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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
- 35
- 36
- 37
Change

The child walks amongst the trees at the edge of the woods, looking for the one who spends most of his hours here. Somewhere far behind him at the house, his governess is calling, but he won't let her find him yet.

"Carth-ten?" the child lisps. "Carth-ten!"

He walks straight into the devil before he even sees him.

"Why are you out here?" the demon asks.

The dark-haired child cranes his neck to look up out of deep-green eyes at the tall figure in his usual long coat and unbuttoned shirt, and answers simply: "I was looking for you."

"It's not safe for you to come out here on your own."

"But I come out on my own only when I know you're here. It's safe then, isn't it?"

"I shall take you back to the house before your governess storms into the forest."

He lifts the child into his arms and is about to walk towards the house when he senses something nearby. It is – is it... can it be?

"Carthten?" the child asks as he feels the powerful body stiffen against him.

"Hold tight. I need to investigate something."

"Are we going to fly again?" the boy asks in a voice that is bright with delight.

"Yes. We're going to fly."

***

"Lord Winterbourn!" cries the young woman who has run out, all flustered, into the garden where the Earl of Phantomhive's favourite sterling silver roses grow. Her upright bearing and plain dress of good quality mark her as a governess, but her features are not those that one would commonly associate with English governesses. For she is dark of complexion, and fabulous gold earrings dangle from her earlobes.

"What's wrong, Sumathi?" the countess' maid, Paula, calls through an open window from the upper floor. It is a warm summer, and half the windows in the manor have been thrown open.

"It's Lord Winterbourn!" the governess replies. "He's run away from his lunch again! I thought he'd be in this garden, but he's not. I tell you, Miss Green, if that child slips into the forest and stumbles upon yet another idiot who imagines he can make some quick money by kidnapping him, we'll have to clean up the mess once more."

"Don't worry, Sumathi," Paula smiles. "I'm sure Mister Wolf is keeping a very sharp eye on him."

"Still, I'm the governess, aren't I?" Sumathi groans, unstrapping the staff from her back – another accoutrement highly atypical of governesses in general – before stomping back into the house so that she can head back out towards the woods facing the front of the manor.

Paula shakes her head and allows herself a small laugh. The last time bungling common criminals imagined they could earn a tidy ransom by abducting the Earl of Phantomhive's eldest child, Sumathi had beaten one of them to a pulp with her staff, while Carsten had... well, she still doesn't know exactly what Carsten did, but she rather suspects he ate the man.

She feels quite the odd one out in this household full of remarkable people, but she is learning from Mey-Rin how to fire a gun as a last resort in an emergency, and she finally hit the bottle-target last week. Mey-Rin visits once a week with Agni and the prince, and still joins the earl, Baldroy and Finnian on their underworld missions. It was on one of these missions five years ago that they had picked up Sumathi, a slip of a teenage girl who had stowed away on a cargo ship from India to England to rescue her little sister. The younger girl – another unwanted female burden in a family already troubled about the prospect of backbreaking dowries for two older daughters – had been sold to a wealthy Indian couple moving to Europe. The couple had passed the child off at Customs as one of their own daughters when in fact they intended to keep her as a slave.

The problem of foreign children being brought into England by their own countrymen and abused as chattel in the privacy of their masters' homes was a source of unhappiness for Queen Victoria. The earl and his little army, augmented by Agni, and Carsten operating under another name, had first worked with Scotland Yard to tighten immigration controls, then swooped in on the suspect houses. The feisty Sumathi, breaking into one of the houses at the same time they did, had impressed the earl enough for him to employ her and her sister, Vidya, as housemaids. They were not only taught useful skills, but also given a proper education by tutors engaged by the earl.

When the first child was born to the earl and countess, Sumathi had become his nanny. Four more years of thorough education later, at the age of eighteen, she was well qualified to become the boy's governess. Vidya had become nanny to the second child, a girl born two years after the first.

