Author's note: Lemon warning
Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) and all characters therein belong to Yana Toboso. I make no profit from the writing of this fanfiction, and it is strictly for entertainment purposes only.
~xox~
Vincent tipped back the rest of his tea, now cooled off to the point where he was glad it was gone, and set the cup aside on the table before turning to smile at Undertaker. The two had talked while they drank, and the Earl felt calmer again, even playful since the topic had changed drastically since their first cup of tea they shared. "It's gotten quite late..." he observed, running his fingers through long locks of silver.
"Indeed, my lord," answered the reaper in a soft undertone. He turned his head to face his young lover, and he put his cup aside as well. "Fancy a night cap?"
His pulse was quickening with intrigue, but he resisted the impulse to be too assertive with his guest. After all, Vincent had just committed acts that went against his basic nature. Undertaker would wait for a sign, before acting on his desire for him.
The Earl shook his head, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his jaw, "I'm not that tired yet," he whispered.
That was the signal, and that was good enough for the Undertaker. He turned his head to capture his lover's softly kissing lips with his own, having gone too long without his touch. He scooted the coffee table forward carelessly to get it out of the way as he embraced him completely, tongue seeking entrance to the velvety lips pressed against his.
"Ahh...nnnm..." Vincent leaned back, falling onto his back across the sofa, pulling his lover along with him before sliding his hands over his shoulders and down to the row of buttons along Undertaker's chest, "It's...been too long..." he complained.
"So it has," agreed the reaper just as breathlessly. He likewise began to unravel the Earl's finery, eager to bare his body to his sight. He moved his lips away from Vincent's, tasting a hint of aftershave as he ran his tongue over the close-shaved jaw. He got his vest and shirt open and he stroked one determined hand over the exposed skin, delighting in the feel of lithe muscle and smooth skin.
"I could easily forget my manners," he rasped huskily, forgetting whom he was speaking to, "and bang you right here."
Vincent flushed, "No one is here to put a show on for," he whispered, "No servants to worry about overhearing, as well...it's just the two of us." He moaned, rubbing his body up against Undertaker's lewdly. "...So in your own words...you could just 'bang' me right here."
Undertaker groaned, feeling his tailored pants growing uncomfortably tight in the crotch. He pressed the bulge of his arousal against Vincent's thigh, and he bit down lightly on his shoulder before thinking. He stopped immediately, realizing he was going to leave a mark for Rachel to find. The dear lady was quite aware of their relationship and she accepted it, but that didn't mean he needed to flaunt it. He licked the spot soothingly as he pinched the Earl's right nipple.
"God I'm randy," he admitted in a purring murmur. "I think it's unfair that you have your lady wife to see to your needs when we're apart, but I only have my hand. Tsk, tsk."
"You give me too much credit, Undertaker. She and I haven't since Ciel was conceived." He moaned, finally opening the last layer the reaper wore and exposing his chest to run his hands over, "You're going to make me jealous of your hand, however." he teased lightly.
"No need to be jealous of the hand, love," assured the reaper with a grin, letting said hand slip lower, over the taut muscles of Vincent's abdomen and below the navel. He traced the fine trail of hair that disappeared beneath his belt, then the zipper of his pants. "Right now, it's focused on you."
Undertaker cupped the swell of his lover's crotch, giving it a gentle squeeze and a rub before working the button of the trousers open and tugging the zipper down. "Both hands are going to be giving you a lot of attention tonight, my dear."
The earl moaned, savoring the feel of his lover's attentions, "I look forward to it." He ran his fingers through his lover's hair and shifted his weight so that his slacks could be removed more easily. "As I intend to have my own do the same with you."
"Good," purred the Undertaker, sitting up for a moment to help the other man out of his trousers. "I'd have sulked, otherwise."
He dropped the garment carelessly on the floor, and he stroked Vincent's bared legs for a moment before shrugging out of his jacket and shirt. He eyed the prone noble with appreciation as Vincent did the same, and within moments, the Earl was gloriously nude. Undertaker undid his trousers and shoes, kicking the latter off carelessly. One of the shoes went flying into the wall, striking a painting and knocking it down. He considered getting up to replace it on its hook, but he shrugged his pale shoulders and decided to leave it.
"I can't bring myself to give a toss about the picture, with you lying there in naught but your birthday suite," he said. He unfastened his pants and wriggled out of them hastily, his erection springing free as he pulled them down and kicked them off. Grinning with delight at his lover, the reaper stretched out on top of him again and kissed him, his stiffened arousal pressing intimately against the Earl's.
"Mmm...what painting?" Vincent hummed against pale lips, a hand tangling in silver hair as the other slid down along Undertaker's side, following his curves and gripping his hip. "There's only one thing in the world right now...and I intend to enjoy it distraction-free."
Chest flush against chest, abs against abs, the nobleman pressed his body to the reaper's his lips, trailing kisses wherever they happened to touch cool pale skin, tugging on his earlobe with his teeth.
