A/N: "The Lark Ascending" is another piece by Ralph Vaughn Williams. It was originally the first piece I was going to have them work on, but since it is so solo-driven, I didn't think it would make sense to do it right off the bat. In fact, it's still a fairly unusual choice, but then again, Michaelis doesn't have the same motivations as most orchestra teachers. If you haven't listened to either of the pieces I've mentioned, I strongly recommend them.

At 5:00 on Tuesday evening, Ciel splashed his face with the icy water that flowed from his bathroom sink. He assessed himself sternly in the mirror, the tips of his hair stuck together in bluish, dripping points. Meeting his own cold gaze, he summoned a feeling of bored, haughty numbness, imagining it flowing through his veins until he was a being of pure indifference.

Just an extra rehearsal, he told himself. Just an extra rehearsal.

The day before, Michaelis had announced the new piece to the class, including Ciel's role as soloist. Despite the skewed workload, no one in the class had complained, and Ciel was grateful that they were willing to support him.

Trancy, however, had looked murderous at the pronouncement. "You?!" he exclaimed in an angry whisper to Ciel, turning to face him.

"I am first chair, after all," Ciel had replied, trying to keep the smugness from his voice.

"You're a fucking baby! How could he pick you?!"

"Yes, it does seem a bit unusual, doesn't it," Ciel had replied drolly. "Perhaps he's taken a special interest in me."

Trancy barked a derisive laugh. "Or maybe he thinks you're some kind of charity case and he's trying to be nice. Maybe he thinks you're retarded."

Ciel smiled wickedly, leaning the tiniest bit closer to Trancy and lowering his voice. "You know, I'll be meeting him twice a week for private rehearsals."

Ciel could feel jealousy and rage rolling off of Trancy like steam. "You and Michaelis both can kiss my arse," he said, reaching for his bag and rising as if to leave.

"If you leave now, he'll just replace you as second chair. You'd be lucky to even get a chair at all when you came back," Ciel said, more amused than ever, relaxing on his throne.

Trancy looked livid, and for a moment Ciel thought he really was going to leave. The rest of the class was ignoring them steadfastly, concentrating on their sight-reading.

Instead, Trancy collapsed back into his chair, throwing his bag back to the floor. He roughly tore the music on his stand open and yanked his violin from its case. "This is such bullshit," he spat. "The violin part is so boring."

"It'll sound lovely all together," said Ciel, rich condescension coloring his voice.

Trancy shot him a poisonous look. "Don't fucking speak to me again if you want to keep the eye you have left."

Smirking to himself, Ciel looked up to Michaelis, meandering through the room to offer assistance throughout the sight-reading. "Professor? May I use a rehearsal room to sight-read?"

Michaelis looked up at Ciel and nodded. "Leave the door open so you can hear when I call everyone to run through the piece together."

Ciel was in wonderfully high spirits as he crossed the room, his woes about Michaelis forgotten.

Now, in the face of his first private lesson, all his nerves had bubbled to the surface once more. Despite his determination to banish from his mind all unprofessional thoughts of his professor, he couldn't help the tight anticipation that rose in his chest when he considered being alone in a small room with Michaelis.

He knew nothing would―nothing could—happen, but every time he let his mind wander, it ended up in the rehearsal room with Michaels. He wasn't sure what he was even wanting; he just felt the aching absence of Michaelis's skin against his and the quiet heat of a vague desire.

He lingered in the bathroom for a moment more, smoothing out his cream-colored v-neck sweater, worn over a deep green collared shirt, and tying on his eyepatch. The cold water he'd splashed on his face did little to clear his mind, and he found himself too nervous to eat anything before his lesson. As a precaution against later hunger, he stuffed a handful of sweets from his stash into the pockets of his dark jeans.

He left his small single apartment at a quarter after five, even though it usually only took him twenty minutes to walk to the music building. He was horribly antsy, and he figured he could just use the extra time to warm up.

The sun had only just begun to dip below the horizon, but the air already had a stern chill and the wind grated against Ciel's unprotected ears. He felt oddly light, carrying only his violin case, and it made him even more aware of where he was headed. He felt as if an electrified rod were being pressed against the center of his back; the skin was prickling and tightening painfully, and his muscles were knotted tightly.

The door to the music building was unlocked, but the front hall was dark. Fading evening light streamed in through the old-fashioned paneled windows, giving the familiar place a strange, forbidden feel. Ciel's footsteps seemed loud and oblivious as he made for the orchestra room, which he found to be unlocked as well.

The lights were on, and the large room lay empty and cavernous before him. Ciel stepped over the threshold, remembering the day he'd come to audition for his chair. It hadn't been that long ago, but it felt like a memory from a different life.