The daughter of the earl and countess is an intelligent, quietly cheerful child of two who promises to become as bookish as her father. But the boy – oh, the boy runs them ragged! Paula hopes Carsten has found the child by now. There is something strange in the air today – not sinisterly strange – but strange nonetheless, and the boy shouldn't run off by himself at such times.

***

Sebastian Michaelis steps out of the vast dimension which has been his home and prison for ten years. A quick glance to his right offers a glimpse of the erect back of William T. Spears moments before he disappears into thin air. Another glance to his left shows the manor in the distance, still standing.

He turns back towards the doorway both he and Spears made together, each working from his side to let him out, and seals the slit. He does not want anyone to wander through the opening by mistake or out of sheer curiosity. Then he looks straight ahead of him along the perimeter of the forest, for someone he knows is approaching fast. It is Carsten, as he has judged, bearing a child in his arms – which is somewhat more unexpected.

"Still here, after all this time?" Sebastian asks his fellow-devil with a smile when he swoops down through the trees and stands before him.

"Still so stuffily attired, after so many years locked up alone?" Carsten retorts.

For Sebastian is impeccably garbed as a Phantomhive butler, having used his demonic powers to restore his dressing to what it was when he first faced the armies that had gathered to destroy him.

"Would you expect any less of me?"

"It wouldn't surprise me to learn that you had dressed thus every day you were in there, even with no one to see," Carsten comments.

"Naturally, nothing would surprise you. I, however, am astonished to encounter you with such an unlikely accessory. I don't suppose that is your midday meal there in your arms?"

The boy blinks indignantly at Sebastian and speaks in a childish but confident tone: "I am the Viscount Winterbourn. My father is the Earl of Phantomhive. I am nobody's midday meal."

"Lord Winterbourn," Sebastian bows to him with a smile.

"I suppose you'll be wanting his father," Carsten murmurs.

"Do you know my Papa?" the child asks with interest.

"I know your father very well, Lord Winterbourn. But at this time, I would like to speak with your mother, if I may. I hope that Lady Phantomhive is in today?"

"Lady Phantomhive?" Carsten repeats. "Now I am surprised."

"Mama is in the still room. Papa is in London with Vicar Jarvis, Prince Soma and Agni," the boy tells the tall stranger who does not seem so strange now that he has seen the pin on his coat – it bears the Phantomhive crest.

"I'll speak with Her Ladyship," Carsten says. "I would suggest meeting her in the winter rose garden."

"In summer?"

"It is her favourite garden, as those roses are always at the height of their beauty when it is His Lordship's birthday."

"Of course."

***

A relieved Sumathi takes the child from Carsten and watches as Lady Phantomhive steps out into the winter rose garden to see the tall, handsome man who has just appeared, as if out of nowhere. Sumathi has never seen him in her life, but she has a strong feeling that she knows who he is. After all, he has been described to her in detail, and spoken of a thousand times by everyone in the household.

Sebastian Michaelis.

The demon butler who sacrificed himself to save His Lordship's life, and whom the earl has missed every day for the last ten years.

***

"Sebastian?" Elizabeth breathes his name as she faces him in the winter rose garden, her eyes darting over his features – utterly unchanged from all those years ago.

"My lady," Sebastian bows to the golden-haired beauty, from whose hands and clothes come the aroma of flowers, herbs and fruit.

He straightens up elegantly and gazes at her as she stares back at him. He does not know yet how adversarial that stare is, the proportions in which it combines surprise with hostility or fear. Certainly, there is something of each element in her eyes, but which will triumph over the others?

"You're well again, I see," she says, as composed as one would expect a Countess of Phantomhive to be.

"I am, my lady."

"I promised to fight you when you were better."

"I am ready for our duel," he answers. "However, I am here first and foremost to ask you if I have your blessing to return to the Phantomhive household."

"Could I stop you from doing that?" she asks.

"Yes," he replies frankly. "The household belongs to you and my lord now. It is very changed from what it was before. I want to know if you will welcome me into it. If you will not, I understand."

