I considered the implications of the door ajar to the room in which the young master and I had been intimate with one another. I could see beyond the crack in the door, into a dim hallway. From the shadows I heard a heart flutter with anxiety.

Mey-Rin was backed against the wall opposite to the music room. She covered her mouth in some vain attempt to silence her gasping.

She had seen.

Furthermore, from the speed of her pulse, she had not just stumbled down the hall and caught the briefest moment. No, my best guess was she was standing there for quite some time, eavesdropping.

Best not to make a scene of it, I thought to myself. Act as if there is nothing amiss about this situation. He will not notice, I assured myself.

I reached for the eye patch on the floor, knowing this position would place me in Mey-Rin's line of sight, and glared with displeasure. The glance was brief, but upon receiving it, she jolted down the hall. She could run now, but she would be unable to avoid me for long. I turned toward Ciel who looked rather relaxed, his heart a steady rhythm, a resolute calm to his exterior. His eyes glazed with a far-off look, as if loaded with a jumble of thoughts.

I had difficulty reading that particular look.

Ciel had noticed my hesitation in picking up his eye patch and sat up. "Is something the matter?" If the boy were to find out that we had been spotted together in such a "vulgar" state… His paranoia would surely take hold of him, and to avoid another mishap, he would reject any more interaction. I just could not allow him to fall to such stress.

"Not at all, young master." I tied his eye patch and wiped him clean with my handkerchief. The boy blushed from the mess he was, feeling embarrassed from my care. Ciel kept his eye averted for fear his gaze would be caught in mine. A bath after dinner would be needed.

Now was not the time to discuss.

"Please excuse me, young master, for I really am... late," I sighed with apparent irritation, more towards myself than anything, "and I am needed in the kitchen for dinner preparations."

He murmured, "Very well." With hesitation he rose from the bench and walked to the table where his new violin lay untouched. He had still yet to give it the attention it deserved.

"It would be a shame to not become acquainted with this new instrument, since you had gone through such trouble procuring it." I bowed. I turned my heel, ready to depart for the kitchen. "And please forgive me for taking so much of your time this afternoon."

Ciel positioned the violin under his chin. He replied in an even voice, "There's no need for an apology, Sebastian." He moved with a calm demeanor, but his visible eye glimmered, and there was that look again. My brow twitched. That curious expression was as unsettling as the undercurrent of a calm ocean. "I anticipate dinner this evening."

"Very well sir."

I stomped to the kitchen, my mood turned apprehensive. Having been caught by Mey-Rin was one thing. I could contain that situation well enough. My issue was with Ciel's sudden shift. I could not explain what could have caused it, or why it placed me at such unease.

I struck the door to the kitchen. It flew open and crashed against the wall. I met the smell of a meat pie in the oven and a large pot of water about to boil over. Bardroy sat at the table peeling potatoes, or rather attempted to, a mess of skins spread about him. He looked up and flicked a piece of potato off his lap.

"'Eya, boss." He saluted with the paring knife in hand.

"You will address me formally, Bardroy, and what is this bloody mess?" He scoffed in return, but I ignored it as I pulled the meat pie out of the oven. "It is a relief I should arrive before you burn dinner, again."

"I wasn't gonna let it burn, Sebastian."

"Of course you were not. Not while you are too busy butchering potatoes."

"Whaddya mean? I'm peelin' 'em!"

I plucked a skin off the floor, pinching the thickness of it. "See how much potato you are hacking off with the skin? How wasteful."

"But I gotta work quickly, because my pot's already boilin'."

I shifted the pot on the stove and turned down the gas. "Yes, already about to boil over. Must you have the gas so high? Honestly, I am beginning to see it all clearly. Your prolonged exposure to noxious fumes is the reason for your loss of common sense."

He rose from his stool in offense. "Why ya gotta be so cri-ti-cal? Eh? 'Sides, where were you this whole time I've been slavin' away in 'is kitchen?"

My eyes whipped in his direction, glaring, and Bardroy cowered in response. "You would dare to question me?" My lip curled and he clasped his hands together, a pitiful supplication.

"I'm really sorry, sir! It won't my place!" He pleaded in that awful accent.

"Very well. Please do not prostrate before me. Get these pitiful things," I gestured to the heap of potato on the table, "into the pot before I chuck them at you." I began pulling ingredients from the cupboard: flour, eggs, sugar, butter, soda, yeast. "Thank you for leaving the butter out to soften." I pulled the glass bottle of milk from the ice box.

