily.
"He's not resisting," one pointed out.
"Yeah, he's boring."
"No wonder he's free."
"Why is he bleeding though?"
"Who cares?"
"Let's go!"
They all had one quick, final moment of sex with the boy before, with snickers and laughter, leaving the room, and leaving the child alone.
I think my prayers for death are being answered… my breath… is getting shorter. My heartbeat… is getting fainter… slower… The old man… must've shredded… something important… Either that… or I'm… losing all my blood. It doesn't matter what the cause is… I just want to die… I hate this pain… It's unbearable. I just want to… leave.
"Ciel Phantomhive."
What is that voice? It is so soft… so gentle… so welcoming… unlike the old pervert's voice… or the voices of those customers. Maybe it is the voice of death.
"Ciel Phantomhive," the voice sounded again, this time more urgently, more… concernedly.
Concerned? Why would this person be concerned for me? Even if that were the case, the voice… is still…comforting.
"You are dying."
I know.
"I will save you."
Yes, Death, please… please save me from this pain.
"Do you wish to form a contract with me?"
I did not know people formed contracts with Death…
"I will save you, and I will protect you as I seek revenge for you on the people who committed these acts against you."
Protect me? Revenge?
"In exchange, you will loyally guard my home, and you will give me your soul."
Yes. This does sound like Death. But… guard his home?
"Do you accept the terms of our contract?"
Yes.
The voice grew louder, but its warmth and sense of comfort was still there. "Do you accept the terms of our contract?"
The child managed out a weak whisper, "Yes."
A long pause followed the child's decision, and then a dark chuckle chilled the room, the voice losing all its serenity when it said, "Very well."
And then… darkness.
Hope you guys liked it. Thanks for reading. Feel free to review!