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: Well, I hope that you'll forgive me for taking so long with this update. I did try to make the chapter worth the wait, and I believe you might agree with me that it is. I love you guys for all your awesome reviews. anonanon, Turvok, Althydia, Pengu, MistressDrusilla, Fatal Drum, emochickenbutt, and eevilalice, you guys rock. But don't go slacking and forget to review at the end of this chapter because your brains melted out of your ears.

Part V: Obsessions

“What?!” Ciel rarely raised his voice. Honestly, he almost never saw the need to do so. But after what he had just been told, it was clear he had that right. “And why, pray tell, must I keep up this miserable charade?” Sebastian stood across the desk from him, at what the man obviously thought was a safe distance. But when the master of the house got going, he might just bring down the rafters. At the utter lack of response from the butler, he threw up his hands in frustration and screeched, “Answer me! Why do I have to keep going to that awful place, running to and fro all day until my feet feel as though they might fall off? And Newlove gives me the screaming willies!”

Sebastian slipped around the desk, leaning down and taking the point of Ciel's chin in his hand. “Believe me, Young Master, I dislike that odious little rat far more than you could possibly understand. But it is Her Majesty's wish that we ensnare all of them. Hammond, his legal council, Newlove, and this Reverend that keeps popping up in the ledger. Right now all we have is a name, and it is my belief that this 'Reverend Vick' is an alias.” Ciel made a desperate little sound in the back of his throat as he let himself fall into the desk chair. What was he to do now? How were they going to get close to this Vick character, and who the devil was he? It was all too much. Tears of vexation began leaking from his eyes.

“Be strong,” Sebastian murmured, kneeling to one side of the chair. “You have done so well thus far, it would be a pity to give up now.”

“But my feet hurt,” Ciel knew he was whining, but it was true. He'd not been exaggerating when he said that his feet felt as though they may perform a self-amputation procedure at any moment.

The butler smiled, brushing tears from one fair cheek. “Then I shall massage them for you after your bath. And if my Master would like anything else rubbed down, I would be more than happy to oblige him.” Shocked, Ciel gave a small huff of irritation at Sebastian's newly found perverse tendencies. This was the third open innuendo the man had made since Ciel returned to the townhouse.

“I wouldn't mind the foot rub, but you will keep your hands to yourself, otherwise.” It was not that he precisely disliked the way he had been touched before, but “I need to concentrate on the case. There's no way I can do that if you're constantly trying to molest me.” That left out some key facts, of course. First, his lack of concentration was due to his own desire, not any need for dodging his servant's advances. Secondly, Sebastian understood as well as he did what they needed to accomplish, and would not jeopardize their assignment. This knowledge did nothing to stop the panicked feelings that set in when the man was close.

It was difficult to describe, other than the actual symptoms. His palms became sweaty, his heart beat a fierce rhythm, and he became aroused so easily that it was completely beyond his control. To be honest, once already he had nearly done what he swore to himself he would not. Ciel had very nearly asked Sebastian to escort him to his bedroom, therein to perform acts of such depravity as would likely make a sailor blush. Even now, as Sebastian knelt so close by, he found himself wishing those long-fingered hands would--

“Master,” Sebastian gave his shoulder a small shake, jolting him from his increasingly amoral thoughts. “Forgive me for my inappropriate behavior, please. I have only done what was necessary for the assignment.” Disappointment laced Sebastian's every word and movement, though it was subtle.

Ciel placed a hand on his butler's arm, just below the elbow. “Do not distress yourself, Sebastian. My enjoyment of our...activities earlier was genuine. But sexual distraction seems to be one of the things we must keep in check at the moment. It would not do to fall prey to the very thing we are attempting to shield the Crown from, would it?”

A smile of mixed relief and pride stretched Sebastian's full lips. He nodded his dark head and then asked hopefully, “Then perhaps only a small distraction, just before bed?” At Ciel's raised eyebrows, the butler added with a sly smile, “To help you sleep, of course.”

Sighing in exasperation, the boy muttered as he rolled his eyes, “I don't think I'll have any trouble falling asleep tonight.”