He crossed to the rehearsal rooms, only halfway surprised to see that Michaelis was already waiting in the rearmost one, door open and inviting. Ciel entered, and Michaelis looked up from whatever he'd been writing on the music stand and smiled.

"You're here early, professor," Ciel said by way of greeting, setting down his instrument case and removing his coat.

"Yes, I had a feeling you'd be early, too," Michaelis said mysteriously. Ciel looked up, shock written sweetly across his face, and Michaelis chuckled softly. "Only teasing you. My office has a window overlooking the front walk."

Ciel allowed a soft smile to ride his lips, and he unpacked his violin and music. "I had hoped to warm up for a few minutes before we began."

Michaelis allowed his eyelids to shut softly as he smiled gently and touched his right hand to his heart, dipping his head slightly in a gesture of apology. "Ah, forgive me. I must have been so eager to begin that I assumed you were, too."

"Oh, er, I mean, I am, I just..." Ciel stammered helplessly, his cheeks burning as Michaelis's eyes twinkled mischief and he realised the professor was teasing him again. He cast his gaze downward, focusing on the music he'd settled onto his stand, and gathered his composure. When he lifted his head to look again at Michaelis, all traces of embarrassment had been flushed from his features, and his voice was aristocratic and businesslike. "Well then, I suppose we might as well start."

Michaelis smiled graciously, allowing his student to recover from his fumbling awkwardness without comment. "Very good. I'll give you a few moments to warm up, since I so rudely deprived you of that time, and then I'll play through the first bit for you." Ciel nodded, holding his violin in a relaxed position in case he wanted to attempt a few of the notes. "If you'll excuse me while you're doing that, I have to go take care of something in my office." Michaelis gave Ciel a polite nod and exited the small rehearsal room.

Ciel hardly noticed, so lost was he already in the music. He'd clumsily sight-read a bit the day before, but he hadn't gotten much of a chance to really consider the piece. Studying the notes, he could see an artful shapeliness in the way they rose and fell on the page, though the analytical part of him was still cautiously aware that the piece would be difficult to master. However, he was sure that he would perform it perfectly.

He was grateful his aunt had seen this talent within him and encouraged it, pushing him to take extra lessons and play challenging pieces from a young age. Francis had a knack for seeing the potential in people; she'd done the same to nurture Lizzy's natural aptitude for fencing, and both her daughter and her nephew now shone in their fields.

Music suited him well; he'd always been content to sit back and watch Lizzy practice fencing with her older brother Edward—an Oxford graduate himself—rather than try to join in. He'd been energetic and playful as a child, but as he grew older he found himself preferring a leisurely walk in the gardens to a game of cricket, chess to fencing. Then, after he'd lost his parents and his aunt had taken him in, she'd introduced him to the violin.

"You can't just mope around the house," she'd said one sunny spring afternoon, six months after Ciel had come to her home. Ciel was curled in a large wingback chair in the dark parlor at the rear of the mansion, reading one of the dusty tomes from Francis's library. She'd eclipsed the lamplight, a formidable figure in her crisply tailored blouse and A-line skirt, forcing Ciel to look up from his book. He'd glared at her, his jaw set with childish anger, but his eyes were still hollow with grief.

She softened, a thrum of loss reverberating through her, and she uncrossed her folded arms and dropped to one knee before Ciel. Her face was closer to his eye level, and she gently reached over to close the book he'd been reading and take his hands in hers. "I know you're sad," she said quietly. "I'm sad, too. I loved your parents very much, and I know you lost more than I did."

Ciel's mask of anger quavered, shifting and melting into an expression of true sorrow. His heart ached terribly, and he looked into his aunt's eyes. They were the same caramelly brown as his father's had been.

She smoothed a hand over his hair. "But you can't give in to pain. You can't let it consume you, or it will take everything you have, until you don't feel anything anymore. If that's the case, you might as well be dead, too."

Tears ran silently down the child's face, and he hung his head. A strong, square hand gently lifted his chin to look him in the eye once more. "But you can use your pain. You can feel it, and know that you're alive." She reached for a large box on the ground next to her; Ciel hadn't noticed it before. "Here. I brought you a present."

Ciel slid from his chair to the floor, kneeling before the box. He looked up at Francis, who nodded, and he tore off the simple brown paper wrappings to reveal a hard black case. He unlatched it and swung the lid open to reveal a small violin on a bed of lush grey velvet. He lifted the instrument from its case wonderingly, turning it around to inspect it, before looking up again at his aunt.

She smiled softly; his face was now writ with mingled surprise and confused gratitude. "Use that, Ciel. Use it to sing your pain, and use it to find beauty in this world. Use it to say what you can only feel."

