Part 2: Dissolution
Immerse yourself, let it wash over you. Defenses are softened as the thirst deep within surges to the surface and you are swollen with lasciviousness.

I marveled the boy who was a walking contradiction. He lived the public life of an adult, while living the private life of an adolescent – including all its emotional complications. The strength required to prohibit his immaturity (a quality I was uniquely privy to) from bleeding into his relationships with colleagues and acquaintances was astonishing. His self-perception was that he had all the answers and could be immune to any and all danger. I found it rather humorous, and strangely charming.

Ciel poured himself into his work, not just operating Funtom by also making preparations for a charity ball – an event he dreaded immensely. One Wednesday involved a meeting with a factory manager from Dublin to discuss the books and ensure a new product could make the shelves by the first days of spring. The young entrepreneur was quite conscious of how seasons could influence product success.

In order to bring this plan to fruition, company assets needed to be allocated, contracts needed to be forged and signed, and the Earl stipulated the need to see records detailing overall production and cost. Such meetings could be tense, and Ciel preferred to have Tanaka in the room during these sorts of transactions. Not only did he provide an adult influence, but despite appearances he possessed a sharp intellect and years of experience in regards to Funtom's operation.

My master was quite skilled in the art of keeping appearances, and hosting an event, despite his aversion to it, was no exception. After correspondence with Her Majesty, she urged the Earl to send proceeds of this spring event to a new boarding school that opened for deaf children. Ciel only cared about this philanthropy because it was expected of him, a duty afforded by his position in society. He scoffed at those who engaged in philanthropy for its own sake, themselves believing they were the greater men for participating in the noble act of bettering civilization. "Arrogant," the young Phantomhive called it.

"That is a curious judgment, young master," I pointed out, as I set before him some biscuits to accompany his tea. Ciel read his Sunday paper, the typical elevenses ritual, after a long week of early mornings and late evenings.

"You know my stance when it comes to matters of social injustice," he added as he flipped the page with a rustle of newsprint. "There are those who are born to good circumstance, and those who are not. There are those who would fall to circumstance, and those who would choose to rise and meet it with the intention to change their position in life. Those who are strong will persevere, and those who are weak will perish under their own misfortune."

He plucked a biscuit from the delicate tray and bit into it, as though his bitter words would have no effect on its sweetness. "To believe that we can cause a positive change by using resources to raise up the weak is foolish. We only weaken the society as a whole by allocating our energies to those who are unfit to thrive on their own."

"Young master, I see the logic in your reasoning," I interjected. "But I fail to see the humanity in it."

"And you would care of such things?"

I chuckled. "Not particularly; I simply find your sentiments intriguing, how they are in such contrast to the prevailing opinions of this age." I refilled his tea cup and handed it to him.

He took a sip and glared at me. "Consider me a product of circumstance. I believe my unique reasons for being have more than influenced this position." Ciel folded his paper and slapped it on the coffee table. "Besides, I do not consider my opinion to be so very unique. People will say one thing and feel something entirely different in their hearts." He took another sip. "I do believe my perspective on these matters is more prevalent than people would care to admit."

"And what makes you believe that?"

"Because my opinion has a name; it is called 'Social Darwinism.'" With that Ciel gulped the last dregs from the bottom of his cup and rose from the chair. "I am bored with this conversation. Sundays are dreadful, with so little to do."

I began to clear the table onto the trolley. In a low, humming voice, I inquired, "What does my young master have in mind?" The tension that always hung underneath the surface rose up and stretched between us. It took so little effort on my part to incite it, for Ciel always had his lust creeping in the back of his mind, despite his insistence that he could never harbor such thoughts. The most subtle suggestion would cause a blush to rise to his face, a sure sign of his dishonesty on the matter.

"I would prefer to entertain myself for the afternoon, Sebastian. I'll be in the library." He walked to the door and turned, waving his hand in that dismissive, condescending manner. "Why don't you occupy yourself with some tedious activity? Clean my rifles, all of them. I should think the season for geese is almost here."

