A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry for the delay on this chapter. We were moving. Now, we are in a new place, and I can start writing again :D Thank you for all the adds and favorites that you guys left while I was gone. I look forward to hearing from you guys again this chapter!

Much Coveted Servility

Chapter 4

Early May, 1889

Sebastian Michaelis stared at the small, scantily clad, woman before him with with eyes devoid of any sympathy. He was mildly annoyed, for this particular guest had arrived entirely unannounced at an hour completely inappropriate for company, especially that of a young lady. Though, Sebastian wasn't certain that this particular girl held any qualms about hurting her reputation. Outside, rain clouds had gathered to obscure the evening sky, drenching the land with torrents of cold water. Periodically, lightning pierced the air, illuminating the evening with flashes of blue, white, and purple.

"Miss Ran-Mao," the demon greeted, his voice nearly lost over the sounds of the downpour. His gaze followed the lines of her curves, clearly outlined by the wet cheongsam that now clung to her like a second skin. The embroidered flowers on the back of the dress were obscured with soot and traces of blood. "Where is your brother?" he asked with a trace of sarcasm and a raised brow. Typically, the two were inseparable.

"Attacked. Sent me to ask for help." Well, that would explain her state of dishabille - torn dress, mussed hair, a quickly swelling bruise on her jaw. Behind her, at the base of the entry staircase to the manor house, stood an exhausted steed. Had she ridden here all the way from East End in London? The notion was rather ludicrous. It typically took almost two hours by carriage to complete the trip.

"Come inside, then," he offered, holding open the massive door to the manor. Lightning flashed, illuminating a face set into a grim mask of determination.

"No time. We go now." Sebastian tilted his head to the side, his curiosity piqued. Who would dare to attack Lau, of all people? Naturally, he made many enemies in his trade, but up until this point the man had proven himself to be more than capable of handling things like this. He had to admit that he'd never seen Ran-Mao this flustered before. Though she maintained her typical cold mask of seriousness, he could sense that she was barely clinging to her composure.

"How frustrating it must be to have let down your employer," he teased. The deliberate cruelty had the effect he expected on her - none at all. She blinked once and continued to stare at him. Sebastian snapped open his pocket watch, checked the time, and considered his options. Midnight. Less than an hour ago, he'd finally convinced his troublesome Master to go to sleep. Waking him up at this point would negate all of those efforts. Not to mention, the boy had been exhausted after their particularly violent fencing match.

If he finds out about this, he will definitely want to come.

"We go now," Ran-Mao repeated, grabbing the front of Sebastian's tunic. Apparently, diplomatic negotiations were about to come to a close. Not that the Phantomhive household owed Lau any favors. They held no formal agreement of mutual protection. By the book, Lau was on his own. Yet, something nagged at the butler - a thought about the research he and Ciel had performed a few days past in the London Library. At the time, they'd made plans to visit Lau in order to learn more about the series of trade ships that sank in 1866. Because they'd been followed, they decided to wait a few days before making an East End house call. Was this incident related somehow?

He won't be happy about this...

"Alright, Miss Ran-Mao," Sebastian conceded with a smile, "let's see what trouble your brother has been causing." Without waiting for a reply, the butler leaned down and tossed the disheveled girl onto his back. Glancing at his pocket watch one last time, he took off at his full demonic speed.

I need to be back before dawn.

However, when they arrived at Kon Ron headquarters, Sebastian was forced to reassess the amount of time it would take to finish this particular task. The entire building, along with two ships, was in flames. The heady smell of singed opium filled the air. Broken glass littered the streets. Not even the heavy rain could put out the fire. The storm upset the water, and the canal seethed, churning the ships upon it. Strong thunder storms like this were common in the summers of England, as were fires. Not many would readily suspect arson. Whoever had planned this knew what they were doing.

Upon seeing the destruction, Ran-Mao slipped off his shoulders. Sebastian was mildly taken aback by her complete lack of shock at being hauled at inhuman speed across the countryside. The average woman would have screamed or demanded an explanation, but Ran-Mao took everything in stride. Her large, listless, eyes examined the ruined building dispassionately. If one was to judge by outward appearances, one could have labeled her an innocent bystander caught in a situation she didn't understand. Yet, Sebastian knew better. Beneath her wet skin, he could feel a cluster of tension. A muscle twitched in her jaw; her hands clenched into tight fists at her side.

