Disclaimer: I don't own Kuro, or even the basic premise of this fanfic. 8D;
Author's Note: I finished reading what exists of Eien Ni and Akiru-chan's story, "What May Come," the other day, and the fact that it is now on hiatus makes me sad. D8 I was really enjoying myself… So I thought maybe I could try to bribe another chapter out of them…? Er, I mean: inspire another chapter via my own fangirlish ravings. XD; (DON'T JUDGE ME. I really wanna know what will happen during Ciel's weekend at Sebastian's! XD) So… here we go? :'D
Warnings: A short, derpy, poorly-edited fanfic for Eien Ni and Akiru-chan's fanfic, "What May Come." (As Maddie phrased it, FANFICEPTION.) SebaCiel. :3
XXX
Pet
XXX
"What do you look like?"
Sightless eyes remained casually downcast, gazing blankly at a book resting in a folded lap. As the question— nonchalantly thrown into the silence of the office—tumbled from his lips, willowy fingers stilled atop bumps of braille. His hands weren't the only thing to pause: from across the room, Ciel could hear the sounds of shifting leather, the tinny squeak of a seat's metal spine; his doctor had straightened in his spindly chair, and had likely turned to face him in bemusement. Though Ciel was given no immediate response, the young teen could hear Sebastian's unspoken question, as well as sense the confusion that surely would have permeated it. What brought this on? After all, hadn't they (and polite, PC society) not already decided that it was 'the inside that mattered most,' despite how cheesy, trite, and naïve that sort of claim happened to be? And while yes, some might read such statements as the weak defenses of the fat and ugly, in this particular case… Well, apparently, Sebastian hadn't anything to be ashamed of. Or so the gossip went. And in truth, it was that very same gossip, that (unconfirmed) claim of good looks, that had inadvertently led to this query: flippant commentary at home inspiring a good deal of restless curiosity.
"Sorry, that was kinda random, wasn't it?" Ciel said into the startled hush, though without any genuine apology in his voice. After all, he doubted he'd actually offended. What he lacked in remorse, however, he made up for in embarrassment: his cheeks turned a splotchy pink as he glanced demurely to his left, nibbling his lower lip. Though he knew it was unwarranted, the child found himself needing to justify such a sudden demand, if only so that Sebastian didn't start to think he was on the verge of becoming shallow and vain, on top of childish. "It's just… I dunno, I hear things. About how handsome you are. Makes me wonder… and it makes me jealous. I mean, I— I know, someday, I'll be able to see for myself, but…"
Beside him, seated primly on the couch, the boy's seeing eye dog yawned. The high-pitched whine of it all nearly drowned out the noise of wheels rolling over plush carpet. But though the sound was faint, his sharp ears caught hold of it; Ciel was not surprised to feel a new, gentle heat radiating from a source beside his body, its epicenter somewhere to his right. Neither was he surprised by the ginger touch of large hands coiling (very loosely) around his bony wrists.
"Have you not already 'seen' me for yourself?" the velvet voice of his doctor playfully reminded, lifting petite palms to the curve of his temple. Ciel smiled, instinctively cupping that thin face. Indeed, it wasn't unfamiliar terrain; his thumbs swept affectionately over the high bones of his boyfriend's cheek, the softness of its hollow, the juxtaposing delicacy and strength of its structure.
"Yeah," he then agreed, not without some humor. "But I haven't seen you in color."
Sebastian chuckled; the breathy sweetness of the exhalation teased Ciel's heightened senses. Deep within, butterflies of nerves and affection spread that ticklish sensation throughout the rest of his yearning body: from fingertips and nape to heart and belly, migrating towards his loins. In an instant, the entirety of the world felt warmer; Ciel feared his face had turned the same shade of red as the tomatoes he vaguely remembered from childhood. The ones his mother would add to grocery carts already-groaning under the weight of eternally-despised fruits and veggies; the ones Sebastian would sometimes make him eat in sandwiches and salads.