The older man's face took on a grave expression of resignation. It was completely false of course, but somehow Ciel was beginning to find Sebastian's need for intimate contact—and those things he did in order to obtain it—to be quite endearing. “As you say, my Lord, but what kind of butler would I be if I let my Master take that chance?”

“Very well,” he said in a dismissive tone. “But you will clean up after yourself.” Sebastian all but glowed in anticipation.

--

The door closed behind him with a click, and Sebastian smiled. Ciel was fast asleep, with his help. As promised, he merely massaged his Master's feet but after that treatment he indulged himself greatly. While the boy might have pretended to allow his advances under sufferance, it was clear that his touch was welcome. He was becoming very fond indeed of the many swear words that his Master seemed to know. Such filthy terms passing the lips of someone so young were oddly arousing, and when they were added to the mountain of other attractions Ciel possessed, it was impossible to refuse the desires he felt.

Perhaps it was a byproduct of their contract, the bond they shared, but Sebastian could not remember feeling so drawn to another being in all of his many years. Ciel Phantomhive was a walking contradiction in so many ways that he was constantly fascinated by his behavior and mind. As complex as he was normally, he was entirely simple in the heat of passion. The boy had no compunction, no inhibition. He was bold, his hands confident even in the midst of acts he had never performed. When flesh pressed flesh, he was no longer the proud son of nobility. He was simply a boy on the verge of becoming a man, whose body's demands were becoming increasingly strident.

Sebastian walked the halls of the Phantomhive townhouse, aimlessly passing through rooms and never settling anywhere. In a way, he was quite happy with this turn of events. It was dangerous, but if not for Her Majesty's request, he might not have the opportunity to give his Master such a pleasurable goodnight. The taste of him lingered on Sebastian's tongue, and the silky texture of his skin still tickled at his palms. Shivering, he finally decided on a destination. He found himself at his room faster than he might have thought possible, and let himself in to relieve the heat beneath his skin.

--

Ciel turned away from the door to the townhouse of one Mr. Harold R. Torrence, his last delivery of the morning. With a sigh, he faced the direction he had come from, and began the long journey back to the Central Telegraph Office. His feet hurt, as predicted, and it would still be quite a while before he might be allowed to rest. Therefore, he cut through a back alley halfway down the block and into the next street, where he had seen a man walking round with a tray of hot cross buns. The shillings he'd gotten from his time in Cleveland Street were tucked inside a small cloth bag in his waistcoat, and he hurried to catch the tall man in the stovepipe hat.

“Oi!” Ciel called, getting the baker's attention while hungrily eying the tray of rolls. He skidded to a stop on a wet patch of cobblestone and said in a more quiet tone, “I'll have one, sir.”

Small, watery eyes peered down a battered, crooked nose at the urchin that had all but demanded his wares. After taking in Ciel's clothing and age, the man asked shrewdly, “Do ye 'ave coin, lad, or are ye beggin'?” The boy reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out one of the shillings. When he did so, the baker's eyes widened. Whistling through a gap in his front teeth, he said, “Best keep yer money close, lad. This 'ent the best part 'o town.”

Ciel gave a start, looking around warily before turning his gaze back upward in the most innocent manner possible. “Is it all right if I pay with this?” He bit his lip, and began rummaging again in his pocket. “I might have a twopence or three...somewhere.”

“Oh, I dunna think yer money's a problem. Give us tha' shillin', an' we'll see wha's in Ole Caddy's pocket.” The tall man put out his large, callused hand, and Ciel laid the coin to rest between two deep creases in his palm. From a pocket in his worn woolen coat, the man counted out the change he was to receive. It was a little more than it should have been, and when he looked questioningly at the man, he was patted on the head a little roughly before a warm, buttery roll was pressed into his hands. “Tha's a good lad. Now run along. Ye seem t' have someplace to be.”

After thanking the man, Ciel again set off for the CTO.

--

Henry Newlove watched as Quentin entered the building, just finishing off the remnants of a roll. The boy turned to head for the office where the telegraph boys received their assignments, but Henry moved to intercept him. “Quentin,” he called, beckoning. At his approach, the clerk said, “Walk with me.” They did, briefly turning down a corridor toward the office where Henry worked. “I have received a message from Sebastian. He would like very much to see you again.”

The boy's face took on a pink hue, and he stammered, “Yes, sir?”

