Sweat dripped down Sebastian's neck and settled in his t-shirt.
Blood stung the crest of his cheekbone, coagulated by the fist that'd crushed the hockey player's helmet into his head. Sebastian rolled his tongue over his teeth, groaned at the taste of iron and pressed his phone up to his ear. The glass screen buzzed, the click of a receiver as a deep, familiar voice spoke.
"Hello?"
"Nonno, it's me. We won."
Sebastian heard his grandfather laugh, smiling as he sat alone in the change rooms. Everyone else had gone, leaving behind only the smell of men, and sport, and deodorant.
"Does that mean you'll cut that ridiculous hair?" Nonno mused.
His English was perfect but his Italian accent clung thickly to his throat. His annoyance made the hockey player smile, private in his glee as he picked blood out of his hairline.
"No papa, it's my lucky charm. If I cut it we'll lose."
Nonno grunted through the phone, his leather armchair creaking through the phone line. Sebastian rested his tired body back onto the bench. His dark shirt clung to his skin, muscles still jumping in memory of the game. The fight. The victory. He pressed a bundled bag of ice to his throbbing cheek.
"You haven't cut it since that strega left you, vita mia."
It was Sebastian's turn to groan, the sound nearly identical to his grandfather's. The two men were practically twins, not a difference between them but 50 years. The younger rested his eyelashes against his cheek and rolled his head from shoulder to shoulder.
"That was over a year ago Nonno." He swallowed. Picked at the knee of his sweatpants. "It's not because of that. Agni grows his hair too, I told you. It's lucky."
Nonno huffed. "You boys are too superstitious, no?"
He paused for a moment to inhale and Sebastian could almost see the smoke tendrils around his grandfather's tattooed fingers.
"Will you come for lunch on Sunday?"
"Always, Nonno," Sebastian hummed, lifting his eyes as footsteps padded down the tiled walls of the locker room. They were too light to belong to anyone on his team.
"Are you having a party tonight?"
He could hear the distaste in his Nonno's voice as his tongue lilted on the word party. He prattled off something about cheap American liquor but Sebastian wasn't listening. Ciel Phantomhive had just walked into the room, hesitating by the door with his duffel bag looped over his shoulder. They blinked at each other, water dripping from the shower room and his grandad still talking about alcohol on the other end.
"I have to go," he said into the receiver very suddenly, heart hard in his chest. His papa hummed around his cigarette.
"Ah. Who is it?"
Sebastian swallowed, eyes flicking from Ciel's fingers wrapped tight around his bag, to his narrow hips in panelled tights, to his face, mouth pressed into a thin line as he waited, looking at Sebastian the same way he always had. Like a dog who might bite. It made the hockey player chew the inside of his cheek.
"Qualcuno che è bello," he murmured, wiping his bloody cheek with the side of his hand. The salt stung. Nonno huffed dryly.
"Amore a prima vista?"
Sebastian wet his mouth. "Maybe, papà." The old man laughed.
"Remember, persistenza."
"I'll remember. Ti voglio bene, nonno."
And when Nonno said he loved him too, Sebastian hung up and it was just the silence, and the nervous way Ciel played with the keychain on his bag.
"You speak Italian," Ciel murmured.
His shoe squeaked as he leaned his weight on one hip, eye moving from Sebastian's sweaty shirt to his bleeding face.
"I am Italian, so." Sebastian smirked slowly.
The sight of it made Ciel rile and the little thing finally walked into the locker room, nose twitching at the smell of testosterone. He looked like the rain outside, all shades of grey and little, even footsteps. His lithe muscles moved under his tights and he seemed to look for something in the empty room.
"They're not here," Sebastian said.
Ciel ignored him but finally dropped his bag down onto the bench across from the older man.
"Didn't you just have a game, or something."
Ciel's skates came off his shoulder next, touching the ground with a weight that echoed off the tiles.
"They're getting ready for tonight," Sebastian shrugged, not ready to reveal he'd stayed back to talk to his grandfather, of all people. Ciel gave him a questioning look.
"We always throw a party when we win," he explained. A damp lock of hair fell out of place from behind his ear, and Ciel eyed off the wound on his cheek again. "You should come over tonight."
Ciel laughed under his breath. He toed off his sneakers and tugged his skates into his lap, laces coming free between nimble fingers. Sebastian glared, little smile playing with the corner of Ciel's mouth.
"Is that below you, princess? Partying with hockey players?"
Sebastian said the nickname unfondly, pressing the ice pack back into his cheek. Ciel shook his head and the hockey player swore he could smell his perfume coming off his lilac, grey-ish hair.
"No," he said, flicking his eye up to give Sebastian a teasing stare. Sebastian's stomach filled with bees. "I have a date tonight."
He tightened his boots around thin ankles, white skates so much smaller than the battered, all-black pair that sat beside Sebastian's boots.
"With who?" Sebastian grit.
Ciel sent him an unimpressed stare, looping his laces and tucking them into the sides of his skate. The barely-there smile widened marginally into a smirk.
"Like I'd tell you," he hummed.
His teeth showed as he stood, rolling his skate side to side to adjust to the boot, arms stretching up over his head. His sweater tugged up and Sebastian caught a glimpse of his naval.
"Do I know him?"
Sebastian stood up too, ice pack making a puddle of condensation on the bench. Even with the inch or two in height that the skates gave him, Ciel had nothing on the man that came closer and boxed him in against the tiled wall. He splayed his fingers on the porcelain above the teenager's head, itching to touch his smooth hair. He didn't dare follow through with the idea.
"Is it another skater?" He asked again, despite already having a feeling about who it was.
He hadn't stalked Ciel's social media for months just to miss the tabloid photos of him and the famous platinum-haired figure skater.
Ciel drew his bottom lip between his teeth and chewed at it, an action that had the other skater weak in the knees. He took a deep breath and stared out over the taller's shoulder, exhaling.
"I train six hours a day, every day. Of course it's another skater. No one else understands what it's like."
Sebastian hummed. He let his piercing clack purposefully over his teeth and sighed, rubbing the back of his head with the hand that wasn't pressed over Ciel's head.
