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Beauty of the Beast	By : Kitteh Category: > Black Butler (Kuroshitsuji ???) Views: 2635 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler and don't make any profit from this.

Chapter List
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This was really hard to write and just about broke my heart. Fair warning, there will be abuse and gore in this chapter (in small doses however). To make up for it, there's fanservice at the end. This is my first time writing something this dark, so let me know how I did :) Enjoy!
**

The air was crisp like biting into a fresh, sour apple this early in the morning in the countryside. Ciel’s sinuses tingled with stimulation as he got out of the taxi cab after paying the driver. He stood in front of the tall, black metal gates protecting the manor driveway from trespassers, listening to the taxi turn, the gravel that had escaped from the grounds behind the gate shifting and cracking beneath its tires. It started down the street, gaining speed as if the driver aimed for putting as much distance between his car and the ruin as quickly as possible. Ciel tried hard not to feel abandoned. He glanced at his watch; it was barely seven. He hadn’t gone to bed at all.
From the moment his little epiphany had struck him, he had worked like a man possessed, researching, sketching until his hand had cramped and he’d been forced to stop for a little while. The results were still thrown all over his desk. All that was left to do…was the hard part. He was pretty sure the damned thing squatting in his old home already knew he was here, too. He felt very watched.
In the jacket he’d grabbed before leaving the townhouse as if the thing was on fire, Ciel shivered; the thin fabric was great for balmy summer evenings. Cool late spring mornings, not so much. Taking a deep breath, he put his palms onto the gate to push it open…only to have it swing open by itself once his fingertips touched the cold metal.
Okay. That was creepy.
Ciel frowned and started up the driveway. Gravel crunched under his shoes, his breath made little white puffs in front of his mouth. Spiderwebs hung in the bushes and tree branches to either side, little crystals of dew caught in the elegant designs. Pale fog clung to the ground. Ciel shivered involuntarily. Up ahead loomed the blackened ruin, looking like a haunted old castle rather than a once-tasteful manor. Anticipation rather than fear made his throat tight, and that was scarier than everything else.
He didn’t hesitate when he entered the foyer; hesitation would be seen as weakness. “Good morning!”, he called out firmly, almost cheerful…almost. He could feel the atmosphere shift, from dormant to curiously attentive. The shadows to the far left unfurled to reveal the demon’s bright garnet eyes. “Ah. My lamb returns”, he purred, slinking closer. Ciel turned to him and smiled. “Sorry. I didn’t bring breakfast.”
“Mh, are you sure about that, little one?”, the demon cooed at him, but he didn’t charge. A thin stripe of pale dawn fell on the checkered floor between them, like a translucent barrier. A long tongue trailed over gleaming fangs.
“I’m certain”, he replied steadily, taking a step closer.
“Did you miss me that much?”
“Would you like to think so?”
The demon chuckled at him. “I’m flattered, little one. Truly, I am.” The amused red gaze turned sharper, predatory. “Now tell me what you came here for.”
“Tea.” Ciel had the pleasure of seeing the demon blink slowly. “Tea?” The slatehaired boy nodded.
“Yes, tea. I liked the cup you gave me the last time I was here. I would like another.”
“Bold”, the demon purred…and smiled. “Come with me.” There was no fire in the fireplace this time as Ciel entered the smaller sitting room, following the moving shadows until he could sit in the armchair again. The room seemed clean and lived-in, different from the rest of the house. “Is this your lair?”, he asked the beast, glancing at the shadows and once again trying to make sense of the shape. It didn’t work.
“My lair? What am I, a grizzly?”, the demon chuckled. “No. I happen to like this room. It’s one of the few that are still whole.”
Ciel leaned back comfortably in the chair as a cup of tea, steaming and complete with saucer and a tiny silver spoon, shifted out from the shadows and was given to him. “Which other ones are?” There was a moment of consideration before the demon spoke again. “A few guest rooms, one bathroom upstairs…your bedroom.”
“How do you know it’s mine?” The demon shifted closer, keeping to the darker parts of the room, until he was right next to him, crouching next to the armrest and beside Ciel’s knee. “It smells like you, little lamb. It’s very…enticing.”
Ciel took a sip from the excellent tea. “If you’re striving to scare me, you shouldn’t keep feeding me comfort food. It’s not working.”
