Chapter Five: His Butler, Painting the Roses Blue

Ciel was sitting upright in his bed, listening to Sebastian go through his schedule, but found that, as usual, he was more contented with the delicious treats that Sebastian had brought him to ease his crossness in the morning. This morning, as Sebastian had told him, he'd had his favorite- Earl Grey Tea, complimented with a variety of bite-sized cakes, each made to perfection.

A blueberry cheesecake bite caught his eye as Sebastian asked him, "Young master, are you listening to me at all?"

"Yes," Ciel said defensively, "You said to expect company later this evening with a business partner from...Glasgow..." he murmured, between the two bites of the cake. His eyes closed, and his head fell back into the pillow. Sebastian had outdone himself.

Sebastian chuckled, at his side within moments with that condescending grin on his face.

"What?" Ciel asked, perturbed that there were just a few inches between their faces.

"Nothing, my lord, it's just that..." the demon's tongue flicked out, licking from his cheek to his lip. Ciel's face flushed hard, shoving his butler away, his humiliation growing as Sebastian continued to chortle, "It's just that you looked rather...adorable...with cheesecake on your face. I simply couldn't resist."

"I..." he shivered, barely able to protest, feeling cold where his butler's hot tongue had been moments ago.

"Oh dear, it seems I've missed a spot. How unsightly, young master," Sebastian said, his voice low, before he tilted Ciel's head to face him. His tongue drew another hot path, but didn't recoil...and, Ciel found himself shocked as his demon butler's tongue pressed through his lips.

Ciel woke pouring sweat, his sheets askew, torn from his body and tossed on the floor. Dawn was just starting to break- the skies dark but for mild tints of a lighter blue, and yellow. His stomach felt odd- sick, maybe? And there was an aching pain in his groin that had become a more and more frequent visitor. All of these thoughts were pushed aside with the one front and center of Ciel's complex mind. "What the hell?" he asked himself. Sebastian would never do that. Why would I...ung... Pain and pleasure as he shifted his legs. He sighed. How lewd and inappropriate.

He reached down, lifting his nightshirt above his swollen shaft...his nightshirt, already stained from thoughts of desire...tiny droplets of pre-cum sliding down the head of his cock. He rubbed his thumb against it, moaning and even shaking at the insane desire rippling through him. He ran his hand down his neckline, carefully (and admittedly, with some difficulty), unbuttoning each button to slide his hand fully down his chest and abdomen, caressing himself as a lover would. As...

Mmm Ciel moaned as his fingers trailed the sticky substance lower, where he began to pump, slowly at first. Ciel Phantomhive was greedy, and it was hard to slow down where pleasure was concerned. Such acts were disgusting, lewd, and downright per- aaaahhhh he cried out, less than quietly. He couldn't be too fast...it was still so sensitive. He'd only done it a few times. It felt so dirty. It felt-mmm.

"Sebastian."

He clapped his free hand over his mouth so hard he'd basically hit himself, his lip hurting a bit. What the hell had he just said? He felt his cock pulsing in his hand. The thought that it had been...that it was...no. It was too perverse. It was simply wrong. But his tongue. If his tongue could do things like that...normal things. Things that a man would do to a woman...he tried to tell himself...what could a tongue do to the hard ache between his legs.

He tried to picture Elizabeth, as he should, but found that in place of the butterflies in his stomach...he just felt sick. It didn't feel right. His thoughts kept straying to him...to Sebastian.

The sun was creeping daylight into his window more and more, and his eyes felt heavy with sleep, his stomach both sick and fluttering, as the butterflies returned. He conceded, letting his mind give way to such perverse thoughts. With each stroke, Sebastian's hand replaced his, gloved hands caressing his master's...his tongue slamming against his with this same want. His length...oh god, this was going too far.

Ciel's fingers slid down his shaft, his balls, until they rest at the entrance. He took a deep breath as he slid a finger in. He was done for. The uncomfortable pain quickly gave way to a new feeling, entirely pleasurable.

"Se-Se-" he panted, mewling...his breathing harsh, his heart pounding as he found his hand moving faster, faster, past the point of no return, "Ahhhh," he came so loudly and suddenly he hadn't managed to hide it, feeling his hot seed spurting, staining his bed, soaking his hand, "Sebastian," he moaned, throwing his head back and panting.

Ciel lay in his bed, his hair sticking to his forehead, and his pillow. His eyes were wide open and his breathing was heavy. The seconds after he came, he had been filled with comfort, relief, and love. All of those had quickly been stifled for fear. There were consequences for such feelings...humiliation, punishment, failure...and worse than perhaps any of those things...rejection. The devil became whatever you needed when you summoned him. Those strands of long, dark hair...those eyes...that voice...

It was all an elaborate illusion to gain his trust, to keep his soul pure and not fettered down with worries. Sebastian, the butler, was Ciel's perfect design, nothing more. Even then, he had his flaws. Even someone built to please him, would inevitably reject him. And, if not...what would it be? Ciel craved something far deeper, clawing and scratching into his very soul...and like most things, the Earl Phantomhive would not settle for sub-par to his expectations. No. This was best left in the dark, never thought of again.

He began to roll and reach for his feather when he realized his own cum was drying on his fingers, still sticky. Ugh. He looked around, exhaustion taking control of him. There was nothing. Nothing seemed to be consuming. He settled on the sheets, reaching far away as to not sleep in...who really cared anyway? Two tears fell against the pillow as Ciel squeezed his eyes shut forcefully, "No. You are more than this. You have always been more than this."

Alone in the hallway, Sebastian took a step towards his young master's room. His palm rested on the wood of the door. He wanted more than anything to make all of his master's lustful desires a sinful reality. He could never open that door, figuratively or literally. He could smell the scent of his essence, his very soul, and couldn't help but breathe deeply. His eyes blazed pink. Ciel...

My name…he said…my name. He called out to me as he came.

Sebastian rushed through the servant's quarters and closed the door to his bedroom. His uniform was suffocating. His skin burned. His own name rang over and over in his mind. The way it had sounded so sweetly on his lips. His moans of pleasure. The delectable scent of his cum. He crawled into bed naked, his cock already painfully hard, when the black cat jumped up on the bed. "Mr. Salem, go away, now is not the time." But the cat stood there, an envelope in his mouth.

"His timing could not possibly be any worse." He tore open the letter.

Such small talk. You haven't forgotten the circumstances of our departure, I see? If you have begun to feel, what makes you think that I could deter these thoughts? I have had no prior success on the matter. Do you know what you ask? How do you know you can trust anyone in a matter such as this, even me? Do you think that they are not watching you? Such carelessness. Regardless, I will not await your response. Wait for me. Don't do anything reckless. You're good at that. Don't forget what you are. And what we do to the things that are most precious to us…

Hoheo taralna, rondero tarel.

The letter was signed in blood.

He was right. He hated that he was always fucking right. It was reckless to love Ciel, and even more so to act upon it. There were strict punishments in human society for such atrocities, and even higher stakes in the demon world.

He read the letter again, before crumpling it and throwing it in the corner. "To hell with the world...," he growled.

His anger gave way to pleasure, moaning as he stroked himself, "My lord...my master...Ciel...my love..."

Demons rarely need to sleep, for which on nights like tonight Sebastian was very thankful. It wasn't really so much a dream as it was a memory. He hated this memory.