"I honestly can't recall," answered the reaper, his voice muffled against the smooth skin he'd begun to worship in return. He squirmed down a bit to give himself more room, his mouth leaving a moist trail of kisses over the Earl's throat, collar bone and pectorals.
He couldn't even begin to describe how much he'd missed this contact. He intended to make it last, and thus he avoided touching the more intimate places of Vincent's anatomy with his hands. Instead, he rubbed against him sensually, memorizing every angle and plane of his body against his. He savored every taste, every lick, every nibble and every touch, and he groaned softly as his advances were reciprocated. Vincent had become a bit bolder with maturity, touching him with more confidence. He loved the way he did so, while still remaining "his Vincent".
"Whatever comes of this mess," he said huskily against the Earl's chest, "You are still my Vincent."
It was sappy and he knew it, but he couldn't stop the words from tumbling past his animated lips. He took advantage of the proximity of the young man's left nipple to shut himself up before he became mired in his own errant poetics, closing his lips about it and flicking his tongue lightly against the tightening bud.
The earl gasped, moaning out as he began to writhe under his lover's form. Silver hair tickling his sensitive skin. His hand twitched, wanting desperately to dive down between their forms and take hold of both their shafts, rubbing them together.
The urge grew too great not much longer after he got it, and he did so, gripping them both in hand and slowly stroking them as one.
"Vincent," groaned the mortician, "love..."
He began to pump against the grip, and he reached down with one hand to cup it over the Earl's encouragingly. He levered himself up on one arm and he covered Vincent's mouth with his own, seeking out his tongue with his own. He pushed in past his parted lips, found his goal and plundered it. The heat was building, and he pushed it back with determination. They had all night. He wouldn't spoil that with his greedy lust.
Forcing himself to calm down, he stroked Vincent's tongue with his own, his hand covering the one that was stroking them both off. His length pressed firmly against Vincent's as the human's gripping hand slid up and down the girth of both of them. Not for the first time, he wondered how it was possible for a creature such as himself, with no need for air, couldn't seem to catch his breath.
The earl was panting, sweat forming on his smooth skin. He could tell Undertaker wanted to take things slow, and he slowed himself down as well, but it felt like it was driving him mad. each touch, caress, lick...they all felt intensified. his skin felt more sensitive, and Undertaker himself...he felt like heaven; an angel dragging him into physical paradise.
They were still in foreplay, and already he felt so close to the edge.
Hugging his lover, Vincent cried out; "Oh-God! Undertaker!"
The sound was like music to his ears, and the reaper's immortal body shuddered with lust. "Shh, my dear," he whispered. He licked the side of Vincent's face slowly, letting his tongue trace the aristocratic structure of it as he steadily guided his stroking hand. "Not yet...not yet. We've the whole night to love each other, and it's been far too long."
His ghostly blanket of hair fell over the both of them as he guided the motions of Vincent's hand to slow, and he kissed him on the mouth again. He drank in every soft, desperate sound from his lover's lips, throbbing all over with need for him but refusing to give in. He'd loved him for a while now, but seeing him retain that part of him that made him so irresistible only seemed to amplify those feelings.
"My dear, darling Earl," gasped the mortician through his teeth, breath hissing between the ivory structures with each gasp. "Ah, but...there I go. I'm so blasted...sentimental with you."
"No..." Vincent cupped the reaper's cheek, "I like it...don't hold back...and if it does rush things—no one ever said we can't go again this same night." he propped himself up, his lips brushing over Undertaker's ear as he whispered, "Talk to me as much as you desire, my immortal love."
Undertaker shuddered with desire and passion. His feelings for this man...this mortal...were so consuming, now. The knowledge that he was doomed to die, one way or the other, made him want to cherish every moment with him even more. "I adore everything about you," he sighed.
He kissed his brow. "The way these tighten with thought when your mind is troubled..."
He kissed his cheeks, one at a time. "The way these pull taut when you smile, revealing that perfect bone structure...and this little mole here. I do so love that." He kissed said mark, before moving along, his hand steadily guiding Vincent's over the entrapped length of their cocks.
He moved on to his lips, pressing shallow, needy kisses against them. "The way these can curve into a smile, or a frown, and the way they yield to me when I kiss them. All of it...all of it, my dear. And that's just your bloody face."
The mortician laughed softly, rearing back to gaze down at the splendor that was his noble lover. "I love the way your chest heaves with breath, every time I stroke you. I love the way your throat arches, the way your nipples harden, and the way your abdomen flexes with every...single...tug."
He demonstrated this fact by guiding Vincent's hand tighter around their erections, his breath catching with need.
"And your voice, love...I could listen to that sound in my grave forever and be completely content."
Unable to go on, not even sure of what he was saying any longer, the Undertaker kissed his lover hard and urgently, thrusting into his griping touch and rubbing against his answering desire.
The human's free arm encircled around his timeless lover, legs following suit, hugging their bodies as close as their physical forms would allow. His lips, kiss-swollen, moving, sliding against Undertaker's, tongue twisting around his, moans mixed upon his breath and lingering between them.
