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Devilish Impulses	By : Arianawray Category: > Black Butler (Kuroshitsuji ???) Views: 13948 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji or any of its characters, and I do not make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 1-Unwanted
- 2-Whim
- 3-Trust
- 4-Taste
- 5-Scheme
- 6-Command
- 7-Competition
- 8-Advice
- 9-Enlightenment
- 10-Sustenance
- 11-Caught
- 12-Breath
- 13-Arms
- 14-Inflammation
- 15-Imagination
- 16-Intent
- 17-Compromise
- 18-Sacrifice
- 19-Despair
- 20-Compassion
- 21-Interest
- 22-Equality
- 23-Mentor
- 24-History
- 25-Disorder
- 26-Reputation
- 27-Gifts
- 28-Admission
- 29-Watching
- 30-Bonds
- 31-Revelations
- 32-Confrontation
- 33-Struggle
- 34-Separation
- 35-Duty
- 36-Change
- 37-Together
- 38-Love
- 39-Epilogue: Heaven
- 21
- 22
- 23
Equality

In the night, Ciel dreams of many things. But the vision that comes before the dawn is the clearest: Sebastian pinning him face-down to the mattress, covering his unclothed body with his own, imprisoning his wrists, each kiss to the back of his neck firing near-unbearable shivers down his spine, the devil's knees nudging his thighs apart. He feels himself, in the dream, pushing his hips into the mattress, pressure building, escalating, until...

Uttering a soft moan, he wakes in his own bedroom, alone in his bed, suffused with satisfaction, although his still-sleepy mind wonders why that should be so, when they had done little last night. Certainly, nothing like what happened in the dream transpired. Why does he feel so content when...

Oh dear God. What has his body done?

He becomes aware of a stickiness in his drawers, damp fabric clinging to his skin. With a feeling of dread, he raises the covers and looks down at himself, expecting anything from blood to pee to demon slime. But as he pries the waistband open and slips his hands inside his drawers, he concludes after some initial bewilderment that he has had a "nocturnal emission", a term he once heard in passing from Lau while the Chinese man was making bawdy jokes.

His fingers are now sticky from his having put his hands into his drawers, and... and...

The door opens. Sebastian enters with his morning tea, newspaper and water for washing.

"How unusual to find you already awake," the devil remarks, approaching the bed.

Ciel reflexively pulls the covers back over his body, his fingers now smearing the stuff onto the blankets.

"Young Master?" Sebastian says curiously, setting down the tea tray, as his nose alerts him to something unusual.

"I wasn't– I didn't–" Ciel splutters, before realising how undignified he sounds. He draws a deep breath, exhales slowly, and says much more collectedly: "It's not what you might think."

Sebastian raises the covers, takes a long second to study the situation, helps Ciel out, and stands him beside the bed while he peels off his stained sleepwear.

"I wasn't doing anything," the boy mumbles.

"It happens," Sebastian replies quietly. He is tempted to lick the cum off Ciel's body, but the boy is nowhere near ready for anything like that.

"You're not smirking," the earl observes suspiciously. "You always smirk when odd things happen to me."

"Why would I?" the butler asks as he wipes the thickest smears off his master with the already-stained drawers. "This is a natural occurrence. For human boys of adolescent age, at least."

"It's partly your fault, anyway," Ciel grumbles.

"My fault?" he protests mildly. "But I didn't touch you."

"I did say you could, last night, but you wouldn't," the boy mutters. He does not confess that his wet dream was of his butler, mounting him.

"You shouldn't be doing things you can barely communicate to me." He wipes Ciel clean with a cloth and warm water from the washbasin pitcher. "And it is not my fault that you came looking for me after I left you here to sleep in peace. What better should an earl expect when he wanders about downstairs kissing the servants? Oh, the scandal." If he was not smiling before, he is now.

Ciel growls: "The covenant is moribund. You are no longer my servant but my equal."

"Is that so?" Sebastian asks playfully. "Didn't you say last night that Tanaka was not considered a servant, unlike me?"

"I was annoyed with you then. I didn't mean it."

"I am still your butler."

"You are an independent devil performing a butler's role. That makes everything different. Would I condescend to kiss anyone I did not consider my social equal?" he asks haughtily.