Sebastian stood in Hell amongst hundreds of other demons. There was a platform in the middle where a man was shaking, terrified. Next to him was his demon, a woman bound to a pole. The demons were angry.

It's bad enough turning a human into a demon, but this? Loving one? It sickens me.

It doesn't keep the bloodlines pure.

It's revolting.

The executioner pushed the man into the angry mob, causing a splash of blood and inhuman screams from the man as they ripped him limb from limb and feasted upon his flesh. The inhuman screams continued as they set fire to the demon. But it wasn't the fire that made her scream, it was the loss of her loved one that nearly drove her insane.

The scene changed rapidly and Sebastian shook his head a little to try to make sense of his new surroundings. No. He was bound to the pyre and Ciel...he was...

Ciel looked back, trying to reach for him as he called out, "Sebastian!"

They pushed him in.

"NOOOOO!" Sebastian howled.

Sebastian woke up shaking, trying to fight off demons that weren't there, still trying to deal with the ones that were present. His inner demons.

Fuck. They probably are watching us. Maybe even now. If so, I can't risk this. I can't blatantly put his life in danger. Because I...I love him.

It was nearly time for mid-morning tea rather than breakfast when Sebastian entered Ciel's room. His scent intoxicated Sebastian, engulfing him, filling him with a desperate need, an insatiable hunger. He left the silver serving cart at the foot of the bed and stepped towards his master. An unbuttoned shirt, no undergarments, oh my...how careless, young master. Sleeping in soiled sheets, how very...perverse.

Had I really been the object of his lust? Sebastian leaned over Ciel, his gloved fingertips cupped his cheek delicately. My Ciel...

Ciel's head rolled off the pillow, gravitating instantly to the warmth of Sebastian's hand. Sleep had only taken him a couple hours before, and he was still lost to a blissful world of dreams. His breath hitched before his normal breathing resumed, nuzzling into Sebastian's hand. A sigh escaped his lips as he kept to quiet dreams.

Such a sweet, delicious sound from his lips. Sebastian's own lips hovered a fraction above his Lord's. It would be so easy, so easy to bridge that small distance, to take what he so desperately craved. No...not like this...

"Seb..." Ciel murmured, sleepily, before lightly snoring, and turning gently away, "Sebastian..."

Sebastian's heart clenched, and he withdrew his hand immediately. No...not like this at all...

He went to the window, opening the curtains. "Young master, it is time to wake up."

The young master didn't move an inch. The only voice he heard were sweet whispers and frantic breaths, cries claiming utter devotion, lips seizing flesh. It was all he wanted to hear. "Young master..." only jotted his brain a little. He didn't want to be young master, just Ciel.

"Ciel," he whispered, trying to convey his thoughts.

Sebastian's heart skipped a beat. He wished that among all of his powers that being able to see into Ciel's mind was one of them. He shouldn't...he shouldn't want this. The stakes were too far high.

He had accomplished monumental achievements in his long centuries, killed thousands of men, brought entire empires to their downfall. Why was this one small task so difficult? To remain in his guise of a butler until the proper time? Because, he made it difficult. For some incredibly strange reason there was an immense power within Ciel Phantomhive, and that power was incredibly hard to say no to, no matter what the cost.

He leaned over the bed once more, his lips brushed against his ear as he whispered, "Ciel, it is time to wake up."

It was too early by far for Ciel to comprehend the many thoughts that flooded his brain when it jerked from its slumber. His eyes blinked open before he could forbid them to, the scent of lavender filling his nostrils. But, there was something else too, another scent permeating the morning...oh god...no. The night before. No. He jerked up, his head connecting with Sebastian's as he hastily pulled the blankets up. He tried to think of something to say, but between his heart pounding, the embarrassment, and lack of sleep, mixed with the pain in his head, he was having difficulty, "What the hell do you think you're doing?" He accused.

He could really ask himself the same question. What was he doing...pulling his butler closer by night, and pushing him away by day? This could never end well. How was he to get out of bed? Did Sebastian know? Of course not. That would be ridiculous. How long would it take, in fact, to re-button these buttons if he could get Sebastian out?

"Do be careful young master, you've hurt yourself." He sat on the edge of the bed, examining the red mark forming on Ciel's forehead, while ignoring the fleeting pain in his own head.

"Must you be so careless?" Ciel asked, rubbing his head before squinting. The sun was so bright outside. His eyes felt so heavy, and he wondered how he'd get through the day.

"My apologies, my lord, for my carelessness. I was merely trying to wake you as you refused to do so this morning. It must have been a rough night for you."

The hair stood up on the back of Ciel's neck as adrenaline and fear rushed through his veins. His very blood boiled, more angry at himself than Sebastian, but panicked as he retorted, "What's that supposed to mean?" with a huff, "Last night was no different than any other."

"It seems you caught a fever last night. What with your shirt unbuttoned and your sheets discarded. I only wish I could have offered you some comfort while you were ill. I am glad to see you are feeling much better this morning."

Ciel flushed at all the ways he'd wished Sebastian had tended to him last night. "And do elaborate, Sebastian, on how you planned to wake me with your face buried in my pillow?" Filling my senses with you, breathing you, wanting you. Take me, I'm yours.

Because you asked it of me, Ciel.

His words prickled, but Sebastian had learned to take them in stride. A kitten often has it's claws out even when it still wants to be petted. It's just how they play. Ciel Phantomhive was not entirely unlike a kitten.

Sebastian stood, going to the silver serving cart and beginning the preparations for the morning's tea. "The young master was not stirring when I tried to wake you, so I was very concerned." I just...wanted to be close to you. "I was merely checking to see if you were still ill from last night's fever. I thought it would be best to let you stay in bed if you were still ill."

The scent filling his nostrils was not of sweets...but rather, of a savory breakfast, and his tea. Not that it would do him any good...his stomach churned. He wasn't used to this feeling...dread...maybe? Anxiety? He felt like throwing up, his head spinning, too many thoughts at once, "What time is it?"

"It is almost 11:00 a.m. I let you sleep in a little this morning, just to make sure that you were fully recovered. Now we can continue with the day's schedule as planned." He handed Ciel the cup of Earl Grey, before kneeling. "Let's get you dressed again before breakfast shall we?" He began buttoning the buttons of his nightshirt.

Ciel sighed, "And what is on my schedule?" It felt crass and wrong to speak normally when he was so indecent. It felt even worse as he remembered the dream that had caused last night's actions, half expecting Earl Grey and cheesecake bites for breakfast.

"We have your lessons today, my lord. The rest of your schedule is clear until your meeting with Glasgow tomorrow morning."

Ciel's shaking hands dropped his cup.

"Glas...gow?"

Sebastian caught the cup, before a single drop spilled. Placing it gently in Ciel's hands. "Careful, my lord, you wouldn't want to dirty your bed sheets now would you?"

The pit in Ciel's stomach grew then. He knew. He turned the cup of tea over onto the bedspread, smirking. "Why wouldn't I? You had to clean them anyway." He shuddered, though it wasn't at the loss of a perfectly good Earl Grey tea...it was at the thought of Sebastian cleaning him. That tongue. He felt numb for a moment, unable to move.

"I will see to it," Sebastian smiled.

Realization sank in. He remembered now. Ciel bolted out of bed, getting halfway to his window before he remembered his state of dress, flushing brighter and pulling his nightshirt around him like a robe. His cum was dry, he could feel it flaking against his legs...he cringed. "You idiot! The partners from Glasgow!"