"Shall we make it a game, then? Like my eye color?" the doctor suggested in an impish lilt, turning his head a fraction so as to press a kiss to the base of Ciel's palm. His grin was so wide, its edges fell over the sides of his lover's thin wrist. "Of course, I'd be more than willing to compensate you for every guess… and even more willing to reward you for a correct answer. If you wish to play, that is. And I must confess, I hope you do," Sebastian tacked on as he twined two sets of slender fingers, allowing their joined hands to fall atop his patient's lithe thigh. The coiled muscles therein instinctively tensed, then relaxed. "Call it vanity if you will, but I must admit, I'm interested to hear what you think I look like."
Ciel's grin remained as he considered his doctor's roundabout request. Yes, perhaps it was vanity, to some degree—but Ciel could understand Sebastian's interest. It was human nature to wonder what you looked like in the eyes of the ones you cared for; it was another facet of the desire for reciprocity in relationships. Certainly he had once pondered the same: if Sebastian thought he was attractive, if he considered Ciel worthy his time, effort, affections. But too much of their relationship was already fixated on Ciel and his whims; for now, Sebastian deserved the focus, as well as his commendations. Whatever he could give of those, anyway, in regards to the physical.
"Well," the child began—then hesitated, cocking his head as he considered which words to use. Sebastian only ever gave him the best; he should only be offered the best, in kind. "In general, I guess… I would say you're attractive, like anyone else. Your skin isn't too hot or too cold, too oily or too lumpy. It's got a satin quality to it— it's nice to the touch. Which I assume you've long-since figured out, considering how much I, um, enjoy touching you." Ciel's cheeks darkened further in the wake of such a flustering truth, giving a bodily squirm as Sebastian thanked him with a second, sensual chortle. The exhalation was composed of equal parts pleasure and gratitude, and it added shy teeth to the boy's squirming grin. Thus encouraged, he continued. "You're thin and toned, too, which I like. Not too hairy… though I do like what hair you've got. It's very fine, but thick… Fun to grip when— erhm." Flaming features flaring once more, Ciel trailed weakly off, cursing his insatiable hormones. As if to distract Sebastian from the awkward manner in which he'd ended that sentence, Ciel untangled one of their twined hands: bringing it from his lap to Sebastian's forehead. It worked to some degree; the doctor's murmured mirth melted into a husky hum, and he moaned like a contented cat as Ciel's fingers toyed with the fringe of silken forelocks. Lacing then petting, knotting then smoothing. "A-anyway… As for its color… maybe black?" the teen then guessed vaguely, not sounding overly confident one way or another. Though judging from what he remembered of Rachel's tastes, and from the way Sebastian had just jolted beneath his touch, perhaps he wasn't far off…? "Mom likes 'em tall, dark, and handsome. I know you're tall, and I've been told you're handsome, so I assume you're dark, too."
A pause.
"…your mom likes her men tall, dark, and handsome?" Sebastian echoed wryly, almost in disbelief. As if deciding he needed to consider this new perspective from, well, a new perspective, he pulled back a fraction, seemingly torn between bewilderment, shock, and laughter. Since when did the opinions and preferences of Mrs. Phantomhive begin to matter? Unless—ah, there it was: the missing puzzle piece. Now that the doctor had it, the rest was starting to click together. "Dare I ask if this means your mother has been expressing interest in me outside of the office? Interest that goes beyond my—shall we say— professional expertise?"
Busted. Ciel flinched, flustered, like a child caught in an act: chewing the inside of his cheek as his eyes shone with a glaze of guilty jealousy… and Sebastian knew. And so, in turn, the doctor rasped another purr; the heat of it danced along the line of his young lover's jaw as he dipped forward, lips brushing against the corner of his mouth. A mouth that had—quite adorably—since quirked into a brooding frown, accentuating the forehead that Ciel had furrowed in displeasure. "If this is your way of asking if my mother would 'tap that,'" he dryly droned, "the answer, it seems, is yes."