"As your equal, I should hardly be kneeling before you, cleaning ejaculate off your belly, should I?"

Ciel colours furiously.

Sebastian's lips part into a fang-filled grin. "Of course, equals often take pleasure in doing things for one another that they would normally consider beneath them. It pleases me to do this for you, and to call you my master."

The earl stares at that most un-butler-like grin and absorbs the fact that the devil before him is practically uncollared and unleashed, free to follow his whims. He has an odd sense of loss of control over a weapon he once wielded with ease, counterbalanced by the pleasure of knowing that something untamed has chosen to remain loyal to him.

The butler removes his soiled gloves, ties a dressing gown over the earl, and pours him a cup of tea. He pulls out a chair at the side table, has Ciel sit down, and gives him the morning newspaper before stripping off the bed linen.

"I shall return shortly with fresh linen, and to dress you, after I prepare these items for washing. Do not worry – I will not let Mey-Rin see the stains."

He exits before Ciel can blush or growl again, leaving him to think of last night.

The first surprise had been how tender Sebastian was to him, and how restrained. He had imagined a demonically ardent coupling driven by aggressive passion, but the demon had been unexpectedly gentle. They had locked lips and tangled tongues eagerly, and Ciel had been quite ashamed to hear himself panting like a dog when they broke apart after the second deep exploration of each other's mouths. Sebastian had nibbled his left ear and worked his way down to his throat, every kiss and lick searing his flesh, continuing to burn each inch of skin uncovered as the butler unbuttoned his nightshirt. Then he had undone his drawers and lowered his mouth to his belly...

And Ciel had panicked. After having strained against Sebastian's belly and hips like a puppy humping someone's leg, he had pulled back as if burnt not by kisses but by fire. Of all the times to be seized by the memory of what Mrs Easton's man had done to him at the mill, it had to be then.

Sebastian had stopped at once. "Forgive me," he had said, buttoning Ciel's clothing. "I should not have gone so far."

"It was just – I just..." Ciel had said hastily.

"I told you that I had not planned to kiss you at all tonight. This was taking it much too far."

The situation had then blown completely beyond Ciel's control when his irksome allergies prompted the first sneeze. Followed by another, bigger sneeze.

"Your bed is covered in cat hair, isn't it?" he had complained after he sneezed a third time, making Sebastian chuckle. "Damn it, don't laugh about this. Do you even sleep here at all? Or is it left to the cats?"

"I do sleep here, almost every night," the devil had murmured as he finished buttoning the nightshirt and stroked his master's ruffled hair back into some semblance of order. "It is not essential for me, but sleep is a pleasure if I have no other duties while everyone else in the manor is abed. The cats, however, are free to use this piece of furniture when I allow them into my room."

"Thanks to that, I can't lie down here without sneezing."

"A moment, please." He had gathered Ciel into his arms, leaped off the bed, and in a trice covered it with the blanket he had earlier draped over him, then lain him down on it again. "This item is free of cat hair – I made sure of that before putting it over you earlier. Better?"

Ciel had given the blanket an exploratory sniff, failed to sneeze, and pronounced himself satisfied by burrowing into Sebastian's arms and resting his head against that comfortable spot on his chest beside his arm, just below the collarbone.

"Lift your head," Sebastian had said, and he had obeyed, only to have his butler whip out a handkerchief and wipe his nose with it.

"You're never going to stop treating me like a child," Ciel had sighed.

"More so at certain times than others. Your sneezes were well-timed. This truly is as far as we should go tonight."

"But–"

"You were given back to me mere hours ago, after I nearly lost you. I doubt that the one who gave you back to me returned you for the purpose of tossing you into bed with a devil. I should have remembered that."

"Don't go there. I don't want to hear about that. I only want to know all you have to teach me."

"What do you wish to learn from me?"

"I don't know. I want you to show me."

"You do not even know what you are asking for."

"I do," Ciel had said, lifting his head again to plant a kiss on Sebastian's throat, just above the stiff collar of his shirt – he is still clad in his white shirt and waistcoat.

"Hmm. I thought it was a devil's job to tempt humans, and here you are, tempting a demon most skilfully," Sebastian had remarked with a wry smile.