"Sebastian," Elizabeth tells him with a frankness in her voice to match his. "I have both wished for and dreaded your return all these years. I love you for all you did to save Ciel's life, and resent you for having such a great part of his heart. But I always knew that if you survived, this day would come. I'll fight you for Ciel as I promised I would, but I think we both know that the duel will be for form's sake only. You were always going to return to him."

"Only with your blessing," Sebastian reiterates. "His Lordship belongs to you now."

"And also to you," she counters, her green eyes now bright with a wash of tears. "You met my son. Do you know what his name is?"

"He declared boldly to me that he was Viscount Winterbourn, son of the Earl of Phantomhive."

"Ciel has obtained permission from the queen and Prince of Wales to change his family name back to Winterbourn, although the earl's title remains that of Phantomhive. As the Earl of Phantomhive also holds the title of Viscount Winterbourn from the time of Queen Elizabeth, the eldest son of the earl holds that courtesy title. But do you know his name, Sebastian?"

"I have not had the privilege of learning the young viscount's name."

"My son's name is Vincent Alexis Sebastian Winterbourn," Lizzie reveals. "You understand, don't you, that you are honoured alongside both his grandfathers? How could I not welcome you back into the household? As I welcome you back, however, I only have one request."

"What is it, my lady?"

"Please don't take their father away from my children until they are grown," she speaks through a throat that is tightening up with a flood of emotion. "Please don't take my husband away from me yet. Give us another fifteen years at least. I know you want him to yourself, but I am asking that you live here with us so that he can live here with us. Until the children are grown?"

"I've waited ten years in complete solitude with the greatest patience, Lady Elizabeth," Sebastian replies with his gentlest of smiles, which always put her at ease when she was small. "I believe the next fifteen years – if they may be spent in my master's presence – will be nothing I would dream of complaining about."

She nods, her tears flowing, making it very hard for her to speak. He looks deep into her eyes, and says quietly to her: "It is all right for you to hate me, Lady Elizabeth. It truly is."

But she shakes her head hard, biting her lips to choke back her tears so that she can stutter through the lump in her throat: "I – I – really want to hate you, b-but I can't. I can only h-hate myself because I'm so happy to see you again!"

She feels herself to be a little girl once more as she closes what distance is between them to fall into his arms, remembering what it was like to know that she was perfectly safe when she heard his voice and felt him gather her up with the greatest care out of the box buried deep in the ground, out of the earth that would otherwise have been her grave, bearing her back safely to her family and friends.

He holds her gently, reassuringly, until her stifled sobs subside, and she no longer trembles in his grasp.

"Now, my lady, what shall it be – foil, sabre or epee?" he asks good-humouredly, once she recovers her composure.

With a half-laugh and half-sob, she leans back to look into his beautiful face, and answers with the purest of smiles: "Epee, of course. In the recreation room. Now?"

***

The Earl of Phantomhive rides back to his manor after visiting Soma for lunch at his London house, as he had promised he would. It has been a good day filled with excellent conversation, laughter and familiar teasing, with John Jarvis (as full of thought-provoking insights as ever), Soma (who has never outgrown his tendency to be excitable), Agni (optimistic as ever), and Mey-Rin (who no longer blushes furiously at the least provocation now that she is a wife and mother).

But he is really looking forward to reaching home, for he already misses his children and Lizzie after not seeing them all morning and afternoon. He has presents for everyone too – he almost never visits London without buying something for everybody at home.

As the carriage approaches the edge of the forest, he calls out to Finny to stop, as always. Finny knows the routine and is pulling up the horses gently even before the earl taps his walking stick on the ceiling of the conveyance.

Ciel steps down from the carriage and walks with a quickening sense of anticipation towards the place where the doorway once was. His heart always beats a little faster when he approaches this spot, because every occasion brings with it a new hope that maybe today...

Each time, his heart has sped up only to sink with disappointment, for no opening has ever been viable. But today, something feels different in the air. Today, his heart begins to race faster, because he senses the presence of the other world in a manner that he has not in more than ten years. He can feel the barrier between this world and the sphere under his outstretched hand. There – that little resistance... if he can feel it, he can cut it!