The mortician made a desperate, aggressive sound in his throat, picking up the pace. He sucked on Vincent's tongue, his hand urging the Earl's to grip a little harder and move a little faster. His kiss swallowed Vincent's moans, and he honestly couldn't be certain the sounds weren't just coming from Vincent. He didn't require breath, but he was panting like he was running a marathon and a bloom of passion-induced heat gave his pallid cheeks a hint of mortal coloring.
"V-Vincent," he groaned, releasing his mouth to lay his head against his shoulder. He tried to hold back, but he'd gone without the man's touch for too long. Undertaker hissed through his teeth as it started, and he was helpless to stop it when he began twitching in Vincent's hand.
Vincent sped up the speed of his strokes, "Ahh!" Too much foreplay it seemed, as he stiffened, his member twitching as his pleasure spilled over, "Undertaker!"
The reaper crushed his mouth against Vincent's, passion and pleasure claiming dominion over his senses. Their seed intermingled, slippery against their skin as they writhed together and spent themselves. Gasping, shaking a little, Undertaker rode it out until the delightful pulses ended. He took a moment to catch his breath, kissing the perspiration-beaded brow of his lover as he enjoyed the afterglow.
"You realize of course," he declared huskily, "that the moment I get my second wind, I'll be ravishing you all over again."
"I'll...be expecting it..." Vincent panted, kissing Undertaker's fingertips.
~xox~
Undertaker did indeed gain his second wind, and they spent the entire night making up for lost time together. Vincent demonstrated greater confidence and boldness in bed than ever before, keeping up with the reaper quite gamely and even demanding more when Undertaker tried to take a breather. By morning, they were both so sexed up that they slept all the way through until noon—and then they had a bath together and fell into yet more play before eating lunch and calling Rachel to check on her and Ciel.
The time inevitably came for Vincent to leave, and he called his driver to come and collect him. Undertaker was showing him to the door when he noticed his limp, and he snickered before he could stop himself.
"A bit stiff today, are we?" teased the reaper knowingly. He felt a little bow-legged himself, but Vincent likely wouldn't find sitting on his bum to his comfort for the next day or so.
"Who's fault is that?" Vincent threw the comment over his shoulder with a smirk. He would have kissed the man, but his driver was there laying witness to whatever happened. "Thank you for allowing me to stay so that we could wrap up business in a more timely manor." he added, as the carriage's door was held open for him, "I look forward to our next visit, I just hope circumstances will be better."
The mortician nodded and tipped the top-hat that he'd donned. "Indeed, my lord...indeed. Say hullo to the Missus for me and give the nipper a tickle."
He saw him off with a smile and a wave, and when the carriage disappeared down the street with his lover, he sighed. A snowflake drifted down from the cloudy sky, and the reaper frowned at it. "It's a bit late in the season for you," he said as the delicate ice formation landed on his sleeve. Another flake came down, and another after that.
"Hmm, snow flurries in March," he mused. He breathed in the cool spring air, and he sensed they'd have a short, mild summer and an early, cold winter this year. It seemed winter had begun to arrive early and linger for longer than usual, lately. He felt a shiver as he wondered over the portent of it.
~xox~
Days passed into weeks, weeks passed into months, and months passed into years. Little Ciel grew slowly, and he was promised to one Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Midford as a spouse, once they were both of age to marry. Fortunately, the Lady Elizabeth was the same age as Ciel, and she also happened to be Vincent Phantomhive's niece. Her family often visited the Phantomhive estate and vice-versa, not only to spend time with the Earl and his Lady, but to allow the children to get to know one another. Arranged marriage to cousins within the monarchy was quite common, and it seemed that Ciel and Elizabeth were fond of each other.
He was a small fellow, though; much smaller than other boys his age. Undertaker teasingly remarked to his dear friends that "Lizzy" would outgrow him before they got married and Ciel would have to stand on a box to kiss the bride; to which Rachel rebuked that big things came in small packages. Undertaker of course started to respond to that with a grin, only to be shushed and nudged by Vincent before he could let his mouth run away with him.
True to his word, the mortician acted as the "funny uncle" that came 'round now and then for gatherings, known to Ciel only as the strange, smiling funeral director that liked to spend time with his parents. One such social gatherings resulted in a rather amusing conversation between the Undertaker and another local Earl, who insisted upon dragging the reaper into the conversation in the Billiard Room. As Vincent bent over to take a shot with his pool stick, Earl Renfield looked at the mortician curiously, obviously confused as to what he was doing in the company of nobles.
"And what is it you do, sir?" he asked the tall, silver-haired man.
Undertaker noticed Vincent's pause, and he smirked before answering. "I embalm dead bodies, of course. Have any you need taken care of?"
"He's a family informant," said Lady Rachel smoothly, smiling politely at the visiting Earl. "He's worked with the Phantomhives for years."
"Oh?" Lord Renfield puffed his pipe, watching Undertaker with interest. "I beg your pardon, Madame, but I must question why he's here now, at this elite social gathering."