"Is it working?"

"You are nearly irresistible. But I learnt on the day I almost broke our contract to devour you in your bedroom that my capacity for self-control is not too shabby."

With that, Sebastian had risen, scooped him up, and carried him out of the room.

"What are you doing?" Ciel had demanded as his butler strode down the dark corridors with him in his arms.

"Returning you to your room, where you belong."

"Turn around."

"No."

"Or remain upstairs with me tonight."

"No. Hush, now, or you'll wake the servants. Do you want them to think you've been sleepwalking?"

Ciel had sulked as he was borne back upstairs and tucked under the covers – with the rabbit, again.

"You think you have little time, and perhaps that is true, but it is not so short that you must rush through everything. You have already learnt so much more than other children of your rank and years have. There is time to slow down."

"If I die of an acute illness tonight you'll wish you had done all you wanted with me," Ciel threatens.

"If you die of an acute illness tonight, you will be grateful for not having indulged yourself with me as your last conscious act."

"Continue along that path of thought and you will be able to take over Mister Jarvis' duties at the pulpit."

"We'll make a wit of you yet."

"I'll make a scullery boy of you yet."

Sebastian leans down and gives him a deep kiss before pulling back slowly, savouring the sweetness on his tongue. "Good night, Young Master."

Ciel had put the rabbit on the nightstand with a huff of irritation after Sebastian's departure, and stared up into the darkness over his bed. Only when his eyelids grew too heavy did he close his eyes. Then came the hours of dreaming, and that dream, and the embarrassment that had followed as Sebastian came in with his morning tea.

The devil is opening the door again now, returning with the fresh bed linen. He also has a new washcloth, and more warm water. Ciel cleans his face and teeth, and lets Sebastian dress him.

"Today, you have a geography lesson with Professor Cox at ten in the morning, followed by a music lesson with Signor Ricco. At half-past one, the dance mistress, Madame Bright, is expected. The Latin tutor, Mister Ashworth, will conduct your final lesson of the day at three o'clock."

"I almost died yesterday," Ciel growls. "Are you trying to kill me again today?"

Something that looks like pain flashes in Sebastian's garnet eyes. But it is gone in an instant, and the devil is smiling pleasantly again, saying: "Your Lordship will be sustained all day by the meringues and truffles you ordered last night, and rewarded for your hard work after dinner this evening by cake whose flavour will remain secret for now, also as ordered."

The flash of pain in his butler's eyes takes Ciel's words away. He has not thought, till this moment, that the memory of those hours of desperation could still haunt Sebastian. Is this keeping him from doing what he wants to with him because he fears further damaging or tainting what he thinks has been spared by God?

Ciel ponders the matter in silence as he descends the stairs for breakfast. Sebastian has prepared soft-boiled eggs with a sprinkling of pepper and a dash of dark Oriental soy sauce, followed by a fine Chinese rice gruel filled with tender strips of chicken, sprinkled with chopped shallots fried to a golden crisp. The food makes him think of Lau and Ran-Mao. He wonders if they are dead or alive. Fools. Chesspieces who wanted to leave the board and play the game themselves. Thinking of them leads him to also think of Madam Red, and Grelle.

"In between your lessons today," Sebastian says as he pours more Chinese tea for him. "You may wish to spare a few moments to think about Mrs Easton's words to us in the Tower. She said one of the magical practitioners she consulted was a strange man with red hair. Does that remind you of anyone?"

Ciel looks at Sebastian, startled. "I thought you said you couldn't read my mind."

"I can't."

"I was just thinking of Grelle."

"I did mean you to think of him among those in general who intend mischief, by preparing a breakfast that would remind you of Lau."

"You think that Grelle might have posed as a practitioner of magic to tell Mrs Easton about things I fear, based on what he may have seen of my records in the Soul Reapers' library?"

"Possibly. If it we discover that it was him, I shall hunt him down. This time, I may at last run him through with any scythe he carries, whether it is his illegal weapon, or those absurdly tiny pairs of scissors. With the scissors, he will take much longer to die, but that will amuse me."

"He'll be far too busy trying to make love to you to notice that you're killing him," Ciel grumbles.

"Does that make you jealous?"

"You wish it did."

"I know it does."