"I'm not an Olympian," he reasoned, looking Ciel up and down as the boy raised an eyebrow. "But I could treat you really nice, if you gave me a chance." His heart threatened to burst out of his chest.
"I know what you want from me," Ciel whispered. He reached out and plucked the front of Sebastian's shirt, tugging at it once and letting it go. "And I'm not interested."
Sebastian tensed his jaw. Persistence, his grandfather would say.
"Why not?"
"You're not my type," Ciel said quietly.
His voice was as loud as the drip of shower water in the next room over. His one, pretty eye glanced up at Sebastian's arm, pressed to the tiled wall above his head. Sebastian knew he'd lied the second his glance lingered on the tattoo wrapped around his bicep.
"What don't you like about me?"
Sebastian edged closer. Stole the air from Ciel's personal space and felt the hairs raise up on the back of his damp neck. His arm stayed in place. Ciel remained transfixed.
"I don't like men with too many muscles," he said, finally dropping his gaze from Sebastian's tattoos down to his eyes, both struggling to hide the seemingly victorious smirk on their mouths. Sebastian clicked his tongue once inside his mouth, slowly shaking his head.
"You're a liar."
Not an inch of him was touching Ciel but he could feel the way his pulse pricked, and his shoulders tightened. Stubborn, Sebastian said to himself.
Persistence, his grandfather repeated back.
…
Ciel could feel air-conditioning on his neck.
All the way to the base of his back, Ciel's shirt was tight against his slender chest but completely backless, held together with thin, black strands that hung over his pronounced shoulder blades and the dimples of his spine. The hair of his forearms raised as he turned back and forth in the mirror, letting his bedroom room light travel and fall over the plane of exposed skin.
"You look good," Alois breathed.
Ciel's cheeks went hot with the compliment. He turned his head over his shoulder to look at his best friend, who regarded his outfit with reverence.
"Like, really good Ciel. Too good for him."
Ciel swallowed thickly and turned back to his reflection, hair tucked back behind one ear. He wore high-waisted pants that came up under his navel, and no other decoration than the weight of his two family rings against his thumb and middle fingers.
"Are you sure about it?" Ciel whispered, ignoring the comment.
He brushed back his hair again, turned in the mirror so he could see it. The milky, narrow expanse. His arms prickled with excitement. His stomach stirred with dread.
Alois nodded seriously, watching Ciel turn. He shook his head and sighed, tapping his nails against the glossy case of his phone.
"I'm serious Ciel, you look so pretty."
Ciel pressed his palm flat to his stomach and felt the butterflies beneath the thin surface. His cheeks were flush with the wine he'd thrown back to calm his nerves. He hadn't eaten a thing all day but his reflection in this moment was entirely worth it. The bed rustled as Alois got up, grabbing Ciel's arms from behind to rub calming circles into the spot above his elbows. In the reflection Ciel saw the small frown between his blonde eyebrows.
"What is it?"
He turned and Alois searched his face. His light, blue eyes flicked from Ciel's own, to his mouth. He smoothed his palms down the back of his elbows and squeezed.
"I just think…" A pause. "I mean, Sebastian asked you on a date too."
"It wasn't a date. He said -"
"Come over tonight. I know," Alois rolled his eye.
He'd listened to Ciel recount the story over and over while he blow-dried his hair.
"You said he only wanted to fuck me, and you're right."
Ciel ignored how hard his chest felt as he said it. Alois sighed for the umpteenth time and he deflated, fingers slipping from his best friend's skin as he let go of him and lingered only in the reflection of his eyes.
"Maybe." A strand of blonde hair fell across Alois's brow but he didn't push it back. His full, sweet mouth was pulled into the quaintest pout. "But what do you think Charles wants from you?"
Ciel stared back over the space of his shoulder, eye to eye with his twin image. His heart was hard in his chest, peach-pit in his throat and his reflection stared back, emotionless. Ciel took a deep breath and let the full weight of his best-friend's words settle down upon his shoulders.
I don't know, he muttered internally.
…
For a moment in time Ciel didn't believe in love.
When his parents died. When his brother died... He just stopped.
Looking back at it now he couldn't remember if he'd been void of love after their funeral, or if he'd just ignored everyone's attempts at it. All he can remember is that for a very, very long time he went without it.
And then came Charles.
Charles made him insanely aware of his desperation to be loved. He made him feel like he was thawing, a forest after a long, formidable winter. His entire being buzzed, and bloomed, and fidgeted with sprouts and insects, and desire for sunlight. Human touch. Affection. Sex.
And it was so, so easy for him to forget there was a time in his life where he was without love when Charles Grey kissed the nape of his neck, and pressed a flute of champagne into his fingertips.
The date was sublime. Ciel hardly touched his salmon, but pushed it around his plate as Charles spoke, hair the colour of the liquor they drank, Hollywood smile and laughter that made the teenager feel electric. And now he was in his apartment, staring out the floor-to-ceiling window at the neon city, that pretty laugh against the back of his ear, and one talented hand against his hip bone. He sunk the champagne as quickly as possible to drown all the butterflies inside.
"Relax, Ciel."
Ciel exhaled, staring at his own dim reflection in the glass, and the hand on his hip. As he inhaled he suckered his stomach in, Charles's fingertips brushing the place where his shirt and jeans came together. That mouth came to his throat, pressed another liquor-wet kiss to the flesh and the teenager shut his eyes, every inch of him going still. Charles was kissing his neck. His neck. He pressed back and met his chest, his loosened tie along the line of his naked back.
"You're so tense," the blonde whispered.
His lips brushed the back of Ciel's ear and it made the teenager warm across his chest, eyes still closed against his cheek. Charles's hand shifted. Another joined his hip. Slender, pale fingers brushed over his hips and then teased the hem of his top. Ciel sucked his waist in further and shivered, tipsy enough to allow the caress to the area he hated most.
And like with everything, Charles noticed, middle finger pressing below the fabric of his jeans to skirt against his bellybutton. Light rain hit the window pane with a gust of wind as Charles smiled into his throat, rubbing slowly at his navel.