Undertaker grinned broadly, prompting the man to take a step back. "Because I'm the funny uncle."
"He's family, to us," elaborated Rachel before her husband could remark—and by the thunderous expression on Vincent's face, his words wouldn't have been very polite. "And a vital part of our unit, sir. Please don't insult him, or I fear my husband may have you thrown out."
Undertaker smirked as the man reddened and lapsed into silence and busied himself elsewhere. He leaned toward Rachel and he winked at Vincent through his bangs. "Thanks for that, love. You probably averted a costly scene, with your intervention."
Rachel smiled softly and straightened her lacy gloves. "He's quite protective of you, Undertaker, and he takes insults to your person seriously. So do I."
The mortician nodded and took one of her gloved hands to kiss the top of it. He and Vincent had never gotten around to explaining who and what he truly was, but the lady of the house never pressed them for explanations or details, and she seemed to instinctively know already. "Dear lady, I have never been so blessed to have friends like you before."
He felt a tug at his robes then, and he looked down to find little Ciel looking up at him with wide blue eyes. Startled at the toddler's sudden appearance, the reaper knelt down with a smile as Rachel gasped.
"Ciel! Where is your nanny?" demanded Rachel in a scandalized tone. "You're supposed to be in bed!"
"In da kitchen," answered the child. "I wan away fwom her."
Undertaker snickered softly. "Did you, now? Why?"
Ciel looked over his shoulder uncertainly, before grabbing Undertaker's long, flowing hair for balance and leaning toward him to whisper in his ear. "She woodent scar da bogeyman away."
Undertaker chuckled with amusement, glancing up at Vincent and Rachel. "She wouldn't?! What sort of a nanny is she, anyway? That just won't do." He held his arms open. "Come on, nipper. Uncle Unnie will take care of that for you now."
Vincent and Rachel looked on with fond amusement as their little son put his arms around the Undertaker's neck and allowed him to scoop him up. The nanny came hurrying into the Billiard room just as the reaper was leaving with the boy, and she was visibly relieved to find Ciel in his arms.
"Oh, thank god! I just looked away for a moment as I was getting a snack for him, and he just...vanished!"
"Not to worry, Madame," said the grinning mortician. "I've got it well-handled. I'll put this little fellow to bed for you."
Flushing with mortification, the nanny bowed, her gaze going to the parents. "Please forgive me."
Rachel was smiling. "I know how clever and sneaky my son can be, Katherine. There's nothing to forgive. Just watch over him after the Undertaker puts him down for the night, won't you?"
"Yes, Mum," agreed the flustered nanny.
~xox~
Undertaker carried his lover's small progeny up the stairs and into the child's bedroom connecting to the master one. He bent over with Ciel and he checked under the crib.
"No bogeyman under there," he announced with a smile.
"Wardwobe!" Ciel demanded, pointing his little finger at the closet.
Undertaker obligingly carried him over and opened it. "No monsters in there either, little lord. Shall I check the toy chest, next?"
Ciel nodded, and the reaper walked over to said chest and looked beneath the lid. "Nothing hiding in there either, see? You're perfectly safe."
Apparently satisfied, Ciel rested his head against Undertaker's chest and he played with his single, long braid. "Unnietaker?"
"Hmm?" The reaper smiled against the child's soft, dark hair.
"Why you haf a knife in your shadow?"
Undertaker frowned and pulled back to look at him. "Pardon, little one?"
Ciel pointed at the floor, where their shadow fell over the carpet in the moonlight shining through the window. "You haf a big knife on a pole," he explained, "but I dun see it 'cept in your shadow."
The mortician whistled softly. Somehow, this child had detected his death scythe without ever having seen it manifested before. "Oh, you are a perceptive little fellow, aren't you?"
Ciel's blue eyes remained steady on him, demanding an explanation.
"Well, I'll tell you," Undertaker decided, sitting on the pillowed window sill with the boy. "Your old uncle Unnie has an...illness."
Ciel looked concerned suddenly, and Undertaker was quick to reassure him. "Nothing life threatening, my dear boy, but odd. I cast that shadow because...because..."
He wracked his mind, trying to come up with a reason—besides the truth—that a young child could understand. "I made a deal with Death," he said at last. "I promised it that I would look after you and your family. The shadow is only a reminder of my promise, so please don't be worried. It can't hurt you or anyone else, if I don't let it."
"Kay," sighed the sleepy child with a yawn, content that his "Uncle Unnietaker" wouldn't allow harm to come to him.
The reaper gently lowered the boy into his crib, tucked him in and bid him goodnight. After watching over him for a little while, he softly called out to the nanny and took his leave to return to the Billiard room.
~xox~
"Chase all the monsters away?" Vincent asked as Undertaker returned. He stood, leaning against the side of a chair, grinding chalk onto the end of his pool stick, awaiting his turn as a German he had gone to school with; Diederich, sunk a ball into a pocket and moved to make his next shot.