"What about them, my lord?"

Ciel began trying to inconspicuously button his nightshirt, his back turned to Sebastian, "That meeting was today. I've spent all week preparing for it. As my head butler, I thought for certain you could at least manage your daily duties. Perhaps Tanaka, or even one of the other three would be better equipped for handling such important matters. Perhaps I've put too much trust in you." He had no idea how much trust. Too much. His heart leapt to his throat. His voice lost all emotion. "Does none of this matter to you? No...I suppose it doesn't."

He was in no mood for this today. Sebastian had control in his dreams, and that was already more than they had bargained for- trust was one step over the line that he'd been telling himself he'd yet to cross. Telling himself.

Sebastian's heart shattered at the word trust. He doesn't trust me. Claude's voice crept in his head. He'll never trust you. You want to eat his soul.

"Glasgow? I was quite certain that meeting wasn't scheduled until tomorrow," Sebastian replied, his voice faltering. His heart was frantic. He pulled out a small notebook where he kept a written record of the day's events. It was usually a needless measure, just to appear a bit more human, but he frantically turned the pages, searching for today. Glasgow - 9:30 His heart twisted violently. Such a lapse in his flawless butler facade. Unacceptable. Sebastian kneeled before Ciel. "My most sincerest apologies, my lord. I will reschedule at once."

"Your apologies do not mend the carelessness of your actions. Was there something else, on your mind, Sebastian? Something more...important...than my orders?" The words had been meant to hurt Sebastian. They hurt himself instead. Was there? Something more important?

He thought of earlier. The sweet sound of Ciel's voice. He was far more important than any order. A knot formed in his stomach at the thought, a new feeling. It was difficult to name. He remembered his actions earlier, the true reason that he had made such a grave error, and regretted such selfish indulgences. He couldn't bear to see his lord so angry with him. "No, my lord, I was just concerned about your health is all." He paused for a moment. "My lord?"

"What is it?" he asked, still unable to face the demon.

Sebastian held open a fresh pair of undergarments, waiting for Ciel to step into them. He was almost always sitting when he was dressing him.

Ciel's pride stung with the decision of asking Sebastian for a bath. This felt disgusting. He was mortified. As he tried to balance to step into his clothing he wobbled, his hand instinctively grabbing onto Sebastian for support. Humiliation was the worst feeling of them all.

Sebastian's heart fluttered a bit at Ciel's touch. He pulled the undergarments up, before pulling the nightshirt back down. "For breakfast I've prepared eggs and bacon as well as an assortment of bite sized chocolate scones."

"Even chocolate doesn't excuse your behavior," Ciel said, removing his hands from Sebastian as soon as he could be balanced.

Sebastian felt the pain of his absence, but allowed Ciel to climb back into bed before handing him a breakfast tray. "I know it doesn't, my lord. I've also a brought you a glass of milk as well as orange juice. You need to replenish your fluids. It is easy to get dehydrated after a fever."

"Would you stop fussing over me?" Ciel said, more than a hint of irritation in his tone, "I'm fine."

"You're right, my lord. You are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. You don't always need me to tend to your every need. Shall I draw you a bath? It will make you feel much better after last night." You wished it had been my hand last night, just at it had been in that bathtub.

"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself," Ciel snapped again, though a bath did sound tempting. It couldn't honestly be too hard to prepare. He didn't need Sebastian.

"It's you that seems to be incapable- forgetting my meetings and allowing me to be seized in the night by the Italian Mafia. I don't even need you, Sebastian. Do not dare to tell me that I am incapable of anything. I am Ciel Phantomhive, I raised my name from the ashes, I formed a contract with the devil, and built my own company. You are here upon my order, because you need something from me. Don't presume to ever tell me that I am incapable...of anything...it's you...who..." he stopped, his heart slamming into his chest. It's you who is incapable...of feeling...of... "Get out."

Sebastian's eyes widened in shock for a moment at such words. He kneeled, bowing his head. "I apologize for this morning's mishap. I thought the Glasgow meeting was tomorrow, young master, my sincerest apologies." His heart crunched inside of his chest. He thinks that I'm…incapable. My facade as the perfect butler is slipping. I can never be so careless.

He remembered the letter, crumbled in the corner of his bedroom floor. His blood boiled, angry at himself mostly, but also the truth that those few lines of writing held.

He couldn't bear to have Ciel angry with him. The pain in his chest was unbearable. Sebastian looked up, still kneeling, "Master, I...I am sorry. I will not be so careless again."

It's me, I'm the one who's careless...what am I thinking? What am I doing? "See to it that you're not." The pretense dropped from Ciel's voice, and it had a hint of almost sadness beyond the resentment, "Just go, Sebastian."

"Yes, my lord," Sebastian answered, bowing his head once more.

Looking at the demon made Ciel feel sick, guilt coursing through his veins...and worse, lust at the sight of him. "I don't want to be disturbed today," he said, after a few moments. "Cancel my lessons." I can't look at you. I can't stand you. I love you.

Sebastian stood, feeling guilty for such a lapse in judgment and something else...sadness, perhaps, at such a rejection from his master. He pulled the silver serving cart to the door, just before he closed the door he added, "Young master, as your butler, I must insist that we continue with the rest of today's schedule as planned. We cannot have you falling any further behind in your studies. We will begin your lessons after you've had your tea."

Ciel's teeth clenched, "I do not wish to be disturbed. Not for lessons, not for company, nor visitors. That includes you."

"I am sorry, my lord, this matter is non-negotiable. Now if you'd meet me in the study, we will begin with your latin lesson."

"You arrogant, stubborn-"

But Sebastian had already taken his leave, closing the bedroom door behind him.

` Ciel looked down, fuming. The bastard hadn't even gotten him dressed completely. The hell was wrong with him? Forgetting his meetings, forgetting to clothe him- and even worse, not bringing cheesecake bites...and not...

His heart skipped a beat. No. He wasn't going to have the satisfaction. He stormed off to his bathroom. Sebastian had left the lavender oil in the cupboard with the rest of his bath supplies, which were not limited to various oils, bubble bath, shampoos and conditioners. He stood on a stepping stool to reach the lavender oil, but once he had it in his grasp, shook in horror as the bottle slipped, crashing to the floor and shattering. It was seconds before the smell filled Ciel's nostrils, and seconds more before it filled the entire bathroom. He looked around. A broom...that would work to clean up such a mess...

Alas, there was no broom.

Pulling an armful of soaps and oils down from the cupboard, he tiptoed delicately around the glass. He stared at the bathtub for a long moment, turning on the hot water, and hissing when he touched it and it burned his hand. After careful seconds of reading the instructions on the product, he shrugged, concluding that making a bath couldn't be too incredibly hard. What could possibly go wrong?

"SEBASTIAN!"

Sebastian had been sitting in the study, dressed in his tutor attire, growing more and more agitated at his young master's disregard for their schedule. He rushed up the stairs and threw open the bathroom door. "Master," he called, worriedly.

Bubbles were the first thing that greeted Sebastian upon his arrival. They were strewn around the bathroom. The bathtub was now overflowing, but the knobs were covered in the bubbles as well. Ciel stood away from the wreckage, though his state suggested he had clearly attempted to turn off the water. He held a towel, wrapped around his waist with one hand. The other was covering his blue eye, so that only the contract remained. There were bubbles in his hair, his cheeks and nose, as well as his torso, arms and legs. "Don't just stand there. Fix it."

