Bloody Business

Title: “Bloody Business”
Series: Kuroshitsuji
Date begun: November 2, 2009
Date completed:
Genre: Crime, Romance

Summary: In the wake of the Ripper Murders, the Queen orders Ciel to root out the head of a male prostitution ring. When people in high places are implicated, Ciel and Sebastian are put into a compromising position.

Author's Note: Yes, I know that I have taken absolutely forever to finish this chapter. However, I believe you'll find that it is worth the wait. I would like to take this opportunity to thank you all for your kind reviews. The support for this odd blend of fact and fiction has been rather surprising, and I am very grateful for it. In this chapter, our boys get into the house on Cleveland Street, and Henry Newlove meets the green-eyed monster of jealousy.

Part IV: Cloak and Dagger

“I believe that I asked you not to meddle, Mr. Newlove.” Sebastian said smoothly as he pulled the shade over the window in the door to the clerk's office. It was the end of his last day there, and everyone had gone. Henry was shifting from foot to foot next to his desk, and he seemed a little nervous.

His eyes were wide, vivid green beacons of anxiety shining across the room. “I couldn't help it,” he all but whined, “I wanted to see why you found him so fascinating. He's lovely, but I know how to do so much more for you...” His face turned red as Sebastian engaged the lock. Jealousy was an old motivation. Men had killed, lied, stolen out of jealousy since the very beginning of creation. Now, as this young man stood before him baring the truth, he wanted to hurt him even more. Not because of anything he said, but because he had touched something that did not belong to him. Something that belonged, body and soul, to Sebastian. Territorial it may be, but when one had claim over a thing as completely as he did over Ciel Phantomhive, there was little that could be done, save for when others try to take that thing away.

“I do not at all appreciate anyone attempting to spoil my fun, Mr. Newlove.” Sebastian approached, the heels of his shoes clicking just a little. “As we will not spend more time together, I believe a harsher lesson is in order.”

--

“Pork loin stuffed with cinnamon apples in a demi-glace, Young Master,” Ciel watched Sebastian's white-gloved hands pull away the silver tray cover with a flourish, the scent of apples and pork making his mouth water. Since returning from the Central Telegraph Office that afternoon—and in record time, no less—Sebastian seemed in a much better mood. He set the plate of meat before the master of the house, and Ciel nodded in approval. This could not possibly be Bard's doing. The quality of work, the presentation, it had Sebastian's stamp all over it. A smaller tray was pulled from the dinner cart, and Sebastian smiled broadly as he pulled back the cover. “Aromatic basmati rice from India, seasoned with cardamom, and a bit of steamed carrots basted in butter. Does my Master require anything else before dessert?”

Ciel shook his head. “No, Sebastian. I believe this is quite sufficient.” The butler then exited the room, apparently to go back to the kitchen so that the finishing touches may be added to the dessert. As he watched his servant leave, he remembered what had happened earlier that day in the bathroom of the Telegraph Office. He prodded his pork loin with a fork, and his thoughts strayed. It was almost as if he could feel the soft cotton of Sebastian's gloves, sliding over his...the room suddenly began to feel a bit too warm, and his clothing became constricting.

He had been dazed, half-senseless, when he had asked if his butler would perform the act again. To his shame, he wanted it again. Ciel sat staring at the air, trying desperately to fight free of whatever it was that had taken hold of him. The sudden need for sensation, this craving for physical pleasure seeped into every moment. It stole into each thought, twisting it around on itself and causing every avenue in his mind to lead back to the image of Sebastian on his knees. He slowly began eating, his thoughts still revolving around what it might feel like if there were no clothing between them.

“Is something the matter, my lord?” Sebastian's voice made him jump in his chair. Ciel looked up from the gradual demolition of his pork loin and saw his butler holding the dessert tray. “Perhaps it would be better for my Master to get more sleep,” the older man's words came out smoothly, proof that he knew nothing of what Ciel had been dreaming the previous night. “To that end,” Sebastian added before pulling the lid from the tray in his hands, “I have prepared an herbal tisane. Chamomile, lavender and a bit of mint, sweetened with one teaspoon of honey.” The cup was placed onto the table, and Maylene moved in to take his dinner plate. Sebastian smiled slightly; for once, she did not break the plate. The small dessert plate set before him held a miniature tart. “Lemon curd tart, with sugared violets. The flavor should be complimented well by the herbal infusion. Please, let me know if you need anything else.”

