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Temptations	By : zoni Category: > Black Butler (Kuroshitsuji ???) Views: 6461 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji or any of its characters, and do not make any money from my fan fiction.

Chapter List
- 1-Temptations
- 1
Temptations

by Zoni

   The first night that I heard my young master saying my name, I thought that he was having a nightmare. After all, that is why I had been standing outside of his door for the past week. Night after night, he had woken up, screaming in terror at memories that could no longer touch him. I exist to protect him from all things, even if they come from his own mind. My hand was already on the wood of the door before I realized that it wasn't a nightmare that had caused him to say my name. Nor had he said it with any real intention of bringing me into the room. The sounds that he was making were audible even through the door of his room. Heavy breathing, panting and the occasional hitch in his voice as he whispered something without meaning to. These sounds were all layered on top of the faint but audible sound of skin sliding against

skin. He was enjoying himself to the fullest, and in the process he had said my name.

     While not entirely unprecedented, it was still unexpected. Though he and I have an understanding of one another, there are times when he still manages to catch me off guard This is one of them. Since that night, I have continued to listen at his door but I am no longer listening for signs of bad dreams. Instead, I very much enjoy listening to the sound of my young master's voice. He does make the loveliest sounds. However, hearing him say my name the way he did that night, be it ever so faint, is delightful in an entirely different way.

     On one or two of these nights, I have considered opening the door and going inside. I am quite certain that it would bring me no end of grief from the young master. Even so, I think that seeing his reaction might be worth it. Just the thought of him caught so completely off guard and exposed like that is a temptation to me. Since that first night, however, I have not heard him say my name again. Other people might doubt or wonder if they had heard him correctly in the first instance. I know there was no mistake. He was thinking of me even as he brought himself to release.

     It has become something of a game to me. Every night I come to his door to check on him. I stand here listening, and nearly every night I can hear him. The lovely sighs and gasps he makes even though there is no one else there to enjoy them. I have told myself that when he says my name again I will indulge myself and enter. After all, what sort of butler would I be if I did not attend to my young master when he calls for me?

     Tonight, there is silence from the inner chamber. Perhaps he actually went to sleep after I put him to bed earlier. He asked for a book to read and told me that he was tired. I doubt that he will have any more nightmares any time soon, either. If he is truly sleeping, perhaps I should retreat to my own quarters. I can suffice with my own entertainment, much as I have done after listening to him through these doors almost every night since the first.

     Just as I am about to turn and leave, I hear it. That quiet voice gasping. Leaning back against the door, I am smiling as I listen. I do so enjoy the smooth sounds of his hands against his skin. I only wish that I could take the risk and watch him as he does so. Or do more than that. If my own hands were drawing those sounds out of his lips, that would be much better. Perhaps he will say my name and give me cause to interrupt, affording me a glimpse.

     Tilting my head against the wood, I take in the sound of his voice from inside. Tonight will probably be fruitless, as well. When he is done, I will go back to my room. Demons are not patient creatures, but for this I am willing to wait.

     A few moments pass and everything that I can hear from him teases me terribly. A soft whimper followed by an equally soft cry tell me that he has finished. He really is very vocal. I am surprised that I hadn't heard him at this particular activity before now. Though, with him making all of these little noises on his own, I do wonder what he would sound like if my mouth were on his soft skin. It would seem that I will not discover that answer tonight. He has finished again without saying my name. I am confident that he will sleep well. There is no other reason for me to remain outside of his door. I will take my leave and go relieve the heat that he has inspired in my own body.

     The sound hits my ears the very moment I turn away. Very soft but unmistakable, he says my name. The smile on my face widens into a grin and I turn to face the door. My knuckles rap on the wood swiftly to announce my presence but I do not wait for him to call me inside. Instead, I push the door open and step inside of my own accord. It slides shut behind me.

     "Sebastian!" He says, practically shouting. The sight that greets me was well worth the wait. The expression on his face is the very definition of surprise. His skin is flushed, hair tousled. He's perched awkwardly on the bed, his legs apart and his nightshirt pooled around his hips. I can still smell the scent of his sweat in the air.

     Scrambling, he panics and quickly pulls his blankets over his legs. He reaches up and tries to straighten his clothing, which now sits at a strange angle on his shoulders. The first few buttons are undone. I have rarely seen such a tempting visage before me. He coughs once to clear his throat. His voice sounds much more confident than he actually looks. "What are you doing in here? I told you that I was going to sleep."

