Bloody Business

Title: “Bloody Business”

Series: Kuroshitsuji

Date begun: November 2, 2009

Date completed:

Genre: Crime, Romance



Summary: In the wake of the Ripper Murders, the Queen orders Ciel to root out the head of a male prostitution ring. When people in high places are implicated, Ciel and Sebastian are put into a compromising position.



Author\'s Note: Well, Happy Christmas, even if it is a bit late. I would have posted this on Christmas Eve, but it was very very busy. We went to see my family, my fiance\'s family...and there are so many of them! But I digress. This is your second chapter, and in it you get to see Sebastian work his magic on Mr. Henry Newlove. Not that it would take much. My version of Newlove is somewhat more seductive than he probably was in real life. In any event, enjoy.



Thanks to Sisely and Tristitia for the reviews! Keep \'em coming.



Part II: Telegraph Service



Frederick George Abberline sat at his desk, his hands resting lightly on the black velvet cloth he had unfolded atop his blotter. His watch had not been working quite right since earlier in the week when he had been shoved into the Thames. The man he\'d been pursuing had somehow hauled him over the rail of the bridge and Abberline had narrowly missed falling onto a barge filled with garbage. Instead, he\'d gone head over teakettle into the lukewarm, foul water of the river, and it had taken three baths and an entirely new suit of clothes to get rid of the stench.



There was a soft click when the back of the case came free from the rest of the watch housing, and he frowned as he lay it down on the cloth. A small puddle of brownish water was staring back at him, which was most likely what was causing the tiny gears and cogs to operate incorrectly. He then lay the watch down entirely and picked up the first of the tiny screwdrivers in the case he kept in his desk drawer. When he had the screwdriver fitted into the groove to remove the first of the gears before he could get to the spring, there was a knock at the door to his office.



“Bloody hell...” he muttered, laying down the screwdriver and picking up the housing and a small cloth to dry it out. “Come in!” he called testily, training his eyes on the door.



The aged oak of the door swung inward, and there was a slight shuffling sound as a man entered, carrying a small tray atop a thick folder. With a falsely apologetic smile and in a sarcastic tone, the man said, “Pardon me for interrupting your work, Chief Inspector. I have brought some tea as an apology.” Abberline gave a start, and rose from his seat to take the tray.



“Commissioner Monro...I was not expecting you.” The small, battered pewter teapot looked like something Abberline himself might have owned as a bachelor, not a piece he expected from the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police. Sir Warren would have been horrified at the patched handle, as well, and the scratched and dented rosewood tray upon which the teacups (which did not match) were placed. As he moved back to his desk, he indicated the chair and eyed the folder Monro still carried. It was obvious that this was no social call. “To what do I owe the pleasure of receiving you this evening?”



Monro sat in the straight-backed wooden chair in front of the desk, and set the folder across his thighs. Abberline began pouring the tea. Scratching at the skin just to the side of his thick mustache, the Commissioner smiled at the younger man mirthlessly. “There a case that requires your attention, Inspector Abberline. It may be a true test of your considerable talents, I believe.” Abberline nodded, indicating that the Commissioner should continue as he handed him the Meakin bronze Tea Leaf cup. He explained about how a simple theft case had turned into an investigation into a male brothel down in the West End. “And,” Monro said with a frown, “I have received a letter from Her Majesty. She has asked politely that one of her most trusted servants be included in this operation.”



With a start of surprise, Abberline asked, “Who is this person?”



A sardonic smile formed beneath Monro\'s bushy mustache. “Count Ciel Phantomhive.”



--



Sebastian watched his master\'s retreating back. The young man had decided once again to follow Her Majesty\'s commands, and at the moment wore the clothing of a common errand boy. It was odd, even after so many times of seeing the dark-haired youth in disguises, that he should wear anything but what had been tailored for him on Savile Row. They had been in the previous evening to see Chief Inspector Abberline, and a plan had been formulated, which was against the moral fiber of the Inspector, but suited Sebastian\'s master perfectly.