With a gasp of excitement mingled with the fear of possibly discovering that Sebastian died ten years ago, the earl immediately drops his walking stick, throws his hat to the ground, and invokes the spell he has committed to heart. For the first time in a decade, he puts his hand out, and a line of light appears as he slices a magical doorway open with his fingertips.

"My lord!" Finny cries behind him, when the gardener sees what is happening. "Does this mean..."

"I don't know, Finnian," Ciel whispers, barely able to get the words out audibly. "Wait out here. I'm going in."

Ciel steps through the doorway he has just made, and enters the vast sphere, which looks completely different from the way it did the last time he was inside. It is no longer stark and bare. There is soft grass beneath his feet, tall, beautiful trees stretching high towards the twilight sky, hills in the distance cradling a pool of water whose freshness he can smell even from here. It is exactly as he had hoped to make it for Sebastian's comfort – a beautiful world to rest in while he healed.

But where is his devil?

"Sebastian?" Ciel calls, darting towards the hills in the distance, feeling himself a child again, lost without his demon. "Sebastian! Where are you?"

Before he gets too far into the sphere, however, he hears Finny through the slit of doorway. The gardener's voice is very faint, as if he is a great distance off, but the earl can tell that he is shouting out loudly and excitedly: "My lord! My lord!"

Ciel stops in his tracks. Even before looking back, he knows what he will see once he faces the doorway. He turns around.

Sebastian.

Ciel does not move for a full minute. He is virtually rooted to the spot, heart pounding, eyes glistening, a great lump in his throat, as he takes in the overwhelming vision of Sebastian Michaelis, his demon, guardian, mentor, saviour and lover, standing there just inside the doorway, looking every inch as he remembers him.

Then the earl feels his pounding, light heart grow a shade heavier as it sinks in that Sebastian looks exactly the way he used to, whereas he, Ciel, is so very different from what he was formerly. He is nearly twenty-five years old now, no longer the small boy Sebastian grew attached to; he is not the child the devil desired; he has become so much taller, bigger...

"Young Master?"

Sebastian is directly in front of him, and he is looking up now into that beautiful face he has dreamed about on hundreds of nights. The demon is still taller than him – he will always be taller than him. But he isn't a child any more, and...

"I thought you would be happier to see me," Sebastian smiles gently.

"I can't tell you how happy I am to see you," Ciel replies in a hushed voice, still hardly able to believe that this is truly happening. "But I don't know if you are happy to see me. I am – I'm not what I used to be – I'm not the child you wanted – I'm–"

"You're beautiful," Sebastian whispers, stroking his cheek, electrifying him with his long-awaited touch. "You were beautiful to me when you were a child, you are beautiful to me now, and even after the decades pass and you are an old man of a hundred and one, you will be beautiful to me always."

A tear rolls down Ciel's cheek, then another. Sebastian strips off his gloves and wipes those rivulets away with the tips of his thumbs and fingers, tracing feather-light lines over the face of the young man who stands before him.

Ciel remembers that touch so well. He has yearned for it in ways quite similar to and yet very different from his love for his wife's touch. He raises his own hands to clasp his demon's, and that familiar contact sweeps the years away. It is as if they are standing together again in the passageways of the manor, stealing a quiet moment away from the eyes of the household, the demon cupping the boy's cheek, the boy caressing the backs of those powerful, gentle hands that he knows would never harm him.

He nestles into the devil's arms like a seabird finding an old home to rest in after a long voyage – a home he had thought was lost to him. He discovers that he can now rest his head on Sebastian's shoulder. He nuzzles his neck, seeking the bare skin that rises above the stiff white collar. From the time he was ten till he was almost fourteen, he had never been able to detect his demon's scent; but not long before they had parted, he had tasted him at last. That special connection lingers. He presses his nose and lips deeper into Sebastian's flesh, a puppy intoxicated by the irresistible scent of a guardian it has always safely snuggled into for warmth and protection.