"Just doin' what you said."

A quick dessert of sponge cake would have to suffice for the evening. The eggs folded in with butter and sugar, and I sifted in the dry mixture, whisking all the while. Bardroy liked to watch me mix baking ingredients. I would always catch him out of the corner of my eye, his mouth gaping as if he were a cod. Sometimes he would whisper, "Like a machine." I would chuckle and add a dash of milk to the mix.

The pans greased, oven warm, I was pouring the batter into twin pans when Mey-Rin stumbled into the kitchen clutching folded tablecloths and napkins. She gazed at the floor with comical determination. Good, maybe looking at her feet would prevent her from tripping over something, I pondered.

I slammed my mixing bowl on the counter, its abrupt clap causing the maid to jump. In my chipper sarcasm, I commented, "So glad to see the tablecloths were laundered in such an expedient manner." If I were not careful, my vitriol would drip into the cake.

"Beg your pardon, Sebastian, sir. The rain put a damper in the dryin' today, it did, and you know how dryin' in the attic takes longer," her murmur trailed off as the blush spackled over her nose. Her pace quickened to the linen cabinet on the far end of the kitchen.

"Mey-Rin." She flinched. Even Bardroy perked up from her nervous behavior. "I must have a word. Meet me in the hallway." I turned to Bardroy. "Watch that stove. It must stay at 180°, Celsius, not Fahrenheit, for goodness sake. Watch that clock," I pointed to the clock above the stove. "Twenty minutes. Can you pull the cake out in twenty minutes?"

"Aye aye!"

I stated twenty minutes because I knew the chef would lose track of time, and by twenty-five minutes he would smell the cake, realize he had lost track of time, and pull out a perfectly baked confection.

"And do not get ambitious with that cake. It sits on the counter to cool!"

His shoulders slumped. "But... what if I want to put the filling on it?"

"Out of the question!" With a wag of a gloved finger, I left him with the hope he would pick up on my short temper and do as told.

I turned to the matter at hand. Mey-Rin was shaking in her boots on the opposite end of the hall. I sauntered forward, perhaps a little too close for comfort. There was little reason to beat around the bush. "What is the meaning of you peeking into the music room this afternoon?" My voice demanded authority.

She wrung her hands, fidgeting with her apron. Of course she would be terrified, praying I would not bring attention to the matter, but that would have been irresponsible of me. I had already made a minor slip, and it would be disastrous if I said nothing, thus running the risk of letting her gossip over what she saw. Would I consider her capable of such an act, destroying her master's reputation? Not necessarily, but these servants had difficulty in matters of even the most basic self-control.

"Answer me."

Mey-Rin stammered, "S-Sebastian... I d-don't know what to say..." Her heart palpitated as her palms heated and moistened.

"Okay, let me rephrase the question for you. What did you happen to see?" She backed against the wall.

She gulped. "Must I say it?"

My eyes were as needles piercing into her.

"You were on top of the young master... I could only see a bit..." her voice was but a whisper, "but he seemed to be enjoying it very much." She gave a sigh and started fanning herself.

That was when I sensed it: That sweet musk, brimming with pheromones, pulsating from her. Subconsciously, she pressed her thighs together to ease her tension. Such a scent can breach the thickest of petticoats.

My eyes widened, which could have been mistaken as shock at her comment. I thought to myself, oh my, how perfect, how very serendipitous. I had known for quite some time that Mey-Rin had always fancied me, but this new development made my job so very easy. I chuckled and leaned in closer, my eyes softening, lips curling, and with hushed tone, I inquired, "So please, indulge me. Did you enjoy what you saw?" A hand snaked around her waist and her breath hitched once more. I thought her glasses would start fogging.

She stared into my eyes, and I could feel her knees shaking. "My word, Sebastian, how can you ask me such a wretched question?"

"Because I can tell you were aroused by it. Do not lie to me. Just thinking about it right now excites you." I removed her glasses. "My, look at those eyes, just shining with want." She was not going to stop me. I lifted her chin, nipping at her jaw. Her pretty hands tugged at my wool jacket and she squeaked.

I whispered in her ear, "I have a proposition, my rotten little maid." She was nodding before I had even given her my offer. "Speak nothing of what you saw. Pretend you saw nothing. If ever asked, you would never dream of such a thing. Promise me to keep your silence, and I will be at your bedchamber tonight. We will speak more of our secrets. Is it a deal?" I crushed her against the wall and she moaned.