Much to Abberline\'s chagrin, it was decided that Ciel Phantomhive, as well as his extremely capable and handsome butler (yours truly) would be placed incognito into the Central Telegraph Office. Ciel would be trained as a newly recruited delivery boy for telegrams by one of the boys involved in the brothel on Cleveland Street, and be observed by plain-clothes constables from a discreet distance. Sebastian\'s task would be to pose as an Efficiency Inspector for the Home Office, which would allow him access to some of the other individuals that may warrant some of his special attention.



Their conversation with the Inspector, as well as with the newly appointed Commissioner Monro, went thus:



“And you say there were three boys from the CTO involved? Ciel asked, his visible eye narrowed shrewdly, “Was there anyone else? Someone must have been putting them up to it.” The boy fiddled with his cane for a moment before turning his undivided attention once more onto Abberline. Off to one side, Monro was watching with a smiling face and tense shoulders. He was not altogether pleased with their presence.



Nodding at Ciel\'s words, Abberline flipped to another page in the folder he had laid out on his desk next to a partially disassembled watch. “Yes,” he said, his keen eyes reading over the information before him, “This young man, Henry Newlove. He works as a clerk. It seems that he\'s been...recruiting the telegram delivery boys for the brothel. There was Charles Thomas Swinscow, of whom I have already spoken, as well as George Alma Wright, and Charles Earnest Thickbroom. All three made at least one trip to the house in Cleveland Street, and received several shillings for their service. While these delivery boys were quite cooperative once they understood the position they were in, Newlove seems a bit cagey. We have to get close to him without alerting his suspicions. I suppose that Her Majesty has foreseen this, and thus has decided that you be a part of the investigation. What is your suggestion?”



Of course, the Young Master\'s decision on how to proceed most likely made sense only to himself and Sebastian, but in the end, even the Commissioner was forced to agree that it was most likely the best course of action. Unfortunately for his Young Master, this plan they had formed was going to be unpleasant in more ways than one. Ciel Phantomhive had never done a day of manual labor in his life, and had no idea how to take orders from anyone other than Her Majesty. It would be a test of fortitude, and self control for the youngest member of the London Underground.



Ciel\'s slender form rounded the corner and went out of sight, and Sebastian smiled. He was told to deal with Newlove in any way that might ensure his admission into the brothel. Perhaps this order was too broad. There were, after all, many ways in which he could proceed. But he decided that circumspection would be best for the investigation, and would most likely end in the least amount of violence. After another moment, he entered the lavatory room, where he was to check his appearance one last time prior to his arrival at the office of the Clerk In Cheif.



The mirror over the deep porcelain sink revealed a very different Sebastian than it might usually show. He wore a dark brown wool suit, of good quality but not the best, with a blue waistcoat. The high collar he had been forced to wear was buttoned up under his chin, and his tie was fastened much tighter than he was accustomed to. But in pursuit of his Master\'s orders, it was to be borne with a smile. He also had been made to use oil to slick his hair back, in a manner very severe. This was a style he had often seen in other government inspectors, and they believed that it was a sign of cleanliness. Sebastian thought that he looked awful.



Once he\'d wrinkled his nose one last time in disdain, he put on a critical expression and exited the room. Two doors away was the Clerk\'s Office. The door had a window in it, through which he could see the twenty young clerks busily writing at the tall desks, their feet not touching the floor as they sat on their stools. He placed one gloved hand on the door handle and gave it a turn, and then he was inside.



A few of the clerks looked up as he entered, including the man he was to try getting close to. Henry Newlove was a rather slender young man of eighteen years, his eyes a vivid shade of green that reminded Sebastian of one of his cats. His hair was a medium brown, and was somewhat messy. Sebastian allowed his gaze to quickly slide away from the lovely eyes of his target, and onto the nearest of the clerks, a stout youth with pince nez eyeglasses.



