While You Were Sleeping
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+. to F › Black Butler (Kuroshitsuji ???)
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
1
Views:
6,036
Reviews:
2
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Currently Reading:
0
Category:
+. to F › Black Butler (Kuroshitsuji ???)
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
1
Views:
6,036
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler, or any of its characters. No money is made from writing this story.
While You Were Sleeping
Title: “While You Were Sleeping”
Series: Kuroshitsuji (aka “Black Butler”)
Genre: Romance
Begun: November 10, 2009
Complete: November 10, 2009
Chapters: 1
Summary: If you only knew, Young Master, the things I have done while you were sleeping... (Prelude to Bloody Business)
Author's Note: Hi, everyone. This is a very short sort of first-person account of Sebastian's private thoughts where his Master are concerned. He is writing this just before the beginning of my story, Bloody Business, and it is basically an outlet for him. Comments are more than welcome.
--
“While You Were Sleeping”
It is truly unlike me...this confession. But in essence, I believe that it is safe. You will not read these words, and even if others do, there is little to fear from them. Your life is my whole life, until your death. Each breath you take, every glance in my direction, only values your soul higher in my estimation. I cannot think of a substance to which it can be likened. Steel might come close to analogous for your determination, and yet there is a softer and more refined part of you...No, words truly do fail me on this one point.
Perhaps your soul is what draws me so. I have tasted countless others, consumed them without thought, but though I long to have yours, it will be a sad day indeed when I must take it. The relationship we share is a paradox of epic proportions. You are spoiled, but far from naïve. Tainted, yet somehow pure in ways that you have yet to understand. I indulge you, but punish you at the same time. I long to show you just how stained your existence can become, and at the same time it would be a greater crime than shattering one of the stained glass windows in the Cathedral of Notre Dame. Far worse than that...
Contenting myself with staying close to you, watching over you...it grows increasingly difficult to keep myself in check. The tilt of your head when you are deep in thought, how you expose your neck, is enough to cause my blood to race. As I help you dress, do you know that my hands itch to touch you? My skin burns when I watch you watch me. And as you attempt to decipher my thoughts, so too do I delve into my imagination, wondering what it is you think of when you look at me. Do you see your own mortality, as when your eyes fall to the ring on your thumb? Or is there something more that you see? Is the aqueous blue of your eyes able to seek out the dark red need in mine?
Of course, this is all conjecture. It is highly doubtful, as single-minded as my Young Master is...that you have been able to see my desires. And if you did, your pride would never allow any of it.
And so, as you sleep, I have watched you, torturing my mind and body, indulging a most masochistic impulse. Your breathing is shallow, slow and rhythmic. How would it be if I touched you? Would you gasp; crying out in weak and impassioned tones? Eyes closed...could I dare to fantasize that they might open and look on me through a fog of desire? Your body is still, but how might you move if my hands slid over the delicate skin of your thighs?
I imagine your back arching, a small moan of mixed pleasure and irritation at my inherently teasing ways escaping your parted lips. Your body trembles, barely keeping itself from reaching out for me. My name floats up toward the ceiling as I lay with you, finally feeling the press of skin, the heat of you. Your hands, so small and feeble in their strength, become as iron when they grip my bare shoulders. The forbidden temptation of your mouth beckons me, calling out demandingly. I cannot refuse you anything, and I lower my lips to yours. My Master's lips are desperate, inexperience eclipsed by passion.
I do my best to tease, to put off, to infuriate. You begin to cry out in need; I have plied your body with pleasure for so long already that it is time to end these games. Just as your cries degrade into sobs, I fall into you, sinking so deep that I think there is just a little of your soul I can reach. I cannot be satisfied in such a way, for it is not enough. All. I must have all of you. Mine. I must make all of you mine. But even I cannot hold on so long. I fall to pieces when you begin to scream, your breath releasing in a rending wail that pierces my heart and claws at my resolve.
The welcome blackness of oblivion overtakes me, and when my eyes open, I am sadly not holding you in my arms. Instead, I am merely standing over you once again, watching you.