Ciel had to place much effort in keeping a cool head around me. I could see the strain, how he battled between wanting a dalliance in his own pleasure, and not wanting to lose his control. It became something of a game between us. How much did I have to push? How much would he tread into this territory before backing out? Would he dare to elicit some response from me?

Much to his frustration, he never could.

He attempted to play the game, albeit clumsily. His ignorance in matters of seduction was laughable, a presumed knowledge based on penny dreadfuls rather than any real experience. Regardless, I would placate his efforts, because after all, he knew how to play the charming young lad.

Orders for dessert were the worst. The requests became increasingly decadent: toffee bakewell tart, chestnut truffle cake, gateau chocolat. He would recline in his Queen Anne style chair in the tea room, savoring each bite of sweetness. I watched how the dessert fork would glide slowly from pursued lips. A touch of chocolate would be wiped from the corner of his mouth by a deft finger, before he brought it to his greedy tongue. He would lock his gaze on me as he closed his lips around the digit and pull his hand away slowly, smacking his lips as a clean finger exited.

Amused, I thought, does he know what he implies with that gesture? "It appears you enjoyed your dessert a little too much." As I carried an empty plate from the table, I made sure to bend a little too close to the level of his face. He turned his head as if wanting to perchance exchange glances or steal a kiss, but I would rise just in time to extinguish the moment. I delighted in this chase, where Ciel was so reactive to every moment. Whenever he endeavored to excite me in the same manner, I always left him wanting, pushing him to tread a little farther and act a little more boldly.

From this frustration, he sought every opportunity to call for me and in so doing commanded the most trivial things of me:

"Fetch that book off the shelf for me."

"Adjust this pillow."

"My shoelace, it came undone again."

These childish episodes occupied his time when there was no business to be had, which was quite a bit, since the season offered little reason to be out on the grounds, much less travel for holiday. Her Majesty had no assignment for him either, which frustrated the young master more than he cared to admit. Of course, one knows what they say when it comes to idle hands, and I am not the sort to pass on an opportunity to play.

Uneventful days are few and far in between at the Phantomhive Manor. My master, the walking contradiction, can always manage to place himself in a position in which he has no control. One Thursday was a flurry of stress as the young master worked to determine how several hundred pounds had mysteriously disappeared from his accounts shortly after that meeting with the Dublin manager. Telephone calls were made, ending in Ciel screaming into the receiver. He slammed the mouthpiece down and proceeded to shred a contract made during the meeting a week prior.

"Sebastian!"

I immediately entered the room, having just seen to the purchase of household supplies. "Yes, young master?"

"McDowell, that two faced liar, he seeks to take my investment for some back alley transaction, and I can't afford to lose that damn factory. The end of the quarter is nearly over and I will not tolerate being in the red by the beginning of spring. I order you to go to Dublin. Visit the factory. Find my money. Do whatever it takes, because I'll be damned if anyone thinks they can take advantage of the Earl of Phantomhive!"

"Yes, my Lord. Consider it done."

This statement was all it took to calm the master. He quietly sat back at his desk, continuing his work, the pen scratching furiously. He trusted my statement completely, knowing that every work I spoke was true, trusting I could see to his interests. He would not care to admit that his presumed power was an illusion, or his success was based off the actions of his one trump.

My task was easy enough, but my larger concern was being back in time to serve dinner. I had nothing prepared, and left in Baldroy's hands... before leaving I made preparations, giving explicit instructions as to when to place it in the oven, at the proper temperature, for the exact amount of time. I stressed that any deviation from these instructions would result in severe consequences.

Mey-Rin was given instruction as to when to bring the young master his tea. She was not accustomed to waiting on him in addition to her cleaning duties, and as a result, when I came back from cleaning up the scandal at the factory she was nearly in tears from Ciel's criticism of her abilities.

"He nearly threw the tea pot at me, Sebastian!" she wailed as she retrieved silverware from the cupboard. I pulled the roast out of the oven, appreciative of the fact that Baldroy followed my instruction, for once. He stood in the corner, smugly smoking his cigarette, no doubt praising himself for the work that I expected of him anyway.

