Title: Barley Rights

Author: Neko-chan

Fandom: Kuroshitsuji (mangaverse)

Rating: M

Pairing: Edward Middleford/Ciel Phantomhive

Summary: At sixteen years old, Ciel Phantomhive has been engaged to Elizabeth Middleford for most of his life. The night before his wedding, Ciel comes to the discovery that there has always been more than one Middleford who has wanted him.

Author's Note: Besides Undertaker/Charles Grey… I think that this is going to become my new crack pairing. *laughs* Yeah, yeah, yeah—Edward just showed up in Chapter 52, but my brain works in strange, twisted ways. And thus, I write (and gratuitous smut, at that). ;) Enjoy, darlings~ On a side note, there is a brief reference to certain situations (i.e., relationships) within "Conflicts of Interest," though I promise that you don't have to read that for this to make sense.

Barley Rights

The clock slowly struck midnight, and Ciel's belly tightened at the knowledge that today was the day that he was to be married. The nervousness had grown—then solidified—over the course of the past month, and the head of the Phantomhive household found himself dreading the day—today—with an intensity that, at some other point in time, he would have found shocking. After all, he had known Lizzie for years—for his entire life. Why should he feel nerve-wracked about finally fulfilling the arrangements that his parents had made with Aunt Francis before they had died? At the very least, Ciel knew himself obligated in marrying Lizzie to honor the choices that his mother and father had believed to be best for him.

Honor, glory, duty—the latter, first and foremost above all else. These were the tenants, the structure that spread out and became the foundation for his day-to-day activities, that he had abided by since the age of ten. With no adult to step forward and be his role model, Ciel had known that he would have to make his way through the world alone—judging behavior by his own standards, erecting a rigid sense of "right" and "wrong" that, oftentimes, skewed the Ton's own expectations of themselves and himself.

That was acceptable, however, for Ciel knew that the way that he lived his life was the way that best suited himself—and the preparations that his parents didn't get the chance to finish laying down upon the ground. The expectations had been few and far between, and Ciel knew that he had been inclined to follow the steps that his father had made moreso than his mother's: ruthlessness, complete dedication to Her Majesty, the love of the game and the obsession with noble concepts of honor and family pride. Perhaps that was the reason why Ciel had dedicated the first several years to broadening the reach of Funtom Company, then immersing himself in his identity as the Watchdog in a way that his father had never been able to.

Some of that, Ciel knew, would have to change with the introduction of Lizzie into his life in a much more thorough, much more complete way: it would be that much more difficult soothing her back to sleep with the occasional siege of the manor, would be harder to pretend that everything was fine, was all right, when he himself returned home bloodied and psychologically scarred. Before, it had been easy enough to manipulate his fiancée into returning back to the Middleford estate. That option, however, was no longer left to Ciel.

And he found himself sullenly resentful of his cousin for that.

"Bocchan," came a bemused voice from over his shoulder, and Ciel's fingers tightened over the edge of the windowsill at the knowledge that Sebastian would be able to see straight into the heart of the matter with just one glance at his not-quite-so-young contractor—it had been a talent that the demon had sported since the beginning, but his observational skills had sharpened even further recently. And Ciel knew that Sebastian would find small, apparently innocent ways to lash out at Lizzie to assuage Ciel's own smoldering resentment. And that wasn't fair to his cousin, sweet Lizzie who was so naively sweet and innocent.

It was with a quiet sigh that Ciel released his hold upon the varnished wood, turning about to meet the devil's ember-like gaze. "Yes, I know that I should have turned in to bed hours ago," he said before the butler had the chance to scold.

In answer, however, Sebastian just gave that enigmatic smile that had always graced his mouth, and slightly tilted his head to the side before quirking an eyebrow at his young master. "If you know what it was that you were about to be chided for, then why is it that you're still up?" the demon asked, though he was fully aware of the reason behind Ciel's sleeplessness.

The still-boy scowled at that, head jerking minutely away from the other to return his attention and his gaze to the moonlight-limed details of the Phantomhive estate's grounds. "Go away, Sebastian," Ciel said in lieu of reply. "I'm not in the mood for games tonight. Perhaps tomorrow or the day after. But not tonight. But not today."

"As you wish, my Lord," the demon murmured silkily in response, slightly bowing at the waist—it was a small order, one that didn't require the full subservience shown when he fell to one knee. Still, though, the mortal and his contracted creature each had roles to play, and Sebastian had always taken a dark pleasure in playing his own. Ciel did, as well, though the mortal would never truly admit it—not when Sebastian would somehow take it and skew things to his own advantage. Per usual, but—then again—that was a demon's truest nature.

The butler left the candelabra upon the table at Ciel's side before leaving, and the change in routine brought a small frown to the Phantomhive's face—glancing from the muted light to the demon's retreating back, Ciel parted his lips to ask just what the other had up his sleeve when the doors to his bedroom parted, admitting a new guest.