“You there,” he said in a curt tone, “Where might I locate the Clerk In Chief? The Home Office was far from descriptive about this...” Sebastian\'s eyes wandered the room in obvious disdain, “...office.”



The clerk stammered and pointed toward the rear of the room, and Sebastian glanced in that direction. “Good gracious, man, I am not asking that you reveal state secrets. Are you trying to say that his office is in the back?” The sound of stool legs scraping over the hardwood floor sounded, and both men looked in the direction of the noise. Newlove was rounding the edge of his desk, and walking toward them. Now that he was standing, Sebastian could see that he was of middling height, and rather narrow of shoulder. There was a kind of grace about him, though, that spoke of something more than the clerk. At his approach, however, the butler raised one eyebrow expectantly, making no secret of his appraising glance, but not disposed toward being friendly.



This cold greeting did not phase Newlove, however. He approached, and looked Sebastian directly in the eyes as he addressed him. “How may I help you, Sir? Bartlett, here, has an awful stammer, and he cannot help it.” Laying one hand kindly on the portly youth\'s shoulder, Newlove said, “Why don\'t you leave this gentleman to me, Martin?” When he had done so, Sebastian was again directly assaulted by those beautiful eyes. “You are looking for the Chief? He doesn\'t like being disturbed.”



One corner of Sebastian\'s mouth rose in a smirk. “Oh, I believe he will make an exception in this case.”



Newlove crossed his arms over his chest, giving Sebastian an estimating look. “And who are you, Sir, that the Chief will just talk to you before he\'s had his morning tea?”



“Sebastian Michaelis, Efficiency Inpector. And you, young man, have put me quite behind my schedule. I shall have to find a way to deal with you later.” The smirk he wore turned to a smile, though unless one looked closely, it would seem threatening. The young clerk, however, seemed quite well attuned to subtle body language. He read the innuendo in his voice, and the invitation in his smile. There was a hungry sort of light in those green eyes that Sebastian could not say he found unpleasant. A humble nod later, Sebastian was ushered into the rear office. Brushing past Newlove, he paused for a moment and whispered, “Basement lavatory, just after the second shift begins.”



--



Ciel payed close attention to the man who told him everything he would need to know in order to deliver telegrams. He was to be polite, and was not to stare. If it was necessary to enter a building, he was to wipe his feet. Stealing was punishable by beatings, and Ciel was not going to test that. He was on the first delivery shift, but once that was done, he was to help bring some boxes up from the basement. All he could think of as he listened to the man drone on and on was that he hoped it would not last long.



--



Henry Newlove stood in the lobby of the Central Telegraph Office, watching people pass. That man from the Home Office was due to arrive any moment. Originally, they had been to meet in the lavatory. Once he had begun observing the office, however, he had asked if there was any place nearby where he might be able to obtain a decent lunch. Henry had, of course, suggested the shop where he usually ate, and to his surprise, the man had offered to buy him a meal. In front of the other employees, he had said it was so that they might discuss how he felt about working at the CTO.



He remembered the way that those red eyes looked at him, burning with something dark and primal...a shiver ran down his spine.



“Thinking of me, I hope, Mr. Newlove?” Hot breath on his neck made him gasp, especially when coupled with that sinful voice, but it did not last long enough to produce as violent a reaction as he suspected it might later. Michalis moved around him, and leaned against the wall. He chuckled, “Your reactions are quite amusing, Mr. Newlove. I hope to test them further...soon.” They began walking out of the lobby, and passed a small group of telegraph boys as they did. Henry would have paid them no mind, but for the fact that he saw Michaelis\'s eyes stray quite sharply to that group, and the man even paused in his progress toward the door. It lasted but a moment, and then they were gone. For several minutes, the taller man seemed distracted, but it soon passed away, and they had a lovely lunch of cold ham and salad.



--



Ciel flopped down into the overstuffed chair in front of the fireplace. He slipped his feet into a pan of hot water and salt, and took the cup of tea that Sebastian held out to him. “Her Majesty had better appreciate this,” he grumbled, “I don\'t know when I\'ve been so sore.” The butler nodded, but said that there was no helping it now that they had begun. Unfortunate though it may be, Ciel was inclined to agree. If the Queen asked, he had to obey.