"Young children have such the imagination." a French viscount with greying blond hair chuckled, "Always seeing what doesn't exist. Why, my son says he keeps seeing an angel of death, can you believe it? I don't know where they come up with these things."
Undertaker glanced sidelong at Vincent. "Yes, children do imagine the silliest things, don't they?"
Chances were, if the man's son was truly seeing a reaper, his days were numbered. It was tempting to ask the viscount if the child was ill, but he suspected by doing so, he would only give rise to questions. That simply wasn't a thing to ask someone out of the blue in a social gathering like this. He watched Vincent take his next shot, and he admired the curve of his backside as the Earl bent over.
There had been no assassination attempts of late, and word had it that the last one to attempt it over four years ago—the man Vincent maimed—passed away last month, stabbed to death in the street by an unknown assailant. The people he'd collaborated with died under mysterious circumstances three years ago, so it couldn't have been any of them. Undertaker shrugged it off. He'd taken care of everyone involved in that little string of assassination attempts. Whether one of the queen's agents or some random lunatic did it, the amputee's troubles were over, now.
The reaper smiled and thanked the maid as she offered him a brandy, and he chuckled as he drank it and the young lady blushed. Even now, she still got flustered when he smiled at her. He'd have thought the dear girl would be accustomed to him by now, but her little crush apparently lingered on. Not many people would blush like that over his wide, toothy smiles. It was a good deal more common to inspire fear with them, rather than adoration. She was an odd lady, their maid.
"You aren't going to make that shot," observed Undertaker when Vincent called out his goal. It was a more than tricky shot—it was downright impossible. Even someone as good as Vincent wasn't likely to make it.
"Oh, no?" Vincent glanced over his shoulder at the reaper, "Want to make it a bet?" he smirked.
Undertaker was the only person Vincent ever lost bets to. And on the occasion that he proposed the bet; it was never really clear on whether or not Vincent was trying to finally score that win over the mortician or he was asking for that loose as his 'losses' more often than not gained them a private evening together.
"What are the stakes?" Undertaker smirked back, knowing full well that Vincent had to be very careful about how he worded his answer, while in the presence of others. He crossed his arms over his chest, expecting entertainment out of this.
"Loser would perform one request from the other." He smirked, taking amusement with how stiff Diederich grew at his words. After all, it was the same wording he had used when they were school boys which lead to the German being his loyal dog in the first place.
The reaction wasn't lost on the reaper and he snickered softly. "Hmm, sounds fair enough, my lord." He gestured at the table gracefully, his long sleeve flapping with the motion. "By all means, continue."
The air in the room seemed to grow tense, the other nobles leaning in for a better look as Vincent lined up his shot. A few of them exchanged a quick bet on weather or not Vincent would, again, pull off the impossible.
The sound of billiard balls hitting each other sounded as the cue ball hit it's target, sending it moving into another ball, which bounced off a wall of the table and went towards another, hitting it and sending it towards it's desired pocket-
Only to be off and bounced off the corner of the walls, back the way it came before rolling to a stop on the red velvet table.
Eyes turned up to look from the ball to Vincent, trying to read his expression. The Earl let the silence sink in before he let out a laugh, "Ah, well, I can't pull off miracles all the time, can I? I was close though!"
Undertaker clapped softly, chuckling as well. "Indeed you were, Earl. For a moment, I thought you would really make that impossible shot. We can discuss my request later on." He resisted the temptation to wink at him, though most people wouldn't be able to tell he was doing it through the fringe covering his eyes. "I wouldn't want to keep you from your guests."
He turned away from him, deliberately avoiding letting his gaze linger for too long on his handsome young lover. He spotted Rachel passing by in the corridor and he hastened to her side to chat about mundane things, needing a distraction from the intrigue that was now churning in his mind.
~xox~
Later that night, after all of the guests had either retired to guest rooms or gone home for the night, Undertaker met up with Vincent in the study. "Are the lady and the nipper tucked in for the night, my lord?" he asked as he closed and locked the door behind him.
Vincent nodded, signing one last paper that had been resented to him that evening and placing it aside to be mailed out later, "Rachel turned herself in for the night about five minuets ago." He leaned back in his high-backed chair and smirked, "Turning in my owed task already, Undertaker?"
The mortician nodded with a grin, and he took his hat off and tossed it lightly onto the nearby armchair. "I've been looking forward to it all night, my dear. You aren't getting cold feet now, are you?"
He removed the beads that he wore around his neck, and he tossed those to land with his hat. He rid himself of the sash draping his shoulder next, and then he began to unbutton his robe with deft flicks of his pale fingers.
"Now, why would I?" Vincent smirked, eying the man as he removed his clothes, "Bets with you I don't mind loosing. I just would like to point out that sometimes, more often than not, you make me wait for it." he stood up, removing his ascot and unbuttoning his vest.
"How careless of me," sighed the reaper. "I'll have to make it up to you then, won't I?"
