Music I listened to while writing : I am Sherlocked - OST Sherlock Serie

Chapter 1 : The Vanished Knight

*Author's Note:*
This story contains a relationship between two characters with an age difference of about ten years. Although Ciel is 13 years old in the manga, this fact is irrelevant to this story. Therefore, you can consider that Ciel is AT LEAST 15 years old (the age of consent in France) or OLDER in this story.

Arthur sat on the mattress and leaned back against the headboard. He had already changed into wrinkled gray pajamas. He listened to the rain pattering against the windows, whose heavy dark green velvet curtains he had drawn shut. He knew it was the butler's job, but Tanaka was quite old. Besides, he had learned to manage without a servant.

After all, he wasn't from this world where the death of a butler couldn't elicit much emotion. He had been disgusted by the reaction of those haughty nobles, so focused on their appetites that they had hurried to drag the body to the cellar—now holding three corpses.

Arthur sighed and buried his head in his hands, trying to clear his thoughts. He was exhausted, and the mystery surrounding him was wearing on his nerves. He pushed aside all the "whys" and "hows" that plagued his mind. He just wanted to sleep. He was waiting for the count, who was once again supposed to share his bed.

It had been decided that they would sleep in the same room, to keep the crime scenes intact until the rain stopped and Scotland Yard agents could inspect the premises. Of course, there was the room next to the one Lord Siemens had occupied, but Arthur had refused to let the young count be alone. He was too easy a target. And after all, Sebastian had entrusted Ciel's life to him. He was responsible for his protection now. He hadn't voiced this argument for fear of offending the count, but his insistence was strong enough that all the guests agreed.

To his great surprise, Ciel Phantomhive hadn't objected. The boy had simply nodded, his gaze empty, and sat back down at the small game table where he had spent most of the afternoon, his eyes fixed on the chessboard. He had only left his seat to join the others for tea at 5 PM and for dinner, though he had quickly left the table after barely touching his plate to return to the game.

Arthur had observed Ciel's actions and gestures with great interest. He had watched the boy curl up in the large armchair.

He's not yet fully a man... he had thought. A being so young, at the head of a vast enterprise, bearing the weight of his name and rank alone...

He had spent hours discussing with some of the guests, eager to find an explanation for the three murders that had occurred in less than 24 hours. Every now and then, he would glance at Ciel, who remained seated in the armchair, slightly leaning forward, eyes fixed on the chess game, his hand nervously touching the eyepatch that covered his eye. At certain moments, his lips moved slightly, as if he were speaking to the game pieces he hadn't moved once. He just stared at them and murmured. Arthur had wanted to read his lips but couldn't make out what the count was saying. Yet he was sure he had seen the count sigh "Sebastian," an expression of both annoyance and sadness flickering on his cherubic face.

Arthur sighed and sank onto the pillow. He wondered if the count's mental health had been affected. After all, the butler and his master had been close. Ciel's reaction to his servant's death was proof of that. If he closed his eyes, he could still see the boy lying on Sebastian's lifeless body, slapping him. What an awful scene! A young man clinging to a bloodied corpse, yelling at his servant to stop pretending to sleep...

The bedroom door opened, and Arthur abruptly sat up, facing Ciel, who entered the room followed by Tanaka.

The boy looked exhausted and weakened. His uncovered eye, which slowly lifted toward him, held no emotion. He stopped by his side of the bed and turned to his butler. The old man held the young man's nightshirt, which he delicately placed on the bed. He then turned to the count and extended his hands to remove his tie.

But Ciel sharply pushed his hands away. "That will be all for tonight, Tanaka, you may retire."

The old man didn't step back, extending his hands toward his young master again.

"Since when does the young master undress himself? It's my duty," he said with dignity, "and I must brush and lay out your clothes, it's etiquette."

The count pushed him away again, his face dark. "Your duty is to obey my orders, and I just told you to leave!"

"You mistake me for Sebastian, Young Master. And I believe I must remind you that he is dead."

Arthur gasped in indignation at the butler's words. He expected a violent reaction from the master of the house. But the count said nothing more. He stared at his butler, his face dark with anger. The old man waited a moment before placing his hands on the young boy again to remove his jacket, pants, and thin navy blue tie. As he unbuttoned the boy's shirt, Ciel grimaced, disgusted by the touch of the cold, rough hands on his skin. His cheeks flushed, and he violently shoved the old man away, both hands on his chest. His body rigid, trembling with anger, he shouted, "Don't touch me so freely!" He tore the shirt from the butler's arm and continued, "I'll manage the rest. Leave!"