"I do apologize if you had to contend with any of his unsightly behavior, Mey-Rin." I sliced the roast with precision. "It has been a hectic day for the master, but I can assure you, things are under control."

The evening was quiet enough, with Ciel eating his meal in silence, taking his wine with him to his smoking room before retiring early. I ordered Finnian to tend to the fires and see to the lamps while I made accommodations to the young master as he prepared for bed.

He lay on his stomach in the four poster bed as I entered the room. I set my candelabra on the bedside table. "Does the young master require anything further?"

"Yes, massage my shoulders." He did not hesitate to sit up and lift off the thin cotton night shirt. He tossed it at his feet and plummeted into the feather pillow. I took in the sight of his lean figure, the sensual curve of his spine, his back marred only by the brand that disrupted otherwise pale, flawless skin.

I freed myself of my gloves and from the armoire I acquired a bottle of oil, appropriate for massage. The air swelled with the scent of lavender filled as I warmed a small amount between my palms. The heat from my hands caused the boy to sigh, his body melting at the sensation. Lavender complimented the boy's scent so exquisitely. To run my fingers over his slim form, feel the muscles shift, hear him groan from the release of the day's tension... pulling a reaction out of this young man was so very addictive.

"Tell me, Sebastian," Ciel groaned as I pressed a thumb along the side of a shoulder blade, "did you have to kill today?"

Such an abrupt question, I wondered. "No. That would have caused too much disruption among the workers. But you will not be hearing from McDowell anymore."

"Oh?"

"He now is terrified of what lengths you will go to ensure your assets are secure, and the risk of swindling you is not worth what transactions he makes under the table. Anyways, the assistant manager is far more trustworthy, I can ensure you. He has your best interests at heart."

"Very well." Quietude rested between us as I pushed into his firm, lower back. The candle light gleaned off his oiled skin. I imagined skimming my fingers down his chest, grabbing at those hips as he lay under me...

I uttered, "Is there anything else the young master wishes to know on the matter?"

"No thank you, Sebastian. I will correspond with this new manager tomorrow. The situation is under control." I worked a knot near the base of his spin and he groaned in response, "Yes, right there..." He tensed under my touch, hissing as he exhaled from clenched teeth. I adored the sound, and I wanted to hear more of it.

"Sebastian, I think I could get too comfortable with your massages."

"Is that so?" The skin was pink and I pressed my palms on this tinted flesh, letting the heat penetrate the tissue.

He sighed, "Your hands… they are so hot…"

"Young master," I purred, "Do you trust me?" I began to trace circles on his lower back, around the brand, inching tantalizing close to his rear.

He shivered in response and turned his head. I caught the gleam of his violet eye in the firelight.

"Do I have a reason not to?"

"Of course not." I ran my hands up the length of his back. They glided effortlessly over his oiled skin as I reached the base of his neck. He wanted to slither under this sensation, just so I could touch more of him.

The flame flickered from the candle, dancing in some unfelt draft. I smirked as it tossed light and shadow against the head board. Gingerly, I plucked one of the candles from the candelabra. Perhaps Ciel saw the light shift as I held it over his exposed shoulders.

"I do wish for a straight answer, young master." My right hand gently turned his head to face forward, and firmly I held him by my neck. "Do you trust me?" His breathing grew huskier as his intuition sensed something was amiss in this situation. Fear gripped his body, and I felt his pulse quicken under my fingertips.

A moment passed; I loosened my grip and traced a finger down his jaw and he trembled. He knew he was standing on the edge of some dangerous territory. He could not identify it, and there for the consequences of stepping over this edge were undetermined. The only certain variable of this situation was that I had a role to play.

He sighed and trying to diminish his anxiety, he replied. "I'll play along. Yes, I trust you."

"Completely?"

"Yes!"

"Then be still."