“Would this afternoon be convenient?” He observed the manner in which the skin of Quentin's face deepened in hue, but the boy nodded his acceptance. “After you have done with your duties here, please proceed to the house in Cleveland Street to wait for Sebastian. He will arrive quite shortly afterward, and you will have your time with him then.”

“Th...Thank you sir.”

--

At half-past four in the afternoon, Sebastian began to worry. Ciel had not returned from his shift at the Central Telegraph Office, which he usually did no later than four. When he rang the office, pretending to be the uncle of “Quentin”, the man on the other end of the line said that the boy had gone more than an hour earlier. What on earth could have happened to him? His eyes narrowed.

Newlove.

--

Ciel groaned. His head felt heavy, and his thoughts were sluggish. He was more than groggy, as if he were still half asleep. When he tried to sit up, he could not. It was not so much the disobedient nature of his body as it was that there was something securing him to whatever surface it was he lay upon. In addition to his restrained state, it was only with great difficulty that he managed to open his eyes for a brief instant before they closed again from the strain. In that moment, Ciel saw he was no longer in the parlor where Newlove had given him mint tea. After that, his mind got fuzzy and he dozed once again.

Ciel woke to the sound of a door opening. His body gave a feeble jerk and he whimpered as he heard, “Ah, you've come round.” The voice was familiar...a sweet tone, masculine and velvety. After some moments of muddled thought, he realized that it belonged to Henry Newlove. Dread settle hard and cold into the pit of his stomach, but it was difficult to tell why. Henry had always been kind to him, after all...

Newlove's voice moved closer, coming to a stop near his head. “You'll notice that I have taken the liberty of removing your clothes.” Ciel had wondered why it was that he felt a draft. That's one mystery solved, he thought, before finding that he was vaguely discomforted by his state of undress. “I do not think you will be needing them any time soon.” The warmth of a hand slid over his thigh, and his body gave a pitiful shiver. Newlove slowly caressed Ciel's leg, causing the boy to shake and tremble. “Your skin is so smooth, Quentin...it's like silk.”

“Let me go,” Ciel whined, his voice finally coming out. He could not remember having meant to say anything, though.

“Now why on earth would I do a thing like that?” Newlove's hand grazed the underside of his scrotum, and he jerked against his bonds. “Hm. You must be very sensitive...I wonder...how you will moan for me when I am buried deep inside,” his hand moved lower, fingertips pressing against the entrance to Ciel's anus, “right here. You have such a beautiful voice. I heard when Sebastian had you. I was right outside the door, listening. There were some very dirty words coming out of your lovely mouth. If I touch you the right way, would you say them for me too?”

Ceil made a choking sound. It would seem that he would not likely be doing any more talking.

“I do so wish that there had not been a need for drugs.” Newlove then roughly groped Ciel, his hand gripping his flaccid penis and teasing it. When this produced little reaction, he moved away, and Ciel heard the sounds of rummaging from across the room. By the time he managed to get his eyes open and keep them that way, Newlove was back by his side. “But you seem to need a bit of encouragement.” The man opened a clear glass bottle and poured a small amount of some dark amber liquid into his hands. Newlove then massaged it into Ciel's entire groin area, and over his entrance.

Immediately, his skin tingled. He wriggled, trying to rid himself of the feeling, but it remained. The tingle subsided, only to be replaced with a strangely burning sensation that began to force his penis into an erect state. Newlove rubbed more of the liquid onto his chest, paying careful attention to his nipples. All the while, Ciel's mind began functioning more properly. It was with great anxiety that he watched Newlove open his trousers and pull his shirt away. His eyes followed the man's hands as they loosed a dark red erection from his undergarments. Horrified, he watched as Newlove began applying the liquid to himself. His body reacted to seeing the long, slow strokes of the man's hand, and the burning between his legs intensified, causing him to groan.

--

Sebastian growled in frustration. He had every reason to believe his Master was in grave danger, and yet the boy had not summoned him. There could only be a couple of reasons for that. Either he was unconscious, or drugged in some way. This meant, of course, that when he laid hands upon Henry Newlove that the odious little man would suffer far worse than he might ever have imagined. His footsteps quickened, and a moment later, he saw 19 Cleveland Street ahead.