Ciel blinked at the dessert. Usually, he had a heavy brioche or cake slathered in chocolate. This, for some reason, seemed perfect. He had not been possessed of a great appetite this evening, and a small and simple dessert would be best. These thoughts all took place in the far rear of his mind. He did not truly taste tisane or tart. What occupied the forefront of his mental processes at that moment was the weight of red eyes on his person. Sebastian was watching him, waiting. Did he need anything else? No, but there was certainly something he wanted.

Not that I'm going to ask. I'll never ask.

The clock on the mantle piece ticked away ten more seconds, and his butler had still not moved his eyes to look in any other direction. Ciel felt naked, as if he had been laid bare. It was not an entirely unpleasant feeling, but he could not say that the dinner table was the correct place for such things. After eating a few bites of the tart, he threw back the herbal drink in a series of long, un-gentleman-like gulps. He gave a slight cough behind his napkin, and stood from his place. “I will be retiring early,” Ciel announced before turning on his heel an leaving the room entirely.

A mere second later, Sebastian was walking just behind him. Even then he felt the butler's gaze. It was an itch he could not scratch, a tickle in the back of his mind. The sensation was barely there, but if left alone could drive him completely mad. Finally they arrived at the door to his room. Sebastian let them in, and closed the door behind himself.

--

Henry Newlove walked with something of a limp as he exited Number 19, Cleveland Street. Hammond had agreed to the time that Sebastian had requested, and would provide space for him and the boy he would be meeting. Even now, hours after the man had left him naked on the floor of the office, he still felt him. The burning heat of hands that were more than rough, teeth sinking deep into the flesh of his shoulder, and bruises...so many bruises. There were dozens of them. He had been slammed against file cases, made to bend over his own desk stool, and then things had become a blur. Pain, pleasure, heat and insanity all melded together. In the end, he had lost consciousness and awoken to find himself alone.

Spattered with semen, battered and in some places bleeding, Henry knew that he might never be satisfied by a man again. Not after having such an intense experience. He merely wished that the boy...Quentin...were not in the way. If not for him, Sebastian might not have refused to see him again.

--

On Saturday, Ciel woke up on his own. The sun had just risen, and it was his lone day off from being a telegraph boy. This was also the day that he and Sebastian were to meet at the house in Cleveland Street. He slid from bed, padding to the window without putting on his robe. The day was gray. Steely rain clouds moved in from the south off of the Channel, and he thought he saw lightening in the distance. Sitting down on the seat near the glass, he watched the clouds roll in. Ciel's thoughts were as muddled as the sky, and time seemed rather as if it had begun to move too quickly. Some time later, he heard the door open.

Sebastian's feet made precious little sound as he crossed the room to deliver his breakfast tray. The crockery clattered very slightly when the butler set down his burden, but Ciel still watched the sky. He heard Sebastian say, “It is a rare occasion that I am relieved of the necessity of waking you.” In answer, he made a noncommittal sound. “Are you so eager to start the day?” Ciel merely shrugged.

It was not that he was eager to go into Cleveland Street. What he wanted was to be done with this charade and have things return to the way they were before. He wished that none of this had ever happened, but as things stood now, he wondered if things might ever be the same.

Ciel allowed himself to be steered across the room to his wardrobe, where he was dressed for the day. The rough wool of his coat was scratching at his neck, and the shoes he wore were a size too big. However, if he looked at the situation objectively, he could understand why he must undergo such punishment. Quentin the telegraph boy was from a poor family, and he probably would have been wearing second-hand shoes, or some passed down from an older relative. If Fortune smiled on them, this would be the last time he would have to portray the character of telegraph boy.

Sebastian's voice was a low hum at the edge of his consciousness. He did not hear a word the man said; it was difficult to do so when he was so wrapped up in his own thoughts. A bare hand touched his forehead, and he jumped back, startled. “Gah!” he yelled, nearly stumbling head over tea-kettle when he bumped into a chair.

“Is my Master all right?” Sebastian asked, a furrow forming between his brows. His hand was still extended toward Ciel as it had been when it touched him. The butler's face briefly showed startlement before settling back into its normal implacable smile. Nevertheless, he said quietly, “You do not have a fever, but perhaps we should reschedule our appointment in Cleveland Street. There is something odd about you this morning.” Panic rose in his chest. They needed to get this affair over and done with before it truly drove him mad. The longer it drew out, the more nervous he became. Distracted and despondent, he knew that he was not acting like himself.

It was impossible to back out at this stage, however. There was work to be done. So, Ciel steeled himself and said, “I am fine, Sebastian. What time do we leave?”