“I have made contact with Newlove. He will prove quite useful, as long as all goes to plan.” Sebastian stood on the other side of the fire, holding the tea tray, looking rather severe in his disguise from the day. Ciel frowned. He did not fancy the change. It made his butler look too much like a bureaucrat. He, himself was only to wait until the plan swept him up. An horrific noise issued from his belly, and Ciel once again bemoaned the fact that he had so little to eat for his midday meal. A roll and a small lump of cheese was not sufficient, but he could not very well show up to the telegraph office with a proper lunch. That would make everyone suspicious. Well, it mattered not. Tomorrow was another day.

--



Sebastian sat on a stool at one of the small, vacant clerk\'s tables. Between examining the ledgers for the past six months, he had been making glances at Henry Newlove every few moments. He seemed a good worker, but it was obvious that Sebastian\'s presence distracted him greatly. The young man had taken to looking in his direction as well, and shifting in his seat after doing so. Smiling to himself, he was glad that the plan was working as it should. Soon, he would have Newlove eating from the palm of his hand. It would be a simple thing to get the information out of him, once he had delivered his promised punishment for the young man\'s attitude on their first meeting.



The appointed time for that punishment was, indeed, drawing quite close. Perhaps that was why his target could not sit still. The minutes ran away, Sebastian merely reviewing the ledgers and listening to the soothing tick of the clock above the office hearth. Finally, the chimes struck six o\'clock. When he looked up, the clerks were all shutting their large leather-bound ledgers and capping their inkwells for the day. The door to the rear office opened, and Morton Caldwell stepped through, his considerable girth seeming to squeeze out into the main room of the Clerk\'s Office.



Caldwell walked with surprising speed, directly toward Sebastian. “I hope, my dear sir, that you are finding things in order?” Sebastian used a clean sheet of paper to cover the one he had been making notes upon. “I run a tight ship, here. Otherwise these miscreants...no telling what the books would look like!”



Smiling in a genuinely bored way, Sebastian nodded. “Everything is in order so far, Mr. Caldwell, but as I explained to you yesterday, I must review the ledgers for all of your employees over the last year.” Caldwell gave a nod in return, thanking him profusely for his hard work. He then beat a hasty retreat, leaving the building for the day and calling after Henry Newlove to lock the door behind him. Sebastian sighed. He rubbed at his temples, removing the glasses he\'d been wearing all day.



The clerks shuffled out bidding Newlove farewell, and wishing him a good evening. After nearly five minutes, during which Sebastian straightened the papers and books on the desk he had been using, put away his glasses, and retrieved the satchel he\'d brought with him, the room was empty but for himself and Henry Newlove. The green-eyed youth still sat at his desk, leaning on one elbow. Sebastian took a moment, once again, to admire his eyes. So like a cat\'s in color, they also held some mystery. Lounging as he was, this eighteen-year-old man seemed even more feline.





A smirk formed on Sebastian\'s lips as he rose and moved toward the door. He pulled the shade, securing the ring in its hook below the small window, and engaged the internal lock. “Mr. Newlove,” he said in a very officious tone as he turned around again to face his companion, “It has come to my attention that your productivity has somewhat lessened today.” Newlove looked back at him, completely unapologetic. He began to walk across the room toward the seated younger man, and asked, “What has caused your distraction?”



He got no answer until he stood less than a foot away. Newlove\'s piercing eyes looked up at him heatedly, but his tone was light. “Perhaps it was the thought of being alone with you, sir.”



A smile stretched his mouth. “Please,” said the erstwhile butler, “Call me Sebastian.”



The tilt of Newlove\'s head as he spoke again suddenly reminded Sebastian of a much smaller, more slender youth, and he had to force himself to shove the thought away. “All right then, Sebastian. You can call me Henry.”