--

The boy writhed on the table, his slender limbs straining against their bonds. Henry continued his beautiful torture, nipping at the skin of his inner thigh while fisting the dripping erection that had turned an angry red. He had taken so many young men in the past few years, but none were this sensitive, nor were they as viscerally erotic to watch. He licked at the boy's scrotum, and was rewarded with a harsh cry.

“Aaaagh!” Quentin panted hard after this scream, and he raised his head to look at Henry with tears in his eyes. “Please...” the boy begged, “Please make it stop...it hurts...”

Henry smiled and moved around the side of the table. He brushed dark hair from the boy's forehead and leaned down to whisper in his ear. “The pain will end much sooner if you stop fighting it, Quentin. Say you will be a good boy. I'll take off the restraints, and we can do this the way it's meant to be done.” Anger flooded the boy's face, and Henry sighed. “No? Well, I suppose I might be able to have my fun this way as well.”

He released the boy's erection completely and then moved to pay loving attention to the hard little dusky nipples that had been begging for his touch. This proved to have nearly as great an effect as the work he had done with Quentin's painfully erect penis. The boy's back arched sharply up off of the table as he pinched at them, and he moaned deliciously. When he repeated that action, Quentin brought his slender hips up in an involuntary thrusting motion and whimpered.

“Are we ready to be a good boy?” Newlove asked, looking down at the boy's wide blue eye.

Quentin's chin quivered, his lips quirking in agitation. He then sobbed, “God...yes! Please, please just let it stop!” Henry grinned. This was going to be so much better without the restraints. He unbuckled the leather manacles around the boy's wrists and then moved to his feet. Just as he was starting to unfasten them as well, he heard Quentin moan. When he looked up, he saw something that nearly stole his flagging control from him. He watched, transfixed as the boy touched himself for a few moments before he pulled those small hands away.

“Now, now,” Henry murmured, “That is for me to do.”

“But--”

“No buts,” he interrupted, finally finishing his work with the leg restraints. “I'll take good care of you. Now why don't you slide down off the table and come over to the sofa?” Gingerly, Quentin did as he was asked. Henry sat down, and he bade the boy kneel before him. “Take it into your mouth.” He soon felt hot wetness envelop him, and the suction began not long thereafter. The boy's movements were slightly clumsy, but it simply added to the idea that he was innocent, which was part of Quentin's allure. He looked across the room at the full-length mirror to find the image of himself reflected there. The curve of the boy's spine was graceful, his buttocks firm. Henry then looked down, watching the slide of lips over his manhood and he suddenly could take no more.

It had been his intention to prepare the boy slowly, to be careful. But now, seeing how desperate Quentin was, he was unable to stop himself. He pulled the boy away, and dragged him back to the table. Henry shoved him forward, pushing his upper body down and grasping at his hips. He tilted them back, and slid his fingers down the moistened cleft of the boy's buttocks. Tender, puckered flesh met his fingertips, and he teased at it. The boy moaned heavily, whispering something.

“What was that?” Henry asked, sliding his finger inside.

Quentin moaned again, but then cried out, “Sebastian!”

Henry froze. He had never been with anyone who called another's name in the act of passion. Angered now nearly to the edge of reason, he removed his fingers. This boy would call his name before all was done. He would remember that it was Henry Newlove taking him, possessing him, penetrating him to the core. His hips began to slide forward.

--

Ciel's hands scrambled for purchase on the table. He could feel the man behind him, the hands on his hips. Hard, hot flesh began pressing forward, trying to enter him, and he did the only thing he could. He squeezed his muscles hard, trying to keep him out. Where was Sebastian?

--

Sebastian Michalis ignored the short, plump figure of Mr. Hammond as he trailed behind him. He opened every door and, not finding what he sought, moved to the next. Hammond apologized when there were patron's within before accosting him and demanding that he respect the privacy of the clients who placed so much trust in him. It was none of his concern.

Finally, he felt that familiar pull on his mind that always came when his Master summoned him. Veering into another corridor, he came to stand before a door that was locked. Turning round, he looked at Hammond who had followed him into the hall, sweating. “Open it.” The man sputtered in protest. Sebastian took hold of the lapels of his coat and shoved him against the wall of the corridor. “Open it, or I swear that once I am through with you, even your mother would not be able to identify the pitiful remains of your body.”