The old man bowed slightly and murmured, "Sebastian was too lenient with you, young master; he shouldn't have indulged all your whims. Your father wouldn't have approved of this attitude. But I wish you a good night."

Then, turning to Arthur, he added, "Good night, sir." Arthur nodded slightly in acknowledgment and watched him leave.

When the door closed, Arthur turned to Ciel, who was still staring at the door, his breathing erratic. Then the young man violently tore off his shirt, sending buttons flying across the room, let it slip from his shoulders, and threw it to the floor. Arthur turned away while the count put on his nightshirt. The boy ignored him and silently slipped under the covers.

Arthur stood still for a few moments, staring at the lump under the blankets, then walked around the bed to blow out the candles on the chandelier by the count's bedside.

"No."

He stopped. The young man had sat up and murmured in a pleading voice, "Please leave a little light."

Arthur nodded, and the count lay back down, his hand moving to his eyepatch.

"Does it hurt?" Arthur asked, approaching the boy. "Do you want me to take a look? I'm an eye specialist, you know…"

"No, it doesn't hurt," Ciel sighed wearily, closing his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Arthur insisted, "I saw you touch your wound several times today. You didn't do that before, so I thought it might be infected…"

"No, it's impossible," the count interrupted softly, slowly succumbing to sleep.

"Then why do you keep touching it?" Arthur asked.

"I'm afraid…" Ciel sighed, "I'm afraid that it's healed. That my eye is no longer anything."

The writer frowned, surprised by the count's response. "Wouldn't that be a good thing?"

Ciel didn't respond, his eyes still closed, but he smiled slightly, then turned on his side and murmured, "Good night, sir."

Arthur returned to his place and got under the covers. He turned toward the young count, who was facing him, head resting on the pillow. The boy had his eyes closed, his breathing deep, and he seemed already asleep, likely exhausted by the day's events.

Arthur watched the boy's face, illuminated by the flickering candlelight. He was truly beautiful, neither feminine nor masculine, with white, delicate, perfect skin, and a finely shaped body. How he wished he could draw, to capture that perfect face and make it eternal! He would have liked to create a small portrait and carry it with him everywhere. He would have loved to heal his eye and mend the wounds of his past. He could take care of him.

He shook his head. What was happening to him? How could such thoughts cross his mind in such dark times? Pull yourself together, Arthur!

But it was hard not to be drawn to this young man when he looked so innocent. Yet for some reason, he couldn't take his eyes off the count's red lips. As he watched, Ciel moved slightly, causing the covers to slip, and a detail caught Arthur's eye. He leaned closer to the boy.

Ciel was clutching a shiny black object in his closed fist. Arthur moved closer, reached out, and gently pried open the boy's delicate fingers to free the object from his grasp. He brought it into the weak candlelight and examined it.

It was… a chess piece… the knight.

What an odd choice of object to sleep with, he thought.

"What are you doing?"

Arthur jumped and turned toward the boy, who was watching him, his stern eye fixed on him.

"Oh! Uh, I just wanted to see…"

"Give it back to me, please," Ciel interrupted, sitting up in bed, his hand outstretched with a solemn air.

Arthur nodded and handed him the piece. Ciel grabbed it quickly and placed it on the small bedside table.

"I'm sorry, Count," Arthur apologized, "I didn't know what it was, but holding it like that, you could have lost it in the bed or broken it."

"I will not lose it!" the Count snapped, his temper flaring again. That personality of his, how could this boy switch from a gaze as soft as velvet, almost tender, to one so cold, calculating, and passionate?

"Calm down, my lord," Arthur said, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. "You've had a very trying day. You need to rest, or you could endanger your health."

"My health?" the Count asked, raising his eyebrows, both puzzled and annoyed. "Forgive me, but I don't see how that's any of your concern!"

"It concerns me because Mr. Sebastian told me to take care of you."

Arthur barely finished the sentence before regretting it. He had wanted to calm the boy, but he had gone too far, and he knew it. Ciel froze, a look of surprise and horror crossing his face.