“Very well,” Sebastian said lowly, leaning down to speak into the other man\'s ear, “Where would you prefer to do this, Henry? On your desk? Perhaps on the Chief Clerk\'s desk?” Newlove shivered, the tremble taking in his entire body. “Or should I take you on the floor, the way that animals do?” Henry moaned, and Sebastian knew what course of action to take. “You like that idea, Henry,” his tongue flicked across the shell of the young man\'s ear. “Yes...I think I do, as well. Now be a good boy. Take off your clothes.”



Shakily, Henry Newlove slipped off of the stool on which he sat. He moved over to the fireplace, which was still lit, and loosened his tie. Sebastian watched him with a kind of detached fascination as he removed shoes, socks, trousers, undergarments, and finally his waistcoat and shirt. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, “It is hot in here.”



“I would like to say that we might remedy that problem in just a moment. Unfortunately for you, Henry, it will only get hotter. First,” Sebastian moved to the satchel he had taken with him, withdrawing a smaller bag from within. “I need to make you ready.” The first item he pulled from the small bag was a black satin blindfold. This, he tied around the young man\'s eyes. Second, he took out a small length of cord, and firmly bound Henry\'s hands behind his back. Once these things were done, he pulled off his gloves. It had been long since he had been able to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh to such an extent, and he wished to enjoy it thoroughly.



“Now,” he said, “Let us have you on your knees.” Newlove carefully lowered himself to the floor, his movements jerky and face stained red with shame. Sebastian pulled a short stool up near the fire. Sitting down, he opened his waistcoat and trousers. For a moment, he looked at Newlove. He sat back on his heels, thighs slightly spread, his penis now fully erect. It was a rather pleasant sight. So pleasing, in fact, that he himself had become aroused. He freed himself from the confines of his undergarments, and pulled Newlove closer. Guiding the young man with his hands, he commanded, “Open your mouth.” Wet heat surrounded him, and after a momentary shock, the young man began to lick at his erection.



Then the suction began. Like a child draining his mother\'s milk, Henry Newlove sucked at him greedily, soon beginning to moan and whimper. The pleasure was intense, and Sebastian lost himself in it for some time, remembering past lovers and allowing his mind into territory it should not enter. His eyes closed and he groaned at a particularly hard suck on his erection, and in his mind\'s eye, he saw a head of black hair between his legs, small hands gripping his thighs as a perpetually frowning mouth took in as much of him as it could. He felt himself nearing orgasm, and he abruptly opened his eyes. Taking two handfuls of sandy brown hair, he pulled Newlove away.



“Stand up and turn around.” Sebastian withdrew the last item from his little bag as Newlove did as he commanded. “Now spread your legs, and try not to fall down.”



“What? Why would I fall--” Henry\'s voice cut off in a choked moan when Sebastian ran a finger into the cleft between his buttocks. The oil he had brought with him now dribbled down, and he used his fingers to spread it, working the slick substance into the tender, responsive skin that surrounded Newlove\'s entrance. Teasingly, he slipped the tip of his index finger inside, only to retract it immediately. “Ooohhh,” he heard above his head, accompanied by the thump of Newlove\'s forehead against the wood of the mantelpiece, “You\'re evil, Sebastian...”



“You are not the first to tell me so.” Sebastian smiled to himself, and got down to business.



--



Ciel Phantomhive was exhausted. He was beyond tired, had been made to put up with the most abominable treatment on part of the other telegraph boys (a dead rat in his cap), and one old woman tried to pinch his cheeks. And now, as if to add insult to injury, he was forced to endure a two hour wait until Sebastian waltzed in at eight o\'clock, humming to himself and looking as smug as a cat having just had a meal of prized canary. “Where have you been, Sebastian, and what have you been doing?” He snapped, and would have continued, but the look he got from his butler sent a odd tremor through his body. There was something strange in those red eyes just then, a kind of wild animal-like quality that made Ciel look away, his face going slightly pink.