She jerked me down to her level, encasing my lips with a soft pout. Such an interesting scent: sugar and lemon, a woman's musk and witch hazel. I would play along, I decided, and dipped my tongue in that wanting mouth. Her moan deepened, and I shushed into her lips. "I will arrive at your quarters at midnight. In the meantime, please clean the front parlor. It needs dusting and the floor could use a good scrubbing." I kissed her again, holding her hips, and I knew that she would follow any order given.

"Okay. Yes, sir."

I took a step back to let her pass, and I patted her on the rear for good measure. "There is a good maid."

She bounced away, and before turning the corner, blew me a kiss. I heard her trip over the first step leading to the main floor.

My young earl continued displaying this pensive attitude over dinner, receiving all courses with little reaction and sipping at his wine nonchalantly. His face was wistful, eye unfocused as if attempting to look beyond the plate in front of him. All the while, I sensed no anger or frustration.

"Might I inquire, young master, are you well?" I removed a picked-over plate of food.

"I'm fine, I suppose. I have a lot of things on my mind."

Dessert was carted out, and I set a piece of cake before him, layered with sweet buttercream and berry preserves. "Perhaps the master would care to discuss such matters before he beds down for the night. A frantic mind will keep you awake."

"I appreciate your concern, Sebastian, I really do." He took a bite of cake and paused a moment, savoring the texture, the sweetness, the interplay of flavors. "This is really good cake, wow." I was bewildered by such a forward comment. I knew that my artistry could never be denied, but when did the young master ever express such appreciation?

Sobered, I replied, "I am flattered, young master."

"Anyways, I would prefer to sort out my own thoughts, without any influence or council." He said no more on the matter, preferring to indulge in cake.

His dessert plate empty, he rested his napkin on the table and stretched from his seat. "Sebastian, please draw a bath for me."

Why was Ciel using such manners with me? My head reeled: what was he playing at? Was he trying to throw me off guard? What is this change in his demeanor, when I could feel something boiling underneath this calm exterior?

I decided against commenting on this change, believing that my mention of it would cause him to drop the niceties. The usual, short-tempered boy beamed, his sanguine features suggesting I follow.

His eye was pleading, an unspoken desire. I was sure that if I were to pull off the eye patch, it would shine before me.

"Will the young master need any assistance this evening?" He looked away, but remained silent. His head hung from his shoulders, as though defeated that he could be read so easily.

While the boy had proven that he could attend to his own personal needs well enough, it had been weeks since I assisted in his evening bath. I was reluctant to admit that I missed it.

The halls were quiet, our sole company being the sconces lit along the walls. Despite our solitude, he murmured, "I suppose I could use the pampering tonight."

By this point, I was astonished. Was he not going to put up a fight? No snide remarks? He was receptive to any suggestion that I would give, whereas before I had to fight for any sort of reciprocation.

As I ran the bath water, I performed routine evening tasks: coking the fire, hanging clothes for the next day, setting aside towels and a night shirt. Lavender scents from the bath placed Ciel at further ease. as I suggested light reading while I prepared his bath, but he waved the offer away, preferring to stare into the fire.

I announced, "Your bath is ready, young master." I ushered him into the steamy washroom. I pulled off the gloves, and while I was accustomed to wearing a pair for the master's bath time, I dared to forgo them this time. Ciel made no remark on the matter.

Some months past, this ritual was a matter of course. Its absence forced the realization that I craved the experience. To have the intimacy again... I needed to savor him, I would find a thousand ways to savor him, every act of service, every pampering gesture, every order fulfilled and every desire sated.

I ran naked fingers through his hair, wishing to relax him. Ciel responded to the gesture with a sigh, head bending toward my hand. I kneeled to slip off the shoes and he bore his weight on my shoulder to keep balance. He shivered as I shed the stockings from his calves. To unbutton layers of clothing caused my fingers to ache. My lips grazed over his bare abdomen as the shirt was pulled from his shoulders. I could smell our lingering sex in his flesh. He held me there, cradling my head against him. "Young master, will you now tell me what is on your mind?"

"No, no speaking... just..."His breath rattled in his chest and I pulled the trousers from him, my fingers itching to dance upon his hips.

