Title: De sang et du vin
A/N: I hate sebaciel (he took the form of his father, dammit), but I'm a sucker for smut and requests. You can thank my friend for "making" me write this, by the way. And, er, I guess slight rape? I mean, Lizzie is drugged.
September 3, 1895
His milky, pure as snow skin was blemished, caked with sanguine love bites painted in his ichor, and the jagged cicatrixes from teeth who sink into his swan-like neck. The empyrean around him blurred — as if he'd held his breath for a second too long. He was naked; that much he knew, his sullen flesh caressed by the satin sheets beneath his lithe form, and his mind muddled as desire ebbed through his pounding temples, washing over him in waves. A ripple of wanton lust, of wanting something he should never want, of desiring something he should never desire — a sickening obsession he craved. His thighs tremble, and his breaths are shallow because fuck—
Ciel wants him to pound into him in the most carnal, and violent way possible. He wants to feel the touch of his delicate wife disregarded into the night, sullied by the hungry pain of pearly whites, his skin a canvas — painted by the red-wine of his blood. He wanted the miasma of lecherous arousal to overpower the flowered fragrance of his drugged wife, her sylphlike figure just touching his panting flesh, blonde cork-screw curls matted across his chest.
A velvet chuckle encased his senses, and he mewled — like a famished kitten — as his body writhed against the cool sheets. The contusions marked across his delicate skin matched his sopping, cobalt-blue mane, and he whined as gloved hands fondled his burning flesh. "My, my," the voice was dripping with mirth, "aren't you feeling needy tonight, my lord?"
The boy flushed, his legs draped over lean shoulders, and he could feel the slick heat growing between his thighs as the room set his skin aflame. "Shu— shut up!" he groused, his moans wanton as blackened nails caressed his body — suave, aristocratic hands with fingers that seared into his soft, white skin. One hand traced his rusty-rose nipple before spreading to encase his slick member, just barely grazing a thick, red vein. He could feel himself buck his hips, his whimper swallowed by lips as red as the eyes staring into his own, his hips searching for the friction he so desperately needed. Searching for the skin to skin contact that would leave him sore from exhaustion and seeking for excuses to stay wrapped in the cool sheets the next morning.
An uncharacteristic, breathy purr escaped his lifts as he conjured it in his carnal thoughts — he needed heat, the pulse of him inside of his limber body, thick and stretching him till he shatters like sugar glass. He closed his eyes and hummed, it was so wrong, but he needed to feel full as his nails caressed the delicate features of his wife's face, her milky flesh kissing his own as the figure above him pounded into his velvet heat.
Sebastian— this time, his moan came out with a hint of pain as the hands clamped down on his hips, pulling his body into a lean, smooth chest. No, he wanted to cry, keep touching me — don't stop, that's an order! He felt his slick tongue caress the shell of his ear, sharp-edged nails tracing his jawline as teeth began to nip at his craned neck, sucking his pulse with a vicious sort of triumph. Ciel wanted to push him away, order him to stop this fickle act, but as slender fingers pushed past his ruby lips, he found himself drowning. He could hear the drum of his heartbeat as his tongue lolled across nails as dark as the crow feathers clutched in his spouse's hand, the thrumming of his heart setting the rhythm of the night on edge.
"Tell me, young master..." the voice was like honey, demanding but sweet. "Tell me what you want," and Ciel sighed as the fingers pulled away from his lips, drool coating the slender digits, and he looked into familiar rubicund eyes, biting his plump lips a dark purple.
"Stop—" he managed, panting. "Stop teasing me, you bloody—"
One long finger thrust inside of him, enveloped by humming flesh, greedily pulling him inside of him, deeper and deeper. Ciel withered against the bed sheets, lifting his hips as another digit joined the first, trying to match the harsh strokes. "Goodness. So very greedy, aren't you, master?" he murmured, wrapping his free hand around the boy's cock, outlining the tip with nimble fingers.
"Wha— no! Don't touch me, that's an—" His words were swallowed by lips as red as blood, sharp canines pulling at his gums; Ciel could almost hear the figure above him smirk. With half-lidded eyes, Ciel could see that his eyes were as hazy as his own — filled with carnal desire and unrepentant lust and for a dark minute, Ciel lost himself in them, his hand only stopping a few inches from his aristocratic features. Ciel whimpered as a third digit thrummed inside of him, his silk walls pulsing around the fingers, demanding for something more, something longer.
"Tell me, bocchan, tell me what you want." His voice seemed to echo across the barren room, and Ciel could feel his wife shift next to him, a wave of pleasurable guilt crashing over him as her hand found its way on his panting chest, the feathers now scattered across his stomach. "Scream it for me."
"How uncouth," he sputtered, "I am not a wanton—"
A sharp, shrill scream left his lips as the ruby-eyed butler squeezed his cock, the head pulsing a violent muave as sharp-edged fingernails pierced his silken flesh. "On the contrary," the voice seemed to laugh at him. "I believe that is exactly what you are, my lord."
"How dare you!" he yelled, whimpering as the fingers inside of him suddenly stopped, pulling out from his velvet heat. "Wait—"
"Yes, master? Tell me what it is you need..." his hands caressed his bruised thighs tenderly, almost lovingly, but Ciel knew his mind was playing tricks.
"Please — God, please don't stop!" he cursed, lifting his hips wantingly, he needed to feel him inside of him, be damn his pride. "Sebastian, please..."
"Say it." The voice crooned, and Ciel could feel the hard press of his arousal against his leg, pulsing against him like a steady heartbeat. "You sound so pretty when you beg for me..."
Ciel blushed, letting his hands wander towards his wife's chest, fondling her breast through her sheer nightgown. He loved her, but as he looked into the demon's eyes, he quickly forgets her, and the loving caresses of her touch. "Touch me," he wanted to cry out in desperation, but he kept his voice steady. "Make me forget..."
The same ruby-amethyst eyes flashed a brilliant fuschia like a wicked gem; a nasty grin seemingly etched onto thin lips. "With pleasure, my lord."
Ciel's muddled mind could barely comprehend what was happening, but he could hear him whispering against his neck, pulling him closer to the pulsing arousal pressed against his inner thigh. He could feel his entire body arch, his forehead pressed against his, eyes closed as a burst of white heat ran through his body, cumulating at his lower belly before he felt the thick, pulsing length press into him, pushing against his walls painfully. Euphoria ebbed through his skull as his head was pounded into the satin sheets, breathy moans leaving his lips, one after the other, and he found himself lost for words.
The coldness of metal pressed against his chest, and he frowned as he felt it scratch him, drops of blood scattering across the small wound. His wife loved him, and as he felt the diamond of her wedding ring push against his stomach, the feathers tickling his sensitive flesh, bile rose to his throat.
And his protests were swallowed with a searing kiss.