"You seem awfully calm," he pointed out. Suddenly, an explosion tore through the front wall. Even though they stood relatively far away from the source, the blast mushroomed outward and expanded to envelop a half block radius. Only Sebastian's inhuman speed saved them from being overwhelmed. He frowned. If anyone had managed to survive the fire, they'd all just been torn to pieces. Chunks of debris - painted concrete, ornate wood, and stained glass - all flew high into the air and rained down in a flaming hailstorm. The building vomited forth black plumes of smoke.

"Brother Lau," Ran-Mao whispered. Surprised, he looked down at her. He half expected for her to shed a few tears, but she looked as composed as ever. The demon examined all possible places where enemies could hide. When he returned to the girl's side, he was thoroughly miffed. And here he'd hoped for some honest bloodshed.

"What happened here, Miss Ran-Mao?" the butler inquired seriously this time.

"Men came. Set fire. Took Brother Lau."

"He's been kidnapped?" the demon asked incredulously. Somehow, he couldn't imagine such a thing taking place. Though he acted like a complete fool most times, Lau could definitely handle himself in combat.

"Dead men," she elaborated. Sebastian raised a brow. Now there was an interesting detail. Dead men. Judging from his experience of the events in recent months, he could only assume that she meant the Bizzare Dolls. He branched out his senses, suddenly on high alert. Sebastian whirled around when an all too familiar voice rang out behind them. Where dead bodies came back to life to devour the living, the Undertaker wasn't far behind. Thankfully, his Master was safely out of harm's way.

"How unusual to see you out of the Earl's company." A lone shape stood atop one of the nearby buildings. Silver hair and black robes swayed in the burning wind. Although rain fell in roaring torrents from the clouds above, the man seemed entirely unaffected. His clothes were soaked, but he didn't seem to care. His oddly shaped hat somehow stayed in place on his head, flattening his long bangs over his face to hide his eyes. "I'd hoped to see him tonight. He has something that belongs to me," the Shinigami sighed dramatically.

"Sorry to disappoint," Sebastian replied in a forced monotone.

"Where is Brother Lau?" Ran-Mao demanded, interrupting them. The Undertaker glanced at her, his smile widening. White teeth flashed with the lightning.

"Dead, I presume." In a flash, the girl dashed forward. She used a few barrels and crates for leverage to jump up to where her enemy perched, a look of promised death in her eye. The Undertaker didn't flinch. In the next flare of lightning, he whipped out his Death Scythe and countered her strike. Briefly, Sebastian wondered at the Shinigami's complete lack of subtlety. Showing his true nature to this human was a risk. Yet, Ran-Mao did not look shocked. She attacked her enemy with a flurry of slashes. The butler admitted that she was very skilled. In some ways, she reminded him of Agni and his incredible fighting prowess. Still, she wasn't fast enough. The Undertaker blocked and dodged her attacks with ease, looking more than a little amused. When one of his swings nearly decapitated Ran-Mao, Sebastian decided to intervene.

You left him unguarded, didn't you? How remiss of you as a butler...

A whisper broke through his concentration. The voice came from several directions all at once, each word causing tangible pain in his skull. Confused, he looked up at the Undertaker. The Shinigami was still engaged in combat with Ran-Mao, but his hat had been swept off his head. Those eerie, green, eyes stared at him, glimmering with gleeful madness.

How do you imagine the Earl will feel when he awakens to danger and finds his demon gone?

Sebastian landed on a rooftop and stopped. His heart skipped a beat. True, he'd abandoned his Master, but the manor wasn't defenseless. The servants would be able to protect him should anything go awry.

You think that will be enough to stop me? Ask yourself this, demon - should you be dallying here instead of rushing to your Master's side?

A sharp, burning, pain on his hand caused him to wince. He brought his arm up in front of him, his eyes widening in surprise. His mark of contract - normally black, void-like, and clear - now looked faded. As the pain rose in intensity, a few drops of blood welled up from his skin.

He looks so innocent in his sleep. How easy it would be to reach over and snap his frail little neck...

Cold sweat broke out on Sebastian's back. Was Ciel hurt? It would take too long for him to get back to the manor. He tried to tell himself to stay rational. If Ciel was in danger, he would summon him. All it would take is -

He can't very well call for you if he's bound, can he?

Utterly confused by the turn of events, the demon followed the Undertaker's frenzied movements as he dodged Ran-Mao's skilled attacks. The mark of contract on his hand continued to pulsate in agony. Watching the silver-haired man jump around wildly made him want to tear him limb from limb. Was this one an illusion? How dare he threaten his Master? How dare he touch him with his vile hands?

I'll erase you from his life, along with that accursed mark.