He slipped out of his robes and let them fall to the floor, leaving him with only his long black, white-collared shirt, snug pants and thigh-high leather boots. He combed his bangs out of his eyes to gaze at his lover directly, and his smile became sultry. "How would you have me make it up to you, Vincent, if I were to allow you a request?" His voice had deepened to a rich, resonant purr, abandoning the staged voice he used as the Undertaker. His eyes were heavy-lidded, the long white lashes lowered over the sparkling emerald-amber irises. He unbuttoned his shirt as he watched him, smiling with sensual promise. The garment soon joined the robe on the floor.
The earl let his shirt slip down his arms and onto the floor as he walked slowly over to the reaper, tugging his white gloves off one-by-one. His gloves, over the years, had become a clue to 'which' Vincent he was. He always wore black when he was doing things he had to as the 'Evil Nobleman', white was what he wore as a businessman and loving father and husband...but no gloves at all...that was when he became all Undertaker's, Fully, without any hesitation. His lover became his priority, rather than work or family. (Of course, he would be quick to pull back on his white gloves should his family need him.)
He stepped up to Undertaker, running his hands over his pale shoulders as he leaned in, kissing his pectorals, his eyelashes fluttering against Undertaker's flesh as he closed his eyes. "Keep the boots." he requested simply.
The reaper chuckled softly, letting his nails glide slowly down Vincent's back. "You want me in just my boots?" It was do-able, certainly, but he would have to remove them first and take his pants off, then put them back on. He certainly didn't mind the slight hassle of fulfilling such a simple request.
Vincent nodded, "Just your boots..." he reached down, running his hand up along Undertaker's leather-covered inner thigh. "These ones are new...are they not? Your previous ones didn't come up nearly as high...and they had fewer buckles."
"Indeed, they are." Undertaker felt a shiver go through him at the intimate, sensual touch. "Like them, do you?"
"Mmnh..." Vincent slid down along his lover's body, getting to his knees and pressing kisses to the leather, answering the question with a small moan as he ran his tongue back up the boot.
Undertaker's mouth fell open in a rare moment of pure, sincere surprise. He sprang a stiffy so abruptly from watching the explicitly carnal display of approval that he grunted, and he reached down to run his fingers through the Earl's blue-black hair.
"Mercy," he breathed. "I should have tailored these bloody boots a long time ago. What was I doing, again? I can't seem to recall."
He was amazed he could even find his tongue to speak at all, watching Vincent's licking his boots like that. What a sinful, beautiful thing he was...so open with his passion when they could make time for each other.
Vincent smirked against the black leather, "You were going to collect what I owe you," he muttered, tugging on a leather strap, "and loose the pants."
"Right," agreed the mortician.
He couldn't for the life of him remember what he was going to request of Vincent, but it didn't really matter, now. He was sure it would have been something sexual and this was working out far better than anything he might have dreamed up. He stepped back from Vincent, though he was loathe to interrupt his lavish attentions to his boots. He undid his pants and he took a seat on the leather sofa to unfasten the buckles on his boots. He moved swiftly, getting the footwear off and sliding his pants down and off within moments. His erection was flushed pink and shiny at the tip with arousal, and when he got the boots back on and stood up, it wobbled with his motions.
Now nude save for the leather boots and the long, silver hair draping his back and shoulders, the reaper nodded meaningfully at his companion and smiled. "Your turn to lose the pants, darlin'."
He should have felt foolish, standing there in the Phantomhive study in naught but his boots, but the hungry look in Vincent's eyes as they glided over his scarred nudity made it difficult to muster up any ambiguity over the situation.
The Earl stood back up, kicking off his shoes and tugging off his socks before slowly, teasingly, he removed his belt and pushed his pants from his hips, swaying them slightly as he worked them down his legs. Undertaker watched with fascination, never tiring of seeing the lean athleticism of Vincent's form revealed to him. He approached him when he finished and stood back up, letting his eyes drink in the sight of him up close. This was one of the few times he missed his old glasses; but they inevitably moved in close enough to one another for him to see him clearly, anyway.
"I adore this body," murmured the reaper, running his hands over the broad shoulders, the toned biceps and the supple forearms. He lowered his mouth to Vincent's for a kiss as he put his arms around him, taking a moment to brand his lips with his own. He slid his hands down his back to let them settle on the twin mounds of his bottom, and he rubbed the firm, tight roundness before giving it a squeeze. His arousal pressed against Vincent's lower belly due to his greater height, and Vincent's in turn rubbed against his thigh.
"Where do you want me, love?" purred the reaper after kissing him for a moment. Right now, he didn't care who lost the bet. He'd do practically anything Vincent asked of him.
"Me? You won the bet..." Vincent smiled, backing him up to the leather sofa and pushing him down onto it and moving to straddle him, "Don't tell me my little request made you forget that. I'm here to pleasure you..." he kissed his jaw, "...however you wish me to..." a kiss to his neck, "...my love."