     "My apologies, young master." I wipe the smile off the face as best I can and walk towards the bed. The expression on his face is truly delightful. I am not used to catching him off guard as thoroughly as I have tonight. "I heard you call my name. I did not wish to interrupt your... sleep."

     The expression on his face goes from surprised to utterly mortified. The blush on his cheeks is even darker now than when I first came into the room. "Your... name."

     Leaning down, I bring myself to eye level with him so that I can look at him more directly. Smiling charmingly, I ask, "May I be of assistance, young master?"

     "W-with what?!" He jumps back so quickly that I nearly miss the action entirely, sliding nearly a foot away from his original position. As soon as he is far enough away that he feels safe, he straightens up and tries to regain some of his dignity as though I had not just walked in on him. The heavy sigh he lets out simply makes him all the more appealing and does nothing to distract from his flushed face. "It's late, Sebastian. You should just let me sleep. It's not like I was doing anything, anyway." He looks over at me and then gestures towards the discarded book that is laying on his nightstand. "I was just reading my book to help me get to sleep."

     "Oh? Is that so?" Even across the bed, he isn't all that far away. He knows that, and I can see it on his face as I lean forward slightly. The sound of his pulse speeding up is a betrayal he cannot control. "It's not nice to lie, young master. Do you really think that I do not know what you were doing?"

     He flushes again as the realization sinks in. "So what?" Turning his head, he makes every effort to look away from me. Defeat sinks into his expression as he tightens his grip on the blankets that surround him. "It's none of your business."

     "Isn't it?" His face turns back toward mine, eyes turning uncertainly to look up at me. Unable to resist, I reach out and run my fingertips along his jawline. His face is unbelievably lovely just now, like something out of a painting. He draws a sharp breath as my hand drifts down his neck. Is it possible that he isn't going to order me out of his room? He almost certainly would have done so by now if that was his intent. Quietly, I ask him, "After all, weren't you calling my name?"

     I can almost see the gears turning in his mind as he considers my words and his options in this situation. Looking away from me, I can see that he has made his decision. He sighs and then grudgingly replies, "... yes."

     "Is there something you were wanting, young master?" The feeling of his skin shivering underneath my fingertips is delightful. I can feel the tiny tremors even through the fabric of my gloves.

     Slowly, he reaches up and takes hold of my wrist. Did he really think I would walk away from him? "You."

     "What was that, young master?"

     "I said I want you." He turns his eyes up to look at me again. This time, the gaze is very direct. The mark that seals our contract is practically blazing across his right eye. That's look is quite appealing on my young master. His fingers around my wrist give a slight tug and I sit down on the side of the bed, both of my feet still planted on the ground. Embarrassment is painted across his skin like flowers on a canvas. Everything about him pulls me in. I doubt he knows how utterly irresistible he looks when he gazes at me in such a way. Droplets of sweat are still sliding down his skin. The air around him smells like everything that he was doing earlier as I stood outside of his door listening.

     I have sat next to him on this bad many times, but I doubt that any of them have felt as heavily expectant as this moment does now. Leaning in close, I whisper in his ear. "You already have me, my lord. My body and soul, down to the very last hair, belong to you. If you wish anything of me then you merely need to ask." My tongue darts across his earlobe, barely grazing skin. "So, allow me to ask once more. What are you wanting, young master?"

     "Touch me." That is all the permission I need. I press my lips to his neck, my eyes sliding shut as he moans against the touch. The sound of his voice goes straight to the hardness between my legs. This is so much more enjoyable than simply hearing him though the wooden doors of his room. Pulling my hands away from his skin, I work to unfasten the buttons on his nightshirt. All too soon, though, my hands run into the blankets that he so hastily pulled over his lap.

     "This won't do." I press another kiss to his neck and pull away, taking the blankets with me. They are carelessly tossed down toward the foot of the bed. I can remake it later, but I cannot waste this opportunity before me. I slip off the bed and stand to rid myself of my coat and gloves. I would much rather enjoy this opportunity without quite so many of layers between his body and my own.

     I am very content with this situation. Of all of the possibilities I had considered that might come from bursting in on him as I did, I did not really think that this would be one of them. Perhaps I should tempt fate more often. I think that I will go ahead and do so at this very moment. Leaning over, I pluck my master off of the mattress and sit down with my back against the headboard. He is quickly deposited on my lap with his back pressed up against my chest.

