A Magnificent Depravity - Chapter 5

I crept into the young master's private parlor, staying to the shadows cast by a large oak cabinet. Ciel stood by the window where the light was just enough to read clearly the sheet music on the stand. His focus was hardly on the printed notes in front of him. His face was taut with concentration, the look of a frustrated musician attempting to imbue his art with all the nuances of his longing and confusion. A steady stream of yearning, pleading melodies wailed from the instrument, shoved with a slightly bitter urgency. As he moved the bow across the strings he swayed into the swell – pressing into the rhythm of his song with melancholy and desperation. The movement was sensual, and he cradled that instrument as if it were the only thing that could console him.

I leaned against the cabinet, smelling dust, oil and antiquity from the patina of the cabinet's doors. The room contained an eclectic mix of Tudor-style furniture, such tastes suiting the young earl. Benches lined the walls, squat and stiff, ornamented with linen fold motifs. Cabinets with ornately carved acanthus were used to house the young master's games, for this parlor was where he would take clients for chess. The table in the center was fit with elaborate legs strutting vertically. Accompanying it were two matching straight-backed chair decorated with yew inlay – a rare find indeed. Despite the room being warmly outfitted with tapestries hung from the walls, or the bright hues of the carpets, the room held a cold severity. The imposing oak furniture with all its elaborate carving and inlays added to this intimidation.

The young master's song only amplified the oppressive atmosphere. The string of his instrument vibrated with such a severity that the air itself felt as though it would snap from the pressure. His body trembled, for he could barely control his fingers with the upsurge of passion the song elicited. I saw his hands shake as he momentarily stilled, before plunging into the conclusion of the sonata. The descent drifted softly, and Ciel let out that final note with a stifled release before the resonance faded into vacuous silence.

My gloved applause tore through the stillness that hung in the space, causing the boy to jerk out of his daze. A scowl slowly formed on his face as he eyed me with all the suspicion that I rightfully deserved. "Goodness, young master, surely I did not teach you how to play with such feeling."

"You're right," he replied acidly, "because what would you know of the matter?"

I stalked over to where he stood rigid by the window. "I am capable of a great deal more than what you would give me credit for. Surely you are aware of my abilities." I gestured to the violin. "If I may, young master?" I pulled off the gloves as he begrudgingly handed me the petite instrument, capable of such a sonorous voice. As I went to tuck the chin rest to the right, I immediately noticed something was amiss. "It appears it would be impossible for me to play left-handed."

"Of course, you idiot."

I switched the neck of the violin from my right to my left. I reached for the bow with my right. "A left-handed instrument requires more than restringing the instrument. The violin must be constructed as though it were a mirror image of the standard, to properly reflect its unique acoustics. It is no wonder you have never heard me truly play." I strung out a few clipped notes, the melodies dancing together deviously. "I can mimic the motions of a proper gentleman well enough, but if I were to play in a sinister fashion as my nature would prefer, I just may surprise you for once, young master." The violin sang under my touch, fingers dancing over her neck. I ended the melody with a trill of ecstasy – if I could wind this song a sinistra, it would have had the desired effect.

Ciel turned away. "I never considered that."

"That I can play with feeling?"

"No, the being left-handed was such an aberration."

I placed the violin back in its case that sat on a low bench under the window. "I know I have heard your melody somewhere, young master. Is it Italian, perchance? Paganini?"

"Yes, his sixth sonata." He folded his arms in his usual irritated fashion. "Surely you did not come in here to make conversation. I'm in no mood for it."

I placed my adorned hand on my chest and bowed slightly. "Do pardon me, my lord. I only wished to compliment you on your playing. I can only assume that the increased ability in your talent is the result of a fundamental change in your disposition." My eyes flashed. "Someone who plays with such passion is surely in possession of said-emotion. Or am I being too presumptuous?"

Ciel stalked over to one of his chairs and gripped the back of it with sweaty palms. "I do not wish to play games with you."

"Then perhaps you are interested in playing this sonata as it is meant to be played? As a duet?" I gestured to the Spanish guitar standing in the corner. "You may find an accompaniment will enhance the potency of this piece." My grin was devilish.

His heart sped, causing a blush to rise on his cheeks. "I told you; how many ways do I have to say it? I am in no jovial mood!"

"I wholeheartedly feel the same, young master. Perhaps we should focus on more serious matters?" I walked behind him, probably too close for comfort.

He turned and stared into my eyes which were lit with obvious flirtation. "You are out of line, Sebastian."

"And what about you, young master?" I slipped an arm around his waist. "A seemingly reserved, well-mannered individual such as yourself would never be able to play as you do." My voice took on the smooth, husky resonance that I knew would trap him. I turned his body to face mind. "Pray tell, how did you feel with that violin in your skillful, urgent hands?" I lifted his right hand into my left, clearly insinuating that I had the fullest intention to take the lead.

"Quit this farce," he commanded, attempting to push me away.

I pressed his slender frame against mine. His breath hitched, my face inches from his. He smelled of bergamot and sex. "Very well, I will be level with you. It is apparent that you are battling a few desires and are too proud to just succumb to them."

"What the hell are you getting at?" He pushed himself out of my grip. "You know, I'm sick of all of your implied suggestions, your inappropriate advances. It's just…" he began to breathe heavy and held his head as his fingers pulled at the hair that swung over his face. Staggering to the bench by the window, he leaned as if in desperation for some unyielding foundation to grasp.

I took a step forward. "Look at you; you can barely contain your distress." I leaned in close and lifted the boy's chin to make sure he could see my eyes blazing in the setting light. "Why not ask for my assistance?"