Sebastian quickly turned the water off, drenching his clothes in the process. He looked around at the aftermath of the destruction. The room was permeated with the scent of lavender. How strange that he tries so hard to pull me closer while pushing me away at the same time, and even stranger that I do the same.

"Honestly, my lord, what were you thinking? It's not nearly time for your bath and now your studies will be even further delayed. In any case, if you wanted a bath why did you not call me sooner?"

He wanted to retort that he was capable...but, looking at the room, he could only imagine the response. His entire body flushed, "Just fix it."

Sebastian pulled off his overcoat, letting it fall to the floor with a very audible splash. He pulled his gloves off and rolled his sleeves up. He set his reading glasses down. He drained the tub and began mopping up bubbles. When he found the broken shards of glass he spotted blood. He swept the shards up and began refilling the bath with the proper amount of bubble bath and oils, with the water the perfect temperature. He knelt in front of Ciel. "Let me see, my lord."

The contract eye narrowed, as Ciel sat on the edge of the tub, holding out his leg and turning away from Sebastian.

"Such a mess you've caused this morning, young master," Sebastian replied, pulling the shard out, "Are you really so adverse to having your lessons?" He dabbed the blood with a wet cloth.

"You're my butler," Ciel said, trying to push away the embarrassment and humiliation, "It's your duty to clean up my mess."

How very much he wished he had been permitted to clean his mess up this morning, in a manner of his choosing. His mouth watered with the thought. "Yes, but I am also your tutor. It seems you only take my duties seriously when it is convenient for you." He cupped the side of his face. "Now, if you would be so kind as to open your eye young master."

"I can't," he said through gritted teeth, "It hurts." As an afterthought, he rushed in, "You only seem to take your duties seriously when it's convenient to you...or would you say that a good butler forgets his master's schedule? Or when he asks his master for a bath and leaves without preparing him one?"

Sebastian dabbed at his eye with the damp cloth. "Forgive me, young master, I don't know what's come over me. I seem to be a bit out of sorts as of late."

Ciel didn't dignify Sebastian with a response. When his eye no longer stung, he let the towel around his waist slip off, and within a second, nestled into the warmth of his bath, letting his head fall uncharacteristically beneath the surface.

It felt comforting, to be surrounded in warmth, in silence. Up there was deafening. His heart was deafening. He couldn't even scold the demon properly. He couldn't look at him. Why did his heart matter so much? Why would his heart choose to lust over him? He, who infuriated him so...he...who made him feel like he was nothing. Surely he could order Sebastian to fulfill his every fantasy...order him to pretend to love him...so, why was that not good enough? Why would an order not suffice?

Because that's cheating. And love is already a dangerous game.

His head rose above the surface again, dripping water. I don't love him.

His heart twisted violently in his chest. Liar.

You're not mad at him for forgetting the meeting. You're mad at him because he can't see your dreams.

He rest his head against the back of the tub, sighing, wishing the noise would just go away again.

Sebastian patted Ciel's face with a dry towel. "Careful, my lord, or you'll end up with bubbles in your eye all over again. Does it feel better now?"

The pain is in my heart, Sebastian. Would you fix that just as easily? He nodded, still lost in the depths of his own mind.

Sebastian grabbed the washcloth and began washing him. He started with the foot he had pulled the shard out of. "Does it feel better here?"

He snapped out of his thoughts, recoiling at Sebastian's touch, his body remembering where such actions had led the night prior. His jolt back to reality splashed the water up, causing a wave to hit Sebastian in the face.

As mad as he wanted to pretend to be, and as hard as he bit the inside of his cheek, it didn't stifle the sudden laughter that erupted.

Sebastian smiled, bubbles still on his face, water dripping down his chin, "I am glad to see I amuse you, my lord." It's so rare to see him happy. His heart swelled.

"You look ridiculous," Ciel said between bouts of laughter. "I'm sorry, Sebastian."

"An apology, my lord? It seems I'm not the only one out of sorts," he laughed, before splashing Ciel back. "Now we can both look ridiculous."

The deafening roar came back, then...his heart urging him to grab Sebastian by the tie and pull him against him, and kiss the bubbles away. He'd never been kissed before. Certainly it was a laughable notion. And...ridiculous was true. The smallest sign of affection from his demon had Ciel's heart jumping out of its cage Take me, I'm yours- love me, I beg you...

His mind was not so easily won, and it held the key to the cage. His hand twitched, wanting to reach out, and wipe the bubbles away. He swallowed his own heart, "Alright, Sebastian," he said, the smile beginning to fade, "We are already behind schedule."

It hurt to see his smile disappear, and even more so to see his walls come back up. Is this truly what he wants? To have nothing more than a butler? No. He knew it was a lie, that there was so much more than that between them. Still, with Ciel continually pushing him away it made it all the more easy to obey Claude's words. "Yes, my lord," he said with a bow. He dried his face before finishing his bath. He began dressing Ciel. "Let us begin with your lessons."

Ciel's body felt cold. There were no slips of the fingers, no glove against his flesh. He was too lost in thoughts of dreams, what-ifs, what-could-be's, to protest his lessons. How would he ever be rid of growing feelings? He nodded, although he loathed Latin and couldn't possibly understand what use he could ever have for the dying tongue. Aside from that, his accent was awful.

He followed Sebastian to his study, where he sat in his chair, resting his head against his palm. He noticed that Sebastian had already replaced his soaking tutor outfit with another similar one, and was wearing those glasses. Ciel loathed those glasses, which shielded the only defining feature of Sebastian's that were not human- his beautiful, crimson eyes. They alone marked him for what he was...a demon. His…

No. Not his. He had belonged to every master prior, and certainly in more than one way. He groaned when he realized the Latin book was already laid out before him, thick and old and boring- just like the language itself.

"Turn to page 264. We will begin with refreshing on your verb conjugation." Sebastian announced, pushing the glasses up his nose as if he could tell that their presence was what was currently agitating Ciel.

Ciel sighed, "For the hundredth time, might I ask what the point in learning a dead language is, Sebastian? No one speaks Latin."

A thick, Latin accent came from near the window, "I quite wondered the same...Why not French, or Spanish, Italian even?"

Sebastian looked up. Claude stood behind Ciel, looking smug as he leaned against the windowsill. If it isn't lustful thoughts of Ciel plaguing my mind it's images of Claude taunting me. How wonderful. I shall surely go insane one day. He chose to ignore Claude and instead address reality. "Latin is a language of sophistication, my lord. It is not meant to be used by mere commoners. It will allow you to widen your social standing in aristocratic society."

"Sophistication?" Claude laughed, his hand resting against the sill, "Latin is a lover's language, love of which you could scarcely afford. Feeling reminiscent, are we? Trying to relive the past?"

"No, I'm not, Claudius," he spat back at the figment.

"To hell with society," Ciel murmured under his breath, using his finger to trace what he was supposed to be learning. How he wished he could truly say that.

If only. Sebastian's heart tugged as he handed Ciel a piece of paper and a pen. "Write each verb in past, present, and future tense, young master."

"The past you should have learned from, the present you are destroying, and the future that he has no place in," Claude mocked, "Don't you ever learn?"

Ciel's scribbling stopped- To love.

"It could be...different. This time. Somehow. It has to be."

"Different in the worst possible way. Look at the possibilities, and state one where this could possibly end well. You are a monster- a demon...you will never share his world, only his soul."