With a flourish of his cloak, the Shinigami vaulted into the air and landed gracefully on the tip of a nearby flagpole. "Unfortunately, as much fun as I'm having with this little game of tag, I must take my leave." He cackled viciously. "And if you still want to find your Chinaman, I suggest you look at the bottom of the pier."

This time, Sebastian couldn't contain himself. Anger and concern for Ciel pushed him to mount his own offensive. The demon became a blur of black and glowing red as he shot forth towards his enemy, aiming for anything vital that he could break or tear. Unfortunately, just like that night on the Campania, the Undertaker's speed and agility proved to be second to none. No matter how many times he tried to catch him, his claws passed through him as though his body consisted of smoke. Then, just as he thought that he'd finally landed a hit, he felt a tugging on the nape of his jacket.

Sebastian! - Ciel's voice echoed in his thoughts like the ominous tolling of bells. Before his disbelieving eyes, the Undertaker vanished along with his surroundings. Dimly, he realized that his Master was summoning him.

OOOOO

The next time Sebastian opened his eyes, he found himself standing in the middle of Ciel's bedroom. Immediately, he sensed that he was not alone. Fortunately, he'd appeared soundlessly. This gave him an edge on the figure that stood right next to his Master's bed. The demon was never one to act in haste, however. He decided to observe the intruder for a few moments to try and understand more about his intentions. Though the murky darkness would have disoriented the average human, Sebastian's demonic eyes easily allowed him to see clearly through the blackness.

He saw a humanoid shape - a man with silver hair and green, eyes. For a split second, a rush of adrenaline nearly made him jump forward and attack. But, the moment that he recognized the intruder's identity, he calmed. No mad laughter, no enormous Death Psythe, no aura of death and decay. The figure did not belong to the Undertaker as he'd originally presumed. Nevertheless, sharp eyes followed the man's every movement. His Master tossed and turned restlessly, mumbling something in his sleep. He'd thrown off his covers, revealing skin dampened with cold sweat. Cautiously, Sebastian watched the man in black pick up a corner of the blanket and carefully tuck it back around the young Earl.

"He was shouting so loudly that I heard him upstairs - says Wilde," the figure divulged somberly. Then, sorrowfully - "He even scared away the mice - says Emily." From the man's shoulder, twin snakes of varying colors slithered down his arm and slipped onto the mattress, settling next to either side of the young Earl's body. The two animals watched the boy with eerie gazes. If Sebastian didn't know better, he would have labeled their odd behavior as apprehension.

"Snake," Sebastian returned in a low whisper. "You should not be in the Young Master's chambers without permission." He glanced at the entrance. "Was the door unlocked?"

"Locks are bothersome - says Donne," he responded crisply.

"So are rules," Sebastian countered. "But, while you are in the Phantomhive manor, they are absolute." The butler walked to his Master's bedside and placed a heavy hand on Snake's shoulder. Though he'd been living with them as a footman for nearly three months now, Sebastian still didn't completely trust him. Ciel was responsible for the deaths of his comrades, after all. This time, he was full of good intentions in coming to see if Ciel was alright, but what would happen once he found out the truth? The way he looked at the young boy made even him, a demon, uneasy. "You've been here long enough to know that the Young Master sometimes has nightmares. Why investigate this time?"

"Usually, Black comforts Smile - says Wilde. But, this time he was calling for Black for so long - says Donne." Snake's chilling, green, eyes looked up at him through a fan of pure, white eyelashes. When he blinked, Sebastian thought he saw his pupils change shape. The expression in those icy eyes was hard to read. How did one know what an animal was thinking, especially a cold-blooded reptile? From Sebastian's point of view, Snake looked like he was trying to figure out the same about him.

"Why didn't Black come earlier? - says Wilde." Sebastian's expression of neutrality faltered. Although the words were spoken with detachment and apathy, an underlying emotion permeated them - anger. He and the demon stared each other down for a few moments. Naturally, Sebastian couldn't divulge the true nature of his activities that evening. After all, he hadn't even been near the manor until a few minutes ago and had left without telling anyone. Instead of answering Snake directly, Sebastian scooped his two companions - Emily and Wilde - from the bed.

"I want to stay with Smile - says Emily," Snake protested. The demon looked critically at the green-eyed man, trying to understand why his presence in Ciel's room bothered him to such an extent. Clearly, he hadn't meant any harm. But, the way he'd watched his Master - the way he tucked the blankets around him in obvious concern...

Only I am allowed to do that - A hard muscle flexed in his jaw. He forced his face into a well-meaning smile.