My hand slowly trailed to his side, caressing reassuringly. I waited until I felt him relax, for his breathing to soften. Still holding the candle aloft, I gave a quick kiss to his neck and whispered, "It stops when you want it to."

"What stops?"

"Trust me."

Slowly, I tilted the candle and watch the flame lick at the wax, collecting to a single drop. I watched it fall under its own weight and in the silence splatter with a plop on the pale flesh of Ciel's back. He yelped in surprise, jerking from the abrupt heat. The skin bloomed red and I dipped to blow on the sensitive skin where the wax immediately hardened.

I waited for some immediate reprimand - I received none. I repeated the action, daring two drops, and this time holding to his side with a little more force. A stifled cry rose from his throat, and I felt my heart race, the blood drumming in my ears.

"My little lord, do you find this heat to your liking?" I pulled back the strands of his hair and whispered in his ear, "Shall I continue?"

I licked at the helix and he took in a sharp breath. "Yes, alright."

I rose from my position of sitting on the side of the bed to one where I straddled over his lying form, having better control from this position. He tried to watch me, but my free hand gripped his head. "Face forward. Do not struggle, or else it will hurt."

Surprisingly, he acquiesced. I kneaded my hand between his shoulder blades, and proceeded to drop a trail of wax between them. Ciel arched his back, and clutched at the sheets. "Oh..." his voice trembled.

"Young master, paraffin wax is truly a remarkable substance," I remarked, then dribbled onto his shoulder. I watched it slip down the crook of his arm and his voice caught in his throat as the liquid heat meandered to more sensitive flesh. I wiped the wax away and licked the scarlet mark before blowing on it. In response to his whimper I moaned into his ear, and perhaps I bucked into his rear a little too urgently.

I ventured to lower the flame as opposed it holding it so high. As wax pooled on his lower back I traced circles and felt it congeal. He shrieked and rocked his hips.

"Tell me how much you are enjoying this, young master."

The sounds that erupted from that pale throat were glorious. He was a panting mess, his skin splotched with red and white. "It is intense..."

"Well, nothing succeeds like excess."

"And just what are you attempting to succeed in, Sebastian?" He twisted around onto his back to face me. His face was flushed, and his brow was slick with sweat. I realized he was incredibly aroused, and I lowered myself slightly, tantalizingly close to his hips. I had to work to not indicate how pleasurable I found this and kept my expression to an amused smirk.

"I will confess, young master, I do enjoy the sounds you make." He saw me tilt the candle over his chest and in horror watch the wax fall. He arched his back and exclaimed at the intense heat to such delicate flesh. His brows were knit and his lips parted as he gasped and thrust against me. I felt his arousal under me and I watched him grit his teeth. "I enjoy your expressions as well," I chuckled.

"Enough."

I blinked.

"You wish to stop?"

"Yes." He was panting. I reached over and placed the candle in its holder. As I retracted my hand from the bedside I felt Ciel's arm shoot up and grasp the front of my shirt. His lips crashed against mine and delicate fingers knotted themselves in my hair. I felt his breath on my face, his tongue thrust into my parted lips, and his voice thrummed through my being. I had to tell myself to not snake my arm around his torso, to not lower my weight onto him, to not just rip the covers away and take all of him.

Just as quickly, I was shocked to feel him push me away. Mismatched eyes bore into me as he ordered, "Get out. Now."

I could only comply. "Yes, my lord," I whispered.

I took the candelabra with me, and left without another word. I closed the door and silently leaned against it. I could hear him through the thick wood, his moaning, panting... "Damn you, Sebastian... oh my… Sebastian, ah… oh… Oh!" he cursed through gritted teeth before bellowing, his orgasm no doubt racking his body violently. My lips curled and my eyes flashed in the dark.

Post always arrived early on Mondays, and among a bank statement and business reports was a delicate pink envelope with "Phantomhive" inked in flowery cursive.

"It appears Lady Elizabeth has written you, young master." He contemptuously snatched the letter from me and sighed. This was no doubt the last thing he wanted to deal with after the events of the previous night. I felt slightly guilty for being the one to make the young master's sleep most uncomfortable; only slightly.