For a long moment, Sebastian simply looked at him with an estimating sort of expression. Then he smiled slightly and picked up the breakfast tray. “I will leave one quarter of an hour before you, to arrive in Cleveland Street at noon. You, young Master, will arrive late, as you are supposed to live somewhat farther away. It might be prudent to pretend to be out of breath.” Ciel nodded. He understood how crucial the next step in the investigation was.

There had been word the previous evening from Inspector Abberline. The Queen's master of horse was among those rumored to have frequented the house in Cleveland Street, but what was perhaps more disturbing was that the prince was another possible client. At hearing such news the night before, it certainly seemed that they had found the reason for the Phantomhive family's need for involvement. For if this information—true or false—became public knowledge, it would tarnish the reputation of the royal family. It was his occupation to keep anything of the sort from coming to pass, and even at his young age Ciel was very good at it.

He sighed when he heard the clock strike eight. This was to be a very long day, and he was eager to be done with it.

--

Sebastian watched the listless way Ciel was roaming around the library. He had already found it necessary to replace several books his master had pulled from the shelves but did not read. Now ten in the morning, the day was still gray, but the rain that had settled in at half-past eight was at present only a slow drizzle. The weather had created a pall of dispirited unease over the house, and his master seemed unable to focus on any one thing for more than a few moments. Earlier, he had checked the boy for a fever, but there was nothing out of the ordinary with his body's temperature.

Perhaps he was attempting to formulate some kind of plan as to how they might deal with the goings-on in the Cleveland Street house. Somehow he doubted that. Ciel Phantomhive was highly distracted. If he was unable to keep his mind on the task at hand, the entire operation might simply fall apart. That could be utterly disastrous, considering the high rank of the parties involved. Twice, he had suggested that they try to reschedule the appointment for tomorrow, or the next day. But that idea had met with vehement refusal. Ciel cited that Her Majesty's keen interest in the case was reason enough for haste, and that if they did not finish this thing soon there might be “hell to pay.”

Hell he could deal with, but he did not like to think of what might happen if they were to fail.

The clock ticked away the seconds and minutes, ultimately counting out the hour and ten minutes until he had to leave. All the while, he thought of what Ciel was very soon to do. Once he stepped through the door to 19 Cleveland Street, his innocence would be all but a memory.

--

Ciel's heart felt as if it might burst. He ran full-tilt down a sloping alleyway, skidding over garbage and unidentifiable puddles of God-knew-what, cursing now that he was truly late. Sebastian had told him to leave only a quarter hour later than he had himself. What he should have said was five minutes. As he slid on what looked like a moldering orange peel, Ciel managed to catch a glimpse of the sign for Cleveland Street. He headed east out of the alley, and found there was only another three city blocks between him and his destination.

Hurtling down the walk, he slipped past tall men in deer-stalker hats and long coats as well as women with oiled parasols. Number 19 loomed ahead, and he slowed to a more sedate trot. When he reached the steps of the house, he made sure to scrape his shoes. Then Ciel smoothed his hair from his eyes and raised a fist to knock on the door. A sound behind him made him turn around, only to find Henry Newlove smirking down at him.

“Hello, there,” Newlove drawled, leaning forward until his face was level with the younger boy's. “Quentin, is it?” At Ciel's nod, he smiled. “I'm afraid that Sebastian is running a bit late. He has asked me to let you into the house, and have you wait for him.”

What was this man playing at? While Ciel knew very well that Sebastian was within, he could not let Newlove in on that fact. So he played along. “Oh,” he said as timidly as possible, “Thank you. The rain has been terrible today. Is there somewhere I might warm myself?”

“Certainly,” Newlove's smirk broadened to a grin tinged with something Ciel did not like. The look sent a shiver of dread down the younger boy's spine. Newlove reached around him and used a key to unlock the door. He then stepped around Ciel and into the foyer. “Follow me.” They entered the house, and the door closed behind him. Newlove walked into a dimly lit hallway, and beckoned him to do the same.

There were several doors in the hall, all of which were closed. Passing one of them, he heard a grunting sound. Through another he heard rhythmic thumping, and a quiet moan. Ciel felt his cheeks redden and he quickened his pace, not wanting to be caught listening to such things. Finally, at the end of the hall, Newlove opened a door and let him into a parlor furnished in dark blues and greens. There were a number of comfortable chairs and a settee, along with a serpentine tête-a-tête. He sat by the fire when instructed to do so, and a few minutes later, Newlove brought a cup of tea.