He urged me to continue, kisses trailing over his midriff, his organ perked. I could take all of him into my mouth, erection blooming, thick and full. He whispered, "Oh Sebastian…"

I moaned against him, feeling his hands on the back of my neck as his hips tilted forward. His soft fingers tangled my hair, Ciel desperate for something to cling to. With arms around his thighs, I anchored him, hands trailing up the small of his back. He teetered on the edge of dropping his weight against me and falling. From my vantage my knees could bare me as I brought the boy's legs to my chest.

I glanced up to see him staring down at me, mouth agape and breathing heavy. He pulled the hair from my face, and I gazed back up as my tongue lapped against his length. Finger tips danced around my features, tracing my brow and across my temple. I slowed at this tender gesture.

Was that what was in his eyes, tenderness? Gently, he pulled at me and whispered, "Don't stop."

I bobbed against him, lips pulling from him, and reaching back to encase him once more. "Yes, yes..." the words came strangled as he bucked against me gently. I felt the muscles in his rear tensing, in rhythm to how I swallowed him. His thickness was such a delicious weight on my tongue, and I flicked against the underside of him. His toes began to curl, and I pulled him closer.

His orgasm crashed against me with a rampant force, and he curled around me, a guttural cry, his hands grasping for my shoulders for support. My hands tightened around him, my arms as coils to keep him upright. My mouth held all of him, his seed on the back of my throat, so hot, to feel his desperation and loneliness once more. I moaned loudly against him and he trembled with it, for there was more to this sensation. This broken boy was carrying something in addition to his corruption, something akin to hope. It was subtle, an under note to his usual taste of despair.

And it ran through me as a furious wind, where pillars which held aloft my pride were toppled, the foundation of my being shaken. My beautiful master was turning to poison before me, with a light that had no business taking hold of him. He did not taste as before.

... I felt bereft.

He, by contrast, appeared relaxed. He blew a deep sigh, wiped the sweat from his brow, and pulled from my arms. Without a word, he dipped into the warm bath water, a light steam still meandering from the surface. He sunk back, reveling in the warm that enfolded him, until his face slipped below the surface. He lifted himself up again with the same unhurried motion.

As he wiped the water from his eyes, I inquired, "May I make a comment, young master?"

"I suppose."

"You have been uncommonly appreciative of my services, as of late." I lathered soap into his ashen hair.

"How do you mean?"

"I am not accustomed to your praise. And you have been... dare I say it, tender with me." I adored the form of his neck as he tilted back to rinse the tendrils that floated through the bath water as smoke.

Half-submerged, he bobbed deaf in the water, staring at me in silence. A moment later, he rose up to reply, "Okay, I'll be candid. Something you said this afternoon has been on my mind."

"Oh?" I urged him to continue.

"That you are the only one who can know me so genuinely, and so completely."

"I see."

He held out his arm for a lathered flannel, and I massaged each finger pad, between digits, under nails. He gazed at my efforts with rapt attention.

"I don't even need to ask if you were being truthful. It's not a matter of needing verification," he clarified, anticipating that I was going to insist in my honesty. "I just know."

"How do you know?"

He closed his eyes, as though leafing through his thoughts. "I'm just being truthful with myself." His lip quivered. I considered how his inner condition once felt so clouded, turbulent as an approaching storm. The storm within him was breaking, and I had no explanation for it.

He tossed a foot over the rim of the tub, expecting the same detail of cleanliness be given to them. He moaned at the sensation, and through the water I saw his organ bobbing up once more. He would have me again, possibly more of me if I so pushed for it. I was troubled by my own weakened condition, and I failed to find a word for it. I would satiate him again if asked, and I was relieved he did not.

I saw the brand under the water as I scrubbed his shoulders. It would forever be a blight upon his flesh, but what hurt within him was healing? I found the possibility to be rather unpalatable. "And what is this truth you have discovered within yourself, young master?" Ciel remained silent.

He hesitated in rising from the bath, muscles warmed and unwilling to bear the slightest strain. He leaned against me as I patted him dry. The boy's hands were leaving wet marks on my jacket, and I did not know if this tender gesture irritated me or not.

He slipped into his nightshirt and tucked himself in the covers. He gazed with such large eyes, and I was so unnerved I could keep my own view downcast. "Come here," he beckoned, palm outward. I shuffled forward, and he tugged down at my shirt, capturing my lips with his.

Ciel gave a kiss.

I had to steady myself against a bedpost, otherwise I feared collapsing. He must have taken my shuddering as a good sign, for he deepened the kiss, sweet as the sponge cake I served him earlier. I only wished to avert from his fluttering tongue.

I gathered the strength to not flee from the room. Who was this boy?