Hammond's eyes grew wide and his hands shook, but he managed to produce the key to the door and fit it to the lock. Sebastian then pushed him aside, turning key and knob before swinging the door open in one smooth motion and stepping inside. “Mr. Newlove,” he growled as he closed the door behind himself and engaged the lock, “What was it that we discussed?”

Henry Newlove looked up, his eyes wide as dinner plates and his face was spectacularly guilty. “Sebastian?”

The butler crossed the room quickly, the clicking of his heels like hammers on coffin nails. “The very same, Mr. Newlove. Now step away from the boy.” Henry's hands fell away from where they had been gripping Ciel's hips, and he took three steps back. He shakily raised his hands in front of himself in a warding gesture. It was almost laughable, really. To think that the man still had any illusions of protection against Sebastian was quite nearly ridiculous. “Get up on the table.” Henry did as ordered, and Sebastian strapped him into the restraints chained to the table legs. Shaking his head, he said, “I believe, Mr. Newlove, that I specifically asked you not to touch this young man.”

“I...” the younger man's voice faltered as he was completely unable to rebut the obvious.

“Did I not tell you that there are repercussions for your actions, Henry?” The man's head nodded slowly. “Then I must think of a way to punish you. Perhaps by simply leaving you here? Or shall I call Mr. Wilde from up the street? He could bring that gaggle of fops with him, and they could all have a go at you. How would you like that?” Henry Newlove's face became pale, the blood draining from it rather quickly. Sebastian then smiled at the thought of an absolutely fiendish idea.

Turning his gaze to where Ciel was huddled on the floor in shock, he moved to help him up. He was covered in sweat, and the pupil of his visible eye appeared severely dilated. His Master shivered bodily; slender arms hugged his knees and partially hid his face. Peering up past his folded arms, Ciel whispered, “Sebastian...where were you?” His trembling only worsened and he was barely able to say, “I...did things...he gave me...some kind of drug...”

Ignoring Ciel's question, he opted for an answer that would not give away their operation's existence. “Then we must work it from your system.” He held out a hand to the shaking boy on the floor and watched as Ciel reached out unsteadily to take it. “Come here, Quentin.” Sebastian pulled his Master from the floor and seated him on the edge of the table, next to Henry Newlove's restrained body. “Spread your legs for me, there you are...thank you. You poor thing,” he murmured, “It is so red...and hard. Does it hurt?” Ciel nodded vigorously, tears beginning to gather in his eyes. “Here,” Sebastian leaned forward his face nearing the boy's erection. “Let me make the pain go away.”

--

Ciel felt such blissful, horrendously painful pleasure when Sebastian's mouth descended upon him that he could not hold in his voice. He screamed loudly, in a high pitch that might have broken glass had it gone on any longer than it did. An intense and almost instantaneous climax rocked him, and he sagged backward, resting against Henry Newlove's legs. A moment later, however, he was once again erect. “Please...” Ciel whispered, feeling his sanity slipping away from him.

“Shhh,” Sebastian's voice seemed to come from far away, as if he heard it from down a long hallway. “Let go, and I will do the rest. Give yourself to me, completely. You are mine,” he said, the words filtering down to Ciel's ears like snow through firs. It was, however, in that moment that he realized the truth they held. While he may command, his soul was not his own. It belonged to Sebastian, to do with as he pleased; his body was no different. The rush of sensation, the feeling of fire racing over his skin was infinitely more intense when it was Sebastian touching him.

Ciel relaxed into the hands that slid up his torso, and let go of his accustomed iron grip on self control. In that same instant, he heard Sebastian's voice murmuring words that sounded like gibberish, but he somehow understood. It was the language of his native land, the tongue spoken in the abyss of Hell. His eyes did not see, nor did his lungs draw breath. Ciel found himself awash in fire, drowning in a sea of it. The flames burned him to the core, pulling him under and holding him there until it felt as though he might die.

The very next moment, he was back in the present, the cold table feeling abnormally solid beneath him. Sebastian's hands had moved from his stomach to the backs of his thighs, pushing his knees toward his head and out. With his legs spread as wide as they possibly could, he was utterly exposed. Red eyes watched him, but he felt no shame. This was as it should be. He had no name, no title, no purpose other than to exist for Sebastian's will.