"It's normal at your age," he whispered.
Even his breath smelt sweet, and Ciel pressed further into his chest at the warm air against his neck.
"What?" Ciel mumbled.
His tongue felt clumsy in his mouth, drunker than he thought. That finger dipped into his navel and tugged up. A thumb splayed up and under his shirt, touching his ribs.
"To gain weight," Charles said with another little kiss. "When I turned eighteen I put on like 10 pounds, threw my routine right off."
Ciel opened his eyes and stared at his black reflection, room swimming. He opened his mouth but closed it again, afraid of sounding stupid. He was now acutely aware of the touch to his stomach and it started to make him sick. He turned around and felt the fingers leave his waist. Like he could breathe again. Charles gave him a little frown and smoothed back some of his hair.
And then they were kissing.
It wasn't his first kiss. He'd kissed plenty of men. Even kissed Alois, on occasion. Drunk and excited, flirting and stupid – tongues in each other's mouths as they fumbled, teeth clicked together. Ciel had kissed men in dark bars. Had kissed men he didn't know the name of, and men the entire world knew. Like Charles. His hero. Ciel's heart suddenly staggered back to life at the realisation, humming against the champagne kiss of the other's plush mouth.
They broke apart with a lip-chap smack, Ciel feeling like he'd died and ascended to heaven. Charles smiled like it wasn't a big deal for him. Ciel's fingers tightened in his jacket. It probably wasn't.
And then they kissed again. And again. Until Ciel was tilting his head to let Charles lick into his mouth and take back all the champagne he'd fed him, making him drunker and drunker each time their tongues slid together. It was almost too perfect. Almost. The fingers on his stomach came back.
They started on his back. Fingertips pressed into the dip of his spine, slid under the thin straps of his top as hands pressed flat and slid under the silky material. His soft hands brushed Ciel's ribs and the teenager inhaled between kisses, sucking his stomach flat as he pressed closer to Charles's suit, hoping he could crush away the hand between their bodies. But it didn't go away, so Ciel pulled back his mouth and squeezed his fingers into Charles's arm.
"W-wait. Wait," he breathed, wetting his mouth.
He felt Charles laugh against his chest and he wondered if he looked as wasted as he felt. The fingers on his belly rubbed slowly but moved no further.
"What's wrong?" Charles asked against his mouth. "Do you want another drink?"
Ciel shook his head, eyes closed to stop the room swimming. "It's just -"
He inhaled when fingers moved against his will and touched the place just under the connection of his ribcage. He gasped and broke free, stumbling back as he almost hit the glass panel behind his back.
"I just, I can't."
He felt like a child. His cheeks burnt with mortification as he covered his stomach with his palms, like protecting a baby bird. Charles stared. Ciel felt sick with dread, skin still tingling in the places he had touched. Mouth still wet with his kiss. The faint look of confusion on the blonde's face melted into a tiny frown.
"You don't want me?" Charles asked, shaking his head slowly.
Nothing could be further form the truth, Ciel thought, heart racing. How could he explain how badly he wanted it? How he longed to be embraced, and touched. How could he explain he wanted sex, he just didn't want to remove his clothes for it. That he hated himself.
"That's not-"
Charles made a noise halfway between disappointment and a laugh. He stepped in a little closer, Ciel's back making contact with the glass. It stung.
"Are you leading me on?" Charles cocked his head.
Ciel couldn't shake his head quick enough, starting to feel nauseous enough that the frigid glass against his skin was grounding. He could deal with cold. It was the burning, sticky heat of embarrassment and shame that he had trouble handling.
"I would never lead you on," Ciel promised, shaking his head.
He felt stupid as he said it. He wished he'd taken the drink the blonde had offered moments ago. Maybe if he was drunker, maybe he could get over the raw, lingering feeling that he – his body - wasn't good enough for this.
Charles made that low noise again, staring down at Ciel's silky, black top instead of at him. With one finger he tugged at the spaghetti strap, eyes blank.
"You know, with a body like yours I figured you'd just sleep your way to the top," Charles muttered in such a way that Ciel couldn't figure out if it was a compliment or an insult.
His breath bated as the finger tugged, exposing his stomach again. This time he didn't fight it. He just pressed his lips tighter together and stared at the pin on the other man's tie.
"But you're a virgin, right?" Charles hummed, deep and appraising. He let go of his top and stepped back, flicking his eyelashes up and down the length of Ciel's entire body. "You just dress like a slut."
If he'd expected an answer, Ciel didn't know how to respond. His heart crumpled like wet sand. Something broke and Ciel recoiled even further as he finally begun to cry. A fat tear rolled down the edge of his cheek and the sight of it made the blonde's shoulders soften.
"Ciel."
Ciel ducked past him and grabbed his phone from the coffee table, the weight of it reassuring in his palm. Tears blurred his vision as he took his silk bomber jacket too, shrugging it over his shoulders and cherishing the weight of it over all his naked skin.
"Ciel, I didn't mean it like that."
Charles turned away from the window but didn't approach. The city sparkled behind him as Ciel hid his cheek into the shoulder of his jacket.
"It's f-fine."
He hated how his voice sounded. His tears broke free and hit the floorboards as the drops outside splattered against the window pane.
"I should go."
His phone buzzed once in his palm to remind him it was dying. He couldn't look at the other man but could see his shoes.
"Please don't go," he begged.
His voice sounded honest, and raw, and Ciel might have stayed if his shoes had not stayed put – not moving even an inch to comfort or retrieve him.
"I'm sorry," Ciel mumbled. He squeezed his phone and turned, not allowing the figure skater to see his miserable face. His insecurities. "I'm sorry. I'm going to go."
And then he was gone, shoes padding softly over the carpet of the hallway and finger pressing repeatedly into the elevator call button, over and over as his shoulders shook and he started to lose it.
Stupid. Stupid. You just fucked things up – majorly. You're a fucking dumbass, Phantomhive.