Sipping it lightly and enjoying the warmth if not the flavor, Ciel wondered what exactly Newlove was doing. Sebastian was there. He had to be waiting. And yet, here he sat. A long moment went by before he realized that Newlove had disappeared. Then the door opened to admit not his erstwhile host, but several other men. They looked at Ciel with hungry eyes, and one began to approach.

“Hello, there, love. What's your name, then?” This man was tall, with a long face and hair that curled down to his chin. He was all white teeth and oily charm. Ciel did not think he liked the look of him. When he opened his mouth, all that came out was a stammering stutter that he supposed might sound like his alias if one really knew what to look for.

One of the man's long-fingered hands reached out to touch him, and he flinched away. When it embarked on a second pass, the door opened again, this time hitting the wall with the force of the new arrival's strength. “Sir, I trust you have your own company, and would thank you not to harass mine.” Ciel looked up to see Sebastian framed in the doorway, looking quite livid indeed. “Quentin,” he said, turning his attention to where Ciel sat, “Please come with me.”

Obeying with alacrity, Ciel jumped up from the chair, setting down the teacup he had previously held with a clatter. In a matter of seconds, he followed Sebastian's tall form down the hall to a door near the end. His butler held it open and he entered. Immediately after the door shut, Sebastian leaned down so that his face was close and asked, “Did he hurt you?” Ciel shook his head in the negative, and the older man nodded with what might have been relief. He brushed the knuckles of his gloved fingers over the boy's cheek before pulling away and saying, “Take a moment to compose yourself, and then we may form a strategy.”

Momentarily grateful for the opportunity to calm down, Ciel seated himself on the edge of a narrow daybed. It squeaked as his weight settled onto the mattress, and Sebastian's eyes flicked in his direction for a moment before resolutely turning back to the door.

“From all that I understand, our man Hammond is not currently in the house. He has an appointment with his tailor until some time late this afternoon. We might conduct our search unmolested, unless by Mr. Newlove. Speaking of that little vermin, was it he who arranged for you to be in that room before?” There was a faint glow at the back of Sebastian's eyes now; a burning anger. It was difficult to understand precisely what the man was upset about.

But against the intense scrutiny under which he found himself, Ciel could do nothing but nod silently. There was in Sebastian's face a small twitch as though he had come to some kind of decision. The look of anger passed away as quickly as it had come, and Sebastian strode to a door at the rear of the room. “Mr. Hammond was kind enough to provide space for us. Though I wager he could not have anticipated exactly how solicitous he has been.” White-gloved fingers touched the latch, and his servant turned, offering a smile. “Through here is his office. Surely we will find some kind of useful information there.”

This was quite the promising development. Ciel rose to follow, but Sebastian held up a halting hand. “No,” said he, “I believe that if anyone enters this room, we must be able to keep up the pretense over why we are here.”

His mouth hung open for a moment, and it was all he could do not to protest. But Sebastian was right, he supposed. It would be better for him to remain where he was. However, he could not help but ask, “What am I to do?”

Sebastian looked him in the eye and said plainly, “Take off all your clothes and sit on the bed.” Ciel gaped openly. He sputtered for a moment, and gripped the coverlet on the bed where he sat. A small smile formed on his butler's face at his expense, and the man approached once more. Kneeling on the brightly colored Persian rug in front of him, Sebastian reached out and ran gloved fingers over the skin of his cheek in a gesture of comfort and consolation. “There may be someone who watches. Places like this...they like to protect themselves. I have suspected for some time that if there are people of high rank that frequent the good Mr. Hammond's establishment, he may well be using that fact against them.”

Ciel's eyes widened in realization. It made perfect sense, really. If there were a lord or squire that made it a habit to dally with boys on a regular basis, the revelation of such facts would demolish his reputation. Information of that caliber would be worth a pretty penny, indeed. Was Hammond blackmailing people in high places? If so, then how high did the scandal reach? Her Majesty involved herself personally, so...could it be that Abberline's guess about the Crowned Prince was correct?

His thoughts were interrupted momentarily when Sebastian's voice spoke directly into his ear. “If you were to feel the need to do anything naughty on your own whilst I look around, it would only serve to keep our charade in place.” Hot breath on his skin, and the tantalizing sensation of soft cotton sliding down his neck caused his heart to beat irregularly; the words being said were only a vague buzz in his mind. Lips grazed the shell of his ear, and he could not stop a gasp from escaping his throat.

“Sebastian,” he breathed, his small hands moving to grasp handfuls of brown woolen lapel. The hand that had touched his cheek now slid lower, moving to the fastenings of his trousers.