"I'm afraid that's impossible. The Young Master doesn't like strange things in his bed. You'll have to leave now." Snake helped his companions settle on his shoulders. Each movement made the faint scales on his skin shimmer in the stray rays of moonlight that filtered through the gaps in the closed curtains. Most humans that saw him labeled him a freak - strange, even ugly. Yet, Ciel had accepted him into his home without hesitation. Sebastian had yet to understand why. After hunting humans and living on the edges of their society for several centuries, Sebastian predicted that nothing could surprise him any more. Yet, Ciel continued to do so when he least expected it. Whether the young Earl achieved this through the strength of his convictions or the many paradoxes that made up his personality, Ciel never failed to captivate the demon with his decisions and behavior.

"What does he dream about? - says Donne," Snake inquired, ignoring Sebastian's request.

"Do snakes not dream?" Sebastian queried, raising a brow.

"We do - says Emily." Snake's gaze settled on Ciel's face, slipping over his features as though trying to memorize them. The butler tensed when he reached towards him. "Not nightmares, though - says Wilde." With a snap, Sebastian's hand covered Snake's, cutting off its path.

"A servant should not touch the Young Master so lightly." Something dangerous flickered in the man's emerald orbs - a veiled emotion that the demon couldn't place. His fingers felt stone cold - like branches of a dead tree with bark as rough as sandpaper. As he pulled back, the scales on his skin allowed him to slip out of Sebastian's firm grip. They stood, unmoving, for several minutes. Intuition warned the demon to stay alert. One of the snakes hissed something into the man's ear.

"Black made it to the manor very quickly - says Wilde." Another hiss. "Smile's eyes are very beautiful - says Emily." Sebastian glared. "Especially his right eye - says Donne." He turned and made his way towards the door. Right before exiting, he spoke again. "I know what he is," Snake cautioned. Just as soundlessly as Sebastian entered the room, the silver-haired man now slipped out of it. His departure left an uncomfortable suspicion lurking in Sebastian's conscience. Was he bluffing? No. The chances that Snake knew the truth about his origins were high, especially since he'd witnessed some of his strength on the Campania. The butler noted that he would have to keep a closer eye on the footman from now on. Should his loyalties shift for any reason, he would have to act quickly. Red eyes narrowed. He didn't miss one important detail, at least - Snake had spoken the last sentence as himself.

A soft whisper from behind him made him turn around to look at his Master. The boy was still asleep. Fortunately, their conversation hadn't disturbed him. With a small grin, Sebastian acknowledged that only something equivalent to a volley of guns or an explosion could pull his Master from the dredges of his heavy sleep. In the mornings, it was all he could do to wake him up. Lately, he'd developed a tendency to stay up much later than usual. During the day, he put an extreme amount of effort into fencing. In the evenings, he pored over countless books and ledgers, trying to find out more about the Undertaker's intentions. To complicate matters, the Queen herself had sent Earl Phantomhive an indirect request to investigate Weston College. The mission coincided with their personal goals, but finding a way to infiltrate the school had proven difficult. The strain was getting to his Master, even in his sleep.

He didn't understand this new drive in the young boy. Where he used to depend on his butler for many things without a thought, he now put forth a visible effort to avoid commanding his assistance. This particular development irked him. Not that he enjoyed being ordered about like a dog. He was just confused. What had prompted such a change in his Master? Was he beginning to regret their contract? If so, then he would have to act accordingly to remind the boy of his original reasons for making said pact. It wouldn't do for all of Sebastian's hard work to go to waste now. Regret and repentance gave the soul a sour, ruddy, taste.

Not to mention - he pressed the back of his hand to his lips, licking the dried blood from the mark there. A feeling of mind-numbing possessiveness grappled for dominance with his self-control. I will not let you escape from me. I will not let anyone take you from my sight.

His harsh look softened when he saw Ciel shiver. Sebastian brushed his knuckles against Ciel's cheek to make sure he wasn't chilled, enjoying the rare sensation of skin upon skin. The boy mumbled something incoherently. Before the demon could anticipate his actions, Ciel turned his face into his touch, brushing his lips against his palm. His first urge was to yank his hand back, but he stopped himself just in time. The force of the action would have snapped his Master's neck.

Soft - like the velvet of rose petals. Such were his Master's lips. Crimson eyes focussed on a small scratch on the corner of the Earl's mouth - a souvenir from one of their recent fencing lessons. He ghosted his clawed thumb across the small cut, feeling the texture of it. Suddenly, he felt a stirring of desire - a thirst to know, a hunger to taste, a yearning to sample just a little bit of what lay just within reach, but out of it. Ciel was finely aged wine, a soul that would taste better and better the more it experienced and the farther that it stepped into the waters of darkness. For years, he'd been cultivating this flavor; for years, he'd done everything in his power to protect it. Ciel belonged to him completely - body and soul. What would be wrong with taking just a small bite? He wouldn't be breaking the contract - no matter how starved he was, Sebastian would never harm his prey before its time. Their aggressive fencing lessons lately had yielded plenty of small injuries here and there that he could partake from.