Young master fiddled with the wax seal, reluctant to crack it. There were moments when the boy would act with the determination of a grown adult and moments, such as this, when he displayed the reluctance of a child.

"Would you prefer me to open it for you?" I gingerly suggested.

"No, I will do it myself!" With that he broke the seal, nearly ripping the letter in the process. Trepidation left his demeanor as he quickly scanned the letter and his expression was replaced with one of frustration. He tossed the letter on the desk at me, rubbed one of his temples and commanded, "Go on, read it."

20 February 1891

My dearest Ciel,

Every day that has passed since our time apart has been a needle in my heart. After nearly a week of your absence, I feel as though my heart is leaden, and I ache to be released of the heaviness that is brought by the distance between us. The grey weather seems to reflect my disposition, but I am hopeful the skies will clear so I may see the blue that reminds me of my darling.

Mother has sought to keep me busy with my instruction for many of my waking hours. She is as stern as ever, knowing that our engagement will come to a close only after a few short years and insists the honor of the family rests on me. I do not exactly understand what she means by this, but I know not to question my mother. Edward has immersed himself in his law studies at the university in London and we hardly see him anymore. I do miss him terribly, but I trust that he is well, despite his sporadic correspondence.

I should very much like to see you the first weekend of March, and Mother has permitted this. I must divulge a secret to you: she does not know of the brooch you gave me and I delight in keeping this secret. Every time I gaze upon it hidden in under the small drawer of my vanity I imagine it as the small flower plucked from the hidden garden of your heart. Know that I will protect your heart forever and always, for I can conceive of nothing more precious. There is no greater honor than to be given the duty of protecting our love.

Until we meet in March, please continue to treasure the valentine I made for you and know that it is imbued with love. Part of my heart resides with you, and I will not feel whole again until we are together again.

With all of my love,

Lizzie

I looked up from reading the letter to see Ciel laying his head on the desk. "Why does she write to me in this manner?"

"Because she loves you, young master."

"Wonderful observation, Sebastian!" he spat sarcastically.

I smirked and lay the letter on the desk next to his head. "She is simply a girl, my lord. They feel their affections most strongly when they express them in subtle ways."

"This letter is hardly subtle." Lifting himself from his desk he plucked up the envelope and peered inside. "There's a pressed flower here. What is this?" He held it up to me.

I took the dainty white and yellow flower and held it to the light. "This is narcissus. I think in the language of flowers it means she wishes for you to return her affections."

"If I were to do so, I would probably die, Sebastian." He dropped his head again, this time with a loud thunk. "I suppose she expects a quick reply, seeing as it's late in the month." After slowly opening a drawer, he procured a fresh sheet of paper, reached for his pen, and dipped the quill. Ciel hovered over the paper in hesitation, his mind as blank as the page before him.

"Sebastian, I do not know what to write."

I folded my arms. "Are you asking for my advice?"

"Do you have some advice to give?"

With a sly grin and leaning over the desk, I murmured, "Pretend it is to me you are writing."

He blushed furiously, and as his lips turned down in a grimace, he swung his hand to strike me. I could have caught his hand, brought those fingers to my lips and given him a real reason to blush. I allowed him to strike me across the face, pausing at the sting. His ring had grazed me, and I lightly touched my cheek. A touch of red seeped into otherwise flawless white gloves.

"I apologize if I have offended the master," I said matter of fact as I straightened and pulled at my waistcoat.

"You are suggesting I outright lie to her, Sebastian!"

I brought my hand to my forehead in irritation. "Oh please, my little master, as if this were anything out of the ordinary."

"Enough!" he yelled as he shot out of his seat. "Enough of your insolence!"

"Perhaps the young master would like his tea?" I offered gently.

"No! Get out! Do not bother me until I call for you again!"