***

He is a man now, a husband and father, Sebastian understands. But to me, he will always be impossibly young.

The devil feels himself surrendering to the long-absent sensation of Ciel's arms wrapping tightly around him, drawing him smoothly back into his role as his master's protector, which perhaps he was always meant to be.

The years he spent wracked by the pain of the spell's imbalances threatening to rend him bone from joint, sinew from flesh; the years of solitude when his fears for Ciel's safety out in the world sometimes overwhelmed him; the quieter, calmer years of peace and healing, remembering what little good he had done in his existence, and looking towards the hope of seeing the boy again – all those years resolve and evaporate as he swiftly forgets what was nigh-intolerable and only welcomes what to him is promising and beautiful.

He should ask permission, he thinks. He should tread carefully, test the waters to see if the years have altered his master so that his advances may no longer be as welcome as they were. He should give it some time...

Then Ciel nuzzles his neck, brushes his still-soft, perfectly shaped lips up to his cheek, to the corner of his mouth. Sebastian feels the intriguing friction of the young man's jawline and chin against his face – he has shaved well, but no blade yet known to humankind can render his skin as smooth as it was when he was a child.

Ciel seems to become aware of the slight rasp of his skin against Sebastian's flawless flesh at the same time the demon does, and pulls back at once.

"Sebastian..." he murmurs in an undertone, as if conscious of the depth of his voice compared with what it was when he and his butler last exchanged intimate whispers.

"Young Master?"

"Don't call me that. I'm not your young master any more. I'm not the boy you saved. I'm so altered, while you remain untouched by time. I can't be the child of your memories, of your desires. I'm sorry."

Sebastian looks at him with compassion and understanding, removes his hands from him, and steps back. The demon sees the uncertainty and the passage of years in the earl's face – and the inevitable hurt tempered by resignation that flashes in his eyes for a second as his devil turns and walks away from him, towards the opening in the side of the sphere.

Of course you would no longer desire me, those blue eyes seem to say. Of course you would choose to walk away from me – how much time you have already wasted on a mortal who could not remain unchanged after ten years...

Sebastian steps into the slit of doorway, half in and half out, as if holding it open for Ciel to leave. The earl is about to walk over in order to exit with as much courage and dignity as he can summon, when he hears Sebastian say: "Finnian, would you please drive the carriage back to the house and inform Lady Phantomhive in private that His Lordship and I will return to the manor later? Thank you."

The devil slips back inside to face the young man. Ciel has stopped in his tracks, and stares at Sebastian as he seals the doorway with his own demonic magic. The devil locks the point of entry, then strides back over to him, pulls him firmly towards him with one hand on the small of his back and the other behind his head, and presses his lips hard to Ciel's the way he did once in his butler's bedroom, the first night the boy came to him there.

A surprised moan rises in the earl's throat and resonates in his mouth before escaping over his tongue past Sebastian's lips. The demon tastes with pleasure the mortal he has longed for these ten years – the master who will always be desirable and irreplaceable to him, whether he is a child or a young man, an old man or a bodiless soul. He savours his unique sweetness through other scents he detects on him. Beyond the immediate traces of the meals he has eaten this day, the taste of his wife's kisses in his mouth, the hints of his children on his lips from the pecks on the forehead and cheek he gave them this morning, the pleasing texture of his fine stubble, Sebastian drinks in the unforgettable essence of Ciel Phantomhive... Ciel Winterbourn... his Ciel... his only heaven.

They break the kiss only to merge more closely as Sebastian holds the earl tightly, as he did ten years ago in this very sphere, feeling the satisfying strength of Ciel's returning embrace.

"Didn't you believe me when I told you that you would always be beautiful to me, no matter what should change in and around you?" Sebastian asks beside Ciel's ear, one dark-nailed hand caressing the earl's soft-black hair, another tracing his spine.