“Can you do that for me, Young Master?” the voice in his ear asked, both a tease and a promise. It mesmerized him, offering things that he never knew he wanted. “Can you?” Sebastian asked again.

Slowly, he nodded. What was he supposed to do? Sebastian worked open the front of Ciel's trousers, the buttons coming loose quickly under his skilled fingertips. He felt the heat of large hands through the fabric of his undergarments, and a moan forced its way from his lips as the now familiar burn of arousal surged into being. “Touch me, Sebastian, please...” Ciel groaned, his head lolling backward.

A small growl of irritation issued from his servant. “There is not time at the moment,” Sebastian rumbled into his ear with a hint of regret tinging his voice. “I will return shortly, but in the interim, please remember what happened in the lavatory.” Ciel's hands went slack, dropping from Sebastian's coat. Red eyes were before him then, hypnotic and inviting in a manner he had never before considered. What had gone on in that bathroom? Something highly inappropriate, immoral, and probably illegal...and yet he wanted more. Ciel closed his eyes, and remembered, the sensations of those few inordinately pleasurable moments moving through him again.

--

Sebastian was torn. In one room were the records and evidence they needed to complete their assignment, and in the other lay his master, whose hand had just slipped past the top hem of his undergarments. Ciel had no control; it was fascinating and arousing beyond reason. He wanted very much indeed to remain standing where he was, so that he might watch the progress of his master's hand. But, he reasoned, if high-ranking persons were being blackmailed by Hammond and his associates, then it was up to him to discover the truth. So it was with great reluctance that he turned his back on the increasingly lurid scene on the bed, making for the door to the office.

He found the handle to be locked, but fortunately, Sebastian carried several unusual tools on his person for this specific reason. In less than a minute—and under some great duress due to the sounds behind him—he managed to pick the lock. Beyond the door was an office which, had he not been in possession of rather spectacular eyesight, Sebastian would have been at a loss to observe.

Thick drapes were drawn against the sun, and only a few scattered rays of light entered the place. As he looked around the room, he found two bookshelves, a large desk, and a secretary with quite a few drawers. Quickly, silently, he set about rifling through papers and ledgers. The bookshelves yielded nothing but a large selection of poorly written pornography with anatomically improbable illustrations, household accounting books, and a sheaf of pamphlets on investments overseas. In the secretary, he discovered only some half-finished correspondence between Hammond and his legal council.

When all of these things were put back in the precise order they had been found, Sebastian moved on to the desk. A few oddments and random files were in most drawers, and one was filled with writing supplies. It made no sense. He had been certain that what they needed would be here somewhere. Perhaps there was a hidden compartment in the secretary, or a false panel in the wall? Men like Hammond would certainly keep a list of clients, if for no other reason than to have an appointment book. The thought crossed his mind then that he should perhaps have pushed Mr. Newlove a bit harder on the subject of Hammond's business practices. Had he done so, it might have come out where and by whom such an appointment book might be kept. Disgusted with himself, Sebastian grasped the drawer of writing supplies and pushed it back into place. Just before it slid home, he stopped.

Pulling it out once again, Sebastian's eyes narrowed. The open box with three loose pens inside did not rattle, and indeed the pens did even not roll around within its confines. A cursory attempt at removing one of the writing instruments failed; the pens were fixed to the box with glue. Further examination proved his emerging theory correct. All of the objects in this drawer were glued down to each other. The inkwell, pens, nibs, even a sheaf of written-upon papers on top of what looked like a stationer's catalogue. Sebastian smiled and grasped the glass of the inkwell and lifted it up gently. With a slight creak, the amalgam of supplies rose, along with a false bottom to the drawer. Beneath, there lay a small stack of papers and two ledgers quite free of adhesives.

--

Henry Newlove's view through the keyhole was...exceptional. The bed had been positioned directly across from the door, which was fortunate, since the protruding wall to the left blocked any other view of the room. Sebastian must be sitting or standing where Henry could not see, watching the same thing that he was. The boy, Quentin, reclined on the bed. Though still fully clothed, he had opened his trousers and un-tucked his shirt, revealing pale skin and an erection that he considered quite respectable for the boy's age.

Slender fingers curled around the hardened flesh, sliding and pulling while the boy panted and quivered with the need for release. Henry felt his own trousers grow tight, and he resisted the urge to relieve the heat there. A few moments more of this, and he might well need to find a quiet room, himself. Now, he understood. It was impossible to take his eyes from the boy on the bed; there was something strangely captivating about him.