I would be lying if I were to say I was not aggravated by the young master's aggression. Why could he just not set aside this conflict in his mind? The solution was apparent to me: tell the young woman exactly what she wants to hear and give her no reason to ever question it. The young master was skilled in the art of deceit, so why was wearing this mask in front of her such an issue?

Ciel sat in his office for four hours working up this letter to his sweet betrothed. When he called for me again, his desk was littered with crumbled drafts. He held up a letter, stark white and crisply addressed to Miss Midford. "Ensure this is sent today. And do not open it."

"Yes, my lord." I tucked the letter into my breast pocket.

"Don't read it," he added.

"Of course." He was keenly aware that I did not need to open a letter to read it.

He leaned into his chair, it creaking from the strain of having to recline so far back. "I would very much like to have luncheon now. Damn it, so much work left to do... and I have to make a call to the assistant manager... well I suppose the head manager… what is his name, Sebastian?"

"Tanner, Benjamin Tanner."

He rose from his chair and stretched. "Perform a back ground check on his man after luncheon."

"Most certainly, but if I may, young master, since it is unseasonably mild outside, would you care to take your meal in the gardens this noon?" I gestured to the window, where the sky was remarkably bright as opposed to its usual overcast condition.

"Oh." He went to the window, as though he were just noticing the clear sky, sun shining over vegetation that was just beginning to wake up from the winter. Ciel unlatched the window and swung it open. A crisp breeze gently invited itself into the study. "Yes, I think I would very much like that." He turned and made his way to the door. "Have the servants open all the windows this afternoon."

The air was pleasant enough for the young master to sport a wool jacket and thin stockings, but I brought a scarf outside in the event the wind should pick up and aggravate his breathing. He never did lose his sensitivity to the chill of winter. A trace of the sun's heat could be felt as we made our way to the open gazebo. Rising majestically among the English garden, it's ionic pillars mimicked the sturdy yet graceful ash trees that would make for the most stunning backdrop after the winter season's passing. Among the austere, Neo-Classical stonework of the gazebo I sat lunch at a wrought iron table from my trolley. Juniper bushes surrounding the structure completed the inviting scene.

A Brunswick stew of hearty vegetables and soda bread was a wonderful compliment to the weather, and I felt the young master was in much need of some comfort for all that plagued his mind.

He gracefully set his spoon on the plate under his soup bowl and tenderly brought the napkin to his lips. "Sebastian, I have some questions for you."

"By all means, young master." I stood to the side.

He turned in his chair to face me. "What was the meaning of last night's events?"

"Oh. Yes. I was under the impression that you enjoyed it." He stared at his feet, containing a twinge of embarrassment, no doubt. "Unless I am dreadfully mistaken."

Timidly, he replied. "No... You are... correct in your assumption." I stepped forward, wanting to close the distance for this intimate conversation. "But that does not answer my question. Why did you initiate that in the first place?"

"You mean dripping wax down your back."

"What else would I be referring to?" I could sense the irritation in his voice.

I had to choose my words carefully. "I considered that you might find it enjoyable, and I wanted to see how you would react to it."

He eyed me skeptically. "That's rather curious."

"In what manner?"

"It just is! It was strange, to have you inflicting this pain, and while I wasn't scared... well, it did not hurt too much, but it felt..." he turned from me and folded his arms. "Damn it, Sebastian!"

I rubbed his shoulders reassuringly. "I knew you would enjoy it." He slapped me away.

"See? That, right there! You can just anticipate these things! How is it?"

"Are you asking me how I know my master well enough to anticipate his needs and desires?"

"You bloody well know it goes beyond that!" He sat upright in his seat and stared at me. "These things you do to me. You cause me so much irritation, you know that?"

"Well, I think I cause you to feel more than that."

"And it's terrifying!" He ran a hand roughly through his hair, the eye patch falling from his face. He did not bother to retrieve it from the ground.

I bent to pick it up, but decided not to tie it back over his eye. I spoke softly, "You have no reason to fear. From the first moment you made our contract, and every moment thereafter, you have had no reason to fear anything, because you can always trust nothing will ever harm you. You have known this, and you even admitted to it last night."