“Fear isn’t the reaction I am going for when I talk about your exquisite body.” The demon chuckled darkly when blood rushed to the boy’s cheeks, the creamy skin so pale it showed immediately. He wanted to lean in and drag his tongue over the apple of the little mortal’s cheek, feel the heat of that blood in his skin. He reached out with a hand that manifested from the shadows, pale and elegant with artisan fingers tipped with glossy black nails. No talons this time; he didn’t want to hurt or scare the boy. A delectable morsel such as this couldn’t be scared away.
Not that the child had shown a lot of fear so far. It was disconcerting as much as it was intriguing.
Ciel squirmed when the hand came closer. Those long fingers crooked so the backs of the knuckles could brush along his warm cheek. He didn’t move away, but he gave the demon a raised brow. “I’m not a toy, you know.”
The demon chuckled, his fingers brushing through kitten-soft slate hair. “If you’re not here to be touched…and I don’t believe you came for tea only…why are you here, truly?”
“I want the recipe for the cake I had the last time.”
“Mh, and what will you give me in return?” That question sent all sorts of chills down Ciel’s spine. It implied so much; danger, thrill, the promise of pleasure and death. Suddenly, he wasn’t quite so sure he wanted to be at the mercy of this being after all. “What would you like?”, he decided on asking, pleased that his voice came out rather firm. A little breathy, but not wavering.
“You.”
Ciel managed a brief laugh. “For a cake recipe? I’m not that cheap.”
“No”, the demon cooed at him, getting closer still until Ciel could feel the heat emanating from the shadows, the promise of a warm body that was just waiting to be formed. The demon stroked his hair from his forehead again, coming close enough to brush their noses together. “You’re incredibly more precious than a recipe. Still. I will have an exchange, or you will not have cake.”
The boy swallowed, but he didn’t move away. This wasn’t all that unpleasant.
“You may bring me another, if you don’t want me nibbling on your own soul”, the demon offered helpfully, sounding almost eager at the prospect of food. Ciel wondered how long it had been here and why it didn’t just go to get some nourishment if it was hungry. He didn’t ask, though. “Another…person? To eat?” He couldn’t imagine leading someone here to their doom. “Um.”
“I don’t need your decision right now…”, the demon nuzzled his face with his own, almost tenderly, its hand cupping the back of Ciel’s head. “But make it soon. Your business has a few more weeks before you’ll have to give it up, or it will drag you down along with it like a sinking cruise ship.”
Behind him, the rising sun tossed its first rays of direct light into the room.

**

Ciel was home a little before noon. He’d had some more cake, a little more tea, then he had tried to flag a taxi which turned out to be harder than he had expected. He’d had to walk to the next suburb which was a few miles away from the manor, but he had enjoyed the fresh air on his skin once the sun had come up to warm it a bit.
There was an unfamiliar car in front of the townhouse which made him frown, paying the cabbie and walking up to the front door. His mother wouldn’t be home during this time of day and the servants knew they shouldn’t let anyone in if no one was home.
He was right to be wary. Once he had unlocked the door, young Finny rushed towards him, flushed and bewildered. “Master, he just…well…we couldn’t stop him”, he pointed towards the study. Ciel frowned. “It’s fine, Finny…you can go get groceries now, I’ll take it from here.”
Sending Finny away proved to be a mistake. Upon entering his study, his pleasant, calm mood turned sour very quickly; Aleister Chambers, the Viscount Druitt sat behind his desk, one of his sketches held up so he could read it. The blond was clad in all white, as usual. Coming from the shadows, the brightness hurt Ciel’s eyes.
Druitt’s eyes flicked up to him when he entered and the man smiled. “Ah, my sweet love.”
“Cut the crap, Druitt, you don’t even know me. And get up from my chair.” The blond clicked his tongue in distaste, his pleasant, jovial demeanor changing very quickly. “You’re a dreadful little bitch, aren’t you?”
For a moment, Ciel was so shocked he couldn’t reply right away. Not just the words, but the stinging malice in Druitt’s voice took his breath away; he hadn’t ever been approached like this before and he wasn’t sure how to react. But Druitt was far from done yet, gaining steam as Ciel gaped at him. “Close your mouth, you look like you want to catch flies. You’re pretty enough if you keep your trap shut, I suppose, so this deal won’t be entirely useless to me.” He got up and came around the desk, the piece of paper tossed onto the floor without regard. It fluttered to the carpet like a wounded ghost, face down. Druitt’s next step placed his shoe firmly atop it. Anger flared in Ciel like a struck match. “Get the hell out of my house. Now. Whatever deal you have with my family, it’s off.”
