Present – aged 31.
It's the rush.
The intensity of the slightest touch.
Skin on skin contact and the blast of panting breath as it breezes past you, each follicle electrified and intensified. The feel of someone's hands as they run down your back, nails digging and scratching at the muscle underneath. The feeling of your heartbeat as it quickens and thumps. The taste in your mouth as you lean in and touch your tongue to the salty skin underneath – lapping and licking, kissing and biting.
The sensation of being filled to the brim as you're balanced precariously against a wall, being slammed against it as you cry, pant, beg, plead – scream for oh so much more and you get it. You get all that you ask for and extra.
This is the experience of being absolutely alive.
In this moment in time, you are utterly and completely alive.
"What is your name?" She pants hoarsely.
"No names." He growls in return.
"But-"
"Shh, it's better if you don't speak – now turn around." He instructs as he pulls out of her and spins her around, placing his left hand on the top of her back. He holds her still as he bends her over, her body feels empty but that only lasts for a second as he drives back into her, causing her to cry out. Reaching over with his right hand, he traces his long fingers over her moistened, parted lips. Between her breathy mewls, she licks and playfully nibbles at his fingers before he slaps his palm across her mouth and holds it shut – preferring the silence over her sounds of pleasure. Normally men hear that as encouragement, he just hears it as senseless noise.
When he finishes, he quickly pulls out and drops her. She falls slightly forward, placing both of her hands against the wall, bracing herself as she tries to catch her breath.
He straightens himself up and quickly cleans himself off with the tissue from the nearby dispenser. That's the thing about doing this in bathrooms; you can get cleaned up easily. She leans against the wall and starts to stretch out her back as she pulls down the hem of her skirt. Glancing over her shoulder, she espies him reaching into his trouser pocket and pulling out a small platinum ring. She watches curiously as he slips it on to his left ring finger.
"You're married?" She wonders aloud as she shifts herself from against the wall.
"Yes."
"Is it that Angela you kept calling out?" She huffs.
"Yes." He replies honestly as he tucks his shirttails back into his trousers.
"Why don't you do this with her then?" She was feeling oddly bold, well; they had just fucked in a bathroom, surely that allowed her a few bonus questions.
"Because I can't do this to her." He pauses as he reflects further on his reasoning. "Because she isn't a whore." His voice is calm and even.
"I'm not a whore!" She retorts angrily. He smiles wryly at her as he buttons his coat.
"Look at what we just did and tell me that again."
She furrows her brow at the thought, realizing it is true in this moment, and pouts as she leans back against the wall, crossing her arms in a huff.
"Does that mean we can't see each other ag-"
"Absolutely not." He cuts her off.
What a ridiculous thought.
…
Past – aged 25.
Sebastian Michaelis met Angela Blanc purely by accident.
He was at the expansive University library, strumming his fingers impatiently against the bookshelf as he examined the various titles on display. He figured his brain was a little frazzled as it was in the middle of summer and England was having an uncharacteristic heat wave. Still, he wanted something to read, frazzled brain or not. He wasn't looking for anything in particular; he was just interested in something different.
"Excuse me, may I grab a book?" Sebastian turned to see a pair of vibrant violent eyes peering back at him. "It's just right there, if you could move slightly." She smiled.
Sebastian took a moment to regard her, tall, almost as tall as him. She was striking, her face was flawless, as white and as smooth as the finest porcelain. Her features were soft; high cheekbones, rounded nose, and almond shaped eyes. She had the most curious colored hair, the lightest lavender, which only brought out the violet in her eyes; it was wavy and just past her chin. In the time it took Sebastian to take all of her in, the flowing linen summer dress with an English Rose pattern, the white ballet flats she wore to match and the delicate silver bracelet she wore around her tiny wrist, he noticed all of those things but he didn't seem to notice that she was frowning at him.
"Seriously, you're blocking the book I need."
"Hm?" He started to snap out of his trance, "Yes, sorry." He stepped aside but he continued to stare at her as she reached up above his head to grab the book she was looking for. Sebastian dropped his eyes down to her thin ankles and then moved on up her shapely calves to the part of her thigh that was ever so slightly exposed by the hem of her skirt lifting as she stood on tiptoe to reach.