"Sebastian told you that?" he asked, his voice trembling as he scrutinized Arthur, seeking an answer in a situation he no longer understood. He threw off the covers and knelt on the bed, leaning towards Arthur. "When?"

Arthur sighed, realizing he should have kept silent. "Last night," he finally said, "after you fell asleep." He thought he had hurt the Count by mentioning the butler's last words, but he realized his mistake when Ciel's expression darkened with rage.

"Bastard!" Ciel turned to the nightstand, seized the black chess piece, and hurled it violently. The small knight shattered against the wall, scattering black, glittering dust across the floor. But this did nothing to calm the young man, who began screaming again, trembling, his hands clutching the blankets. "Who are you to decide that? Who are you to abandon me? You must obey me!"

Arthur grabbed the boy by the arms, trying to reason with him.

"My lord," he said, tightening his grip slightly on the boy's thin arms, trying to control him and force him to look at him. But Ciel struggled, addressing someone whose body was rotting in a cellar. "He didn't want to abandon you," Arthur tried to explain. "He's dead. He was murdered!"

"Dead?" Ciel spat, finally locking eyes with the young writer, as if suddenly realizing where he was. "Dead?" he repeated, before shaking his head violently, his arms still trapped in Arthur's grip.

Then he started laughing, a loud, dark laugh that shook his whole body.

Arthur watched him, wondering if the Count had lost his mind. Ciel's gaze fixed on him.

"Mr. Arthur," Ciel said, still laughing, visibly amused, "how he must be laughing at us right now. You don't know him. I know what he likes. He's mocking us!"

Arthur released him, wide-eyed, saying nothing. Ciel, still on his knees, rose to his full height, nearly towering over Arthur. He leaned in close and whispered, "He's toying with me. It's through our fear and despair that he lives. He loves seeing me weak and broken. How he must be laughing right now." He suddenly looked up at the ceiling and screamed, "You're having fun, aren't you? Demon!" Then he laughed again, that sinister laugh.

Arthur didn't know what to do. He stood up, frightened, wondering if he should go get someone. But suddenly, Ciel's face contorted, and his laughter gradually turned into painful sobs. His whole body shook as tears filled his revealed eye, though they didn't spill down his pale cheeks.

"But if he's dead," he murmured, his troubled gaze lost in the void, "if he's really dead… it's all over."

Ciel sat down, drawing his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them, and resting his head on them. He remained in that position, motionless and silent, for several minutes. He seemed small, a lost figure amid the disheveled sheets.

Arthur stood before him, frozen. He no longer knew how to deal with this boy, whose personality swung from one extreme to the other. He considered ringing for Tanaka, but feared it might make things worse. These excessive behaviors were simply psychological reactions to the day's traumatic events. What Ciel needed most now was rest and affection.

Sighing, Arthur sat back on the bed and reached out to lightly touch Ciel's hand, brushing his fingers. Ciel slowly lifted his head to look at him. Arthur's heart raced. He suddenly wanted to take him in his arms, to touch his hair, to press his lips to his face. But he contented himself with stroking Ciel's cheek with the back of his hand.

"You're not alone, my lord," he began softly. "Your servants are devoted to you." He paused and added in a low voice, "And I will be here, by your side, if you wish."

Ciel gently pushed his hand away, but instead of retreating, he crawled closer to Arthur, positioning himself as near as he could without touching him. For a brief moment, Arthur found himself believing in angels, as he gazed at this boy with a perfect face, lost in his white nightshirt.

Ciel leaned towards Arthur and murmured, "It's not enough. You're not enough," he said softly, his face close to the young man's.

Arthur tried to focus on Ciel's words, not on the proximity of his body or the moist warmth of his breath on his skin as his lips moved just inches from his face.

"All the pawns on the board can't win the game." Arthur looked at him, surprised. He opened his mouth to speak, but Ciel continued. "The rook and the queen are powerful pieces, but it's the knight that can change everything. He alone can jump over the other pieces, he alone has a unique and subtle movement that can win the game. It's with the knight that you can checkmate."

Arthur said nothing, staring at this fallen angel in a white nightshirt before him, his eyes bright and determined. He was a broken, lonely angel, but a splendid one nonetheless.