The hand grasping his jaw was entirely unwelcome, long, thin fingers digging into his cheeks on either side. Faintly, Ciel remembered the demon had grasped him the same way upon their first meet, and while it had stung the same, he hadn’t been scared.
This was terrifying him. And he deeply regretted having sent Finny away, because now he was alone in the house with this man.
His first impulse was fight the hold; he swatted hard at the hand, breaking the hold, but Druitt’s nails raked across his cheek and left two scratches that immediately began bleeding lightly. “Ugh, disgusting”, Druitt sneered, looking at the slight gore beneath the nail of his middle finger. The same hand he used to backhand the slate-haired boy so firm and sudden that Ciel stumbled back against the doorframe. “Pretentious cunt”, Druitt snarled, hand gripping the soft dark hair. He dragged Ciel over to the desk and tossed him against it, the boy’s delicate hands shooting out to catch himself; a soft, pained sound escaped Ciel when the desk’s edge dug into his stomach. Panic skittered across his skin when Druitt followed him and the slightly taller body pressed up against his. “I know exactly what you need to find your place.” Rough hands grabbed Ciel’s slight hips and yanked them back. “Don’t worry, you’ll like it. Eventually, I guess.”
A hard smack rang out when Ciel squirmed to get away, scrabbling at the desk, and the blond spanked him. Even through the fabric of his pants, it stung fiercely. “Stop..!”
“I don’t think so”, Druitt snarled, yanking at his pants. The button popped and was lost on the carpet beneath the desk. Ciel was speechless with dread, even as his pants breached the soft, pale round of his ass, which was promptly spanked again. He jumped with a yelp, struggles frantic. Druitt grasped his hair, pushing his face down against the papers. Just in front of Ciel’s eye, the rabbit in a waistcoat he had drawn stared back at him, impassively. His cheek stung where it had smacked against the hard wood. “Stop it, don’t touch me!”
“I’m touching you already”, the blond mocked him, looking over the slender body he held down. Ciel was almost petite, cream pale skin, a wonderful, seemingly fragile bone structure. “Maybe you’re good for something, after all.” Out of sheer frustration, Druitt hit the boy’s other cheek, watching the rosy flush bloom on the enticing round. The sound the kid made was just precious, too. He put a fingertip against the tight rosy hole between the cheeks, digging in cruelly.
Ciel screamed. Druitt hesitated at a sound like a growl laced in with the yell, but as soon as the scream died to a whimper, so did the menacing undertone. It didn’t seem to have come from the Phantomhive brat, after all; maybe he had imagined it. Druitt used the hooked in finger to pull at the tight muscle, forcing it open. “Look”, he told the boy, patting the side of his hip with his free hand, in what was supposed to be a mollifying gesture. “We’re going to be married whether you want to or not, better get used to being fucked early. I’m not missing out because my little wife is a fucking prude.”
Ciel’s nails dug into the papers he was laying on. The words hurt in a deep, primal way that felt entirely unjust; the whole situation made him angry. The paper sheets gave under the pull of his nails and fingers. He gritted his teeth and put renewed vigor into his struggles.
It kept Druitt, at least, from entering him fully. His thin fingers pushed into the small orifice violently, but the tightness he hadn’t bothered to properly relax and the boy’s incessant squirming made it impossible for his cock to get inside once it had been freed from his pants. The blunt, wet head pushed against the silken skin uselessly; both men were angered now for different reasons. The blond, however, was content to just abuse the soft, pale skin – the moment the hot spill ran over Ciel’s ass, dripping down his thighs and into his rucked down pants, burning like acid, his head was smacked into the wood of the table again.
Darkness licked at the edges of his vision, taking over within moments.

**

Ciel awoke to the scent of dust and old sheets. His entire body ached, from the dull pounding in his head and the tightness in his nape and shoulders to the sharp sting of his behind when he moved. He sat up; settled in a bed, the room was wholly unfamiliar at first. Only the faint tang of smoke burned deep into old wood returned him his bearing – this was the master bedroom at the manor.
How?