"You know, instead of leering, a gentlemen would help a lady." She jested as she rocked back to her heels. Sebastian nodded and smiled as he causally ran his hand through his hair – he'd been caught staring.
"Of course, you're right. Which book to you need?"
She points to the book with the cream colored spine.
"That one, on child psychology."
Sebastian reached up and pulled it out for her.
"Are you in the psychology department? I haven't seen you around." He handed her the book.
"That's because I'm not, I'm actually taking a supplementary course for my degree. I'm going into education – for my sins." She simpered. "Well, thank you for getting the book. I'll see you around." She held the book close to her chest and turned to leave but Sebastian followed after her.
"Wait, I'm in the psychology department and I've taken that class, I'd be happy to study with you, if you want." She ignored him and walked faster down the aisle. "Hey, wait!" Sebastian called after her.
"Sorry but I don't like to waste time on people who just perv on me." She rebuked.
Moving faster, Sebastian stepped in front of her, blocking her in the aisle.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to stare, it's just that you're so beautiful and-"
"Save it." She shut him down, an action that caused Sebastians' face to fall, which caused her to be slightly amused. She put the side of her index finger to her lips as she watched him, she giggled slightly. "Maybe we should start from the beginning." She suggested. "My name is Angela Blanc, education and scholastic studies department." She holds out her hand and Sebastian accepts it.
"Sebastian Michaelis, psychology department." He smiles as he shakes her hand.
"It's nice to meet you, Sebastian."
After that meeting, the pair were almost virtually inseparable a fact that came to no surprise their friends and friends. The pair were so compatible that it was almost frightening how alike they truly were. They made an elegant couple, visually attractive and graceful – and almost everyone they came across tried to emulate them.
Sebastian not only loved and respected Angela, he also adored and he worshiped her – placing her on such a high pedestal that it was virtually impossible for anyone to reach her, especially him.
Holding only the highest moral values, Angela insisted on their relationship being nothing but chaste until they were married, a request that did not bother Sebastian in the slightest – it only further promoted her angelic status to him.
He loved being around her, as in his own mind; he could be as pure as her by proxy.
There was something about Sebastian that not even Angela knew, something he knew she wouldn't understand – he barely understood it himself but it was something that bothered him. No matter how complete he thought he was – he was empty and hollow. He was desperately seeking something that he needed – something that he craved. At night, when no one was looking, it was something he sought out in crowded bars or seedy clubs. At night, he became a predator and relished hunting and capturing his prey. Once he was done, he discarded them – his emptiness was filled and he was left feeling whole and complete – that is, until the next time.
Shortly after his doctorial thesis was accepted, Sebastian and Angela were married in spring, at a small church by Bassenthwaite Lake in the Lake District, the place where Angela grew up.
They bought their first house and moved to Rotherhithe in the summer where they have been ever since, the pair being truly happy with their home and each other. Sebastian became a psychotherapist at a small private practice in Bermondsey and Angela a head teacher at the local Church of England Primary School.
They lived in relative bliss with one another and everything was wonderful. Although, however wonderful his life was, Sebastian was always lacking something, the scratch for the itch that constantly annoyed him – it was always stuck in a place he just could not reach. Making love to Angela was always beautiful but it lacked passion, it felt good but it missed depravity – something he needed to feel alive. Of course, if he couldn't do that with her, he would have to seek out alternative ways to scratch his itch, which is something he did on an almost daily basis – most times, after work.
He would walk towards the train station but go just past it, stopping off at one bar or another. In Bermondsey, there were plenty of places to go to get a drink so it wasn't as though Sebastian was without choice. He would go into a bar, order a pint and sit down and wait – looking the way he did, it would never take long for him to be approached but he was picky though, always choosy – his prey had to be of a certain standard for him to be mildly aroused. He looked at their shoes, depending on the brand he wouldn't waste his time, then the dress – always a dress or a skirt, it allowed for easy access. However, he preferred designer, the more couture the better – it meant that they too had standards and were most likely, powerful. In the time it would take for him to be approached, it would take even less time for him to leave with whoever happened to fall under his spell that night.