She stood then, smoothing her hands over her skirt. "I have a private instructor coming to the house for your first lesson on Thursday evening. Six o'clock." The soft intensity faded from her voice as she reassumed her usual demeanor. She strode from the room, leaving the broken child in her wake still clutching the violin with frozen surprise.

"Th...thank you," he finally choked out, the soft words barely reaching her as she walked through the open archway into the hallway.

Her back to Ciel, she paused for a fraction of a second as a sad smile touched her lips. Her eyes prickled with distant tears, but she pushed them away as she squared her shoulders and left, heels clacking on the marble floors.

Lost in memory, Ciel took in little of the music on the pages before him, and his eye was soft and dreamy when Michaelis re-entered the room. Azure flicked up at the sound of footsteps tapping across the linoleum, and the loosely-held violin was lowered. Sharpness bled back into that brilliant eye, and soon the soft, youthful innocence that filled Ciel's relaxed face was replaced with its usual impassive haughtiness.

"Well, now that it's actually six o'clock, shall we get started?" the professor asked, leaning over to unsnap his own violin case and extract a beautifully crafted antique instrument.

Ciel showed no traces of his earlier reverie. "Yes, sir."

Michaelis nodded, lifting his violin into place and touching his bow gently to the strings. A rich silence hung in the room for a moment, and he began to play. The sound was exquisite, and Ciel was entranced. His lips and hands seemed to prickle faintly as he noticed how very beautiful his professor looked when he played. He bit down hard on his lower lip, firmly reprimanding himself for such thoughts, and he forced his attention to the notes floating in the air.

Michaelis played only the first few minutes of the solo, before trailing his bow away and allowing the sound to dissipate. He lowered his instrument, and turned his attention to Ciel. The two men stood in silence for a moment, Ciel meeting his professor's eyes without the usual feeling of flustered embarrassment. Hearing him play seemed to stir up something new in Ciel, and he drank in those warm amber eyes with an intensity he could not name. It seemed to pulse through the air, loud and suffocating.

They stood like that for a moment that seemed quite long to Ciel, but couldn't have been longer than a few seconds. Ciel lifted his own violin and turned his gaze to the music before him, breaking the electric chain that seemed to connect them, and began to play.

His fingers were surer than he thought they'd be, and he felt as if he were watching himself from a distance as he moved mindlessly through the notes. After he finished the section, Michaelis nodded, and lifted his own violin once more to play the next few minutes.

They went on like that, wordlessly, through the whole piece, Ciel playing after Michaelis like a baby bird flapping awkwardly after its mother. Finally, Michaelis spoke aloud, instructing Ciel to play through a certain tricky bit.

He did so, Michaelis offering notes, playing the same few bars again and again until his professor was satisfied. Despite the mundane exchange, Ciel's chest was still full with the sight and sound of Michaelis's playing, and his limbs felt heavy with sensuality. Ciel was in a strange mood, raw and emotional, his memories and desires and Michaelis's beautiful playing bringing a rare softness to the surface.

They went on through the evening, the lesson appearing quite ordinary, but Ciel felt a deep, soft ache pulsing beneath his skin, a craving to be closer to this man. He didn't dare speak, afraid that his voice would come out as a husky whisper; he merely nodded at Michaelis's suggestions and attempted to put them into action.

At last, around eight, as Ciel began to droop with fatigue, Michaelis announced that they could conclude for the evening. "Good work, Phantomhive," he said. Ciel dipped his head graciously, but remained silent. "Awfully quiet this evening," Michaelis observed archly, raising his brows. The lines of his face were etched the tiniest bit harder than usual, and Ciel couldn't bear to see his displeasure. He swallowed hard and moistened his lips, trying to dispel the thick desire from his voice.

"My apologies, sir."

Michaelis's gaze bore heavily upon him, almost burgundy under the harsh fluorescents. "Something on your mind, perhaps?"

Ciel met his professor's eyes, but his focus seemed inward, and his eyes took on that faraway cast once more. "I was remembering...when I first learnt to play...and your playing reminded me..." he closed his eyes, smiling ruefully and shaking his head. "Very sorry, sir. I was distracted. It won't happen again."

Michaelis was silent, and in the damp tension, they looked steadily into each other's eyes. With each passing second, the atmosphere grew deeper and more sensual until it felt that they were on the edge of a precipice from which they could not return. Ciel's heartbeat sped up, thumping high in the back of his throat. He wished the two music stands weren't separating them, so he could will himself to take those few steps separating them.

He needed to get away from the painfully close impossibility of his professor. Tearing his eyes away from Michaelis, who remained motionless, Ciel painfully began to pack up his things to leave. He carefully avoided looking back at Michaelis as he turned to walk out of the rehearsal room. His hand was resting on the knob, and he'd opened his mouth to wish his professor a good night, when cool, slender fingers gripped his wrist and stayed his motion. His words turned into a whimper of surprise as he looked up and around to acknowledge their owner.