“Tell me what you need,” Sebastian's voice was rough, its edges jagged with desire.

Ciel panted, unable to get enough air as hot breath touched his skin. “You know what I need...” He answered, for it was true.

A smile stretched the man's lips, turning evil. “Let me hear you say it.”

There was nothing he could do. Sebastian wished it, so he must speak. “I need you...inside...Take me.”

The red in Sebastian's eyes glowed violently, and Ciel ceased breathing for a moment. Had he displeased him? What had he done? The evil smile Sebastian wore softened for an instant. “I will not share the sight of you in that ecstasy with Mr. Newlove. But I will find other ways to please you.” With that, Sebastian settled his mouth onto Ciel's semen-stained erection. His tongue was hot, and only slightly rough. It reminded Ciel of a cat. “Your taste is intoxicating. Do you enjoy when I do this?”

Ciel nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. If he were to watch, he would only have another climax. “Yes,” he breathed.

Sebastian took him in, sucking gently on the very tip of his erection while he grazed fingers over its length. He then released it entirely. “Do you like when I put my fingers inside you?” Ciel felt a sudden burning, a need that he had never before experienced. He groaned, and felt his hand move of its own accord. Sebastian caught it just before it reached its destination. “Tsk, tsk. Naughty boy.”

“But Sebastian...you won't take me. I feel...” His voice trailed off and his face heated. He could not say that. Ceil could be made to say very nearly anything, but certainly not that...

“You feel what?” Sebastian grazed his long fingers over the hypersensitive ring of muscle, Causing Ciel to moan. He gathered semen and sweat before rubbing them into the spot. “What do you feel? You feel me, do you not? Can you feel how I must stop myself...how I must restrain myself from bending you over this table? It by is by far the most difficult thing I have ever done. What do you feel that you cannot say to me?” Sebastian's voice resonated through his body, vibrated in his soul and echoed in his mind, until all that mattered was what he wanted. And what Sebastian wanted was for him to speak the unspeakable...to voice desires he had kept silent.

He could not refuse, though his face now burned in shame that he before believed had left him. Words began clawing at his throat, and try as he might, he could not force them back down. Ciel's voice rose, and he all but yelled, “I feel so empty...please...I can't stand it!” His body shook, small hands curling into fists so tightly that his nails drew blood from his palms. Whimpering, with tears flowing down his cheeks, he stared up at Sebastian's apparently shocked face. Red eyes were wide with surprise, and he seemed frozen to the spot. Ciel reached out, somehow opening his hands long enough to take hold of the front of his butler's shirt. “I will do anything...” he sobbed, “Whatever you want. Just make the pain...the emptiness...make it go away!”

Ciel then collapsed in a heap against Sebastian's chest, pressing his face into perfectly starched cotton. Strong, gloved hands moved over his shoulders, and he heard a soft sound of consolation from the man. “Shh. Be calm. The pain will fade. I will take it away. But I cannot take you in front of another. That, I refuse to do.” Slowly, his heart's pounding lessened, though he was unsure if it was from the words being murmured in his ear or the feeling of lips grazing the skin of his neck. Ciel relaxed into the feeling of Sebastian's hands as they moved over his body, teasing his nipples into painful hardness, massaging the sensitive skin of his inner thighs until he was again close to climax.

“Will you help me?” came Sebastian's voice once again, his tone merely inquisitive. Ciel nodded. “Good. Now you must touch yourself here,” Sebastian positioned the boy's hand so that it was loosely grasping his own erection. “So. Yes...And I,” Discreetly, Sebastian removed one of his gloves. He slipped it into his pocket before again touching his master's entrance. “I will slide my fingers in--” Slick with sweat and semen, Sebastian's fingers began penetrating the muscular ring, causing Ciel to gasp. “--deeper inside...you are so warm...do not stop touching yourself. Good. Now, deeper...further within...there.” The two slender digits pressed gently against something inside him, only just barely.