     At the sudden switch in positions, he starts sputtering. "Sebastian! What are you doing?"

     "I am simply doing as you wished, young master," I respond, leaning in and taking advantage of this new angle to enjoy the scent of his hair. The blankets were thrown off to give me better access to the buttons on his nightshirt, it's true, but now that I have him like this I think I will leave things as they are for now. From this angle, a teasing portion of his chest is visible. One round, pink nipple sticks out from beneath the soft fabric, tempting me to reach up and run my fingertips across it. Even so, I resist. Instead, I let my hands glide down his sides. Even through the material I can feel his body, so warm and full of life. Every touch of my fingers causes him to squirm against me. The nightshirt is still pooled heavily around his hips, covering him up in an almost scandalous fashion. When I drag my fingertips across the soft skin of his thighs, he moves ever so slightly and I can see the outline of him through the fabric. Keeping one hand on his leg, I slide the other up to touch the budding arousal through the material of his clothing. I begin to stroke him slowly, watching his face as I do so. Against my chest, he cries out and arches his back. Even without him meaning to, he grinds his backside into my hips. The only thing between my own arousal and his behind is a thin layer of fabric. The feel of him this close, rubbing against me causes me to grunt.

     His entire body stiffens as he realizes exactly what he is pressed up against. I cannot help but chuckle darkly. He moves his hips experimentally, biting his lip when I press up against him intentionally. "S-sebastian..."

     "Do you enjoy that, young master? Is that how you want me to touch you?" I cannot resist teasing him, even as my fingers on his erection slide up to caress his side instead. The hand that I have on his leg dips dangerously close to the source of his frustration. He pushes his hips closer to my fingers, trying to get me to touch him again. Pressing his face into my chest, he pants heavily and lets out a small whine when my fingers drift across the very tip of him and then return to their leisurely pace on the inside of his thigh.

     Even with all of his frustration, he isn't answering my question. I don't mind. Having him this close to me is something that I enjoy very much. No matter how many times I have carried him in my arms or dried him off after a bath, I doubt I will ever tire of that particular sensation. Even the scent of his skin is intoxicating, something akin to hyacinths in spring. The feel of his fingernails biting into my skin through the fabric of my shirt where his hands have wrapped around my arms is something I savor.

     My hands wander across the skin of his legs, porcelain white and as smooth as silk. Dipping my fingers down, I stroke him again. My grip runs loosely down his length, teasing him even as I give him what he wants. The sounds that escape his lips, the little gasps and mewls, delight me in a way that few things do. Leaning down, I run my tongue over the shell of his ear. I whisper, "You need to tell me what feels good, young master. How else will I know what you enjoy?"

     My hands are gone from his skin again, back to touching and teasing everywhere but where I know that he wants them. Fingertips circle pale nipples revealed by the soft fabric of his clothing. How else will I know what he enjoys, indeed. He doesn't have to tell me, I already know. Those little sounds he makes and the way he keeps glancing up at me whenever I touch something sensitive tell me everything that I could possibly need to know. And I do want him to enjoy this. His pleasure walks hand in hand with my own. All ofthe dignity that he shows to the public, his nobility and regal bearing are gone. With me, in this room, he is panting and writing. Pushing his hips against my erection with no thought to how utterly tempting he looks to me right now. Even so, I want to hear him say the words.

     "That," he says. His voice is barely louder than a whisper, teasing my ears. Those lovely eyes of his are looking away purposefully. I allow one of my hands to drift closer to the obvious hitch in his nightshirt. When I press my lips to his neck and suck lightly, he whines pitifully.

     "What, young master?"

     "That," he says again, more insistently this time. Finally, he looks up at me. Humiliation colors his expression as he bites his bottom lip and glares at me. He is ever the spoiled little earl. So defiant. I find that incredibly appealing. I can feel myself smiling in response, even as he continues. "You just want to hear me say it."

     So, he has figured out the game. I find that delightful. I suppress a chuckle and hum lightly. "Perhaps. "

     He lets out a heavy breath in annoyance, glaring at me even as he does something I would not have expected. The hand that he has dug into my right arm slides down and wraps around my wrist. With a small tug, he guides my hand downward between his legs. His hand leaves my wrist long enough for him to pull the clothing off of his erection, leaving him bare to my eyes. Then, he takes my hand again and guides it down to wrap around his flesh. His hand is much smaller than my own, but he still manages to fit it partially around my own as I touch him. His fingers on my own guide my strokes as my hand runs down his length. Even without any sort of lubrication, he is already slick. He is still wet from his previous entertainments, from before I came in.