"We'll make our own world, and it will be beautiful as long as I have him."

"The only world you have is the hell surrounding you. You'll be holding a corpse in your arms the second the word 'love' passes your lips...and then what? You made a contract. Take his soul and be done with it. Don't try to sound human- it's pathetic," the Claude figment turned away from Sebastian's gaze. "Between hope and fear, always choose fear. It's less likely to kill you both."

"Sebastian?"

Sebastian's heart wrenched horribly at the thought of Ciel's corpse in his arms, and by his own hand in either scenario. His voice was a bit rougher than he'd intended as he said, "What is it, Ci-...ahem, my lord?"

Ciel's pen froze. He was both surprised by Sebastian's coarse tone and by the near-slip of his name. Perhaps, he had been too harsh, as he so often was with his demon. His mind froze for precious seconds while he tried to remember his question. "I..." he handed him the paper with the verbs written in precise letters, few errors...except the shaking on the word love, where the pen had done a scrawl of its own.

Sebastian stared at that particular verb for a long moment. He put the paper aside and handed Ciel another piece of paper. His voice was soft again when he spoke. "And now nouns, my lord. On page 189." He glared at Claude's back. "I won't let that happen. I refuse for that to be our end. It's not hope, nor fear. It's...love. I love him, more than anything I ever have." .

"You're a fool to think you're any different than the rest. That you, and you alone could bypass their laws and their eyes. It's greed and selfishness...not love...you've never known the meaning behind the word you profess."

"Sebastian, we went over this last week. Are you well?" Ciel tried to ask in a manner befit of his position, to ask if Sebastian was capable of performing his duties. What came out was genuine concern.

"I did love you once Claudius; I am not incapable of such an emotion. That was a different life. Now, I've never felt something like this. It's...terrifying." He took his reading glasses off and cleaned them. "I'm terribly sorry, young master, how careless of me. I meant page 198. Forgive my carelessness." He pushed his glasses back up.

"You're hungry. Ravenous. You're not in love. What is it the boy says...don't be ridiculous."

"Do not speak as if you presume to know him. You know nothing."

"I know you."

"Not anymore. A lot can change in a century."

"Nothing has changed." Claude laughed, "Don't take me for a fool."

"I don't know why I thought you would ever be helpful. That you would do anything other than mock my pain." Sebastian glared at the window, wishing that the figment of his mind were tangible, so that he could throw him through the glass. "It's him. He has changed something in me, and though I am unfamiliar with such thoughts and feelings, though they terrify me and have grave repercussions, I find them indescribably beautiful."

"Because you've always wanted that which you cannot possess. This boy is no different. Sate your curiosity, take him, both body and soul, as we both know your reckless behavior will lead you to do. But don't call it love. When the time comes, destroy him along with whatever you think you're feeling. If you don't, they'll destroy you, after you watch his bones become dust beneath some pile of dirt."

"This is love. I will call it by no other name. And I will kill anyone that tries to come between us."

"Then call it death, for they are one in the same. Why did you ask me for help? As I said, I've never been able to sway your careless and reckless behavior. Why should I bother now?"

Ciel had stopped writing moments before. Sebastian seemed so out of sorts. He'd been staring out the window for minutes without a word, his features furrowing. He turned his head towards the window as he asked, "Sebastian?"

"I don't need your fucking help, you bastard. Anyone who dares touch my beloved will plead for death before the end." When Sebastian retorted, he spoke the words aloud in Latin without even thinking, consumed by his own anger. He didn't even realize his eyes had turned their demonic shade of pink.

Claude disappeared, but it gave Sebastian no rest. .

"Se...bastian?" Ciel said hesitantly. There was nothing, no one. His anger was misplaced somewhere that Ciel couldn't see, somewhere beyond his reach. The words were Latin, too advanced for him to pick out but the last bit 'the end', and too fast for him to make sense of any of it. "I don't understand." he admitted, quickly adding, "Let's stop for today. We don't have to continue." The words were gentle, but fear coursed through Ciel at the anger Sebastian exhibited...those eyes were the last things his enemies ever saw.

His attention snapped to Ciel, and his voice was unintentionally harsh, still filled with anger at quarreling with his own conscience. "We will finish today's lesson before we move onto violin. After nouns we move onto sentence structure. I am your tutor, and I will not abide you slacking off in your studies, nor will I allow such deliberate disregard for the day's schedule."

He tapped Ciel's knuckles with the pointer stick. His heart swelled with regret the moment he realized his actions. I'm sorry, my love. I can't let them see us. I have to protect you, even if it means being hard. "Begin your sentence structure, young master."

"I want my tea now, Sebastian." Ciel withdrew his hands, standing up and facing the window where the figment of Claude had stood moments prior. The sun was shining brightly on Finnian in the gardens, but inside this room, the air was stifling, and the atmosphere was dark. He squeezed his eyes shut, the anger at being treated so callously, and the pain in his heart fighting so the word that came out was nearly silent, "Please."

"I'm sorry, my lord," his voice tried to sound softer this time, as if to say he was sorry for much more than tea, "But afternoon tea is not until after your violin lesson. Finish your sentence structure and we will move onto violin. For this afternoon, I will be preparing a triple layer chocolate cake with chocolate ganache and fudge frosting topped with hand whipped cream, chopped walnuts, and garnished with shaved chocolate imported from Belgium, accompanied with a fine Ceylon brew." He placed a hand on Ciel's shoulder with a smile, his eyes had returned to red. "Now then, shall we continue?"

Ciel shivered at Sebastian's touch, blushing as he buried his nose back into the sentences.

"Very well done indeed," Sebastian said with a smile when Ciel had finished, taking the paper and adding it to the pile before closing the thick textbook. He placed the book back on the shelf. Enough of that wretched language. He set the violin case on the desk. "And now, for your violin lesson, my lord."

"You know I loathe the violin, Sebastian." Ciel scowled. Why is he punishing me?

"Young master, you know that like waltzing, the violin is very important for your social standing. They are important talents to learn, whether you like them or not," he added with a smile, "Besides, the sooner you finish the sooner you will have tea and cake."

Ciel scoffed. He loathed being treated like a child, bribed with sweets, and hated even more that it usually worked. He was so sick of hearing about his social standing, everything he must do and must learn, that he couldn't stop thinking about how liberating it would be to just toss the damn thing out the window and be rid of it. To pretend Sebastian wasn't right. Of course, that would never do, and his butler would have the strings fixed even before he jumped up to the window. He wanted time. Time for himself. This life was becoming stifling, and he was finding each day that he was losing himself...or perhaps, he had never known himself to begin with. He stared at the box.

"Something wrong, young master?" Sebastian asked softly.

I don't want this. "No..." he said quietly, picking up the box, almost like there were invisible puppet strings controlling his movement. He unlatched the case, and pulled out the violin.

"Very well, my lord, let us begin with the Devil's Trill shall we?" He laid the sheet music on the podium.

First I dance with the devil, and then I play his song...what have I gotten myself into? He rest the violin against his shoulder, placing his chin on the chin rest, as he tried to (as Sebastian had told him on nearly every lesson) glide the bow gently across the strings. The first note was a harsh squeak. The harshness remained, but the squeaking stopped. He was genuinely playing his best.

"Young master, will you please take your studies seriously? We are, after all, behind schedule as it is. Let us start from the top and this time put some effort into it," Sebastian said with a sigh, resting his fingertips on his forehead, a gesture usually saved for when he was particularly frustrated with the servants.

