Disclaimer: Oh sure, just rub it in… *pouts*
Author's Note: This was written a few months ago for the LJ community, "Kuroshi Contest," which is a bi-weekly (or monthly, at this point) Kuroshitsuji fanfiction contest. The theme had been "Achilles heel." (I didn't actually win that week, but I was awarded the Mod Nomination. Yea! :D)
Warnings: CRACK. And so much of it… With some SebastianxCiel flavorings.
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Achilles Heels
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There was no denying, of course, that Sebastian was beautiful. Even in his most objectionable, annoyed, furious, or angsty moods, Ciel could never refute that—could never keep himself from noticing his butler's forever unblemished skin; his long, well-proportioned limbs; the way his hair always fell exactly into place. It was actually rather irritating, how absolutely perfect he was. Irritating, as well as off-putting: as no human was truly perfect, Sebastian's idealized appearance almost made him seem more otherworldly than he really was. Which was certainly a feat.
The boy blanched a bit as that last word fluttered through his mind, even if it wasn't technically…
No, no, stop thinking about it!
"Young master?"
Said specimen of perfection paused in his current doings, momentarily distracted from his assigned task—trailing his heated tongue up and down the pallid expanse of Ciel's abdomen. The boy started; his demon had been watching him from behind the curtain of his black-silk fringes. His ruby eyes— which had, moments ago, been half-hidden by lowered, clock-spring lashes— suddenly opened, as his expression morphed from one of feral lust to polite bewilderment. "Young master, you seem distracted. I do hope I am not boring you?"
Boring? Ciel's thin lips turned downward, a faint frown painting his face. That wasn't it… was it? In his conscious mind, he wanted to say no, it wasn't that he was bored—it was that Sebastian was just so utterly inhuman, this whole situation was somewhat unsettling. As such, it would have felt more natural to do this with him sans his butler's guise… Or so Ciel would've liked to tell himself.
But even he knew that was a lie. Or, more accurately, an excuse. Perhaps "boring" was a better word for it. Because after all he'd seen, this costume of ebony fabric and white kid gloves seemed almost… mundane. Disgustingly so. He didn't want to be coddled by his servant—he wanted… he wanted…
"Sebastian," the young Earl whispered, feeling his sacrificed eye flame as he inadvertently tapped into its dark power, "this is an order. Don't ever fuck me as a butler again."
…well, that was out-of-the-blue. Understandably surprised, Sebastian blinked, taken aback. "Young mas—?"
"Rather," Ciel continued— and no, he wasn't blushing, or averting his eyes, or inwardly drooling at the thought of what was to come— "from now on, you are only ever allowed to do things like that with me in your true form."
"My—?" The demon faltered uncharacteristically. And for a moment, he seemed oddly mortal: staring unblinkingly at his increasingly pink master, as if trying to hash out the answer to two and two. But eventually, the numbers made 'four' in his mind—a creeping smirk appeared on Sebastian's face as it all clicked together, and oh, he found the answer so very amusing…
"Very well, my lord," Sebastian purred, his words barely audible over the sound of rushing feathers; black tendrils of smoke began coiling around the devil, melting away his butlery attire. In its place, midnight leather shone: tight and sleek and shining and enveloping every inch of the demon's scintillating body. And Ciel's excited eyes followed the progress of the magical material, watching as it curled around Sebastian's torso, then his hips, then his legs, and then—
Yes.
The count felt his small face flame as his libido (and lower body) immediately sprang to life. It was such a visual aphrodisiac; thus enthused, Ciel tangled keen fingers through his devil's hair—yanking Sebastian down into an eager make-out session.
God dammit, those were some sexy boots!
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