The brusque and almost-coarse nature of Ciel's spat response caught Sebastian temporarily off-guard, but didn't seem to faze. Rather, it left the doctor snickering; the cloying aroma of Old Spice grew thicker and stronger as he again bowed over his charge, nuzzling against the nape of his neck.
"Jealousy is such an attractive emotion, when done right," Sebastian mused as he nestled, wheedling tone now thoroughly-saturated in tacit merriment. Ciel grunted, as if annoyed, but even then the doctor could feel anxious tension leaving him: his little body long-since trained to relax again Sebastian's, to lean into and savor each embrace. "And you, as you do all others, wear it beautifully."
"Happy to hear you take such pleasure from my pain, you sadist," Ciel returned half-heartedly, trying his best not to giggle when Sebastian nibbled a particularly sensitive juncture near his throat. Cheater. "No wonder you became a doctor. You say you like helping people, but really, you just enjoy watching them writhe."
The faux bitterness (and unintended suggestion) in the breathy retort had Sebastian leering, vainly attempting to suppress his own giggles. Well, that wasn't a lie… But it wasn't the truth, either. "Oh, no, I assure you," the elder man thus corrected, in something very close to a velveteen purr, "you are the only one—patient or otherwise— who I enjoy watching… writhe."
The simpered innuendo lingered heavily between them, and Ciel (who'd never had a problem with his ears, thank you) did not fail to notice it… Nor the way it was underscored by the press of a warm hand to his heart, fingers fluttering over a perking nipple. He grumbled, turning vibrantly fuchsia; Sebastian sneered, smugness oozing from him in near-palatable waves. "Though I will confess to being amused. And a touch flattered," the doctor eventually added, lacy lashes wafting the faintest of breezes over Ciel's ruddy cheek. "It seems I am a sort of catnip to the Phantomhives… Which would explain your current flush and glassy gaze. Intoxicated by my presence, hmm…?"
Such gall. The teen indulged in an inelegant snort, as if to mock his narcissistic companion. All the same, he couldn't help but privately concur—swallowing a second sardonic sound as greedy fingers eagerly displaced the book he'd long-since forgotten, suddenly interested in the real estate of his boyfriend's lap. Every touch fizzled beneath Ciel's tingling skin; he was willing to admit he was more than a little love-drunk. "More powerful than laughing gas," he drawled in agreement, the retort trailing into giggles as his hips were caught and claimed, and he was bodily hefted atop Sebastian's parted knees.
"I'm more fun, too."
"And so modest."
It was Sebastian's turn to snort now, relaxing against his seatback as Ciel's legs slid comfortably through the gaps in his armrests. "I've never understood the value of modesty, false or otherwise," the doctor confessed—rather snootily— as his thumbs massaging warm circles into jutted hip bones. A shirt rode up; jeans rode down. "It smacks of lying to me."
"Mmm," Ciel hummed in response, vibrant eyes hooding themselves as the lazy reply escaped smirking lips. "Egotism. How attractive."
"Well, it must be," Sebastian returned swiftly, tone light but undeniably defensive. "If I weren't attractive, you wouldn't be so jealous right now. Which, speaking of, I find wholly flattering." As if to underscore this admission, one hand fluttered briefly from its comfortable perch atop Ciel's waist, lifting instead to sweep down the slope of his button nose. The boy's features scrunched in faux displeasure. So cute. "Possessiveness might not generally be encouraged, but I can't deny I find it rather endearing in you… Still, everything in moderation, as they say. Allow me to set your mind at ease." Wearing a grin that Ciel couldn't see, but he could most certainly hear—and soon feel, pressed lovingly against the ridges of his trembling knuckles— Sebastian simpered and cooed an adoring oath. "I promise you've nothing to worry about. Your mother is a lovely woman, but I've no interest in her. Cats are nice, but kittens are cuter."
"…oh?" At this, the boy arched a single eyebrow, leaning as far back as safety (and Sebastian) would allow. With a regal arrogance that did not seem entirely-out-place on the pampered teen's face, Ciel parodied a huff and demanded, "Are you comparing me to a lowly pet? One I am allergic to, no less?"