Sebastian then came into view from the obscured portion of the room. He said something in a low murmur that resembled “Wait for me,” and sat on the bed next to the boy. White-gloved hands opened the buttons on a worn work shirt, pushing it down from narrow shoulders along with the boy's suspenders. Too-large shoes were kicked across the room, and the young man's trousers soon followed. Once the boy's undergarments were gone, Sebastian removed his jacket. Casting about for a place to hang it, his red eyes lighted upon the door. For half an instant, Henry thought that the inspector looked at him through the keyhole. This was, of course, a ridiculous thought and he dismissed it immediately but that did not mean his heart beat any slower. Then Sebastian crossed the floor and hung his jacket on the doorknob and he saw no more of the proceedings.

--

Sebastian relaxed a little. Though Henry Newlove was still certainly positioned directly outside the door, it would be much more difficult for him to get a view of the interior of the room. He turned back to the bed where his master was busy being very, very naughty indeed. Ciel had leaned against the rail of the daybed, his legs splayed wide. Now completely exposed, the boy was infinitely more enticing. His head tilted backward, and his body was covered with a fine sheen of perspiration. Muscles quivered beneath the skin of his inner thighs, and his hands...They rubbed and pulled, teased and jerked alternately at the angry red erection that was the source of the young man's agitation. Was this what he had looked like two nights ago, as he touched himself in his own bed? Had he moaned like that? Would his back have arched as sharply, or did his breath come in such tiny desperate gasps?

Perhaps it was too much to ask for that his master might be more excited because of his presence. It might be he had some slight penchant for exhibiting his self-love, or maybe the inducement Sebastian had used a few moments ago had been too strong. He rarely used his abilities of mesmerism, and never before had he tried them on his master; Sebastian hoped never to have need of doing so again. Whatever the case, he was far too tempted by the image of slender thighs spread in need. A moment later, when Ciel Phantomhive lifted his head to look him directly in the eyes, the boy whispered desperately, “Sebastian, help me...it won't stop...it's not like before...I can't make it stop...”

The butler began removing his waistcoat, gloves, and shirt, placing each carefully on a nearby chair atop the pilfered ledgers and papers. He moved to the bed, and settled himself next to his master. “Would you like me to try?” he asked, his nose brushing against the shell of Ciel's ear. The answer he received was a wordless moan, accompanied by a wild thrust of the boy's narrow hips. “Let go,” Sebastian said sternly, one hand moving to grip the crook of Ciel's knee. To his surprise the boy did exactly as he was told without complaint, his hands falling away from the need he felt. “I am afraid,” the butler whispered hotly against his neck, “that your body has become a bit more difficult to satisfy.” His bare fingertips slid down, along the length of pale thigh to graze the hairless sac of his master's scrotum.

“Sebastian!” Ciel panted, both hands digging into the coverlet as he lifted his hips again, seeking further contact.

“Patience,” murmured the red-eyed man, “Savor the feeling. Melt into it. Trust me. I know what you need.” Under his hand, Ciel seemed to relax, if only a little. He took him in his hand, and watched the expression on delicate features shift from tense agitation to sheer bliss. Slowly—and perhaps maddeningly—he moved his hand. Ecstatic sounds issued from the boy, free of any form of control. “See?” Sebastian said just before biting at Ciel's neck, “This is much better, is it not?”

“Oh, yes...your hands feel so good...”

Sebastian ran his tongue over the reddened skin he had bitten, “Do they, now?”

“Yes...” Ciel breathed, before a whine of frustration escaped him. “Not enough...More, Sebastian. I need more.” Heat pooled in the base of his stomach, and Sebastian contemplated his options.

“What should I do, then?” He asked. “Should I use my mouth, like I did before?” Ciel moaned. “I could touch you other places...” Sebastian's hand slid down, carrying moisture from the boy's erection with it to smooth into the cleft of his buttocks. Gasping, Ciel groaned, wriggling in a most erotic fashion. “Or,” Sebastian moved his mouth lower, taking in an erect nipple, “I could do both. I could lick...caress...suck...while my fingers penetrate you...”

Whimpering, Ciel arched and writhed, even without the promised stimulation. “Whatever you want,” he sobbed, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes as his entire body shook, “Do whatever you want to me. Just make the burning stop...”

“Such a naughty, naughty suggestion,” Sebastian smiled against Ciel's belly, “I think I like it.” He then swiftly repositioned the boy so that he was laying on the bed with his legs dangling off from the knee down. The butler then unfastened his trousers, lowering them on his hips before freeing himself from the confines of his undergarments. Ciel's visible eye grew wide, and his face flushed when Sebastian stroked at his own erection. He continued to do so as he lowered himself to his knees on the floor.

