Demonic Dreams

Grell contorted his body lethargically in a deep sleep, dreaming, as always, since the first time he laid eyes on him, of his cherished demonic butler. He let out soft whimpers as the images behind his eyes became more vivid.

He was kneeling over the temptingly bound Sebastian, that pale chest slick with beads of sweat, shimmering in the candle light of the large room. They could have been anywhere, but Grell liked to imagine playing their dangerous game in the luscious rooms of the butler’s charge. It makes it that much more tempting. Those thick curtains on the bed and the soft candle light casting evil shadows across Sebastian’s taut muscles.

Low groans of protest were echoing in the room as the ebony-haired demon struggled against his bonds. The smell of strong leather and vanilla candles filled the room, clashing wonderfully in a symphony of scent for the cheeky shinigami. Grell smiled evilly down at Sebastian and dipped his head low to lap at the quivering pulse point beneath his ravenous mouth.

The body beneath him went stiff against his fingertips, straining for release. In his mind, the handsome demon always ached for his touch, as much as Grell did when not lost in his dreams. He trailed a light hand down the curve of Sebastian’s waist, across a sharp hipbone, casting choking shadows against that flawless skin. The perfect back arched dangerously, pulling tight as a bow string, as a sensitive nub was attacked with snake-like fangs.

The Young Master’s room was once again filled with the soft pleading cries and echoing whimpers of a demon in distress, hands trying to clutch at the elaborate headboard, teeth bared in a passionate snarl as slick fingers entered him, one after the other, stretching him to admit that one strong piece of flesh that is prized so highly among mortals.

As bodies came together in a tangle of blood red and black, the moonlight shimmered silver across the damp sheets, casting pools of light in every crevice, better illuminating the one sacred act left to the crimson folds of Grell’s mind. A rough gasp tore him from the room, and the smell of leather, and the writhing body of his dream-lover.

Grell sat up in his bed, a pale hand to his forehead as soiled sheets pooled around his bare hips, feeling his own chest rise and fall in deep, passionate moan. His own breath tickled across his lips as he realized what had occurred. With a sigh of exhilaration, he exclaimed,

“Oh, Sebastian, the things you do to me!”