"Shut up, Sebastian."

"Yes, my lord." This time, the smirk is there.

Grelle, Aunt An and Lau had appeared allies to begin with, but turned against him and his. He has long gone far beyond wondering where to place his trust – he places it nowhere except in himself, and now, Sebastian – and instead asks how far he should maintain order without crossing the line into revenge purely for injured pride. He has avenged his darkest humiliation against the angel Ash, and in so doing, avenged his parents as well. Now, he asks if he should bother with Grelle, and how to label Ambrose and Carsten. Is Ambrose an ally who accidentally harmed him? Or was he trying to play his own game with him, Ciel, as his white king? Is Carsten a neutral entity, like an extra, unused piece that still lies in the box?

Throughout the geography lesson, he nibbles on perfect meringues, but cannot spare his hands in the violin class. Once he sets down his instrument and bow, he is hungry for the truffles Sebastian has promised he can have after his midday meal.

Those rich truffles gird him for the agonising dance lesson in which he treads four times on poor Madame Bright's toes, and glares frequently at a butler who pretends to be standing discreetly in the corner to be of service, but is really sniggering behind his gloved hand.

However, after Ciel has walked the lady to her carriage by way of demonstrating contrition for his clumsiness, and Sebastian has seen him back in and closed the door, the butler playfully seizes him by the waist and one hand and whirls him in a waltz across the expansive entrance hall before releasing him with a smirk and a kiss on the palm of his right hand. Ciel gasps in a perfect blend of surprise, annoyance and pleasure, none of which he can express in any coherent way, because the Latin tutor's gig is already pulling up outside.

A whole hour of conjugating verbs almost dissolves his brain, but at the end of it, the torture is over for the day, and he is at last able to sit down to a tea of scones with cream and butter, cucumber sandwiches and meringues, and to think some more.

If he had not panicked last night, Sebastian might be going beyond kisses and cheeky waltzes by now. Ciel is convinced he will be old by the time he and his butler both increase the tempo. But he is unsure how to negotiate on equal terms with this dangerous creature in his house whom he could once have commanded to do anything, like the best-trained hound, but now playfully strides beside him like the prince of wolves, a highly intelligent creature who willingly humours him when he thinks it appropriate, but can no longer be ordered to do anything against his will.

They must rework the rules of the game whose boundaries they operated within for three years, or move away from the board as they look hard at the ground their feet are treading. They may no longer be playing the same game, or any game. At least they are walking together, not playing against each other as they briefly did in the course of the second contract.

Before dinner, he strolls through his gardens with Finny watching over him from a reasonably discreet distance – although Finny being Finny means that the distance is not always discreet, and the peace is regularly punctuated by wails of distress as petunias, roses and daffodils are accidentally beheaded in a quest to destroy weeds. Ciel fortunately finds some measure of quiet in the sterling silver rose garden, for Sebastian has long trained the young man never to go near the master's favourite roses, unless the butler is there to prevent disaster.

The new variety of rose that Sebastian grew for him is blooming well. The lavender hue is so pale, and the grey hints so silvery, that the open flowers glow like peaceful ghosts in the evening light. Did he put away the first one given to him? Was it discarded by Sebastian once it wilted? There was so much internal and outward turmoil during that period, he can hardly remember what he did with it. Ah, yes, he did put it away. He had tied a blue ribbon to its stalk and hung it upside-down behind his bedside table to preserve it, during the two days before the storm broke over Sebastian's visit to the prostitute. If he had not forgotten that he had hung up the flower, he would have shredded it in a temper that night.

"Young Master, dinner is served. Will you come to the dining room?"

Ciel turns to see Sebastian not three feet behind him. The ornamental wall against which the regular sterling silvers grow stands between them and the mansion, so Ciel knows they will not be seen by anyone in the house. He steps up to Sebastian and takes his hand, just as the butler took his the last time they stood here together. He slips off the devil's left glove and looks again at the faded pentagram.

"I don't know what to do with you," he admits. It is a dreadful, dangerous admission for a small mortal to make to an uncollared devil. He would never have made it while presenting his most inscrutable face as he ruled the chessboard. But he is discovering that there is no chessboard before him, and he is still searching for lines drawn on the ground, the ones that will tell him if they are in a game, and what kind.