The doctor wasted no time in shaking his head, even if his companion could not see it. "Certainly not," he then added, just in case the rustle of his collar or the squeak of abraded leather wasn't enough to tip Ciel off. "If anything, you're the one who has me on a leash. Just as I said I feared you would, that first day—you've got me staying, shaking and coming as you please."
Sebastian's (almost ironic) feral grin widened, its edge wolfish and deviant. Again, there was nothing wrong with Ciel's ears— or his memories, for that matter. The now-glaring entendre behind the old concern had the younger man turning so scarlet he almost looked purple. Even still, flirting was—for all intents and purposes—a sort of game… One of the few that Ciel could feasibly enjoy, nowadays. He missed games, and thus refused to quit or surrender: instead relishing what little time they found to entertain these playfulness urges. Almost as much as he relished the idea of winning, if one could win in such instances. (And yes, he could.)
"If you're my pet, then…" Ciel began slowly, carefully, skillful fingers slipping up and down the muscled expanse of Sebastian's chest, pausing only to tweak at lapels and plastic buttons, "Would you mind terribly if I marked you as such? Just so the world knows you've already a master..."
…what?
Sebastian felt his spine— and other, less appropriate body parts— stiffen noticeably in surprise. A surprise not only derived from the frisky sweep of adroit hands, but also the sweetly seductive suggestion itself: not quite uncharacteristic at this juncture of their relationship, but still wholly unexpected. Of course, "unexpected" certainly did not mean "unwanted;" the doctor thrilled at the (potentially) wanton query, every inch and cell of him encouraging Ciel to do just that. "Not at all. My body is yours to do with as you please…"
The beautiful teen beamed.
And that sinful smile was the last thing Sebastian saw before willingly blinding himself: closing his crimson eyes as his boyfriend leaned closer, laughter on his breath, scandalous promise in his glittering gaze…
…and something that chimed in his grasp…?
X
"Hm? Oh… That's odd."
"What is it, Mom?"
Once again playing chauffeur to her son, Rachel Phantomhive frowned, observant stare darting. Now it was on Ciel, who was now shooting her a curious glance from the passenger seat; now it flitted, again falling on his canine, who was obliviously lounging around in the back. For the last few minutes, she had been thoroughly scrutinizing the latter in the rear-view mirror, utterly convinced that something was different about the dog. Something was out of place. And although it had taken her a bit, she'd finally put her finger on what. (Metaphorically, anyway. Both of her hands had remained on the wheel. This time.)
"It's Sebastian," she then answered—clarified, really— only half-noticing the way that Ciel immediately straightened beside her. She was still too focused on her recent discovery, lips pursing in bemusement as she processed the realization. "His collar is missing. Isn't that strange? I'd thought that buckle was sturdy—it was made of metal, after all— but I suppose it must have fallen off in the hospital." It was the only thing that made sense, really, even if it… well, even if it didn't really make sense. It'd been a leather collar, for goodness' sake; those things didn't just wear out. But it's not as if someone would have stolen it. Or would have taken it off intentionally; what would have been the point of that? "I suppose we'll have to remember to ask if any of the doctors or nurses have seen it, next wee— Hm?"
Blinking once, torn abruptly from her plans and ponderings, Rachel glanced towards Ciel—startled to find him giggling in a way she hadn't heard or seen in years. Bent a bit at the waist, smirk peeping through the slots of clawing fingers, he chuckled breathily, as if trying to muffle the sound: cheeks pink both from mirth, and from his futile attempts at smothering burbling glee.
"Sweetheart…?" his mother questioned—almost sounding concerned—as she reached out to touch Ciel's shuddering shoulder. He allowed the gesture, but did not respond to it—too caught up in the throes of some secret amusement. "What's so funny?"
But her child's only answer was a shake of his head and an enigmatic smirk.
"Let's just get Seb a new one. I don't think we'll be getting the old one back."
XXX