Before he’d blacked out, he’d been in his office and – the thought was too painful, too shameful to finish, even in the privacy of his mind. He wrinkled his nose, shook his head which erupted another bout of angry pounding, and slid his legs over the edge of the bed carefully. There was a long, high mirror set into one corner of the room, previously used so his mother could look over her outfit fully once more before heading out. It was covered with a sheet that was blackened and frayed but fell easily enough when Ciel tugged at it, having crossed the room. His feet were bare, legs too, clad in a button-down shirt that almost reached his knees. Three buttons were closed at the front and with a deep breath, he opened them, letting the shirt fall open.
There were dark bruises curling around his neck, his temple and right eye, hand-shaped on his hips and waist, everywhere he’d been grabbed and manhandled. Ciel bit his teeth together so hard the muscles in his jaw locked painfully. The shame was replaced by a deep, dark fury that burned hotter than anything he had encountered before.
“Ruined”, he hissed out, hands clawing the edges of the shirt he’d held open.
“Perfect”, came a soft purr from the direction of the bed.
Ciel yanked the shirt closed and turned on a bare heel to regard the demon lounging on the bed he’d been in a moment before; he was sure the being hadn’t been in the room, let alone in the same bed as he when he’d awoken. He was not entirely shapeless anymore now; still black, still satin liquidity in the way the shadows curled around him like smoke. But there was definite shape to long legs encased in black leather, heels so high and sharply pointed they could be used for expert lobotomies, arms long and pale, fingers tipped with talons so black they seemed to absorb the light. Elegantly twisted black horns curved back from high temples, the color lost on the background of massive dark wings. The only spot of color where those eyes, the color of hellfire, and the pink of a pointed tongue that slid over too many needle fangs when the infernal being grinned and blatantly ran his gaze over the barely covered young body across the room.
Ciel huffed. “So you do have a body.”
“Did you doubt that?”, the demon chuckled, rising from the bed; he’d been large before, when Ciel couldn’t see, but he was enormous now, looming over the boy like a dark, menacing tower.
With a somewhat sick thrill to his belly, Ciel realized he didn’t fear this monster. He feared the perfectly human, mortal man that would be waiting for him when he got back to the city. “Why am I here?”
“Answering questions with questions is rude, little one”, the demon said matter-of-factly, slinking across the room so he could be closer to him. The taloned hand lifted, touched the bruise on his face light as a feather. “So young, so broken…you have never been more beautiful, my lamb.”
Impatiently, Ciel wiped the hand from his face. “Don’t mock me.”
“I’m not”, the demon replied somberly. “I do have a gift for you, though. Follow me. There will be tea.”
“This house has been ruined for a year and I don’t have shoes on. I’m not walking anywhere, where are my clothes?”
Without reply, the demon scooped him up into his arms, Ciel’s knees draped over one elbow, a hand on his hip, one arm steadying his back. He gave a very undignified yelp, mostly in surprise, but his abused body protested the grip as well. Unbidden, his own hand tangled in ravendark hair since he could make out no clothing to hold on to on the demon’s body. Where his skin was exposed, it pressed against cold leather and cool skin. “Don’t do that without warning, you oaf!”, he sputtered, color already coming to his cheeks. The demon chuckled and bent his head to nuzzle at his hair. “Feisty.”
Ciel replied by curling his fingers around one horn and yanked. He was given a nip on the shoulder in return, like a puppy that had become too rowdy with an older dog. Sulking, he settled into the hold, It was better than walking, anyway.
“So. Why am I here?”
“Because I have a gift for you.”
“Did you bring me here?”
The demon nodded, walking out of the room. His heels clicked sharply on the floor when the rushes and carpets gave way to the bare floor, the fabric burned away by the inferno’s hunger. Their way brought them, once again, into the smaller sitting room they had met in several times now. True to his word, there was steaming tea set on the small round table next to Ciel’s armchair and a plate of delicate macarons. The fire was out. On the thick carpet in front of the fireplace lay Viscount Druitt, bound and gagged, eyes large and darting around in obvious panic.
Ciel was set into the armchair gently, with reverence. His blue eyes were locked on the panicked violet. Looking up at the demon, he curved a brow. “I don’t want this gift.”