The demon gazes back at him with unexpected compassion. The Ciel of before would have snapped at him not to look as if he pitied him, and the Sebastian of before would have stared hungrily at a master foolish enough to expose his weaknesses. But they have been beyond heaven, hell and earth together, and something has changed in both of them.

"I find myself increasingly uncertain what to do with you, also," the butler smiles. "But I still know what to do for you. Serving you dinner would be an excellent start."

"As long as you're not serving me for dinner," Ciel answers quietly, returning the glove to him and releasing his hand.

"I would do that only if I were dining."

"Bastard."

The repartee, at least, has not changed, and Ciel is more certain now that he likes having his butler in a position to give as good as he gets.

***

Dinner features an excellent roast tenderloin with French mustard and sweet cubes of carrot. Ciel enjoys it, but is really looking forward to the cake. When brought out, it far exceeds the earl's expectations.

Sebastian has crafted a honey-cream-covered cake made to look like a beehive, studded with exquisite sugar bees and flowers. When cut, it exposes the lightest layers of vanilla-and-honey sponge interspersed with rainbows of freshly diced, imported fruit coated in clear honey and resting in thickly beaten fresh cream.

"I thought this would make a pleasant change from rich, chocolatey truffles and powdery meringues," Sebastian explains as he serves Ciel the first slice.

The earl takes a forkful of cake, and his exposed eye opens wide as the flavours of fruit, honey and cream burst over his palate. Before he knows it, he is accepting another serving. As he eats, however, and starts feeling a little fuller than is comfortable, it occurs to him for the first time to wonder how hungry his butler is.

"What would taste as good to you as this does to me?" he asks once he is sure the other servants are not in the room. He is genuinely interested in the answer.

"You, in all likelihood. But you are off the menu now."

"What would satisfy you, then?"

"A soul or two."

"Are you hungry?"

"Rather."

"Go and feed."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Go out. Eat something. I would prefer you to avoid feasting on the innocent, and I absolutely forbid you to harm any of my relatives, Chlaus, Jarvis, Abberline's fiancée and child, the royal family, or the servants. But I would like you to consume something appropriate. Eat, then come back to me."

"I won't die without food."

"I know. But I don't want you to be hungry any more. Go."

"Summon me immediately at the first hint of trouble around the mansion."

***

Sebastian leaves the mansion with a sense of freedom different from the unstructured liberty he has known when masterless. Uncollared, he does as he pleases. But collared only by a slender thread, he experiences the pleasure of doing as he likes while knowing it is in tune with what the child wants him to do.

Avoid the innocent? Hmm. Who is truly innocent in this world?

He stalks places steeped in the cruelty of humankind, and picks out individuals whom Ciel would probably say deserve to die. But he can never tell when the death of a human will be attended by a soul reaper – William T. Spears, Grelle, Ronald Knox and company, overworked as they are, are erratic in the promptness of their appearances. He does not wish to tangle with any of them tonight, for he wants to return quickly to Ciel.

Besides, what does he think he is doing? Playing God?

He laughs at the irony of that and turns away from the humans. He enters the deep forests instead and looks for the things of darkness that will devour people, given half a chance. Things like Susan Rothstein's succubus, half-mad spirits unanchored from ancient menaces that ruled the woods when the world was a wilder place, solitary phantoms that have become more like beasts than the minor deities they once claimed to be.

He stalks one, pounces and eats, knowing he will be uninterrupted by reapers, or "Shinigami", as Tanaka once referred to similar beings when talking of legends from his ancestral homeland. He keeps his senses sharp for Ambrose, Carsten or other devils, but none are nearby. Satisfied, he cleans the traces of spirit energy off his mouth. Ciel will not taste or smell such things, but he does not want to taint his little body with the detritus of such a meal.

He returns to the mansion to find Baldroy serving cake to Tanaka and the other servants on Ciel's orders. The boy is reading in the library. Sebastian looks in on him and the servants, finds everything in order, and needs to do nothing until Ciel is ready for his bath.

He observes when he enters the earl's bedroom to let Mey-Rin in with the hot water that the rose he gave Ciel some days ago is now hanging upside-down from a blue ribbon tied to one of the bedposts, to preserve its petals and overall shape.