Irritation buzzed in Ciel's ears. He was trying. Didn't everyone see how hard he was trying? He was trying to do everything properly. He was trying to be the Ciel that society demanded. The Ciel that had a soul, and nothing to lose. The Ciel that inherited the Phantomhive name. The problem was, he was not that Ciel. The more he learned, the more he stifled his true nature. His fingers clenched around the bow, squeaking again as he continued playing as though it was not happening.

Sebastian took the bow out of Ciel's hands and laid it on the desk. "Young master, are you listening to me at all?"

"Why should I listen to you?" he retorted, letting the anger out again. He was, he was trying. It wasn't working.

"Because I am your tutor, my lord. You are to follow my instructions. How else do you plan on improving your performance?" Sebastian felt during the Latin lesson that he, himself, had been a bit distracted, wrapped up in his own thoughts. Now he realized that he was not the only one. He didn't want Latin or violins or tea or cake. He wanted to bend Ciel over the desk and take him right now in this office and claim him as his own by more than just the seal in his eye. He wanted so much more than a soul now. He wanted his heart. He needed his body. "Remember to glide the bow across the strings, my lord. Let us try again."

"I don't plan to improve my performance," Ciel interjected, "I will be gone before the violin ever becomes of use to me. This is foolish, pointless. I never wanted a part of it to begin with. You insist that I live this life as though I will grow old behind that desk. Why does it matter, Sebastian? The company, I understand...the facade is clearly necessary. This is ridiculous."

"And sitting behind your desk shoveling as many sweets as you want past your lips and doing whatever you please until your untimely death, that will surely raise no suspicions. A nobleman of your standing is expected to be learning violin as well as the rest of your studies because as far as the rest of the world is concerned you will grow old behind that desk. Well, except perhaps the Queen. Her dogs do not commonly live long lives, whether they sell their souls to a demon or not."

Ciel glared at Sebastian, feign-bowing as he picked up the violin, holding it delicately, as asked. He was done with games for the day. He was cautious enough to perform as close to perfection as he could- which was still a far cry. The violin was tolerable until the first trill, where, mocking his pain, the bow was pressed roughly into the strings, the friction causing them to snap, and the fine hairs on the bow to fray.

Sebastian came up behind Ciel. He merely touched the violin and its strings turned brand new again. His voice was much more gentle as he held Ciel's hands in his own, showing him how to play the piece properly. "Like this, my lord."

Ciel felt static pierce his skin like plunging into icy water, the shiver running the length of his body, up his spine, until the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. His hands twitched beneath Sebastian's, and had he not been holding them, the bow would have fallen to the floor.

As it was, the violin and bow somehow managed to stay within his (their) grasp, and the piece began to improve dramatically; though, Ciel was not looking at the notes before him, he was not reading them. He was not...anything. That smell engulfed him again, and it was all he could do to breathe.

"That's it, young master, much better."

It was 'better' because Ciel was basically letting Sebastian play the piece for him. His body felt hot again, and yet, numb, awakened by that voice- his redemption, his destruction. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until he needed air again, and nearly gasped for it.

"Are you alright, my lord?" Sebastian asked softly, his hands still on top of Ciel's, continuing to play the violin.

"I don't see the point," Ciel turned his head, his lips aching to close the gap between them once he realized how close they were, "You're playing this, not me."

Sebastian used the bow to tilt Ciel's chin up. "I am teaching you, my lord. Feel the instrument in your hands. Mimic my movements. Let it flow through you."

The only thing flowing was his blood. And not to the direction of his hands, which were shaking. For the briefest of moments, he feared Sebastian would bridge the space between. Then, what would he do? His eye widened at the thought, an almost fear and innocence creeping into his delicate features.

Sebastian was lost in the blueness of Ciel's eye, his fingers itching to untie the eye patch that hid his brand from the world. He remembered the day before, the macabre storm of blood and feathers falling around them, he wanted to feel Ciel's fingers cupping his cheek once more. Those sounds…..ah….Se-Sebastian...ah…...he needed to hear them, now, his love's hot breath on his ear. He grew hard with the thought. He may not have bridged the gap, but he wasn't shying away either as he stared into Ciel's eye.

Ciel heard words come out of his mouth, but didn't register that he was speaking them, still lost somewhere in the abyss of the terrifyingly beautiful thought that Sebastian wasn't moving- that he could move any second...and complicate everything a hell of a lot more. "Sebastian…" he said, almost monotonously, "We stopped playing." He heard his own heart hammering violently in his throat.

His own name on Ciel's tongue sent a shiver up his spine.

"It appears we have. Do you want us to start again?"

Was that a trick question? Had it come down to this? Playing violin just to keep Sebastian close? If that were the case, he would certainly never improve. He shifted, leaving the violin in Sebastian's hands, rather than his own, uncertain of what, precisely, he was doing...but he turned, facing Sebastian, their bodies closer than he had thought.

He felt his hip jab into Sebastian on accident...but where he normally would have connected with soft, human-like flesh, he found that he wasn't the only one prone to lewd fantasies. Had he...was he….thinking of...

Red.

There's no way he's that big….

Redder.

Oh god. Is he thinking about me? What else could he possibly be thinking about?

Crimson.

Does he want to close the gap? What is he…? He couldn't possibly fit…

Hard.

"Tea." He moved away quickly, facing the window.

"Yesmylord," he could barely get the words out fast enough. He left so quickly, it was as if someone had opened a window, the music sheets of the Devil's Trill blowing against the podium.

In the hall, Sebastian adjusted himself quickly before anyone else discovered his perversions. He rested his head against the door.

It was over now. Ciel knew his desires. Surely when he walked back in that door he would be rejected, scolded, at the very least mocked for what had happened. He went to make preparations for tea.

When he returned with the silver serving cart in tow, he came bearing, as promised: a triple layer chocolate cake with chocolate ganache, fudge frosting, hand whipped cream, chopped walnuts, and garnished with freshly shaved chocolate imported from Belgium, accompanied with a fresh cup of Ceylon. After announcing the afternoon's refreshments, Sebastian set the cup and saucer in front of Ciel before adding a sizable slice of cake.

Ciel sat in silence, absent-mindedly pushing cake or tea past his lips every couple of moments. He didn't seem mad, or upset...just...focused. The gaze he wore, staring into his refreshments, was not unlike the one he put on during a particularly complex game of chess- almost as though he were trying to figure out his next move. The silence in itself was a bit unnerving.

How cute, Sebastian mused, it seems my love is at a loss at what to do next. I suppose that is far better than some reprimand.

Sebastian cleared his throat. "After your tea and cake, my lord, we will move onto your final lesson for today. I've prepared something...different. Something a bit more relaxing."

Ciel's shoulders fell with his breath at the mention of the word 'relax'. He truly didn't know the meaning, especially with the events of the week. Especially with his duties as guard dog for the Jack the Ripper fiasco looming inevitably on the horizon.

The breath got sucked right back in, his body stiffening again. Relaxing? Different? He choked a bit on his tea, before regaining his poise and pushing the thought far from his mind. What he needed was a lot of time to be alone...to have a chance to push these ridiculous notions aside so that everything could get back to normal.

"What did you have in mind?" He coughed just a bit, tea still stuck in his throat, his voice crackling.

"If I told you now, young master, then you wouldn't be surprised, and where's the fun in that?" His Cheshire grin appeared.