Michaelis's body heat was close, filling the thin layer of air that separated them, as he silently held Ciel's wrist hostage. His fingers brushed against skin soft and white as down, barely slipping under the cuffs of his coat and sweater. Ciel stood frozen, need and desire and fear racing through his veins and thrumming across his skin, the pounding of his heart dimly echoed by the aching throb between his legs.

He released the doorknob, and Michaelis's hand fell away as Ciel turned around to face his professor. Their bodies were centimeters, microns, oceans and galaxies away. Unbearably close, but still they did not touch. Ciel looked up at the taller man, lust and challenge written on his face as he begged for Michaelis to take his hand and leap from the precipice with him.

That one final push, to set off the irreversible chemical reaction, to do what could never be undone.

Adrenaline rushed through Ciel's body, one hard central push at his chest slamming the chemicals through his veins, as he closed his eyes and surrendered to lips that skimmed lightly against his own. At last, a warm weight settled against his body, as Michaelis pressed his himself against Ciel, pushing his back to the closed door.

"Tell me you want this," the older man murmured against Ciel's lips, his voice sure and steady as ever, but dripping with sensuality.

"I do," breathed Ciel, reaching up to wind his hands into Michaelis's black hair and pulling his professor in for a deep, hungry kiss. Hands roamed up Ciel's back, pulling him away from the door just enough to explore the soft warm skin hidden beneath layers of expensive clothing. Black nails trailed down Ciel's spine, the impossibly light sharpness eliciting a delightful tingling.

Riding a thoughtless wave of pure sensation, Ciel rocked his hips into Michaelis's, the crush of skin and fabric against his hardness sending another wave of adrenaline through his system. He pulled back to fling his coat off his shoulders and rip off the sweater he wore over his shirt, before winding himself into his professor once more.

He pressed his lips to Michaelis's roughly, kissing him with clumsy lust, while his hands roughly yanked up the professor's white collared shirt tucked neatly into black trousers. He groaned into the mouth against his as he discovered beautifully sculpted muscles and buttery soft skin against his exploring fingertips.

He began to undo the buttons of Michaelis's shirt, pressing his hardness against its match, wild and needy as a child romping about on his pillows. He wanted to sink his teeth into the soft throat before him, yank that silky dark hair until the older man cried out, consume his body completely until the insane fire within him was at last quenched. He fumbled the top button open, then another and another, before steady hands gently pried Ciel's desperate fingers away and the pulsing hot kiss grew soft and at last ceased.

Michaelis took a tiny step back, Ciel's hands falling away from his body completely, and took in the disheveled student before him. Eye wild and nearly black with hugely dilated pupils, hair out of place, half-undressed, and radiating confused lust. The older man disengaged himself completely, as gently as he could, restrained despite the evidence of his arousal.

"I think that's enough for tonight," he said firmly, though not unkindly. Ciel let out a frustrated noise in protest, but Michaelis held up a hand. His eyes were closed and he smiled softly, his voice tinged with regret. "You're young, and inexperienced, and caught up in the moment. I could not live with myself if I took advantage of you. I apologize for what has already transpired; I simply couldn't control myself when I should have. I hope you will forgive me for what I have done, and continue to think of me as your professor and your guide."

Ciel swallowed once, twice, hard. His voice was low and scratchy, but petulant. "Who says I'm inexperienced?"

Michaelis breathed a soft laugh through his nose and his lips curled with genuine mirth, but the gesture was overall regretful. "You are. And you don't know what you want."

Ciel narrowed his eyes angrily. "I'm not some fucking child. I know what I want, and I know what I'm doing. If you feel that you made a mistake, fine, but don't put it on me."

Michaelis looked at him hard, seeming torn. At last, he sighed, and shook his head. "The baser part of me wants to believe you, wants to do things to you, but I can see far enough to know better. You would regret anything that happened in the cold light of day, and I would be left with the scar of having done something unforgivable." Ciel seethed wordlessly, lust flowing seamlessly into hot passionate anger.

"Thursday," he managed. "Thursday. If, by Thursday, I still want this; if two days of dispassionate thought pass, and I still want this...will you..?"

Michaelis squeezed his eyes shut tight, leaning his head into a hand that clenched into his fringe and hid half of his face. "If you come to me on Thursday, and you still want me, I will be too weak to turn you away."

Ciel was irritated, confused, and still prickling with desire, but he could recognize a deal when he saw one. "Very well. If that's what it takes..." he paused, reaching for the handle and swinging the door wide open. He walked away, nodding briskly and speaking over his shoulder. "Then I'll see you on Thursday, professor."

At that, he briskly departed the room, the double doors crashing shut in a ruinous, echoey silence.