--
Sebastian peered through the door, his full lips drawing upward into a smile as he watched the moon reflected in the pale skin of his Master's face. In less than a whisper, he said, “If you only knew, Young Master, the things I have done while you were sleeping...”
--
End.
Series: Kuroshitsuji (aka “Black Butler”)
Genre: Romance
Begun: November 10, 2009
Complete: November 10, 2009
Chapters: 1
Summary: If you only knew, Young Master, the things I have done while you were sleeping... (Prelude to Bloody Business)
Author's Note: Hi, everyone. This is a very short sort of first-person account of Sebastian's private thoughts where his Master are concerned. He is writing this just before the beginning of my story, Bloody Business, and it is basically an outlet for him. Comments are more than welcome.
--
“While You Were Sleeping”
It is truly unlike me...this confession. But in essence, I believe that it is safe. You will not read these words, and even if others do, there is little to fear from them. Your life is my whole life, until your death. Each breath you take, every glance in my direction, only values your soul higher in my estimation. I cannot think of a substance to which it can be likened. Steel might come close to analogous for your determination, and yet there is a softer and more refined part of you...No, words truly do fail me on this one point.
Perhaps your soul is what draws me so. I have tasted countless others, consumed them without thought, but though I long to have yours, it will be a sad day indeed when I must take it. The relationship we share is a paradox of epic proportions. You are spoiled, but far from naïve. Tainted, yet somehow pure in ways that you have yet to understand. I indulge you, but punish you at the same time. I long to show you just how stained your existence can become, and at the same time it would be a greater crime than shattering one of the stained glass windows in the Cathedral of Notre Dame. Far worse than that...
Contenting myself with staying close to you, watching over you...it grows increasingly difficult to keep myself in check. The tilt of your head when you are deep in thought, how you expose your neck, is enough to cause my blood to race. As I help you dress, do you know that my hands itch to touch you? My skin burns when I watch you watch me. And as you attempt to decipher my thoughts, so too do I delve into my imagination, wondering what it is you think of when you look at me. Do you see your own mortality, as when your eyes fall to the ring on your thumb? Or is there something more that you see? Is the aqueous blue of your eyes able to seek out the dark red need in mine?
Of course, this is all conjecture. It is highly doubtful, as single-minded as my Young Master is...that you have been able to see my desires. And if you did, your pride would never allow any of it.
And so, as you sleep, I have watched you, torturing my mind and body, indulging a most masochistic impulse. Your breathing is shallow, slow and rhythmic. How would it be if I touched you? Would you gasp; crying out in weak and impassioned tones? Eyes closed...could I dare to fantasize that they might open and look on me through a fog of desire? Your body is still, but how might you move if my hands slid over the delicate skin of your thighs?
I imagine your back arching, a small moan of mixed pleasure and irritation at my inherently teasing ways escaping your parted lips. Your body trembles, barely keeping itself from reaching out for me. My name floats up toward the ceiling as I lay with you, finally feeling the press of skin, the heat of you. Your hands, so small and feeble in their strength, become as iron when they grip my bare shoulders. The forbidden temptation of your mouth beckons me, calling out demandingly. I cannot refuse you anything, and I lower my lips to yours. My Master's lips are desperate, inexperience eclipsed by passion.
I do my best to tease, to put off, to infuriate. You begin to cry out in need; I have plied your body with pleasure for so long already that it is time to end these games. Just as your cries degrade into sobs, I fall into you, sinking so deep that I think there is just a little of your soul I can reach. I cannot be satisfied in such a way, for it is not enough. All. I must have all of you. Mine. I must make all of you mine. But even I cannot hold on so long. I fall to pieces when you begin to scream, your breath releasing in a rending wail that pierces my heart and claws at my resolve.
The welcome blackness of oblivion overtakes me, and when my eyes open, I am sadly not holding you in my arms. Instead, I am merely standing over you once again, watching you.
--
Sebastian peered through the door, his full lips drawing upward into a smile as he watched the moon reflected in the pale skin of his Master's face. In less than a whisper, he said, “If you only knew, Young Master, the things I have done while you were sleeping...”
--
End.