Without thinking, Arthur reached out, took the young man in his arms, and pulled him close. He felt Ciel's body stiffen, but he ignored it. He placed him against himself, Ciel's legs straddling his hips, and imprisoned him in his arms. Ciel made no move to return the embrace, but Arthur didn't care, because now that he held the Count against him, he realized just how much he had desired him since arriving at the castle, since he first glimpsed him at the top of the grand staircase. Nothing else mattered anymore.

He thought he heard Ciel whisper his name, but all he could distinguish were the furious beats of his heart and the warmth of the body pressed against his chest. All rules of propriety forgotten, he gently rubbed his face against Ciel's cheeks, planting tender kisses on them. He felt the Count stiffen further and place his hands on his shoulders, holding him without pushing him away. But Arthur tightened his embrace around Ciel's waist, his lips seeking the young man's. Lost in a burning desire, he kissed him.

Shame suddenly flooded him at the contact with those warm, soft lips, shame for feeling no regret, because despite the dull call of reason that tried to invade his mind, Arthur couldn't stop, didn't want to stop.

Had he ever tasted lips more delicate than these? Was he giving him his first kiss?

Ciel didn't respond to the kiss and remained still, unyielding, in Arthur's passionate embrace. Arthur pulled away from Ciel's lips, trailing a line of fevered kisses along his jaw and down his neck as his hands roamed across his back. He slid a sleeve off the boy's shoulder and began to nibble on the exposed flesh. Ciel finally reacted, squirming and moaning. He arched his back, throwing his head back as Arthur's lips trailed down his throat and now exposed chest. Arthur suddenly placed both hands on Ciel's hips, lifted him, and laid him down on the bed.

As he settled the young man among the cushions, their eyes met. Ciel gazed at him, his eye bright, his cheeks flushed, his lips swollen and wet from the kiss they had shared. Or stolen? Arthur didn't care. This person was so desirable that he couldn't resist.

He lay down on top of the Count, positioning himself between his legs, pressing his weight against him. He cupped Ciel's face in his hands, threading his fingers through his silky hair, and kissed him again. But this time, Ciel returned the kiss. Arthur was surprised by the pleading lips and deepened the kiss. The Count's lips finally parted, and Arthur began to tenderly caress his tongue with his own, intoxicated by the undulating body beneath him.

Arthur broke the kiss, allowing them both to breathe. Ciel, panting, tried to catch his breath. Arthur lovingly caressed his face with his fingers, kissing the Count's cheeks and eye.

He then tried to slip his fingers under the patch that covered Ciel's eye, but his hand was stopped.

"Stop," the Count moaned, his breath ragged. Arthur pushed his hand away.

"Let me see, let me look at you," he pleaded, his eyes burning with desire.

"No!" Ciel sharply exhaled, covering his patch with his hand.

Arthur let out a groan of frustration and pushed Ciel's hand away again, but didn't try to remove the patch. He captured the Count's lips once more and kissed him with rage and passion, as his hands roamed over Ciel's ribs, hips, and finally his bare legs.

His fingers caressed the slender, soft thighs, lightly scratching them. He felt intoxicated by the boy's sighs of pleasure, who plunged his fingers into Arthur's brown hair, pulling him closer as he continued to kiss his soft, full lips. He felt his burning desire intensify, pressing the hardness bulging in his pants against the count's crotch. Ciel responded to his desire, arching his body. The sight of Arthur blurred under the warm touch. He was certain he had never wanted anyone this much. Ciel writhed beneath him, his moans growing louder. Arthur, his mind foggy, suddenly sat up on his knees. He quickly removed his shirt and slid off his pants before returning to his place between Ciel's legs. But Ciel placed both hands in front of him to stop him, a flicker of panic passing through his eyes as he gently shook his head.

Arthur took Ciel's hands in his, brought them to his face, and kissed the tips of his fingers without breaking eye contact.

"Don't worry, trust me." Arthur had never intended to go that far. Having Ciel against him, against his skin, was all he desired.

He pressed his body against Ciel's warm one. Ciel's knees brushed the sides of his body. Arthur placed his hands on either side of the count's shoulders to support himself and positioned himself against his crotch, hardness against hardness.

He groaned under the contact, and Ciel threw his head back, stifling a small cry of pleasure between his closed lips. Arthur brought his face close to the count's, keeping the lower half of his body in contact with Ciel's. He planted a light kiss on Ciel's lips, then pressed his forehead against his and began to move his hips.