In a bathroom stall or out back in the alleyway – it didn't matter to him as long as they obeyed. With the way his baritone voice would purr in their ears, they would melt, making them pliable under his touch and under his command. Sebastian would sometimes be disgusted by just how simple it was to take control over these seemingly powerful women but once he had done so, that feeling wouldn't last very long.
And when it was over – it was always the same. No pleasantries, no names, no good-byes – just go. When they left, he would then head home to his wife.
To Sebastian, Angela was the epitome of purity. He saw her as an angel and he hated himself daily for what he was doing to her, but he could never taint her. He could never drag her down here to this level and debase her. To act out all that he had in his head, all of his dark thoughts and twisted fantasies – he couldn't do that to her – and more importantly, he just couldn't see her in that way. So whenever they made love it was beautiful but it simply wasn't enough.
…
Past – aged 30.
"Excellent session today, I really think we're making strides in your recovery. Here, let me walk you out." Sebastian arose from his chair as his patient, across from him, stood to her feet.
He plopped his notebook down on the chair, held out his arms and guided her out of the room and into the hallway. He leant against the doorway as she turned back to him with a bright smile.
"Thanks Dr. Michaelis, I'll see you next week."
He smiled back at her and nodded as he watched her walk down the hallway.
Turning to go back inside his office, he left the door open slightly as he let his mind wander back to the discussion of his last session. Dipping down to pick up his notebook he walked over to his desk. There was a barely audible click at the door as it closed but Sebastian couldn't hear it, it was too busy running ideas on how to help his last patient through his mind. He was so busy that he didn't realize that he was no longer alone.
"My, you sure are popular, Dr. Michaelis." A velvety soft voice cooed from behind. Startled Sebastian quickly turned to see where that voice was coming from.
The child was odd.
That was the first thing he noted as he watched the boy slink away from the door. He was dressed in a pair of black slacks, a white dress shirt and a navy blue and black argyle vest. He was incredibly well put together and effortlessly cool. Sebastian also noticed how he wore an eye patch over his right eye, it was curious to see in someone of his age – age, how old was he? His other eye was a deep blue, a color he had never seen before, except in magazines where it would be a picture of the sea around Madagascar – such a deep vibrant blue.
"I'm sorry?" He asked as he stared straight at him. The boy smiled dryly as he walked around the office, touching the furnishings and looking at the books on the bookshelf before finally stopping at the black leather chair in front of the desk.
"You are Dr. Michaelis aren't you?" He asked as he took his seat on the chair, facing the Doctor. Sebastian couldn't explain why but this child made him completely ill at ease. It was his whole demeanor, the way he came into the room as if he owned it
"Y-yes I am." He replied nervously.
"Then I am your last appointment for the evening, Ciel Phantomhive." He introduced himself as he crossed his right leg over his left knee. Sebastian tried to straighten himself up as he realized that this was his next patient.
He had done a little research on Ciel Phantomhive prior to the appointment. His Aunt had called his secretary who was then notified that this was a special case. It was indeed. Sebastian had never had a member of the Peerage as a patient before, let a lone a child who holds the position of an Earl. In all of the articles and press clippings he had seen, the boy in front of him bore little or no resemblance. Perhaps it was because he was older now? It was definitely because he was cleaned up – the first pictures of him had him completely caked in filth.
Still, Sebastian was fascinated by him and couldn't wait for this session to begin – he also wanted to know – why him? His Aunt had told his secretary that Ciel wanted him specifically.
"Ah, yes, Ciel. You're a little early." He smiled as he looked around his desk for a new notepad.
"Am I? I think you'll find that I'm right on time." He smiled as he pointed to wall clock hanging just behind the therapists' head. Sebastian turned and noted the time and sure enough, he was right, clever lad, he sniped in mind.
"Well, I guess you are. Shall we begin?" He took a seat in the chair in font of Ciel, whose eye narrowed as he studied the therapist. Again, Sebastian felt uncomfortable – it was as though he was being examined but he was determined to figure out why.