"What you imply sickens me, devil," he spat as he slapped my decorated hand away.

"And what of the actions you perform on yourself, young master?" I whispered into his ear. My breath alone was enough to cause that lobe to blush. "Do you think I am oblivious to how urgently this desire pulls at you? I can hear you in the night, panting, groaning, the pleasure rising, and all the while you cannot stop thinking of me." I pressed my nose to his soft hair, taking in the soft scent as he remained motionless. "You hate to admit it to yourself – and you have the audacity to think of me as sick.

"I would never lie to you," I continued as I curled my arms around his chest, possessively. I could feel him slipping; racing was his mind as he made a small consideration. "I must question why you would want to lie to yourself." He tried to pull away, but I would not allow him to "quit this farce" as he had commanded. "Look at you. With the simplest order you could release yourself from my grip; yet you remain silent."

He spun around and desperation shone in his azure eye. "But do you not understand that I can't?!" he shouted. "Why must you toy with me, Sebastian?" The young man stopped resisting and I felt the weight of him, as though the release of the self-imposed torment was exhausting. "There is no command I could say that could free me. There is no resolution to this predicament. The worst part is, if I could get away from you, I don't think I would want to."

And there it was.

We stood in silence, shadows looming ominously as the sun slipped below the horizon.

"What reason do you have to be afraid?" I cupped his face in my hands. So very precious, he was – trembling from the reality that terrified him.

"Because you do things like this," he explained in a shaky voice. You have been toying with me for days, and I feel my control slipping. And I don't want to lose it, but the more you toy with me, the more I want to be rid of it."

"And what if you were to lose control?" I suggested quietly. My face was inches from his. I stared at those delicate carmine lips. "If only for a minute, what would be the outcome of that?"

This was what I wanted, a brief submission, just a taste, just to experience what I had experienced days prior. His anxiety was intoxicating, feeding into me by our connection. I fed it back with a demonic stare. He could not take his eye off of my gaze, no matter how much his mind screamed at him to look away, to take control and simply dismiss me.

A tiny voice whispered, "It would be the end of me."

I smirked. "But that outcome is already written, master."

"So you're saying it's pointless to resist?"

"Yes."

I pulled his face to mine and planted my lips on his. He yelped in surprise, unable to resist yet unwilling to surrender. He continued to stare into my face, like prey staring into the mouth of their predator with the full understanding that there was no use resisting any longer.

The taste of his lips were bittersweet, a taste that could be described as the feeling one has when standing on the precipice of corruption. I smelled the fear mingling with a new wave of longing and submission. I whispered to him, my lips pressed against his, "Allow this one moment. Let it consume your awareness – enjoy this release, young master."

From quivering lips I felt his heated breath as he deepened the kiss, forcing his tongue, pulling me against his small frame. I could not help but succumb to his heat, the earnestness and force of his mouth, the rattling of his body as he pushed against me. There was ferocity to his passion, but his tongue flicked with such a subtle skillfulness. I melted into the sweet impurity of his actions, feeling a hint of his sinister and sickened condition vibrating deep within me. His delicate hands reached for me, fingers tangling into my hair, and I was secured to him. Feeling him tug at me, I locked my arms around his waist. Pushing against me, Ciel moaned and the reverberation of his desire intensified. My body sang with it.

I realized Ciel was playing me as if I were a damned fiddle.

Knowing Ciel as I do, I understood in that moment that when faced with a situation with only one solution, he would not just accept the circumstances. He would rush headlong into the inevitable on his own terms and take command of the situation. I allowed him to pull at my tie, his fingers searching for some other flesh to explore, and I found myself wanting his lust, moaning at his heated touch. I ran the risk of losing myself in his yearning, and I was not willing to succumb to it. The boy could not know that I too was sharing this heat of desire. I could not allow myself to relinquish control of the situation.

Ever so slowly, I pulled away, lips curling, and I took in the sight of his flushed face, lips scarlet. I briefly considered what sort of wanton expression I could leave him with if I were to perform some more lecherous act. I retracted an arm to pull out my watch. It snapped open smartly, and I made sure he saw how my attention would be so easily diverted from him.

"Young master, I do regret that we must cut this short. I have final preparations for dinner to see to." In a swift motion the watch was returned to my coat pocket. I deftly replaced my gloves and set Ciel right, smoothing down his hair, straitening the folds of his jacket, and pulled the handkerchief from my breast pocket to wipe the sweat from his brow.

He stood breathless, and after the moment of confusion he sputtered, "Wh-what?"

"The young master is aware that I have a schedule to keep, and I would hate to not have dinner on the table by seven, so please excuse me. If I were to leave it in Baldroy's hands, I am sure that all I would have to serve you would be a disaster." I swiftly adjusted the knot of my tie and tugged at my jacket. Turning on my heel, I proceeded to the door, and behind me I felt the anger bubbling up as the young master clenched his fists.

"Sebastian!" he called as I reached the for the door handle.

"Yes, young master?"

A grimace adorned those beautiful lips, and he only wanted to give me some order, some impossible task solely to give me difficulty. His head was swimming with too much emotion to calculate his next move and I gave a smug grin at his personal conflict.

"Just... never mind," he muttered, defeated.

"Very well."

I briskly made my way down the hall, ensuring he heard me leave in a rush. I stopped at the end of the hall before making my way to the other wing of the manor and listened. Perhaps he was not aware I was still listening to him as he smashed that beautiful violin. Strings snapped and the belly of the instrument wailed weakly as he threw it against that monstrous, unyielding cabinet.

No doubt he would present me with the task of fixing it.