The elevator dinged. The door shut. He didn't dare look up at his reflection as the lift took him to reception. The doorman said something nice but Ciel couldn't speak, throat sticky with tears. He kept walking until he was outside, and the smell of wet concrete met his nose, and the rain hit the tears on his cheeks. His skin shivered easily under the thin fabric of his bomber jacket but he stepped out into it despite it all.
All he knew was that he was drunk. And hurt. And, with two final buzzes, that his phone had just died.
…
Ciel could feel eyes on him the whole way home.
He refused to take a taxi. He couldn't bare the thought of it. Eyes in the rear vision mirror, soaking up all his tears and personal tragedies. Hey, he could almost imagine the driver saying, aren't you that kid whose family died in a car crash?
Ciel choked on another sob of self pity before detouring through the park, downpour broken slightly by the trees above. He wished he could call Alois. Have him pick him up in his shitty car and take him through drive-thru, and rub his hair as he decayed into a miserable state of drunken despair. But he couldn't handle that either – the dread of his best-friend telling him "I was right."
So he walked all the way home. It wasn't far. Through the suburbs and the pretty two-story townhouses, painted fern green and terracotta, framed with white lattice and abundant flowers, and fairy lights. Where it was deserted and all the families had gone to sleep, and there was no one around to see his miserable face. Except some guy, standing out on his porch smoking a cigarette.
Some guy that looked like a dumb, blonde hockey player. Some guy whose face lit up and he dropped his cigarette, swearing over the sound of muffled music. Some guy with a broken nose and wide shoulders, and –
Fuck.
…
"Holy shit," Bard laughed lowly, whistling through his teeth.
The blonde knew drunk. He was drunk every weekend. He was drunk right now. And he recognised drunk when it rocked up on his front lawn, wearing skinny jeans and a bomber jacket. There he was. His best friend's sex fantasy. America's sweetheart, Ciel Phantomhive.
"Hey kitten," he called out across the lawn.
He pursed his lips and make a squeaky kissing sound at the boy, like calling a stray cat. The boy glared, rain landing right on his face as they stared at each other.
"What are you doing here?" Ciel barked, looking over his shoulder like he was trying to figure out where he was.
Bard stepped out into the snow and jabbed his thumb over his shoulder to the house.
"I live here, sweetheart. What are you doing here?"
Ciel looked kinda pretty, like a girl if Bard squinted hard enough. He took a swig of his beer as he approached, staring down at the kid illuminated by street light. His hair was combed somewhat neatly to one side, one side of his face concealed by the eyepatch all of America would kill to see beneath. Those soft, baby pink cheeks hit the light as Ciel raised his head, and a funny feeling settling in Bard's chest as he realised they were wet with tears.
"I d-don't know. I was just walking home," the skater said, arms hugged over his little chest. His face fell. "And then my phone died," he added in a small, pitiful voice.
Bard took another sip of his beer and hummed, then looked back at the house.
"It's pretty cold out here. You should come inside," he said.
Ciel blinked. He looked out at his alternative – the wet, puddle-plotted street that led deeper into the city, and he opened and shut his mouth. Bard extended his hand and the celebrity stared at it like he'd slapped him.
"C'mon," the blonde urged. "You can charge your phone and get warm. I'll let you have some beer, even though you're like fifteen."
"I'm twenty," Ciel croaked, still eyeing off his hand.
"Whatever, c'mon. We have girl drinks too."
And he went to close his hand when suddenly there was a little mitt in his palm, cold as ice, and Ciel took his hand and looked across the lawn towards the house.
"I don't want a girl's drink," he mumbled drunkenly, but he followed anyway, up the stairs of his home and under the shelter of the porch.
The music inside thudded under their feet and vibrated the fixtures.
"Fuck, you're freezing," the blonde muttered, unable to resist the urge to massage his thumb over the back of the shivering kitten's knuckles. "Why are you out here in the cold?"
Dumbly, he reached out to try wipe the sluggish tears on his cheek but the boy moved back from it, mouth in a thin and unimpressed line.
"W-why would I tell you?" He whispered.
He stared at the front door like he longed to slip inside and avoid an interrogation. Bard rubbed at the back of his neck, exhaling.
"Because I'm drunk," he shrugged. "I'm not gonna remember, and fuck, watching you cry is painful."
It was true. He looked like a car crash. Horrible but stunning enough not to take his eyes off. It hurt his entire being to see someone so flawless cry. Plus, Sebastian would kill him if he knew he hadn't attempted to cheer him up.
Ciel shifted his weight from one leg to the other and stared at the dark, cold night, finally giving in with a trembling lower lip.
"It was a boy."
"Oh, kitten. A boy broke your heart?"
A weight settled in Bard's stomach as Ciel nodded, more tears rolling down his cheeks.
"And now my phone is dead so I can't call Alois, and I was trying to walk home but it started raining! And now I'm here, and you're watching me cry and, and," he faltered, pressing the heel of his hand into his eye. Bard wondered if the covered eye cried too.
Bard swallowed. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"
Ciel shook his head against his hand and Bard swore under his breath, staring at the crown of the teenager's head as he cried.
"Do you – can I, fuck. Do you want to come inside, come on," he urged.
He beckoned with his fingers again and Ciel took them with no protest, hand wet with tears. He tugged him a little closer and under his wing, and took him inside – into the warmth, and the noise.
…
Bard didn't know half the people there, and he figured Ciel knew no one.
But everyone recognised him. Even with his face pressed into his hand, the petite skater was unmistakable with his eyepatch and signature grey hair. The crowd seemed to make way, undulating like waves to the pulse of whatever song was playing, some whooping excitedly over the noise and others just staring. Some, like Bard's drunk little brother, grabbed Ciel by both arms and stopped him in his tracks.
"Oh. My. Fucking. God!"
Bard grunted and tugged Ciel into the kitchen, Finn trailing happily behind them.
"What is Ciel Phantomhive doing here?" He grabbed Ciel's arm again, shaking his shoulder. "What are you doing here?"
"Bad date," Bard shrugged, popping Ciel against the counter of the kitchen cabinet and fishing some Technicoloured vodka mix out of the ice tub.