--

Ciel thought that he might truly be going mad. His butler was again taking his penis into his mouth, and it was all he could do to keep from thrusting himself deeper into hot wetness. Light suction began then, and he arched up off of the bed. Rhythmic movements of Sebastian's tongue and the sucking sensation felt so good that he tried to wrap his legs around the man's neck. That was quickly stopped, and Ciel was forced to grip at the backs of his own thighs to keep them still. It was not that he minded, really...especially when Sebastian's free hand gathered saliva and moved to massage at the entrance to his anus.

“Oh...oh damn...” he breathed, his fingernails digging into the back of his legs. The finger continued its gentle movements for a few moments, all the while Sebastian doubled his efforts with regard to his mouth. Ciel gave a pleasured hiss when the tip of one long finger breached the sensitive muscles of his entrance. “Bloody hell...” he moaned, and as the finger continued its slow journey inward, he squirmed against the intrusion. Unsure if the feeling was good or bad, Ciel merely held his breath. The retained air was promptly expelled in a loud, highly undignified moan when the man's fingertip pressed against something inside him. “Yesssss...”

Fire and lightening raced through his veins, washing over him like a tidal wave only to crest between his legs. His eyes fell shut, and he felt the little oblivion of orgasm surging upon him. Sebastian gave a small groan, and Ciel felt the finger inside him pull back almost entirely. It then slammed home, and his world fell apart. He screamed, unable to get hold of one of the pillows in time to muffle the sound as he released into Sebastian's mouth.

Limp and suddenly boneless, Ciel collapsed to the bed from a seated position he did not remember being in. Sebastian disentangled himself and sat next to his head. “How do you feel?” Asked the butler, his hand moving to brush damp hair from the boy's forehead.

For a long moment, he pondered that question. “Hot...sticky...” he murmured, “...and wonderful.” Sebastian smiled then, and Ciel found himself smiling in return before his eyes began drifting. He was prodigiously sleepy, and wondered if it would be acceptable to take a short nap. Just before his eyes closed, he saw that Sebastian's trousers were refastened, but still bulged. Blinking, he rolled onto his side. His small hand moved on its own, boldly caressing the surface of straining fabric. “You haven't...” Ciel looked up at Sebastian's face, which was drawn into a look of shocked pleasure. “Should I help?” he asked, his fingers moving to hook into the top edge of dark woolen trousers. It was only fair, he thought. He had been made to feel so good, and yet Sebastian took nothing for himself.

Before the butler could protest, Ciel was up on his knees. He deftly unfastened the buttons at the front of Sebastian's trousers and had a short struggle with the man's undergarments. Heart in his throat, he stared openly. It was a strangely beautiful thing, and he could not resist the urge to touch it. Reaching out, Ciel ran this fingertips over the darkened flesh, causing the older man to shiver. He gathered a small amount of the liquid that wept from the tip, studying it for a second. Clear, and slightly viscous, it had a warm, earthy smell. Then he stuck his finger into his mouth. Salty. It was salty, but did not taste unpleasant.

Curious, Ciel leaned forward. That smell became denser the closer he got, and he became convinced that Sebastian would taste the same as well. He put out his tongue then and let it slide over the length of his butler's penis, and he heard Sebastian groan heavily. The taste was quite similar to what he had imagined, and he thought it might be something to which he could become accustomed. His mouth reached the broad tip of Sebastian's erection, and Ciel decided to try an experiment. It felt so nice when Sebastian did it to him, so it stood to reason that it would be good when he did it. Or at least this was his hope as he moved his tongue in a circular path around the dripping slit.

Sebastian gasped, and Ciel looked up at him to make sure he had not done something wrong. Red eyes were almost entirely closed, and what little he could see of them glowed like the embers of a fire. He did not seem displeased. Still watching to be certain that he did not make any mistakes, Ciel opened his mouth wide. He closed it around the end of hardened flesh, and gave a short, soft suck. The butler muttered something in a language Ciel did not understand, but it seemed rather positive, so he continued. He took a little more, and then more, slowly, until his mouth was completely filled, and the tip of Sebastian's erection pressed gently against the back of his throat. More growled foreign words accompanied this action, and a large hand twined into the hair at the back of his head.

