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At Night	By : Kitteh Category: > Black Butler (Kuroshitsuji ???) Views: 6196 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji, nor any of the characters. This is a work of fiction. I make no money with this.

Chapter List
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His little master is squirming in his sleep again.
Normally, Sebastian wouldn’t be bothered by it; he’d just wrap the lithe body into his arms, nuzzle the kittensoft hair and wait until whatever wyvern nibbling at Ciel’s subconscious had passed. It never took very long and even if the young Earl would never admit it, the embraces did calm him down at night. But ever since the boy had startled awake seeming both aroused and scared, hands grasping at his demon and lashes wet with unshed tears, Sebastian has begun to worry a little.
He’s very familiar with the kind of dreams that usually haunt the young master – fire, knives, caged misery and loved ones cut down by very real threats. In these, Ciel will murmur, groan and kick, tension in every line of his willowy body. These new dreams have him gasping, whimpering, and writhing in a way that doesn’t seem quite so traumatized after all. As demons don’t sleep and thus don’t experience dreams, Sebastian doesn’t quite understand why, if the child is dreaming of what they do in bed (or on his desk, or the loveseat in the library, or between his sterling roses even), he doesn’t just open his pretty eyes and take what he is obviously craving. But humans are odd creatures and the mystery intrigues the demon, he has peeked into the little master’s subconscious the last time he had one of those dreams.
Needless to say, that little episode on the coffin had him raising his brows and poke at the boy until he woke up. How morbid, really. And how peculiar that pressure in his own chest when he thinks of it, how it has him prowling ever closer to the boy, unwilling to let others come too close. He would think it farfetched to call it jealousy. Oh no, never that. If the brat wants to paw at other men, fine, let him knock himself out –
And he is squirming again. Those soft little mews escape plush, parted lips, slender brows creased, back arching. Sebastian lies beside him and watches curiously. They are both in their nightshirts, but where his is perfect, the brat’s is rucking up around his hips with the way his legs scissor on the smooth sheets. Sebastian clicks his tongue in reproach and delves into the fascinating little mind again.
It’s a familiar scene at first. On the sofa in one of the sitting rooms of the manor reclines a smirking Lau, lap filled with the woman he calls his sister. Pale, slender legs are folded on either side of the man’s thighs, that tiny skirt barely covering a round ass, small waist…and…that is so not Ran-Mao’s hair. Instead of the thin braids and horn-shaped updo, Sebastian spies slate colored strands he knows to be soft as kitten fur and the soft gasps he hears as the Chinese’s hands are smoothing up and down those silk clad sides are not feminine either. Sebastian barely suppresses a chuckle. His little master is full of fun fantasies. Maybe he has put the boy one time too many into feminine dress if he feels the need to dream himself into a micro skirt. The view is sweet enough that Sebastian is able to push back the uneasy sensation niggling in his chest. It’s not unusual for someone as young as the little Lord to dream about his associates (Ciel would berate him for calling them his friends, even just in his mind) in this way, after all, his loyal butler has more startled than nudged his budding sexuality awake not too long ago. That is what Sebastian tells himself, at least. Humans are such fickle creatures.
Ciel shifts on the lap when pale hands smooth down his back and come to rest on the small, tight buns of his behind. Greedy garnet eyes watch the long fingers paw at the supple flesh, the fabric covering it inching up with each kneading motion and the squirming the caresses entice. The boy’s slim thighs were exposed before, now the curve of his ass follows their example, the cheeks spread with his position. Within moments, Sebastian can see the lovely pink little hole he likes so much wink at him with each grasp of those hands, the skirt pushed up to the small of his back. The demon relishes seeing the brat like this even if it’s someone else than him pawing the boy; he can ignore the serene smirk that greets him over Ciel’s shoulder. For now. His fingers twitch in sync with the Chinese man’s, aching to be on that supple flesh. Of course, he could just withdraw and wake the boy up – but what fun would that be?