Ciel took it gratefully, eye bright at Finn's affections and looking kind of amused. It beat seeing him sad, and he felt good as Ciel upended the cherry-flavoured vodka and drowned the remains of his bad date from the evening.
"I don't want a girl's drink," Bard mumbled under his breath, shooting the teenager a look that made him smile for the first time – mouth all dark with the dye in the drink.
It was so alarming that he didn't notice Agni bump into his shoulder, staring in surprise at the newcomer sitting on their kitchen bench.
"Wow, Ciel. You're here."
The taller skater was sleeveless, all tan-coloured tattoos and hair that glared in the fluorescent lights ahead. Bard rolled his eyes, huffing as the taller player pushed between them and reached out for Ciel's tear-tracked face.
"Bad date?" Agni asked, head tilting.
Ciel nodded, looking up at him like a kicked puppy.
Jesus, Bard thought, looking over the crowd for any sign of his roommate. Finn was too busy getting a photo with the great Ciel Phantomhive to be of any use.
"Bastian is gonna freak out," Bard mumbled, watching his little brother smoosh his cheek into Ciel's and grin widely for a selfie, arm hugged happily around the skater's shoulders.
Agni hummed in agreement, reaching out to put a comforting hand on Ciel's knee. Bard raised his eyebrow, finishing the rest of his beer.
"Okay kitty, now that you're here, settle an argument for us."
He rolled up the sleeves of his white t-shirt and Agni rolled his eyes in his peripheral but flexed his arms all the same.
"Who's biceps are bigger?"
…
Sebastian had heard the story about how his grandpa met his grandma a thousand times.
She was a nurse. He was a... well, it varied each time Nonno told the story (and with how much he'd had to drink). Essentially he worked for powerful, bad men and that sometimes landed him in trouble. Enough trouble to get beat up, enough to wind up in hospital, covered in blood and in a world of pain.
And that was how Salvatore met Benny.
"At first she wanted nothing to do with me," his Nonno would say.
Nonna would nod, her lips a dark line of wine-coloured lipstick. His grandad would take a second to drink, looking thoughtfully at nothing as he replayed the memory back and forth in his salt-and-pepper head. Then he would catch Sebastian's eye over the edge of his glass and wink, black eyes catching in the kitchen light.
"But then I wore her down."
Nonna would roll her eyes and laugh. She had a deep, lovely laugh. Her hand would smooth over the top of Nonno's tattooed knuckles as he spoke, hand flipping nostalgically between the couple and their grandson.
"Persistenza," the old man promised. Nonna clicked her teeth.
"Persistence? More like stubbornness."
"Ah now Bastian, this is where Benny and I disagree."
His grandmother made a face but watched on contentedly, chin nursed in her free palm.
"If you love a woman – stop at nothing to have her."
He clinked his empty glass to the table and pointed his finger down to the wood, tapping insistently.
"Persistenza," he said again, a satisfied smirk as Benny slapped his shoulder.
And he had heard that story so many times that it became ingrained in his memory as the highest form of romance. The bar had been set for him at a very early age, and Nonno had set it high. His grandfather promised him that one day he would meet someone that terrified him – and that moment would happen for him too. The moment Nonno had lived covered in blood, staring into the lovely auburn eyes of his future wife.
Amore a prima vista. Love at first sight.
Nonno said that when he saw her, when he first lay eyes on Benedetta, that the emergency room moved to slow motion, and time seemed to stop for everyone but the two of them. All sound, all action – ceased to be as their eyes met, and Nonno realised (and he only used these words when he was very, very drunk) that he was completely fucked.
He promised one day Sebastian would have that moment too. He just had no idea that it would happen while wearing his mum's Def Leppard t-shirt, three sizes too small.
The room stopped moving. The electronic music faded out into a dull drone. Just as his grandfather had predicted – time stopped when Sebastian stepped into the kitchen and saw Ciel there, propped up on the counter with damp hair and sugar-stained lips.
He was beautiful. He was strange. He was squeezing Agni's biceps.
"Bastian!" Bard yelled across the kitchen, a beer in each hand.
Sebastian didn't take his eyes off Ciel as he stepped closer, accepting the beer but not taking his eyes off the boy and his best friend. Agni was wearing that shirt, the one that made his biceps seem impossibly firmer. Ciel had a hand on each of them, hugging the intricate tattoos that trailed up each of his brown arms.
"I found this little kitten outside," Bard drawled proudly, hand on his hip.
Sebastian pushed right past him, coming up to the pair. He stopped just short of Agni, glancing up at his best friend and giving him a little frown. Agni stepped back a little, Ciel's hands falling from his skin.
"I think he's lost," Sebastian said slowly, putting his beer down on the counter by Ciel's leg.
He stepped in close to him. Cut him off from the rest of the room. From Agni. He put his hands either side of his narrow hips, flat against the counter and cocked his head.
"Thought you had a date tonight."
Ciel was so little that he was still shorter than Sebastian, even on the bench. He glanced up, and Sebastian's breath caught as he realised there were dry tears on the boy's flawless cheeks.
"It was a bad date," the Delacroix brothers chimed in.
Ciel sent them a withering look, and something hot and nasty coiled in Sebastian's belly.
"What happened?"
He couldn't hide the anger in his voice even if he tried. Ciel lifted his chin.
"It's fine. Calm down," he demanded, voice sticky with liquor. "You look pissed off."
"Yeah," Sebastian laughed, unhappily. He clicked his piercing against his teeth and tilted his head to one side to hear it crack. "So what, did he fucking hurt you?"
"Stop."
"Tell me what he did."
"No, fuck. Stop it Sebastian." He widened his eyes at the sound of his name, momentarily startled. "Don't be such an asshole, he didn't do anything wrong. It was my fault, I just... It wasn't..." He trailed off.
And Sebastian's heart crumbled because he realised he was having that moment. He wasn't covered in blood, and Ciel wasn't a nurse, but Sebastian was fucking petrified all the same because right now the figure skater was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen and he wanted to obliterate anyone who dared ruin his night. More than anything he wanted Ciel to smile, and so he forced himself to breathe (like his coach taught him) and he calmed down, slowly but surely. After a moment, when his shoulders had unknotted and that small, concerned look left Ciel's eye, he shot a glare sideways at Agni, who regarded him with a playful smirk.