Ciel enters the room – surprisingly, Sebastian has not had to go downstairs to look for him. Once Mey-Rin leaves, Sebastian locks the door and expects him to ask what he ate, but the question does not come. The boy only removes his eye patch and rings, and stands in his usual place near the bed, where Sebastian normally undresses him for his baths. The butler takes off his gloves, and is about to help him out of his jacket when the earl says: "I would like, for once, not to be the only one standing unclothed in this room."

"Young Master?"

"When you remove one of my garments, it would only be fair to remove the corresponding garment on yourself," Ciel says evenly. "We're equals, aren't we?"

"I am not the one in need of a bath."

"You are never in need of sleep or food, but you do sleep and eat. So take off my jacket, then yours."

Sebastian wears a look on his face that Ciel cannot read, but the boy thinks he sees glimmers of amusement in those red eyes as his butler slips the dove-grey jacket off him and hangs it up, then peels off his own black swallowtail coat – which he would have removed before bathing him, in any case.

Next, he unbuttons Ciel's slate-grey waistcoat and folds it for cleaning.

"Now yours," the boy prompts, when the demon returns to where he stands but does not immediately disrobe further.

"How far do you really wish to take this, Young Master?"

"All the way."

Sebastian hesitates only a second more before unfastening the chain of his pocket watch so he can unbutton his own waistcoat without snagging it on the timepiece. The black, sleeveless item joins the swallowtail coat over the back of the velvet-upholstered chair that is usually with the side table.

"I wonder if you understand the import of those words," the butler murmurs as he unknots the ribbon-tie around Ciel's neck and arranges the length of deep-blue satin on the nightstand. He drops his own black tie over the chair.

"If I do not like it, I will ask that the process be halted," the boy answers as Sebastian unbuttons his shirt before easing his arms out of it and placing it atop the folded waistcoat.

"Halting a process is not always easy once it is in motion," says Sebastian, smiling as Ciel reaches out and tries to undo the buttons on the stiffly starched lapels of his butler's shirt. He only clumsily manages one before the devil takes over with his stronger, more practised fingers. The shirt goes over the back of the chair, and Ciel gazes curiously at Sebastian's chest, shoulders and upper arms, which he has never seen uncovered before.

The demon in this form has a slim upper body, with the sleek, defined musculature of classical Greek statuary. It is not the earl's intention to stare so hard, as if he were not better brought up, but his eyes take in the details as if he were studying a living marble sculpture, fascinated by the neat, pale-pink nipples, the precise depression of the belly button, and the apparent lack of hair under his arms. He has not the least idea if Sebastian's demon physique has such features, but in this shape, he has adopted the essential bodily characteristics of mortals and perfected the details.

Sebastian's hands move to unfasten Ciel's shorts, only to stop when the boy says: "You always remove my shoes and stockings first, but they're still on."

"If I removed those, I would have to remove my own, would I not? It seems terribly improper for a devil posing as a perfect butler to be unshod in the presence of an earl."

"You don't have cloven hooves in this form, do you?" Ciel asks. "If not, I do not see why being unshod should be any more improper than being unclothed."

"I do not have cloven hooves in any form," Sebastian replies, projecting an offended air. "All that nonsense about hooves and tails was no more than the primitive imagination of mediaeval artists. Devils are by and large very elegant creatures."

"Says one."

"Off with the shoes then," Sebastian says, slipping the hand-made, leather, brass-buckled articles off the boy's feet, then the stockings. He follows by removing his own laced, black-leather shoes and his socks, placing them under the chair. Ciel studies the strong, finely formed feet and observes with fascination that the toenails are a gleaming black to match the fingernails.

"You can change so much of your appearance to fit in with mortals, but you can't change the colour of your nails?"

"Did I say I couldn't?" Sebastian asks in reply. "I merely prefer not to. It is rather more troublesome than altering other details. Besides, glossy black is a perfect hue for claws. It matches the blood that is so often on them."

"Did you get any blood on them tonight?"

"No, little one. The thing I ate had no blood in it."