Ciel looked up, trying to get across the look of I've had enough surprises for one day thank-you-very-much; but, instead, the second he met his butler's gaze, his cheeks flushed and he looked back to his tea. Check mate. Game over. He'd won. For today.

Sebastian cleared away the refreshments after allowing Ciel a second piece of cake, a rare sight indeed. He pushed up his tutor glasses as he pulled the white sheet off of an oak easel.

"No Still Life today. I thought we could just...have a bit of fun."

He began rolling up Ciel's sleeves before putting on a large paint coat for him.

"What do you want me to paint?" Ciel asked, turning his head to look at Sebastian.

His voice was hot on Ciel's ear as he continued buttoning buttons. "Whatever you wish, my lord."

The words were so uncommon that Ciel didn't know what to do with them. No one, be it a tutor, a family member, a visitor, or even an investor seemed to think that Ciel could do whatever he wished. They all had their say...little parts of themselves that they added to the rouse that Ciel had become- the boy that wasn't him. In this situation, most others would not know what to do with any bit of freedom- but, Ciel longed for it- imagined it daily. He knew exactly who he was when the guise wore off. The first word that came to mind was simply: his.

He could work with this, too, though. It was another of Ciel's secrets- one that he was not certain that his butler knew- his...affinity for drawing, for art.. He took his time, first with the graphite, detailing the outlines of a garden, the same one that had been frequently visiting his dreams. He drew rose bush, after rose bush, a gazebo with vines twisting through its cracks, and foliage surrounding. Standing at the front was an archway, an entrance. It was all rather beautiful, and vivid. Another talent of Ciel's that went unnoticed all for the sake of the charade. Once it was all outlined, he studied it for a moment, before loading his palette with brighter colors than their usual still-life offered.

"Such exquisite detail young master, I see, at last, one of my lessons seems to have been retained. Have you been here? Are you drawing from memory, or is this your own design?"

"It's something from a dream," Ciel admitted, testing the waters of letting his guard and wall down. It had been a long day. He painted the sky the color of night….but the moon had such a luminous glow that it cast color on the garden below. Dark greens began to unfold in the brush, shadows falling on a worn path to the gazebo.

His dreams? Is this where he goes to? Is this garden where he thinks of me...thinks of us?

"It must be a very beautiful dream."

"Don't be ridiculous," Ciel said, unable to hide a smirk, satisfied in some way that Sebastian was pleased with his work, "I'm not an artist, Sebastian." No. This picture doesn't do it justice. I wish you could see. I wish it were real. I wish we were…

But those notions were as ridiculous as the roses he'd begun to paint with hues of midnight and sky blues.

Sebastian loved that smirk, it was the closest he got to a genuine smile on most days.

"Maybe not, but you do show true talent. Though I must ask, why you've decided to paint the roses blue?"

Ciel looked thoughtful, pausing for a moment, and turning around to face Sebastian, a spark in his eye as he dared catch his gaze, "Not everything…" and he couldn't believe he was saying this, knowing the real meaning behind his words, "...has to make sense."

Sebastian smiled as Ciel's cheeks flushed again, "No, I suppose they don't."

He watched Ciel intently, committing every stroke to memory, determined to make his love's dreams a reality one day.

Ciel focused on the painting far longer than any study session, willing his dreams to appear before his eyes. It was well past the time he normally went to sleep when he stepped away, pushing the hair away from his face before realizing his fingers had been stained with paint. He didn't seem to notice as he studied the painting carefully, feeling like he was forgetting some detail...and trying not to think that that detail was him. Him, and Sebastian, sitting among these roses, soft wings around him.

When a crash in the hallway demanded Sebastian's attention, Ciel quickly added one final, minute touch to the painting: a solitary black feather, tiny, and seemingly insignificant, resting on the bench of the gazebo in place of them, forever in love. He put the palette down and stretched. Sebastian smiled as he returned from the hall.

A single black feather, how poetic my love, I suppose that is how this all began.

Sebastian wiped away paint from Ciel's forehead with his thumb. "Are you finished young master? Shall I prepare dinner now?"

"Just tea, Sebastian." Ciel fought the urge to lean into his butler, "I'm tired."

A knock came at the door, and Ciel nodded towards it for Sebastian to answer. Mey-Rin stood outside the door, "Young Master," she peeked in when Sebastian opened the door, "A letter came today. It's from her majesty."

Ciel closed his eye, allowing only the briefest moment of self-pity before resuming his normal wall, "Very well," he nodded, pretenses back, "Thank you, Mey-Rin."

Even the maid couldn't help but notice that Ciel seemed a little more than tired. He seemed...sad, and lost, perhaps amidst the world of blue roses and black feathers.

Sebastian snatched the letter up from Mey-Rin. "Very well young master, I shall read it with your tea. We really should get you to bed, my lord."

Ciel nodded, his gaze lingering on the maid, "What is it?" He asked. Usually, Sebastian taking the letter was final.

Mey-Rin waved her hands, blushing, "It's just...your painting, Young Master."

Ciel's cheeks flushed again and he went to rip it down, just like anything else that revealed secrets behind Ciel Phantomhive's wall….it shouldn't be here. Not in this lie.

Sebastian caught Ciel's wrist. "Young master, if I may, I think we should keep this one. It's quite lovely, and we could use a new addition around the mansion, perhaps in the servant's quarters."

"Oh yes sir! The young master's painting would be quite lovely it would!" Mey Rin exclaimed, both palms on the sides of her face.

"No-" Ciel said hurriedly, some form of fear edging into his voice, "No...I...want it gone." He knew his words were final. That painting and its features should be kept in his mind, with other beautiful things- the things he could hold onto in the land of dreams. Things that made no sense, things that were beautiful, they should stay clear of this world...far away. This world took beautiful things and destroyed them, too easily, too readily. He was foolish to even think about forgetting that. "Enough of this foolishness. Don't you both have somewhere to be?"

Sebastian nodded, bowing slightly. "I will see to it, my lord, let's get you in bed, shall we?"

"Tea," Ciel reminded him gently. It was one small pleasure to ease the trouble that this letter was about to bring. "Earl Grey?"

"Yes of course, my lord," Sebastian said with a smile.

It was mere moments before Sebastian pulled the silver serving cart into Ciel's room.

Ciel was frantic. He had torn his bedsheets off his bed, again. Pillows and a few white feathers littered the floor, with sheets crumpled until the bed lay bare. Ciel did not look the least bit comforted by these actions.

"Young master!" Sebastian said worriedly, "What's wrong? What happened?"

"The laundry," Ciel tried to elaborate, gesturing to the floor before crossing his arms and shaking his head to calm his thoughts, "My pillow," he tried again, "It's gone."

"But my lord, you have eleven pillows on your bed." he said, a bit confused before realization dawned on him. His pillow was gone. The one with the feather in it. Sebastian bent down, acting as if he were continuing the search. He reached inside the sleeve of his tailcoat and ripped out a fresh feather for his love. He tucked it into the pillow and fluffed it as he said, "I think I've found it, my lord."

Ciel's heart raced as he grabbed the pillow from Sebastian, fear still plaguing him. What if that idiot maid had washed it and lost the feather? The thought hurt him more than it ever should have. The comfort of his demon's feather in his grasp was ridiculous.