"So, what were you doing anyway," he murmured, finally speaking. The music was loud but Ciel was close enough to hear him, taking a drink from the cherry vodka in his hand. "Having a bicep competition or something?"
Ciel laughed. The sound had the twenty-five-year-old perk up.
"Yeah," Ciel nodded, mouth quirking up. "Bard's are the biggest."
"I'm - What?"
Sebastian almost swallowed his tongue, another laugh coming from between Ciel's teeth. Agni crossed his arms, making an annoyed sound between his teeth. It made Ciel smile wider, leaning back so the light could catch his face. He looked good like that. Everything about him was so damned cute.
"That's not really fair. You didn't feel mine."
Ciel swallowed, flicking his eyes down to Sebastian's arms and shaking his head slowly.
"You boys are dumb," he whispered.
This close together it felt like only the two of them, and the party and the boys in the kitchen faded away. Sebastian moved in a little closer, his forearms barely brushing the side of Ciel's legs.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Trying to show off for me, but we all know I could crush your skull with just my thighs."
Sebastian laughed, thumb rubbing along the seam of Ciel's tight jeans. "Why don't you try?"
When the boy said nothing he dared to put his hands up on his knees and slowly push them apart. He went to drop down between them when Ciel's poker face broke, shoving his shoulder and tugging him back up by his too-tight t-shirt.
"You're a freak," Ciel said around a giggle, hands splayed on the counter as Sebastian kept his on his legs.
He smoothed his palm up and squeezed experimentally, feeling the muscle flex under his hand. Ciel was thin but he wasn't weak. The strength in his thigh alone was impressive and Sebastian squeezed again, kneading the muscle with a satisfied smile.
"No contest, princess. You've got the strongest legs. All of America knows that," he said lowly, still boldly touching Ciel's legs, thumb dipping between where they were spread to make room for his hips.
"Now lemme see your biceps," Sebastian coaxed, other hand already on the zipper of his bomber jacket, tugging gently.
Ciel gave him a look, a little crease between his eyebrow and his eye patch, chewing his liquor-flavoured lip, but didn't stop him. The zip came down, the silk slipped over bare shoulders, and Sebastian swore low under his breath. The bare skin didn't stop at Ciel's shoulders. It went all the way back, revealing his shoulder blades and the side of his ribs, and his beautiful arms and throat. Agni choked. Bard found something interesting to stare at on the ground.
"You uh," Sebastian's tongue was thick in his mouth. "Dio mio. You look really pretty... Like a film star, or something."
"You're drunk," Ciel blushed.
"Yeah, but I'm not blind," Sebastian swallowed. He flicked his eyes up to Ciel's patch and added, "No offence."
Ciel gave him a rude look and his fingers shyly touched his collarbone, glancing out to the party and not at Sebastian. The hockey player took it as an excuse to come closer, so close that their hips almost met and he could smell the perfume on his neck. Masculine but inherently gorgeous.
"My date didn't think so," he said quickly. He glanced up at Sebastian and his face softened.
"What?"
Ciel's other hand moved up to join it's twin on his chest, accidentally grazing Sebastian's as it passed. One glimpse of his small, polished nails touching the back of his tattooed hand had his heart skip. He was hooked. Ciel breathed out, nervous.
"My date thought," he trailed off, looking conflicted. "He thought I was dressed like a slut."
In his peripheral Sebastian saw Agni stand up straighter. Sebastian's entire body went tense with white-hot, liquid rage, and he placed one of his hands on the wall behind Ciel and boxed him in, chest hard.
"What's his name?"
Ciel pressed his lips into a line, eyeing off Sebastian's tense arm. It made the hockey player grunt and he bit the inside of his cheek.
"Why? You gonna beat him up?" Ciel groaned, still staring at his arm but wrinkling his nose in cute dissatisfaction.
Sebastian nodded. The teenager shook his head slowly, like Sebastian was stupid and primitive, and the hockey player felt that he was. Especially when Ciel's hand reached up and wrapped around his bicep, squeezing softly. His brain ceased to function as that hand touched his muscles, rubbed appreciatively with his little thumb and made a low, thoughtful sound. Sebastian flexed and Ciel's eye widened, swallowing visibly.
"Was it Charles Grey?" Sebastian asked, eyes flicking down to Ciel's slender neck, his collarbone.
He pushed his hand higher up Ciel's leg and even at it's thickest junction Sebastian figured he could wrap both hands neatly around his thigh. The thought made him feel even hotter.
"I don't want you to beat up anyone for me," Ciel said firmly. He traced his fingers up higher, up to the place where muscle met t-shirt, and he tugged at the rolled fabric sleeves. "Just calm down."
And Sebastian held his tongue, arm tense and body thrumming with desire to pummel whatever asshole ruined Ciel's night into the ground. But he was unable to do anything. Not with Ciel's hand rubbing his shoulder. Not with the smell of his skin so close, and the warmth of his thigh under his palm. Not when fate had dropped America's sweetheart right into his kitchen, looking this damn good.
"I can't calm down," he admitted quietly, dropping his gaze when Ciel stared right at him.
His hand left his arm, slid down the front of his shirt and over the worn slogan, toying with the fabric pulled obscenely tight over his pectorals. They were too close. Sebastian couldn't believe it. His brain overloaded and restarted every five seconds.
Ciel went to touch his other hand but he bumped his fingers into his empty vodka bottle, which clinked noisy against Sebastian's beer. The figure skater bumped them together again, smiling slowly.
"Got a baseball bat?" He asked. Sebastian nodded.
"Wanna go outside and smash things up?"
And Sebastian had never loved a single sentence more than the one that just came out of Ciel Phantomhive's mouth.
…
"I used to do this with my brother all the time."