“I apologize, Master...I have not had the opportunity to ensure that your tea or dinner were served.” Crossing the room and kneeling near Ciel\'s side, Sebastian seemed too close. “But I have not been gone in vain, Young Master. I have news.”



After clearing his throat to ensure that his voice did not squeak embarrassingly, Ciel waved a hand at his butler. “Go and wash that grease out of your hair and put on something decent. I can\'t stand to look at you like that.”



A blank kind of expressionlessness came over Sebastian\'s face for an instant before he nodded and replied, “As my Master wishes.” With that, he left the room. Ciel let out a breath that he had been unaware of holding. He leaned his head back, letting it rest on the firm cushions of the wing-back chair in which he sat. It was not often that he was left feeling so taken off guard. Having been through as much as he had, there was little that could surprise him. But that look Sebastian gave him had managed to do just that, it seemed. As he closed his eyes, he remembered the warm strangeness of the shudder he felt move through him, and he saw predatory eyes staring back at him, amused and yet hungry...like a cat that plays with its food before killing it.



There were times when looking into the deep, blood-colored eyes of the creature that would be his eventual demise left him feeling decidedly odd. Like a few days earlier, when Sebastian had all but forced him to try dancing again. Ciel had become dizzy, unable to stand properly as nausea took control. At the time, he put it off to his being tired combined with the sudden turn and subsequent stumble. Now, he was not so sure. Was there something about Sebastian that affected him physically? Some stipulation of the contract about which he had not been informed? Perhaps he was over-thinking things. In all likelihood, he was coming down with a cold, and nothing more.



--



Sebastian hung the towel on its rack to dry before sending it to the laundry. His hair was a wet mess of knots, hanging down into his eyes, but it was clean. Ciel said he didn\'t like the oil it it, and he tended to agree. The clothes he had on were hung on a spare valet in the corner of the room, and the copper tub was now draining of water. Changing into clean undergarments, he went to the mirror over the sink and picked up a comb to tackle his hair. As he methodically worked out the tangles that had formed during washing, he recalled how it had taken a moment to remember himself when he had entered the house. The shiver that ran through his Master\'s small body made Sebastian forget. For a few seconds, he forgot that restraint was just as important here as punctuality and knowing how to make good tea.



Remaining impassive was essential, he reminded himself, but then he remembered what had happened less than an hour earlier, across town in a hot, poorly ventilated clerk\'s office. Sebastian had not been gentle with Henry Newlove. The young man had practically begged him not to be. Looking back at those events, he was decently sure that it would be painful for the junior clerk both to sit and walk tomorrow. It had been entertaining, but in the end, Sebastian remained unsatisfied. A short sigh later, he put the comb aside, and began dressing. Garbed in his usual attire, he went back to the drawing room.



When he arrived, he found his master exactly where he had left him, but the boy was dozing in the chair. His head leaning back, throat exposed, vulnerable. He still wore the clothing of a telegraph boy, and Sebastian could see dirt under his nails. After a moment, Ciel stirred, groaning in his sleep. Sebastian felt the re-awakening of desires which had been far from sated with Newlove, wondering if his Master might ever look at him and feel the same heat, a similar need. Closing his eyes, he imagined. The familiar tingle of arousal began to prickle at his groin, and he indulged himself, if only a little. His hand had begun inching toward his barely-forming erection when he heard his name.



“Sebastian?” he heard Ceil\'s sleepy voice, and his eyes flew open. His Master was looking at him questioningly. “Is everything...all right...” a jaw-cracking yawn issued from thin lips, left uncovered. Now taking a sullen tone as he crossed his arms over his chest, the young nobleman said, “I\'m hungry.” A smile threatened to show itself in spite of his efforts to quash it, but he vowed that there would be food available soon.



“I will prepare a simple meal,” Sebastian replied, “and as you eat, I can tell you about Mr. Newlove.”



Author\'s Note #2: I hope you enjoyed this installment. Please, drop a few lines in the review box.