Madness. This was madness. He knew it, yet the demon turned his back on the right choice with little regret. Careful not to make any kind of noise, Sebastian sat down on the edge of the bed. He pulled off his other glove and leaned down.

Farther and farther, closer and closer.

He considered stopping, but when Ciel murmured his name almost breathlessly, he knew it was too late. With a predatory glint in his eyes, Sebastian watched his Master's chest rise and fall with each breath, imagining how he would sound when the demon's fangs sank into his heart one day. Nearly a decade had passed since his last feeding. Starvation couldn't begin to describe how he felt. Yet, he kept this hunger firmly in check every day. Just as he needed to do now. The slightest mistake could end in disaster.

Farther and farther, closer and closer.

He took a deep breath, basking in Ciel's unique scent. Lavender and sandalwood on the surface; innocence, strength, and life beneath the skin. Such temptation. Only a saint could resist. And Sebastian was very far from being a saint. He recalled how Ciel had tumbled in their sparring match and injured himself on a particularly sharp rock. Extending a single claw, he cut through one of the ribbons holding his Master's nightshirt closed. The fabric slipped down, revealing a soft, creamy, shoulder. There, a single, jagged cut marred the perfection of nubile, young skin. Though it had scabbed over, the wound was still swollen. The smell of tangy blood was faint, but at this moment it was enough to drive him into a state of raw need. Glancing once more at the young Earl to make sure he was asleep, Sebastian closed his eyes.

First, he touched the wound with his lips. Then, his tongue darted out hesitantly. Slowly, gently, carefully, the demon licked the still healing injury on his Master's shoulder. The first taste of blood nearly overwhelmed his rationale. He shuddered, euphoria shooting through his veins like lightning. He made another pass. The ecstasy was so powerful this time that his grip tightened. Nearly losing himself, the demon pulled the boy towards him, wanting - no, needing - to be closer to him. His skin tasted sweet. His blood tasted like the most magnificent and vile of sins. How he wanted to devour him right here - right now. Contract and aesthetics be damned!

To his frustration, the wound was too shallow. The blood stopped too soon. Already, his saliva was healing the cut. His chest rumbled with a growl of desperation. This insanity was precisely the reason that he hadn't done this all these years. Though his Master's frequent injuries could easily be healed with a touch, Sebastian hadn't trusted himself to taste even a drop of his blood. So, why now? Was the Undertaker responsible? Seeing the faded mark on his hand and feeling his connection with Ciel weaken had caused him to lose focus. Suddenly furious with himself, he pulled back. The demon looked up and saw that Ciel's cheeks were flushed, his lips still parted on a sigh. That's right. Fragile, sensitive, sinful, humans could experience pleasure through pain. How many times had a maiden claimed to die of ecstasy while he devoured her? He'd lost count. His hunger was by no means sated, however. Already, the haze of need was settling over his thoughts once more. A hot breath escaped his lips as he searched for another open wound, disturbing the Earl's sweat-dampened hair. Unable to immediately find what he sought, the demon focussed on the cut that darkened the corner of Ciel's lips.

"Sebastian?" He watched the lips form the shape of his name, but he didn't register it. So, his actions had finally awakened his Master. He tried to struggle out of Sebastian's grip. Somehow, in the recent frenzy, the demon had dragged the boy into his arms and pinned him firmly to the mattress. One hand held his arms above his head, while the other cupped the side of his face. Such a trusting voice he possessed - confused, tired, unafraid. Ciel had no doubt in his mind that the demon would not hurt him. He needed to stop. Now. Before things escalated. With a heroic feat of willpower, Sebastian finally tore his gaze away from the boy's lips and looked into his eyes.

A beat.

"Sebastian?" His grip tightened even more.

Stop now. Cease this lunacy! - his logic demanded. When he trailed his claws down the young Earl's cheek and across his neck, Ciel gasped. His blush darkened. Too late. Somewhere, the last string holding Sebastian back snapped entirely. His normally slitted pupils dilated.

"What are you doing?" the Earl objected.

"Tasting you," Sebastian replied huskily. That said, the demon moved forward and covered Ciel's lips with his own.

To be continued...