The hand guided his movements, slowly at first and then gaining in speed. Ciel felt strange. He was becoming aroused again, although the haze over his mind was much thicker. As his mouth moved over Sebastian's erection, he rubbed himself on the older man's leg. His body felt hot, tensing, and he moaned. Sebastian made an echoing sound, and suddenly ripped him away. Ciel found himself suddenly straddling his companion's lap, disoriented as Sebastian's hand moved to take hold of both of their arousals together. Crying out, he gripped wide, bare shoulders when that hand began to move, sliding over them and sending hot knives of sensation through his body.

It still was not enough, and Ciel moved on his own, grinding his hips into Sebastian's grip. “Ah...” he moaned, instinct driving his hips. He closed his eyes, focusing on the heat that boiled inside him. Something teased at his entrance, and he groaned, “Yes...” It felt like a finger, maybe two, pressing against the tight opening. Then the fingers—for there were two—nudged their way inside him. He was no longer himself then. Ciel Phantomhive ceased to exist, and in his place was a body filled with heat and need.

Arching his back, he pushed against the fingers in an attempt to drive them deeper. He needed them deeper. But no matter how he tried, he could not make them go in any farther. His hand moved to reach behind him, and he opened his eyes to look Sebastian in the face. Gripping the man's wrist, he demanded, “Harder,” The response was immediate, stabbing pleasure the result. Sebastian's fingers penetrated him deeply, but never seemed to strike the correct spot. “More,” he whimpered, caught between thrusting into the man's grip and the desire to impale himself on the fingers inside him. “Faster,” he breathed, and let out another wanton moan when Sebastian complied.

The sounds of flesh sliding against flesh, of skin slapping wetly filled his ears, and pleasures forbidden by law and propriety surged through his body. More foreign words spilled from Sebastian, sounding urgent, and Ciel felt he could hardly breathe. Then it was too much, and his back arched impossibly, his eyes squeezed shut even as his vision went white in climax. Something hot and wet splashed across the skin of his chest, his chin, and onto his bottom lip, but he did not care.

When his eyes opened, he saw Sebastian reclining on the bed, looking quite pleased with himself. The butler smiled. “What a fast learner you are,” Ciel blushed at this praise, which sounded half mocking. Nervous, he licked his lips. Salty fluid entered his mouth, and he blinked in surprise before looking down at himself. His eyes widened at the sheer amount of semen on his skin, and he looked back at his butler questioningly. “Nearly all mine,” the man said, dipping a finger into the sticky mess before running it over Ciel's lips. “You are lovely when you are flushed and demanding, after all.” Ciel tried to open his mouth to tell him to shut it, because he felt rather embarrassed already.

Sebastian shook his head and pointed at the door, indicating that someone was outside, listening. Damn. It would appear that even now he must play his part. Quentin the delivery boy was not as ornery as Ciel Phantomhive. He thought fast, and quickly decided what Quentin might say. “I didn't know...” he licked his lips again, once more tasting semen, and a strange frisson of pleasure moved through him. “I didn't know a man felt so...”

“You are most welcome, young man.” Sebastian spoke in a smug tone that Ciel was unsure was entirely the character he currently portrayed. “Next time, however, I believe I will have to show you what real pleasure is.” He couldn't help the little shuddering moan that escaped him. If there was more, he did not know if he would be able to stand it. Over the next few minutes, Sebastian helped him to clean himself and dress. When both of them were presentable, Sebastian hid the pilfered documents in the back of his waistcoat, locked the office door, and took his jacket from the doorknob.

When they exited the room, Sebastian pressed a gold sovereign into Ciel's hand. “I hope,” he said lowly, “that we will meet again soon.” Heat flooded Ciel's face, and he nodded, stammering an affirmative answer. No sooner had his butler disappeared around the corner, but Henry Newlove materialized seemingly out of thin air.

He delicately plucked the gold coin from Ciel's fingers and replaced it with several silver shillings. “There's for you. Did he say he wants to see you again?”

“Yes, sir.” Ciel answered, casting his eyes downward.

Newlove ruffled the younger boy's hair, and said in a kindly voice, “That means he likes you, then. When he contacts me, I'll come to speak with you after your morning shift. Then all the arrangements can be made.” The boy nodded, and started down the hallway. He hoped that there was not any need for him to go back to the Central Telegraph Office. But of course, that depended entirely upon what they found in the ledgers Sebastian had found.

He did not see the way Henry Newlove stared after him, intently watching the sway of his hips as he walked. If he had, he would have been far more careful.

Author's Note #2: So, how's that? Things are getting rather racy, I would think, and whatever might Henry be up to? Watch out Ciel!