Ciel couldn't lie to himself when he half-expected it to be Lizzie, and he couldn't lie to himself about the way that his stomach dropped even further, tightening in such a way that he thought he would be sick.

To his surprise, however, it wasn't Lizzie who met his eyes as Sebastian stepped off to the side with another small bow before leaving the bedroom completely and closing the door after his retreating back. Instead, his soon-to-be brother-in-law was revealed, almost seeming to nervously shift from foot to foot before looking up to meet Ciel's gaze head-on; he glared darkly at his younger cousin, and the familiar antagonism within the gaze—shockingly—relaxed Ciel.

"What are you still doing up?" the younger teen asked, voice a drawl that he would never admit he had adopted from Sebastian (despite the fact that he did). "Or have you come to my room to give me a late-night lecture as to how I don't deserve your sister and how you still refuse to acknowledge the fact that we'll soon be wedded?"

The latter is true enough, Bocchan, Sebastian's voice said as it rumbled through Ciel's mind. But you would be surprised at how your dearest cousin will be reacting to the former statement. A silky laugh purred its way along Ciel's thoughts, and the lordling twitched in irritation: Sebastian was fully aware of just how much Ciel hated it when he did that, perhaps one of the reasons why the demon took such enjoyment in their silent communications.

The brief pulse of power—familiar enough so that Ciel could recognize the barrier about his room that Sebastian had erected—was just strong enough to snap the Phantomhive out of his confusion and immediately into the exceedingly familiar irritation with the demon. What the bloody hell are you doing? his voice snapped, lashing out at his contracted butler.

Making sure that what will occur will stay a secret within the Phantomhive household; after all, what type of butler would I be if I wasn't able to achieve such a simple task? came the bemused reply. You wouldn't be the first Phantomhive who preferred the touch of a particular lover over the actual spouse married to.

Ciel's reply was instantaneous and rocked through Sebastian's mind with the force of a gale wind, forcing the butler to briefly lose his concentration—something that hadn't happened in eons with the high-ranking demon: What?

However, Ciel's attention was once more brought back to Edward as the older man stepped forward; throughout the silent conversation that he had had with Sebastian, Ciel belatedly realized that, not once, did the pale other glance away from him. The unrelenting, undiverted attention brought a slight flush to Ciel's cheeks—a blush that he was horrified to feel darken, forced to glance away to pretend that nothing had happened.

It was dark in his rooms. Edward wouldn't have been able to see the reddening of his cheeks. However: Nevermind the fact that Edward had known Ciel all of his life and was fully aware of what it meant when the younger teen's gaze shifted just enough to the side so that, for most people, they would think that the Phantomhive heir was still meeting their eyes when he was doing anything but. That knowledge—and Ciel's current behavior—sent a thrill through the Middleford, and Edward chanced another step closer.

"Do you want to marry my sister, Ciel Phantomhive?" the elder asked, steps coming closer, light eyes darkening slowly as he watched Ciel watch him make his way closer—the close attention that Ciel paid to each step was a balm to a deeply suppressed hurt, and as the hurt soothed itself away, his steps became that much more stalking.

"This has been planned for years, Edward, and there isn't—" Ciel began, a spark lighting his eyes before Edward cut off the younger teen with one raised hand, still any further words before they had the chance to fall from the dark-haired teen's mouth.

"That wasn't what I was asking, and you know it, Ciel. Do you want to marry Lizzie?"

Ciel finally met Edward's eyes at the second inquiry, his expression as dark as his gaze. "For God's sake, Edward, I'm not going to be a loathsome husband—I have no intention of ever hurting Lizzie, and the insinuation that I will do so is both insulting and disgusting, as well a blow to my hon—"

The sixteen year-old never got the chance to finish his rant because a pair of lips silenced him; Edward's mouth was hungry against his own, possessive in a desperate sort of way—pressing roughly, body crowding in against Ciel's own. And it was then that Ciel realized what, perhaps, had been the driving force beneath Edward's antagonism for years (jealousy? maybe?). But thoughts scattered like dust motes in the sunlight and all that was left was sensation: the caress of a hand over Ciel's ribcage, warm—too warm—in the otherwise chill air of the witching hour. There was, as well, the scrape of teeth against the shell of his ear, and Ciel surprised himself by giving a soft, encouraging moan as his fingers buried deeply in Edward's white-blonde hair.

It felt so good.

Was it supposed to feel this way…?

It didn't matter, and Ciel couldn't bring himself to care about any further thought.

The heat took over, the feeling of Edward's mouth pressed against the bend of his throat, sucking at the pale skin as the older boy maneuvered them both onto Ciel's bed with him sprawling out between the younger's still-gangly legs. Over the pounding of the blood in his ears, the Phantomhive lord could hear Edward's quiet murmurings—"…I don't want her to take you away, to keep you for herself… I'm tired of playing the prodigal heir… I want you…"—and hunger stirred deep in his belly at those softly spoken words.