Undertaker slid his hands over Vincent's torso, pausing to tweak his nipples to hardness before reaching down with the right one to tease the stiff length of his cock. He lightly stroked the vein on the underside with the pad of his thumb, upwards from the root to the tip. He then petted the top of it with his other fingers, gliding them along in a caressing manner to the frame of dark hair surrounding the member.
"I think I should like you to lick me," he purred, "starting with my boots, like you did earlier."
Though he couldn't guarantee he wouldn't splurge all over the place before Vincent's mouth even got close to the source of his carnal ache. Watching him do that was probably the most erotic moment Undertaker could remember having in...well, possibly ever.
The Earl slid down out of his lover's lap, crouching between his legs and running his fingers over his boots. Slowly, he leaned in, firmly pressing his tongue to the side of the man's leather boot, just above the ankle, and running his tongue back up along the black leather. He lifted the mortician's leg to help make it easier for Undertaker to see his actions.
He then moved to the other boot, doing much the same thing, only making sure to include a few tugs on the buckles with his teeth as me made his way up and onto the soft flesh of the reaper's inner thigh.
The reaper inhaled slowly, trying desperately to calm himself. He could have stopped breathing at all if he could spare the wits to consider that option, but he was utterly entranced with his lover's actions. He slowly stroked his hair, his lips parting as the damp tongue slicked over his thigh. His erection twitched, lifting briefly from its outward angle between his thighs, and he ran his tongue over his teeth. He decided he could definitely stand to receive this sort of treatment more often.
The Earl's tongue slid further up and over his hip. His cheek brushing against Undertaker's length as it moved past and around to his abs. He nipped, sucked, and kissed his way up, his tongue giving attention to each nipple, his collarbone, neck and under-jaw. "Mmm..."
"I think you're neglecting something, darlin," murmured the reaper huskily, barely able to get the words out. In truth, he wasn't sure he could last if Vincent put those lips around his...
"Bloody hell," he gasped, sucking in a few sharp breaths, "N-never mind, love. You've got me hot and bothered as it is."
Vincent gave a low chuckle, "I'll get around to it. You said 'start with the boots' you didn't specificity any further than that." He ran his fingers through a lock of white hair, continuing his attentions to nearly every spot on the man's body but the tall, aching member begging for his lips.
He licked along Undertaker's arm and guided two fingers into his mouth, sucking on them. The reaper drew in a sharp breath again, pushing his fingers in and out of the sucking mouth and somehow retaining the wits to keep his nails retracted whilst doing so. Undertaker purred in his throat at the feel of Vincent's tongue stroking against the pads of his fingers, and he sat mesmerized by the sight of those lips encircling them. A dozen expletives came to mind as the heat of passion in him rose to terrible heights, but he kept them tightly sealed behind his teeth as he watched his fingers move in and out of Vincent's sucking mouth, glistening with saliva.
"Ahh..." Vincent let his fingers slide from his mouth with a wet pop, his tongue following the digits past his lips slightly as a string of saliva connected them. "Undertaker..."
With hooded eyes, Vincent moved, straddling his lover again, their cocks pressed together as he leaned in, suckling on his lover's neck. Undertaker reached down and gripped them both, unable to resist. The viscous coating of arousal on the tip of their erections mingled as he slid his hand up and down along the lengths of them, slicking his fingertips against the moist heads in passing.
"Kiss me, love," he demanded huskily.
"If you prep me." Vincent hummed back, brushing their lips together, "God, I want you so bad."
"Ahh, so that's what your seductive little trick was all about." Undertaker grinned at his saliva-moistened fingers in understanding, and he wasted no time putting Vincent's efforts to good use. They would need more lubrication than that, of course, but it would at least allow him to get started on the request. "I'm more than happy to oblige, my dear."
He traced Vincent's spine with his dry fingertips as he made his way down to the sweet, firm mounds of his bottom. He pressed a finger between the cleft in them and his breath mingled with Vincent's; the Earl's lips still teasingly just out of reach. He eased into him with careful skill, and he watched in fascination as the young man's high cheekbones flushed in reaction to the penetration. He ran the tip of his tongue over Vincent's lips as his breath caught, and he felt him deliberately trying to relax around his finger.
The Earl smiled, a moan pushing past his lips as they pressed up against his lover's. He ran his hand up along his thigh. Undertaker pressed deeper, then withdrew, only to return again. The hand encircling their tightly pressed arousals moved faster, and his breath followed the tempo through his nostrils. His tongue fenced with Vincent's and he swallowed a groan as the young mortal began to rock on top of him, riding his probing finger slowly. He pushed in with the second finger and he undulated beneath Vincent; letting his hip motions synchronize with his hands.
Vincent let his head fall forward to rest on his shoulder. his breath feathering across his skin. Groaning, he rolled his hips and blindly reached over to the side table looking for the drawer and fishing out a bottle Undertaker had left there weeks before. Undertaker scissored his fingers inside of him as Vincent retrieved the bottle from the drawer. He nuzzled his dark hair and he stopped fondling their shafts to hold out his palm. When the other man drizzled some of the oil onto it, he made quick use of it to slick it over his straining sex.
