Discipline

Author\'s Note: I briefly researched the history of donuts, wedding anniversaries, and squab recipes for this fic. Couldn\'t resist the canon appeal of the dream.



Warning: Necessary shoutaliciousness, but only a smidgen.



Dreaming Discipline



Sleep was upon the Phantomhive estate, heavy and warm, a blanket of stillness like a death shroud. The crimson-eyed demon, standing on the roof and watching the moon\'s path through the night sky, could easily slip into his true form and taste the darkness more fully, feel the weight of sleep on the mortals around him more purely. Yet that would rob him of the pleasure of experiencing the estate at rest as Sebastian Michaelis, and he would not willingly forsake a moment of it.



In truth, Sebastian enjoyed the night best for its delicious illusion: external tranquility that thinly veiled the life of the human mind stirring fitfully beneath. Like the plain crust of a fried doughnut that gushed with cherry jam when you bit into it, the sleeping brain was a hidden treasure. In short, he was fascinated by dreams. With the lightest touch of his consciousness, he dipped beneath the surface to find Bardroy unconsciously imagining he was a sort of shepherd or cowboy of the American West, driving fully cooked roasts into corrals as they bounced along, while he ladled them with their juices. Maylene, by contrast, was polishing a piece of silver that kept reforming as she worked. A tureen became a candelabrum and the candelabrum became a tea tray, but nothing daunted her as she shined and buffed with eager assuredness. Tanaka was swimming against the current in a river of ornate keys, and Finnian was chasing rabbits, attempting to affix barrettes in their fur. Sebastian grinned to himself at the seamless blend of trivia and meaning that flowed through these sleeping psyches.



Ciel\'s, of course, was the mind that concerned and pleased him most. When awake, the boy was constantly thinking, wits awhirl with schemes and counterschemes, resentments and fears, hopes and resistance to having hopes. His pridefulness ran deep, and thus Sebastian could plumb his mind and never grow bored of its workings. As the perfect butler, it also gave him enormous satisfaction to ease those furious machinations, those unceasing deliberations. Were he other than demon—the boy\'s mortal guardian, for instance—he would have been troubled to know how difficult it was for Ciel to allow himself any semblance of true rest, of peace, or of pleasure. As it was, however, he could observe and feast without emotional burden, and thus he could actually do the child some good.



This eve, he had put his young master to bed later than usual. Ciel had been restless, eating little of the squab with lemon, grapes and endive on its bed of rice with rosemary. And he had tasted the orange pecan-crusted cake only when Sebastian had fed it to him by hand at bedside. He extended such effort because Tanaka had informed him that the day commemorated his deceased parents\' wedding anniversary. In previous years the day had been celebrated with a grand ball.



Once the ritual of changing Ciel for bed and washing his soft, cherub\'s face had been completed, his master had requested Sebastian linger, read to him. It was an unexpected addition to their usual custom, and brought Sebastian a moment of displeasure, for he did not enjoy signs of weakness in his determined little master. Still, when the tome Ciel brought forth was Dante\'s Inferno, the demon was reassured and began reading after a humble bow and the drawing of a chair beside the Phantomhive heir\'s massive bed. Ciel nodded and Sebastian began, opening the volume with reverent, gloved hands to the second Canto, Purgatorio, as the child requested:



Per me si va ne la città dolente,

per me si va ne l\'etterno dolore,

per me si va tra la perduta gente.

Giustizia mosse il mio alto fattore:

fecemi la divina podestate,

la somma sapienza e \'l primo amore.

Dinanzi a me non fuor cose create

se non etterne, e io etterno duro.

Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch\'intrate.



Ciel closed his eyes as he listened, clearly soothed by the cadence of the Italian that Sebastian pronounced flawlessly. With a smile, the perfect butler then translated, for himself as much as his master: "Through me is the way into the woeful city; through me is the way into eternal woe; through me is the way among the lost people. Justice moved my lofty maker: the divine Power, the supreme Wisdom and the primal Love made me. Before me were no things created, unless eternal, and I eternal last. Leave every hope, ye who enter."



After this short recitation, Ciel seemed satisfied, though he was plainly not sleepy. "Go now," he commanded.



Sebastian rose smoothly and instantly, closing the book and replacing it on the small bedside table, then carefully putting the chair back from where he had taken it. "Sleep well, young master," he said softly, hand to his chest as he bowed his way out.



In time, the child had indeed fallen asleep, and Sebastian delayed his satisfaction by touching all other minds in the household before Ciel\'s. Finally, down from the rooftop he swooped, coming to rest on the window ledge outside the boy\'s chambers. Silently, he made his way inside and to the foot of Ciel\'s bed. Though it would be easy to read his dreams from any location—on this plane of existence or any other to which he had access—he preferred this closeness. He watched the little chest rise and fall, smelled the sweet breath of mortality as he exhaled. The eyelids fluttered quickly in sleep. Sebastian leaned in, basking in the precious aura of his dream.



Ciel was himself and yet not; elegantly dressed, taller and more graceful than in waking reality. His arms were outstretched to wrap around a lithe, slender, black-suited partner in a lively waltz. He pressed his face into his partner\'s chest so no visage could be seen, but Sebastian guessed it was he himself with whom the dream Ciel danced. They waltzed on and on, the child\'s arms holding the woman\'s dance position as he was led, deftly and surely, by the male. As the music picked up speed, Ciel was pressing his body more closely to his partner\'s, arms clutching, hips attempting to grind. Sebastian smiled as he observed, eyes alight as he felt the boy\'s sexual arousal grow within the dream and tension appear in the writhing of his sleeping body. His cock grew hard and the dance prevented him from effectively rubbing it against his partner\'s, though the partner was rigid as well. He tipped up his face and Sebastian at last glimpsed the red eyes that looked down upon the dream child within his unconscious mind. The mood grew frantic, the music discordant, and Ciel whimpered through his sleep until he woke with a start, springing upright in his bed. "Sebastian," he cried.



"I am here," the demon responded, voice calm and even.



"I had a nightmare," announced Ciel, seemingly unsurprised to find his butler before him.



Sebastian bowed his head in acknowledgement. "How may I ease your distress, young master?"



Ciel blushed and pulled back the covers, though he kept his gaze steady. "Comfort me."



"Yes, my Lord," replied Sebastian.