Ciel dragged Edward's head upwards, catching the other teen's mouth in a kiss of his own; he rolled them both, straddling over Edward's hips as he carefully pinned his cousin beneath his body; most people were surprised at the strength that Ciel was able to contain in his otherwise slight body: he was strong, he was capable. And there was a beautiful young man beneath him who had all but admitted that he had wanted Ciel for himself for years. Being the focus of that desire, that level of want… it was dizzying. It was maddening.

And Ciel liked it.

His tongue stroked against Edward's lower lip, coaxing the elder's mouth to part so that he might deepen the kiss; gesture leisure, Ciel traced the tip of his tongue against the edges of Edward's teeth, pausing—fascinated, really—when he came to the small chip in one of the other's teeth, remembering how it had happened: the day that Edward had scurried up into a tree to retrieve Ciel and Lizzie's kite, Ciel's favorite and the one that the wind had blown out of his control. At the time, Ciel had thought that Edward had done it for Lizzie. Now, however… Now? Who knew. Every gesture that Edward had given since he was young—every gesture up until the kiss that he had first stolen—every gesture was suspect.

It was something worth mulling over.

…later, though, because all that mattered now was touch. Was sensation.

Tongue stroking, caressing slowly against Edward's, Ciel used the distraction and his own position to take advantage of their state of dress: idly, the Phantomhive heir undid the buttons to Edward's trousers, fingers of his free hand so much more nimble than they had been years before.

Gently, Ciel drew Edward's cock from its confines, smoothing fingertips over the flushed, warm head and down the thick length; Edward moaned at the touch, and Ciel greedily devoured the sound before allowing his hips to rock and rub and press—just so—against Edward's.

The bed began to softly creak, shifting beneath their writhing weight; as the shadows within the bedroom drifted across the floor as time marched ever onwards, the headboard of his parents' bed began to tap-tap-tap against the wall as Edward and Ciel's bodies surged against one another, as powerful as the sigh of the surf upon the shore.

Ciel couldn't stifle his gasp of pleasure in time as Edward's teeth latched onto the hard bud of a nipple, drawing it almost violently into the wet warmth of his mouth, and the younger lord's fingernails broke skin as he clung roughly to his cousin's shoulders the moment that his stroking fingers suddenly became slick as Edward's back bowed beneath his slighter weight.

Smirking at his victory—who knew that his cousin was so easy to get off?—Ciel purposefully kept Edward's gaze as he cleaned his fingers with prim swipes of his tongue, as fastidious as a feline. He hadn't expected the way that Edward's eyes flared, however, and Ciel certainly hadn't expected the way that he was suddenly sprawled on his back on the bed with trousers down about his knees and his cousin suddenly drawing the full length of his cock into the slick heat of his mouth.

Ciel moaned quietly at that, eyes falling shut as his head tilted back, letting his hips thrust up so that Edward could swallow him completely down—loving the constant, idle swallowing around him and the way that his still-sticky fingers felt as they moved through Edward's too pale hair, mussing it and covering strands with Edward's own come.

It gave Ciel an unexpected, masculine sort of smugness to glance down and see it, and the demon's contractor suddenly dug his fingers tightly in his cousin's hair: pulling him down and practically purring when Edward didn't gag at the sudden roughness, Ciel's body bowed and he finally found his own orgasm.

Edward, gentleman that he was, drank him down—and all that was left was to sprawl lazily over rumpled and sweaty bedsheets, watching Edward with a cat-got-the-canary expression as the older teen shifted closer and peppered kisses over Ciel's belly and chest.

"Let this continue," Edward said, voice fierce for all that it was subdued, and he bit roughly at the arch of Ciel's hip to bruise the skin, marking it and leaving behind a love bite that Ciel knew he would be hard-pressed to explain. However… unexpectedly, he couldn't bring himself to feel much—if any—concern over the lie that he would soon be telling.

Watching Edward and noting just how nice the pale-haired teen looked against his own body…

Ciel could admit to himself that this wouldn't be the first and last time that this happened. Not when it had felt as good as it had, not when the tension that had been building for months finally released itself and dissipated with the pre-dawn light that was just now beginning to filter its way through the windows.

In answer to Edward's words, Ciel drew the other teen upwards, stealing his own kiss: languid and heated, he took his time with exploring Edward's mouth—the mouth that still tasted of himself, the mouth that had come to claim Ciel for himself before his little sister ever could.

Smiling into the kiss, Ciel didn't bother hiding the purr as he rolled them both over for another round.

Like father, like son, Sebastian thought to himself as he descended the stairs in the entry way, strengthening the barrier around the Master Bedroom. His thoughts were bemused as he headed out to perform his duties for today, preparing things to be as perfect as possible for his young contractor's wedding to Elizabeth Middleford. It didn't matter that it would be nothing but a farce—eventually, after all, Vincent's own marriage had been the same once he had met Diederich von Wolff.

Like father, like son—indeed.

End.