"Lift up, my dear," commanded the reaper huskily.
As soon as Vincent did so, the Undertaker withdrew his fingers from within him and he used the remaining oil on his free hand to lubricate his entrance. Vincent still had the bottle in his hand when Undertaker positioned himself and lifted his hips, penetrating him shallowly. He forgot about his frustration over the lack of attention to that body part immediately, upon feeling the Earl's body slowly sheathing him.
"Mmph...darlin'," he grunted against Vincent's shoulder, his breath catching.
"Uhh-nnn!" Vincent let the bottle slip from his fingers, bouncing off the sofa and onto the floor, rolling under the couch—luckily, the lid was on it. It didn't take him long to adjust before he started moving, rocking his hips and riding his lover up and down his shaft to the hilt.
Lips wet with saliva, he kissed Undertaker again, his own member twitching as he moaned in pleasure. The mortician embraced him and kissed him back with enthusiasm, pumping beneath him almost desperately. He reached up and cupped the back of Vincent's head with one long-fingered hand to press his mouth more firmly against his and muffle the sounds of his groans. He imagined Vincent wouldn't fancy the thought of someone overhearing, mistaking his moans for sounds of distress and breaking down the door to find them this way.
"Quietly now, dear lad," panted the reaper against Vincent's moaning lips. "House full of guests, remember?"
He contradicted his own warning by driving into Vincent at an angle that he knew drove him mad with pleasure, and he grinned.
"You know I can never when we are-IEAHH!" he cried out, his back arcing "Oh GOD!"
Control was lost to him and he would have fallen back, if Undertaker hadn't been holding onto him. He panted and looked down at his lover, lust and love making his heavy-lidded eyes glisten. The reaper gazed up at him with equal lust, breath hissing through his teeth as he drove in again at the same angle. He embraced him with one arm to steady him as he provoked more litanies to the almighty, thoroughly enjoying Vincent's vocal demonstrations of pleasure. In truth, all of the guests and his wife were on the upper floors, and the servants had gone to their personal quarters for the night. He imagined the butler would be the only one still up and about, and Tanaka was already aware of their relationship.
"You are," gasped Undertaker, "stunning, my lord." He stroked Vincent's heaving, toned chest down to his stomach as the Earl arched back again, and he gripped his straining arousal to stroke it firmly. He watched with fascination as his hand moved up and down the hardened shaft, staring at the way the skin moved with his motions, and at the glistening fluid that had begun to slowly drip from the head.
"A fine specimen of man, indeed," purred the reaper, smiling. He kept pumping steadily, lifting his hips and his straddling lover off the cushion with each thrust. He kept one hand on the small of his back as he stroked him with the other, and he could feel his snug passage beginning to tighten around his pumping sex.
Vincent Gasped and moaned, shifting and leaning forward as he hugged Undertaker to him, "S-So close-! Undertaker!" He continued to move himself faster along his lover's length, desperate for that final release of passion they were sharing. "Ahh-AH!
His body suddenly stopped moving, ridged and stiff as he cried out even louder, heat bursting forth as creamy white spilled over onto Undertaker's hand. "Ah..."
Undertaker kissed his throat and chin, and he started thrusting harder. Vincent was clenching around him spasmodically as his orgasm played out, and it increased the reaper's pleasure and brought him closer to his own release. "Unh...I do love it when...you do that."
Holding him tight around the waist, Undertaker rested his cheek against his chest and drove into him again and again, with mounting urgency. He finally gave one last, hard thrust and he groaned, bucking inside of him and filling him. His tension faded as the climax ended, and he stroked Vincent's back and panted softly, catching his breath.
"Think you'll...be up for another round...once I get my second wind?" He asked between pants.
"Aren't I...always?" Vincent smiled, letting himself fall over onto the couch, pulling his lover with him so that they could cuddle as they rested. "Mm...Love, you are so addicting, especially when it's been a while."
Undertaker stroked the Earl's sweat-dampened hair and held him close. "As are you, my dear. You're as habit forming as sugar cubes, and I can't get enough of you."
He started to say more, but he left it at that. Vincent already knew how he felt, and he knew that the Earl felt the same way about him. He contented himself with the afterglow; cherishing moments like this because he knew that all too soon, his mortal lover would be torn from him by death. Even if Vincent lived to be a hundred, his life would be over in the blink of a reaper's eye. Undertaker didn't like to think about it, but when he shared these moments with his lover, he couldn't help but be reminded that they were fleeting.
~I would keep you forever, if I could.~
He held him tighter and kissed his forehead, shutting his eyes and banishing thoughts of the day Vincent would be taken from him. He could live a very long life, and Undertaker could at least take comfort in the knowledge that he would likely know when Vincent's death was approaching before it happened. At least he would have some warning, to prepare himself for the grief. He'd already had special lockets made for both Vincent and Rachel, to keep a lock of their hair and a piece of their cinematic records for himself, for as long as he lived. It was his way of immortalizing the two humans he'd come to love.
~xox~
-To be continued