He unfastens Ciel's shorts now, and helps him out of them. Ciel instinctively looks away when Sebastian starts to unbutton his trousers, but once they are off, he steals a glance at the long, lean, aesthetically muscled legs which surprisingly do not look at all ridiculous in those white cotton drawers which fit him like a second skin.

Sebastian kneels before him again and unbuttons the boy's soft, combed-cotton drawers before slipping them off his legs and adding them to the small washing pile. He stands to undo his own. Ciel tries to look at him boldly, but fails.

"Too much for you, Young Master?" Sebastian asks, coming forward and tilting his chin up to look into his eyes. "Shall I put my clothes back on?"

"No," Ciel answers in a hushed voice.

The devil's parts are perfectly male, built to what the earl assumes is a normal adult scale, neither grossly long, red or swollen, nor thin, pale and small; not erect at present, but suggestive of a promise to become so...

His observations are interrupted as he is lifted into his butler's arms, skin-to-skin like this for the first time, and carried into the bathroom. Sebastian checks the temperature of the bath without putting him down, decides it should be warmer, and scoops out a few pails' worth before pouring a hot pailful in. Then he steps into the porcelain tub with Ciel and lowers them both into the water.

He settles in behind Ciel, flanking him with his long legs bent at the knees. Ciel hunches forward for a minute while Sebastian works the washcloth over his back. But when the devil leans forward and brings his hands round to the boy's front to wash his chest and tummy before abandoning the washcloth and simply wrapping his arms around Ciel to hold him, the boy leans against his butler and lets him draw him gently backwards till Sebastian's spine moulds itself to the curve at the head of the tub.

Ciel lies cradled by Sebastian's body and limbs, back pressed along Sebastian's chest, belly and crotch, feeling the strangeness and familiarity of the one holding him – the embrace he knows like no other, the oddness of his being nude along with him, the unnerving and intriguing throb of that hardening member against his lower back.

Sebastian lets him lie against him, unmoving, soaking in the situation – physically, emotionally and mentally – content to let him remain this way all night if he chooses, or end it if he prefers. The open possibilities leave Ciel calm, and at last, his body makes up his mind for him.

He feels his cock swelling, growing interested in the person behind him, and knows now what he would really like to do. He puts his hands over Sebastian's, which are still resting on his chest and belly, and moves his butler's right hand down his body until it reaches that stiffening part of his anatomy which demands attention. Sebastian obliges, tracing his contours with his fingers, teasing him wordlessly, making him shiver with anticipation, while his other arm pulls him back securely against his chest.

He touches him thus for a while, lightly caressing him with his fingertips, exploring his responses, giving him plenty of time before enclosing him in his hand. Ciel inhales sharply, and his breath quickens. As Sebastian begins to move his hand slowly up and down the boy's growing shaft, Ciel is gripped first by a swelling of pleasure that seems to both fill and hollow out his belly, then by mounting waves of desire that wash over him as the demon male strokes him rhythmically. Both his smaller hands clutch the devil's left arm which is holding him securely as the right hand increases its pace subtly, then slows gradually, then goes a little faster, and a bit more, a little more firmly, as his lips deliver an unexpected nibble to Ciel's right ear, making him cry out with arousal, sending him past the point where he can turn back.

He moves his hips to meet the downstrokes of Sebastian's hand, sending water lapping over the rim of the tub, but he doesn't care, for he is throwing his head back against the devil's shoulder, trying to bite back his whimpers. Sebastian cradles him tighter, and at once he is crying out shamelessly, panting, as the intolerably sweet tension climbs and scales, and finally breaks. He peaks with a shudder, shooting his seed into the bathwater, straining to push once, twice more, into Sebastian's hand until he is spent. The sweetness subsides as he slumps against his butler's body, momentarily senseless, but still aware of Sebastian pressing a kiss to his hair, those strong arms embracing him as if they will never let him go.

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Note: Thanks to Meyham for alerting me to the recent manga chapter which gives Lizzie's age. I shall change that detail in my earlier chapters, as I would like to be as accurate as possible. However, if any future manga developments arise that absolutely cannot be reconciled with my fic (eg Sebastian turns out to be female, Ciel has twelve other aunts who all want him to marry their daughters, Tanaka is an undercover Shinigami, etc), I'll just have to pass on those amendments!
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Devilish Impulses