One by one, the tiny buttons of Ran-Mao’s shirt are being undone by unseen hands, baring the brat’s neck, then his collarbone and one shoulder, then his upper body to the waist when it falls open. Sebastian’s eyes fix themselves to the slender neck; curiously, even in sleep Ciel sees himself with the branded mark on his back. Lau leans forward and puts his lips against the side of Ciel’s neck and something inside Sebastian snaps; within a heartbeat, he has forcefully wiped away the image of the Chinese and replaced it with his own, possessively clutching at the young Earl. Ciel doesn’t seem to notice – he has his eyes closed and his head canted, softly humming in bliss to the lips running up and down the side of his neck, from ear to curve. The demon smoothes his hands up the narrow waist to cup the boy’s chest, thumbs brushing both pink nipples that are barely peeking over the folded fabric.
“You’re mine,” he tells the boy in a soft growl, cursing himself the moment he opened his mouth. The boy knows he belongs to Sebastian. Sebastian is not jealous. Not one bit, he doesn’t have a reason to be…Ciel blinks his eyes open, one deep navy blue, the other marred purple. As he nods at him in agreement, a sparkle like stars runs through that marked iris. His left hand cups the back of Ciel’s head and pulls him forward into a rough kiss. In slumber, the boy doesn’t protest like he does in waking when Sebastian is too rough with him; he becomes pliant and curls his arms around the demon’s neck. Small fingers tangle in ravendark hair. Sebastian comes undone a little.
His thumbs flick the little nubs again and Ciel breaks away from his mouth with a small, startled mew, gasping hot breath against his demon’s smirking mouth. The pads of those fingers make slow, firm circles until the little Earl is squirming on his lap, an insistent erection rubbing at his stomach. His own slaps gently against the underside of his little master’s behind when his pants vanish in a flash, freeing it suddenly. “You’re mine, and you are offending me greatly dreaming about other men.” A quick bite against the curve of Ciel’s shoulder has the boy whining. “I will just have to claim you again.” The head of his cock sinks into the brat’s hole like into warm butter. This is a dream, after all; while pleasant and fuss-free, Sebastian suddenly misses the interesting little expressions of pain, discomfort and pleasure that race over Ciel’s doll-perfect face when he presses into the tiny body outside of this dreamworld. In here, all his little master does is gasp, throw his head back and rock back against him – certainly intriguing as well, especially when the boy begins rocking his hips immediately, spearing himself on the thick staff greedily. Sebastian leans back comfortably into the couch he would normally never dream of sitting on, perfect butler that he is, and watches with lidded, glowing crimson eyes. His hands yank up the now barely dress-like fabric of the little outfit higher so he can see better; it bunches up around Ciel’s lean middle easily, a belt of soft, black-and-lavender, his arms still caught in the dark sleeves. Sebastian grasps the fabric and smiles darkly. With it firmly in hand, he holds Ciel’s reigns and uses them quickly to slow the brat down, producing the most interesting little mewl when he forces the slim hips to stop bouncing on him. With slow, firm pulls, he impales the little master on him, harder than he would have dared with Ciel’s actual body. It is incredibly satisfying. Sebastian’s own hips rock back up into him each time he yanks the boy down. Speeding up towards his climax, the need to claim the boy almost unbearable, the demon clenches his teeth and focuses on the sublime body straddling his; the pretty face flushed, eyes almost closed, petal lips parted to freely moan and gasp and pant. It’s the thought of painting that pretty, haughty, needy face with his cum that makes him grasp Ciel’s hips and grind down as he fills the twitching, silky channel.
Gasping, Sebastian sits up in bed, blinking disorientedly into the darkness of the Earl’s bedroom. In complete surprise he finds himself not only rock-hard, but sticky as well. An incredulous look is settled on the boy sleeping peacefully next to him; there is a satisfied smile on Ciel’s usually sulky mouth. The little Earl sleeps easily, peacefully, no trace of a wet dream on his warm little body.
If Sebastian was the kind of man that easily doubts himself – this would be the exact moment he would start wondering if he was losing his grasp.
With a small huff, he falls back into his pillow, mindlessly putting an arm around Ciel as the boy squirms closer and snuggles into his side.
Just whose wet dream was this just now?
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At Night