“Oh God...” Ciel moaned, his body seizing. “More. Please...more...” With teasingly small passes, Sebastian's fingers withdrew, and then slid back inside. He only grazed the spot he had found, driving Ciel to scream with utter frustration. Soon, the boy was cursing his name. “God damn you, Sebastian! Stop teasing me and bloody-well finish!” Another few moments went by with no change in the pace or accuracy of his fingers, and then Ciel was becoming truly angry. He abandoned the task set before him and set to glaring ineffectively at his tormentor. When he opened his mouth to let fly another string of venomous curses, however, Sebastian suddenly pressed a third finger inside him. Without warning, he thrust them forward in an almost violent motion that nevertheless held pinpoint accuracy.

Again and again, he abused the tiny spot inside Ciel's body, and each time, the boy shook and cried out with a climax more violent than the last. Finally, with one last wail, he fell limp and unconscious against the legs of the young man strapped to the table.

--

Sebastian moved Ciel to the couch nearby before opening the door and grabbing Hammond, who had been outside the entire time. Hauling the man inside, he jabbed a finger in Henry's direction. “Get him out of here. If I hear of him attempting to molest my property again, I will take more drastic measures. Do I make myself perfectly understood?”

Hammond nodded, his jowls flapping as he stammered, “Yes, sir.”

Sebastian pulled two gold sovereigns from his jacket and put them into the man's hand. “One is for you. The other is for Quentin. I am quite afraid that I have worn him out. He may miss a few days work at the telegraph office because of it.” Hammond's shrewd, watery eyes fell onto the coins, and it was obvious what was going through his head. “Make certain he gets it. If he tells me that anything less has come his way, rest assured that I will take the residue from your miserable hide.” With that, he moved to begin cleaning Ciel of his mess.

--

Ciel woke almost twelve hours later, an acute ache in his lower regions. For a minute or two, he could not remember why he felt such pain, but then it all came back. Burying hie face in the pillows of his bed, he felt his face catch fire. The things he had done...the things he said! How would he ever be able to look Sebastian in the eye again?

A knock came at the door and it opened, admitting Sebastian. He carried the accustomed tray for Ciel's breakfast. “Good morning, Young Master. How are you feeling?” The butler did not face him, but walked past the bed to place his tray on the small table near the window. He then drew back the curtains and let light in. “I took the liberty of having Maylene call the telegraph office pretending to be your mother and tell them that you were ill. You will return as soon as you are feeling better, and resume your work.”

Ciel blinked. Why was he rattling on so? Was he nervous? That was impossible...wasn't it? Sebastian was beginning to babble about the food that he'd prepared for breakfast, and it was starting to make his head hurt. “Sebastian...” He groaned.

“Yes, Young Master?”

“Come here.” Ciel pointed at a spot on the floor just at the side of his bed. Sebastian approached, outwardly calm. “Sit.” He then pointed at the covers of the bed. Sebastian sat. “Now...to answer your question, I am sore. I do not care what is for breakfast, or that I am not going to the telegraph office today. What I want is for you to shut your mouth, and keep it that way.” All he received in reply was a nod, Sebastian already obeying his request. Smiling slightly, Ciel gave a nod. “Good. Now I'll have my breakfast right here. I am not getting up today.”

When Sebastian brought the first plate over, Ciel blinked at a custard tart, covered with blueberries and clotted cream. “Are you spoiling me, Sebastian?” A tiny smile played on the butler's lips, and two more plates were produced, one holding a spice cake that smelled of ginger and molasses, and another with a miniature molten lemon cake, also with blueberries. “You are spoiling me.”

“Pardon my disobeying your orders, Young Master...but I believe I am indulging myself more so than you.”

Ciel raised one finely shaped dark eyebrow. “How is that?”

Sebastian leaned in, removing one of his gloves. He dipped one finger into the lemon sauce of the cake, only to place it against Ciel's lips. The boy took in the sugar-coated digit, and made an appropriately bliss-filled moan. Sebastian grinned. “I am indulging myself because your face is fascinating when you consume sweet things, Young Master. Would you like me to feed you by hand?”

Ciel rolled his eyes. “If you want to feed me, Sebastian, just ask. Don't try making it my idea.” Sebastian smiled again, and took up the fork.

“As my Master wishes...”

--

Author's Note #2: So...was it worth the wait? R E V I E W .