Ciel placed Sebastian's empty beer bottle on the fence and stepped back to admire his glistening victim. The twenty-five-year-old handed over the bat, tape frayed and rough in the centre of his palm. Swinging it over his shoulder he tested the weight, shifting his hips side to side. In the night air he didn't feel so drunk. He felt alive. Excited. He was wearing Sebastian's leather jacket, heavy on his shoulders and studded with silver, and band pins, and zippers that rustled as he shifted his weight from leg to leg so the line-up of boys behind him could watch his ass move in his jeans. It made him feel powerful. The jacket. The eyes on him. The baseball bat in his hands.
"Pretend it's your boyfriend," Sebastian said loudly, arms crossed.
Bard and Agni stood next to him, finishing off the last of their drinks. They were wearing heavy jackets too, but not Sebastian. He only wore his shirt, bare arms kissed with rain, and it did no favours for Ciel's drunk, licentious mind.
"He's not my - "
"Pretend it's his dick," Bard hollered bluntly, hands cupped over his mouth.
Agni shoved him, grinning. Sebastian smiled. Ciel stared back at the bottle and tilted his head, feeling revenge tug lowly in his gut. In the same place where Charles had touched him. He swung back the bat and the bottle popped with a satisfying shatter, sending glass across the lawn and a whoop from the pack of hockey players in it's wake.
"You're pretty tense," Sebastian said as he bumped past him, sitting another bottle up on the fence.
He came up behind Ciel and put his hands over the top of his, wrapping them tightly around the base. Someone whistled. Sebastian pressed his chest to Ciel's back and shifted closer until their was no space left behind him, and Ciel could feel everything. Absolutely everything. All 200 pounds, and something hard through the leather, against his shoulder blade.
"You have a nipple piercing," Ciel said flatly, ignoring the hot laugh against the shell of his ear.
He felt good in the cold night, skin warm and fragrant, and oh so close.
"Ahuh," the hockey player replied nonchalantly, shifting his hands up the bat. "Relax your hands. You wanna hold it more with your fingers and less with your palm."
"Oh okay, Babe Ruth." He earned another warm, handsome laugh against his throat and loosened his hands beneath Sebastian's.
"There you go," Sebastian praised. Ciel shivered. "Just like that. Pretend it's my dick."
Ciel bristled, cheeks dark as he tried to pull his hands off the bat, flustered. Bard snorted into the back of his hand and Ciel had nowhere to go but further up against Sebastian's chest.
"I know how to swing a baseball bat," Ciel clicked his teeth, turning his head to glare at the hockey player behind him.
It was a mistake. Sebastian was right there, so close. His cologne. The smell of sweat. His eyes looking at him so intensely, so close their eyelashes practically kissed. Then his hands were gone and Ciel was on his own.
"Then do it," Sebastian goaded. And Ciel swung. And he hated to admit that he did it much better the second time around.
Agni whistled, clapping slowly at the carnage and Ciel couldn't help but laugh, turning around to see Sebastian smiling back, arms crossed and looking impressed. Then Bard was snatching the bat out of his hands, spinning it once in the air to show off, and settling his empty beer bottle down on the fence in the place where Ciel's use to be. He made a big show of lining up the shot, Biggest Biceps on show as he rocked his hips back and forth, judging his swing.
"I call this one the Tonya Harding," he said to Ciel, eyebrow raised.
And then he bought the bat down hard against the bottle, obliterating it between the fence and the weapon. Ciel laughed loud - shocked, hand clapped over his mouth as the blonde gave him a dazzling, proud smile.
"That's fucked up," Ciel grinned, shaking his head.
The bat went to Sebastian and he weighed it thoughtfully in his hand, finishing the last of his drink so it could join the shattered bones of it's brethren on the fence line. He fished into his pockets and took out a cigarette, put it between his lips to light it, until he saw the look on Ciel's face.
"What?"
"You smoke?" Ciel said, nose twitching. The look on his face was enough to make Sebastian's face slacken, and he took the cigarette out from between his lips and put it back into his pocket.
"No," he lied.
Ciel swallowed past the happy lump in his throat, auburn eyes glancing up his throat and cheek like a starved man. It was the kind of attention money couldn't buy.
And it was about then that Alois showed up. He'd been asleep when Ciel had called, voice sticky but worried, and promising to come pick him up right away. But, as he strolled across the lawn, wearing an oversized sweater and Ugg boots, and thin, little tights, he looked way too good for someone who had 'just woken up'. He shot the hockey players a smile, tucking all that blonde, buttery hair behind one ear to expose his throat, and let his eyes linger for far too long on the taller, dumber blonde standing behind Ciel. Bard dropped the baseball bat onto the ground, mouth half-open.
"Hey boys," he drawled sweetly, before turning his attention to his best friend.
He wrapped his arm around him, tugging him close against his body so he could rest his chin against the top of Ciel's head. The twenty-year-old was tipsy enough to not be embarrassed, and pressed firmly into the hug that smelt like baby powder and laundry detergent.
"Hey peanut," he said, kissing his head. He tugged at the lapel of Sebastian's jacket and gave him a filthy smile. "You look like a little punk. Gonna hold onto it?"
Ciel turned pink, looking over his shoulder to catch Sebastian's eye. He was staring at him, hairs raised on his strong, tattooed arms, breath coming out of his mouth like a little ghost. Regretfully, the boy shrugged off the jacket and handed it over to the much, much taller man.
"Thank you," he said quietly, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. Sebastian's patient stare made him feel nauseous, in the good way. "I'm sorry that I was rude to you today," he added, swallowing around the lump in his throat.
The taller man smiled, shaking his head like it was nothing. He had the good grace not to rub Ciel's failed date in his face, or remind him that his night might have been so much better if he'd come with Sebastian instead. No, he just smiled, and it made Ciel feel syrupy and nice. Something he hadn't felt in a really long time. The hockey player reached out and smoothed back some of his hair, fingers light like the boy was made of glass.
"Did you have fun tonight, princess?"
Ciel nodded. Sebastian smiled and let him go.
"Good. Get some sleep," he said softly.
"And some water," Agni butted in, stepping forward as Alois dragged the boy away from the men.
Ciel tried to roll his eye but he was blushing too hard. He nodded instead, glancing at the two men and giving them a soft, dumb wave before Alois pulled him away. He walked him back to the car, cheek pressed against his so firm he could feel his nasty smirk.