Maybe, it would be for the best. It wasn't as if Sebastian ever slept, let alone in a form that would allow Ciel to take another feather. He felt his face heat at the thought of seeing Sebastian with those wings...the warmth being wrapped in those feathers would provide…

"Was all of that really just over a pillow, my lord?" Sebastian asked, looking around the room.
It really was silly, to hear it put that way. Ciel felt his heart beat hard, his pride stinging. Yes, you idiot, all that for a pillow...for.. "I like this pillow," he said softly, assuring himself by feel that the feather was in its rightful place.

"I know you like this pillow, my lord," Sebastian said with a smile, "Now that crisis is adverted, we can continue with preparations for bed. Here allow me."

Sebastian began steeping Earl Grey tea as he read the letter aloud:

Dear Boy,

I am certain that you have seen the recent string of murders in the papers. The matter is beginning to get out of hand, as you might have noticed. The women of London no longer feel safe to walk her streets at night..The papers are calling this monster 'Jack the Ripper'. I am entrusting you with this matter, handle it quietly, dear boy.

Sincerest regards,

Victoria

Sebastian handed Ciel the cup and saucer along with a plate of bite-sized sandwiches and mini blueberry cheesecake bites.

If it had been anything else laid before him, Ciel would have muttered off about not being hungry; because, circumstances provided- he really wasn't. He should have known better than to think a day of mostly calm, and a little laughter could have any other consequence.

As it were, what Sebastian presented him was not anything else. Cheesecake bites. Of course it would be cheesecake bites. "Sometimes, I wonder," Ciel paused, examining the perfect dessert in his hand, smiling bitterly, "What would happen if I were to just say 'no'." He bit into the cheesecake, head falling back into his pillow somewhere between bliss and defeat.

"No? To her Majesty the Queen Victoria? I daresay I don't think the outcome would be very much in our favor, my lord. May I ask why you are against solving this Jack the Ripper case?"

Ciel swallowed and sighed, "It isn't that. I suppose I'm just….tired. I shouldn't say such careless things, regardless."

"It's just us, my lord. And you can always feel free to tell me anything. Perhaps a nice retreat out of the city once the case is done, hmm? You'd like that my lord, I promise."

Ciel couldn't help but smile softly, to himself more than anything. He knew it was just a pleasant thought- that society, and duty would never allow him out of London, but it was a beautiful thought, nonetheless. "Sebastian…"

He hesitated on 'stay'.

He faltered once more on 'will you read to me?'

What eventually worked itself out of his mouth was a, "Let's try something different." The day had been full of surprises. Ciel reached in his nightstand drawer, pulling out his worn Poe book, and thumbing through the pages. He cleared his throat and began, both of his eyes trained more on Sebastian than on the verses he'd memorized eons ago, "Once upon a midnight dreary…"

Sebastian sat down in the chair beside the bed, where he usually did the reading and instead listened.

A curious choice indeed, Ciel, after you made such a fuss tonight over your 'pillow.' You've been very curious all day. I wish...I wish we could have more days like this.

Ciel's cheeks were once again flushed, aware of Sebastian's eyes on him, as word, by careful word, flowed from his lips- recited too many times to falter. He lingered on a verse for moments before finishing with, "Nothing farther then he uttered — not a feather then he fluttered —Till I scarcely more than muttered "Other friends have flown before —On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before." Then the bird said "Nevermore."

Though it was not the end of the poem, Ciel closed the book, sitting it on his nightstand and sinking down into his pillows.

Sebastian's heart clenched tightly in his chest. Ciel couldn't possibly think that he was capable of such a thing. But then...he was a demon, who would devour his soul one day.

"Finished already, my lord? Yet you haven't even completed the first poem. You must be absolutely exhausted."

He busied himself with cleaning up the cup and saucer as well as the plate of now all sandwiches and no cheesecake bites. He couldn't meet Ciel's eyes.

Ciel hated his inability to read Sebastian. He could read almost anyone- moves, and countermoves...but not his demon. It was maddening. Look at me. Tell me the truth. Tell me...I need to know. I need you to know.

He didn't respond, instead, feigning falling asleep- because, as always, the act was easier than to admit the truth between them- and far easier than disappointment.

Sebastian took the candelabra, pulling the silver serving cart behind him, and headed towards the door.

Ciel's eyes fluttered open at the new silence as the door shut, his absence filling him with more darkness and dread than Poe's work could dare dream.

He stared vaguely at the door, picking up at the end of his prose, "And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming. And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor…"

His fingers slipped beneath the pillowcase at long last. He felt it, soft, and where it should be. He thumbed its edges, his forehead furrowing before he pulled it out, sitting upright in his bed.

His heart nearly stopped.

This wasn't the same feather.

It was a little longer, softer (probably from not being touched nearly as much),and it smelled of him...of lavender, and of something else, entirely Sebastian. It wasn't the same feather...but it was definitely his.

He knew.

Ciel felt the stinging in his heart become more apparent. As comforting as having this new feather resting in his hand felt, he found himself biting down hard on his tongue. It was surely that he was exhausted that he'd almost asked him to stay...and thought of him curling into bed, his body resting against his, keeping him warm, gently wrapping him in those wings. He felt his face flush, and an emptiness plague his heart. Those were things he couldn't have...creatures of the darkness did not love. They could not afford to love...lest of all the demon guiding him. He didn't have the heart to tell Sebastian that his nightmares weren't of branding irons, or cultists nearly as much as they were of being broken, hurt, by the demon he had so foolishly placed his trust in...unwillingly given his heart to.

But, maybe...it didn't have to be like that. Today had proved that they could be...something. Didn't he at least owe it a chance? What, after his soul, could he lose? He could keep telling himself into eternity that his stubborn mind would hold onto his heart with lock and key...but, even that seemed...pointless. What good was his heart in Hell?

He pulled back the covers, shivering as he tucked the feather into the pillowcase once more, and his bare feet hit the cold floor.

What are you doing? It's just a game. None of it is real, Ciel.

The way I feel is real.

You're going to get hurt.

That doesn't change anything. It never has.

It makes no sense to do this. It can only end one way: badly.

Not everything has to make sense.

He smiled at the thought, walking in the dark to the door and closing it behind him.

"Perhaps it's time to end this worthless game."

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor...Shall be lifted —nevermore.

"There, that's better," Sebastian replied softly, taking a step back from the fireplace in his bedroom. Above the mantle hung an ancient roman sword in pristine condition, and now above that hung Ciel's Blue Roses. Mr. Salem jumped up onto the desk, staring at the room's new addition.

"Quite curious indeed, don't you think? Blue roses? He's always so curious."

"Like this, Sebastian?" Ciel asked, on his knees, staring up at him with those beautiful eyes, lips slightly parted.

The thought sent a chill up Sebastian's spine. These thoughts were becoming more and more frequent, and no matter how many times he took himself into his hands to resolve the matter, the fire was unquenchable and all consuming.

He undressed, crawling into bed where his Ciel figment waited for him.

"Are you sure, Ciel?"

"Stop being ridiculous Sebastian. Take me. I'm yours. Show me how you want to be touched. That's an order."

That contract symbol piercing the night.

"Right here, Ciel. Just like this."

That beautiful face buried between his thighs, those eyes staring up at him. It was enough to make a Devil cry out for God.

He stroked himself faster. "Ciel...oh God," he moaned aloud, "Ciel."

The voice that broke the night was no figment, and Sebastian had been so lost in his pleasure he hadn't heard the slightest sound of the door opening, "S-Sebastian…"