"When have I ever believed everything you say?" Ciel murmurs through fresh tears, the relief and contentment in his voice belying the mere words. "You and your strategic omissions – making me believe nothing was wrong when you were going to war for me. I still haven't smacked you about the head for that."

"No more omissions now; no more deceiving you to shield you; nothing but the truth, my darling," Sebastian declares softly.

Ciel remembers the first and only time before this that Sebastian had called him that – a second before he was torn from his arms – and he holds his devil tighter. "Never leave me again, Sebastian."

"Never."

"Promise."

"I promise. I will be with you to the end. This time, I give you no hidden meanings in that vow."

"I could almost kill you for what you did – you had no right to come so close to dying for me."

"And I could spank you for using Ambrose's magic to enter the sphere in the middle of a battle that could have killed you."

"I'm too old to be spanked," Ciel retorts with a sniffle, nibbling Sebastian's ear.

"Not to me," comes the answer, with a pinch to his bottom and a kiss placed on the side of his neck.

"Don't you dare," the earl warns, flicking the tip of his tongue into that perfectly shaped ear.

"I would dare do anything to drive home the point that you are more than precious to me, and you are never to put yourself in harm's way for me again."

"Oh, shut up," Ciel murmurs, repositioning his upper body to claim Sebastian's lips, both seizing the kiss he wants and submitting to it all at once. He starts to undo Sebastian's tie as their tongues clash, and to unbutton his waistcoat. Tearing his mouth away from his demon's, he says: "I'll talk to Lizzie about your return to the household... I'll win her over–"

"Already done, my lord."

"What?"

"Lady Phantomhive and I have already duelled over you – in the recreation room. She is terribly swift and strong."

Ciel forgets about undressing Sebastian for a moment and stares at him. "Good God – you fought Lizzie?"

"I did."

"And you don't have a hole right through you?"

"Indeed, I came quite close to acquiring one."

"Is Lizzie hurt?" Ciel gasps. "Are you hurt?"

"Neither of us is injured."

"Then who won?"

"We both did," Sebastian says, stopping the flow of questions from Ciel with another passionate kiss, one he does not break off from until their coats hit the grass, followed quickly by their ties.

As the devil unbuttons Ciel's waistcoat, he strokes the locket the earl has pinned to it, the one with their hair intertwined inside it. Lifting his lips off Ciel's at last, Sebastian declares to him: "At this very spot ten years ago, I let you be torn from my arms. At this same place, I shall begin the journey of holding you for as long as I am given."

"I shall never let you go again," Ciel promises in return as Sebastian undresses him to explore the body that is both familiar and new, while he disrobes the demon to rediscover the body he remembers well.

Still somewhat embarrassed by how changed his physique is, the young man wants to examine the devil more than he wishes to be examined by him, and Sebastian has to wrestle him to the ground. The devil is pleased to test the strength of the one he spared, the one he saved, to see how he has grown. He has turned out very fine indeed, but no mortal is his match for plain strength, and Sebastian easily holds him down until at last he looks boldly back at him. Then he releases his arms and allows him to do what he will.

"You're perfect," Ciel whispers, tracing a line down his body with his fingertips. "There's not a scar on you."

"Time may not tell on me, but I treasure every mark on your flesh because it is yours," Sebastian responds, finding and caressing a tiny scar on the earl's chin. "What caused this?"

"A shaving accident," Ciel replies.

"Baldroy, or Finnian?"

"Baldroy. His first and only such mistake, to be fair to him."

"Wielding the shaving blade like a kitchen knife, no doubt," Sebastian remarks dryly. "I shall shave you from now on." He presses a kiss to the minuscule scar, then moves down to another, even tinier mark on Ciel's throat.

"And this?"

"Is there even a mark there?" Ciel asks with a murmur of pleasure as the devil's lips brush his neck. "I can't see anything there when I look in the mirror, but it's where I pricked myself quite badly one day when I tried to pin a brooch on my cravat."