"Bye guys," Alois yelled back over his shoulder.
Ciel stared up at the sky above, all foggy with clouds, stars faint between the gaps. He cast one last look over his shoulder at the boys, standing out in the night, and saw Sebastian press his nose to the collar of his jacket. He caught his eyes, still staring, and the teenager realised he was smelling the perfume he'd left on the dark leather. His stomach turned.
"Bye Alois," Bard shouted. "Bye peanut!"
Their laughter was the last thing Ciel heard as Alois put him in the car, buckling his belt although he insisted he was fine. He pressed his cheek to the cool glass of his friend's horrible car and wondered if he would regret any of this tomorrow.
"You okay?" Alois asked, sticking his keys into the ignition and the whole vehicle rumbled under them. Ciel nodded, staring at his condensation on the glass.
"Can you take me to KFC?" He asked sweetly. Alois snorted
…
"Alois, did you see him?"
The dark-haired skater breathed, clinging to his best friend's shoulders as he tried to open the door to Ciel's apartment and manoeuvre the drunk boy inside.
"Which one," Alois huffed, practically dragging Ciel across the hardwood, polished floor.
"Alois," Ciel whined, grabbing a fistful of Alois's sweater so he could force the blonde to stop, nose to nose in the living room. Ciel blinked up at him, swallowing thickly before tugging at the wadded fabric again. "Sebastian. Did you see him? I mean, really see him?"
A little crease appeared between his eyebrows and Alois couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips. He repositioned Ciel's weight, of which there was not much of to reposition, and continued to tug the petite skater into his bedroom and drop him down onto his bed.
"I saw him peanut," he said, a little breathless as he unlaced Ciel's shoes and tugged them off his ankles. "He looked good. Really good. His biceps in tha-"
"His biceps!" Ciel sighed loudly, plopping his head down against the French linen on his mattress.
With his feet free of shoes he tucked his knees up to his chest, curling his arms around his legs as he keened, biting his lip between his teeth.
"His f-fucking," he hiccuped, "biceps. He just… oh God, so sexy."
He let go of his knees, suddenly sitting up on his elbows as Alois got onto the mattress with him, crawling up his legs to unfasten his tight, tight jeans. One strap of his backless shirt slipped off his shoulder and he didn't notice, or didn't care. He blinked, staring at Alois's hands, still chewing at his red mouth.
"He has a tongue piercing," he whispered reverently, and Alois smiled, tugging the twenty-year-old's jeans down his narrow hips. "And a nipple piercing too."
"I know," Alois grinned wider.
He tossed Ciel's jeans off the side of his bed and slipped his hands under his top to slide that off too. Ciel was so drunk he didn't mind, hair messy as the silk ruffled it. His bare stomach was such a rare sight, enough for Alois to pause momentarily and stare at how slender it was. As his best friend breathed in his strong abdominal muscles tensed, and his shallow belly-button suckered beside the blonde's thumb.
"What happened tonight?" Alois asked, not realising how cold his voice sounded until the dumb, happy look on Ciel's mouth melted away.
"What do you mean?" He muttered back. His eye was glassy and his cheeks dark, and he looked down like a chastised child.
"What happened with Charles? Thought you had a date with him, peanut. Not the entire hockey team."
Ciel wet his mouth, nuzzling his head against the pillow. He laughed, fingers tracing his clavicle. "I wouldn't mind dating the entire hockey team, y'know?" He slurred, rolling onto his side.
Alois fished a loose shirt off the bedroom floor and chucked it at him, the skater wriggling into the garment and doing no further favours for his hair. He laughed, mouth muffled by his arm.
"I'd let the entire team do aaaaaanything they want," he giggled, drawling as he chewed at his lip again, and again, and his cheeks matched his mouth in colour.
"You're being a brat tonight," Alois smiled, crawling over Ciel to smooth his hair back into place. He untied his eyepatch, the skater's hand going to the uncovered skin to rub at it, yawn on his lips.
"I just… Alois. He looked so hot tonight," he said again, starting to succumb to his sleepiness.
Alois finally laid down beside him, feeling just as tired. By now it was long past midnight.
"So why are you wasting your time with that Charles fucker, when you could be getting rawed by that stupidly attractive Italian?"
Ciel snickered. "Rawed?"
"Yeah peanut," the blonde nodded, nestling closer so their knees could bump together and their noses flirted. "I bet he has a really big dick, huh."
Ciel exhaled all at once, his breath sweet with cherry liquor. "I really want him to fuck me."
The admission made his best friend's eyes widen, wishing he could record the nasty confessions coming off the skater's lips.
"You really need to get laid, don't you?" The blonde asked. Ciel nodded feverently. Alois tucked his hair back and pressed a little kiss to his head. "You're so wound up all the time."
"Mm, yep," he chirped. He closed his eyes, pressing against the blonde's warmth. "Really need him to fuck me. Hold me down with those… a-arms, and," he trailed off to hiccup again, not opening his eyes.
"And what?"
"And let him get his dick wet," he sighed, finally opening his mismatched eyes to smirk. "Don't care how. He can put it in my mouth, or my ass. Mm. Or both. I don't care Alois, did you see him tonight? He could fuck me anyway he wanted and I'd let him."
"Wow, Ciel."
The twenty-year-old smiled, pressing his nose into the blonde's neck so he could nod again, winding his arm around his waist so he could koala-cling to his chest, his hair smelling faintly of men's cologne.
"I'm gonna tell him tomorrow," Ciel decided, voice muffled. "Gonna skate right up to him and say hey - idiot. I want you to bend me over and, and, and ahh." He went quiet, words slurred.
"Got a feeling you won't remember this tomorrow," Alois whispered, playing with the back of his best friend's hair as his breath evened out, and he succumbed to slumber. His eyelashes tickled his collarbone, hand going limp where it lay across the blonde's chest, and the older skater exhaled, staring up at the ceiling.
He just wanted Ciel to be happy. More than anything. And Charles Grey was not the man for him.
…