At this first thrust, Ciel let out a gasp of surprise and pleasure. He wrapped his slender arms around Arthur's neck, keeping their foreheads pressed together. Encouraged, Arthur quickly intensified the rhythm and the friction between their two bodies as the moisture of their excitement made the sliding easier, more delicious. The pleasure mounted again, and Arthur's arms gave way under the pleasure. He collapsed onto Ciel's body and, supporting himself on one elbow, placed an arm under Ciel's leg, forcing him to lift his knee to increase the friction and resumed a frantic rhythm against the count's body. The young man's breathing became irregular, interspersed with cries of pleasure.

"Don't stop," Ciel moaned, a tear rolling from his eye, "please, don't stop."

Arthur nodded and kissed him. The rhythm became ecstatic as their pleasure reached its peak. Arthur thought he would faint as his thrusts became violent and uncontrollable.

He heard Ciel's cries grow louder as he reached his breaking point. Arthur felt the count's body suddenly stiffen. Nails dug into his hair, and slender legs wrapped around his hips. The cry of pleasure that escaped the count's lips triggered his own orgasm, and after a few thrusts, he whispered "Ciel" passionately and sought his lips to stifle his passionate cry as he released between their two bodies. After a final kiss on Ciel's lips, Arthur closed his eyes and collapsed.

"Mr. Wordsmith… Sir… you're crushing me…"

Arthur opened his eyes. It took him about five seconds for the euphoria to dissipate, for the cloud of moral consciousness to suddenly invade his brain, and for him to realize he was naked on top of the count's body.

"Oh my God!"

He jumped up suddenly and found himself standing naked beside the bed. He quickly searched for his pajamas, which he had dropped on the floor. After finding them, he turned to the count, who had not moved from his spot on the bed, still lying down, his cheeks slightly flushed, his nightgown disheveled. Arthur looked for signs of regret on the young man's face but found none. He seemed at peace.

"Did I sleep long?" Arthur asked. The count shrugged as he sat up to adjust his nightgown.

"No, just a few minutes. I hesitated to wake you, but I was suffocating a bit."

Arthur nodded. He had reverted to formal speech, despite the moment of pleasure they had shared. He shook his head, determined not to think about it anymore, lest the desire return. He was about to get dressed when he noticed the shiny streaks on his stomach. He blushed and walked over to the cabinet where there was a porcelain basin and a pitcher of water. He poured some into the basin and dipped a small towel in it, wringing it out. He then walked over to the count, still lying on the bed.

"Excuse me, my lord, but I doubt you want to fall asleep like this…"

Ciel sighed and lifted his nightgown. Arthur sat on the bed and cleaned the remnants of their passion still visible on the pale belly. He did the same for himself and finally got dressed. Ciel had already gotten back under the covers, visibly exhausted.

Arthur was about to return to his side of the bed, a place he should never have left, when he noticed something on the count's bedside table. He approached quietly, thinking his imagination was playing tricks on him.

But when he recognized the object, he froze in horror.

It was the chess piece, the knight that Ciel had broken against the wall.

He glanced at the wall and the floor where the pieces of the pawn should have been… Nothing…

A shiver of horror ran down his spine. He grabbed the knight and turned to the boy lying in the bed.

"Count!" he called out, his voice trembling, "Count, look!"

Ciel sat up and looked at the object the novelist was holding out to him. A radiant smile spread across his face, and he delicately took the knight.

"It's nothing, sir, go to bed," he said simply, smiling indulgently, clearly delighted for a reason Arthur couldn't comprehend.

"But how…?" Arthur began, but Ciel placed a tender finger on the young man's lips.

"Hush," he whispered, "If a butler of the Phantomhive household couldn't do that, what could he do?"

Arthur froze in place, his mind too scientific, too feverish, unable to give him a logical answer to this mystery.

Ciel lay back down and closed his eyes, still holding the chess piece tightly in his hand, and murmured, "Good night, Arthur."

End of Chapter 1

End of chapter notes : This story was originally a one-shot, written to pass the time while waiting for the next chapter of Kuro, which we eagerly anticipate every month. However, the story was well-received, so it now has a sequel—a sequel of 13 chapters, darker and more closely aligned with the manga's storyline. I hope you will enjoy the continuation as much as I enjoyed writing it.