“This is not your present, little one. It plays a part in it, however. Are you cold?” Ciel shook his head. Cool to the touch as the demon was, he’d been warmed up in that embrace miraculously, as if hellfire had been put into his chest in a safe little container to heat him from the inside out.
“Good.” The demon stepped over to the bound body, lifting it by digging his talons into the back of one shoulder until they came out in front. Behind the gag, Druitt screamed as he was lifted as if suspended on a meat hook. “You damaged what is mine, human”, the beast all but cooed at him, terrible teeth a mere inch away from the terrified face. Blood ran down the leather-clad arm in thick rivulets. Ciel couldn’t help but appreciate the aesthetic. He reached for his cup and took a sip, feeling strangely detached from the reality of someone dying over him.
Wasn’t as if the bastard didn’t deserve it, after all.
The demon went on punishing the man; the punctures through his shoulder were used to rip his left arm from him in a violent yank. The limb was tossed into the fireplace. “You will not have hands to touch him again”, the demon purred. Off went the other arm, joining the first. Blood soaked the carpet as if the fabric had been starved for it. Ciel made a face when the man’s agonized screams became annoying; the demon acted on his mood, curled his talons into Druitt’s throat, and ripped. The arterial spray was strong enough still to spatter Ciel with a fine dust of red, from his bare knee up the front of his shirt and over his neck, jaw and cheek. It narrowly missed his right eye.
He didn’t flinch.
The demon opened up the ribcage with a sickening, decisive crack. His fingers curled around the frantically beating heart, squeezing until it stopped with a weak flutter.
The rest of the body joined the severed limbs in the fireplace. In the flick of an eye, bright flames enveloped the cooling flesh. The demon lifted his bloodied arm and licked the droplets. “This is your gift, my lamb.”
Ciel set his cup down with fingers that trembled finely. He didn’t say anything as the demon slid over, eyes burning like the fire across the room, and sank to his knees in front of the armchair. Instead of hovering eagerly like the last few times, the beast got nice and close, licking at the drying red on Ciel’s knee before all but snuggling into his lap. The impressive dark body spread his knees, those teeth way too close to his soft, flat belly as the demon nuzzled into his front, arms curling around his middle and forcing his back to arch gently. A silent plead for approval. One of the intricately twisted horns was a hard presence against the lowest bent of his ribcage.
He reached for a macaron with one hand and bit into it. Over the crackling of the flames, the sound his teeth sinking into the perfectly crispy outside was obscenely loud. His free hand reached to touch the dark hair, brushed it back from that terrible, beautiful face. The simple touch became a series of touches, smooth, gentle pets over the horned head and down the back of the demon’s neck.
The demon purred like a large cat.
“It’s stinking up the place even worse than it smelled before”, he replied, in a voice he didn’t recognize as his own at all. The demon chuckled and burrowed deeper into the curve of his front. Ciel’s fingers traced the whorls and curls of one horn all the way to the root. The demon shuddered, hellfire eyes closing. The room immediately seemed a little darker. Ciel rubbed the base of the horn with his fingertips, resulting in a deeper purr.
“Are you a demon or a cat?”, Ciel mused, stroking dark strands behind one perfectly shaped, pointed ear. “Bringing me prey and then demanding affection for ruining the carpet.”
“Some appreciation is in order”, the demon protested in what could only count as an almost sleepy murmur.
“You ripped him apart because you were jealous.”
“Yes.”
“You said I was yours, too.”
He got a nod in return. It made him smile.
“Selfish.”
The demon’s wings fluttered, rising with him when he rose up on his knees so they were face to face, the dark feathered spans wrapping around the armchair fully and overlapping in the back. Ciel found himself enveloped in darkness, only the demon’s glowing eyes shedding some light, hellish as it was. The beast leaned in and licked the blood from his cheek and jaw in a few strokes of his tongue against his skin. Ciel scrunched up his nose. “What, you lick it and it’s yours? That’s your standby?”
Darkness when the demon closed his eyes and rubbed his cheek against his. “Yes.”
There were a few beats of silence. “Sebastian.”
The demon made an enquiring sound. “You wanted a name, there you have one.”
Without a word, the demon’s head sank to rest against Ciel’s thin chest. Ciel’s arms wrapped around the being’s neck, his wrists and the backs of his hands brushing against silky feathers and equally silky hair.
“But seriously, it smells like a barbecue in here. At least open the windows.”
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Beauty of the Beast