"I shall do that for you from now on also," Sebastian tells him, drawing another smooth, low sound from him as he kisses his way down his throat to his left shoulder, where he finds the traces of where Azazel sank his claws into his flesh. "Did his claws hurt you much, here?"

"I was in too much despair at being separated from you to take any note of whether it hurt."

"Forgive me for having to be apart from you all these years, Young Master. What is this long scar on your chest?"

The devil's fingers examine the thin white mark on the earl's body. "Underworld work. Knife fight. Finnian saved my life by punching the assailant into the next alley."

Ciel's breathing quickens as Sebastian kisses the scar on his chest before taking his left nipple between his lips and caressing it with his tongue.

Sebastian's fingers find another mark, slightly raised, on the earl's belly, and asks as he transfers his mouth from the left nipple to the right: "And this here over your stomach?"

While the demon's tongue circles the hardening nub on the right side of his chest, Ciel moans: "I was grazed by a bullet... gang of child smugglers... near the docks... Carsten saved me then..."

Ciel gasps as Sebastian's mouth finds that mark on his belly, while his fingertips search out another, much shallower and smaller scar high on his right hip. "What about this?"

"That was from fencing with Lizzie with unguarded blades. It bled only a little, but she cried a sea of tears when she saw she had cut me..."

Sebastian kisses that spot also, before letting the fingers of his right hand come to rest between Ciel's legs: "I trust I shall find no scars here?"

Ciel gasps and arches his back as his demon strokes his stiffening cock rising out of its nest of dark pubic hair and cups his scrotal sac, then takes him into his mouth.

"Ahh... Sebastian..." he breathes. The memories return, the many intimate moments they shared in his room, in the butler's room, the secret encounters along corridors... he is so physically changed now, yet it is the same... all still the same...

Sebastian pleasures and savours the young man wholeheartedly, taking delight in every whimper, every ragged breath, acquainting and reacquainting himself with the maturity of the boy he has missed every day for ten years. He is grown up now, more disciplined, easily passing the point at which his childish body would have peaked a decade ago, but in another sense, nothing has altered. It is still Ciel here under him, Ciel's delicious scent filling his nose, Ciel's familiar moans entering his ears, his boy, his master, his darling... Ciel climaxes with an unashamed cry, clutching Sebastian's hair as he strains into that devilishly clever mouth, firing his seed down that beautiful throat which once would have led him into hell when he was thirteen, but has since then tried to direct him only to heaven.

"Sebastian..." he murmurs dreamily as his demon gathers his sated body into his arms and holds him protectively there on the forest floor.

"Thank you for the soft grass you sent me, Young Master," Sebastian whispers to him. "I am pleased to be able to share it with you now."

"Did I really do all this?" Ciel mumbles sleepily.

"I think you did. I felt you making this world beautiful for me. Thank you for the trees, and the hills, and the pool, and for helping me to keep it all perfect with your wishes and your magic over the years."

"I wanted to send you some cats... but I knew you wouldn't want to risk killing them if you... didn't make it. I'm so thankful that you're here with me now."

"Thank you for visiting me almost every day, and sending me your kisses, and not sending cats."

"Could you hear me? Could you feel the touches I wanted to give you?"

"Not physically, but I sensed them. I sensed your sadness also, and I wished to make things better for you, but I could not. I will not miss a single opportunity from now to make everything better for you."

"You'll spoil me."

"Haven't I always?"

"Well, there were times you could have done better, you bastard," Ciel teases.

"It was all to make you the man you have become, brat," Sebastian huffs.

Ciel reaches up and pulls the devil down for another penetrating kiss, then rouses himself, presses Sebastian to the grass, and lies atop him.

"Young Master?" Sebastian murmurs interestedly.

"My turn to spoil you now."

Their lips lock once more, tasting deeply of each other, eagerly pressing on but somehow also taking their time with one another, making up for what was lost, enjoying this private space which was once an arena of war and a solitary prison, but is now their sphere, their world.

Not paradise exactly, but close. Very close.
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Devilish Impulses