He was still, silent, contemplating the unshakeable truth of those words. He was still not satisfied. "Well honestly, am I so simple that you can predict what is necessary to placate these... banal desires?"

"Simple? Predict?"

"Yes, am I so very predictable?"

I thought it such a silly question to ask. "Young master, you are predictable in one regard; I can predict that you will continue to always exceed my expectations."

He gazed at me with those two toned eyes in shock, and slowly the meaning of my words softened his features showing vulnerability in how he knit his eyebrows. His lip quivered. On bent knee, I lowered my gaze to his. "I was quite surprised with just how passionately you reacted last night, young master."

So Ciel would continue to surprise me. Slowly, he closed the distance between us and I welcomed the warmth of those quivering lips. He brought his hands to my face, and I deepened the kiss in response.

I could hear him in the back of my head, like a hollow whisper, "More, I want more of this."

I closed my eyes and wrapped myself in this sensation of his heat, savoring the corruption that funneled into some deep place I tried so hard to ignore. Fingers grazed through my hair, over the back of my neck, pulling me into him further and a moan slipped from my lips. His urgency was intoxicating, fueled by a lust that would only continue to grow with every kiss, every caress, every ecstatic sensation I could conjure in this boy.

"Sebastian..." his lips refused to leave mine, "I don't know what to make of any of this-"

"There is nothing to analyze here," I whispered back.

"I want-"

"I know." I quieted his words with another kiss, my tongue shoved forcefully into an eager mouth. He was submitting to this, I could feel it in his hands that gripped my shoulders. My hands traveled to his necktie where I proceeded to loosen it. My lips traveled to a pale neck. I suckled at the sensitive spot below his chin and he pulled me into him.

Ciel's voice trembled, "...how far do we take this, Sebastian?"

I whispered, "As far as my master wishes."

I wrapped my arms around his hips and he yelped as they pulled him to the edge of his chair. I kneaded into his thighs and he gasped, "I do not know where that limit is."

I breathed heavily. "It is best not-" I nipped at his flesh, "to dwell on such matters."

His legs parted, granting me more closeness. "This chair simply will not do," I stated, and lifted him to the table abruptly. He clung to me, panting in my ear. I let my hand trail under his thigh and he shivered from the sensation.

Urgently the boy reached for my hands. "Take them off," he commanded. When he felt the heat of my hands caress the pale flesh that peaked from under those short he gasped and pulled the neck tie off completely. This granted me access to his collarbone which I lapped at fervently. His eyes fluttered, cheeks tinged, lips parted.

In the distance I heard a cheerful humming. Immediately I froze. Ciel looked at me perplexed.

Finnian was far enough away to where the boy could not hear him, but we were visible enough in the expansive garden, and we were sitting in one of its main focal points. I turned to see him heading in our direction with a pair of gardening sheers. Turning back I could see the juniper bushes behind my master were in serious need of trimming.

In the blink of an eye the young master's tie and eye patch were set back in place, he was seated in the chair, as opposed to indecently on the table, and I was standing idly by... just in time for Finnian to glance up and wave at us. Ciel was still panting quite furiously, but I paid no mind as I cleared the last of the condiments from the table onto my trolley.

"Good afternoon, young master!" Finnian piped enthusiastically. "Goodness, are you alright?" he inquired upon seeing the boy's flushed face.

I interjected, "It seems the air is still too cold for the young master to be out for any length of time." I handed the boy his scarf. "Here, my lord, this should help to ease the chill."

He shot daggers at me as he coughed and yanked the scarf from my hands. His eyes widened as we both realized I was not wearing my gloves. Ciel managed to feign a coughing spell to distract Finnian while I quickly slipped them on behind my back. "I'll be in my study," he wheezed as he quickly vacated the area.

"Are you coming to trim the juniper?" I inquired.

"Yes sir!"

"Very well." I could not help but add sternly, "Do not hack them to stumps, for goodness' sake."