     The sight of both of us stroking him is mesmerizing to me. His face presses into my chest, eyes half open as he begins to thrust slowly into our hands. I pull my left hand up and suck on one of the fingers, then run it down to join our hands between his legs. As my right hand works to stroke him, the fingers on my left push further back on his body, teasing the rosy ring of flesh that I find there. My fingertip runs back and forth over his entrance, barely pushing into him as the fingers on my right hand tease his crown. The tip of my finger runs across the slit at the very tip, teasing the sensitive flesh around it. I can feel him tense up just before he cries out, his entire body jolting as he comes my hands and the mattress.

     Will he tell me to leave now? He has very clearly enjoyed himself and that was his goal. Though I have not reached completion, I do not mind. It is easy enough for me to understand. To him, I am nothing more than a pawn, a tool. Like any master of the game, he knows how to use his pawns to the best advantage. However, they will never be more than game pieces to him. It is one of the things that I have always admired about him. Looking into his eyes now, though, I see an emotion I cannot recall seeing before. For once, I am uncertain what move he will make.

     Slowly, the hand that was on mine reaches up and takes hold of the tie that is still securely around my neck. His hand pulls me down into a most awkward position, but the strangeness only registers for an instant and then his lips are on mine. Uncertain, inexperienced and very warm, my young master is kissing me. I am surprised. This is not a course of action that I would have considered him taking, even if I have been tempted to do the same. And I have been tempted. Once, when he fell asleep in the office, I nearly did so as he slept. However, I restrained myself. Never did I think that, if it were to happen, he would be the one to start it.

     His mouth falls open when I press my tongue against his lips, seeking entry. His mouth against mine is insistent, even as he learns to move with me. Lifting a hand to his cheek, I tilt his face so that I can have better access to his mouth. The feel of his lips and tongue against mine are tantalizing. The heat that I felt while touching him is still there. If anything, the movements of his body against mine as I nip teasingly at his lips only drive my arousal higher. However, that isn't why I am enjoying this. His desire for my presence is not why I am here. For now, every lick and kiss is because my young master is the only one I desire. And I so rarely get the opportunity to indulge that. I wonder, can he taste himself on my tongue?

     Very slowly, he pulls himself away from me and turns around to straddle my hips. Temptation at its finest, even as he sinks back and his backside presses heavily against the very problem he has created. The blush across his fair cheeks and the way he looks away from me tell me that he knows exactly what he is doing. Two can play at that game. I rock my hips up, letting myself feel him through the fabric of my trousers and undergarments. When I pull my arms up to wrap around his sides and pull him closer to me, he turns his eyes back to mine. "Sebastian..."

     "Yes, young master?" I cannot help but grin even as I watch his little pink tongue flick out to moisten his lips. His eyes are darting from my own down to my lips and then even further down my body. Well, this is quite unexpected. When I first burst into the room, I had expected to be ordered out nearly immediately. The opportunity to see my young master like that, so vulnerable, was worth whatever punishment it might bring. And yet, now I can taste him on my lips. He is sitting in my lap and rubbing himself up against me even as I roll my hips slowly against his own. I wonder how far he would let me push that? He has not ordered me to stop. Or even specified precisely how I should touch him.

     The young master has not responded to my question. Leaning forward, I press my lips to the corner of his mouth and rock my hips against his backside sharply. The pressure is enough to make me hiss and the gasp I get from him is pleasant enough. Between us, I can feel him beginning to become aroused again, even through my shirt. I would never have thought him to be this easily turned on. It would seem that I am learning several new things tonight.

     His hands are on my clothes, one on my tie and the other atop my right shoulder. His grip constricts every time that we grind together. I am very much enjoying watching the expressions that are flitting across his face, like butterflies in a field. Embarrassment, ever present annoyance and a touch of something I can't quite identify are evident in his eyes and lips. Flushed skin and the slightest sheen of sweat only add to the temptation. Even my restraint has its limits, and I wonder if he knows just how far he is pushing them. Finally, he asks, "How long were you at my door?"

     "Tonight?" I ask, wondering if he will catch the meaning. He does, and the flush on his cheeks darkens considerably even as he presses himself into my stomach. Unable to resist, I tell him, "I have always enjoyed the sound of my young master's voice."

     "What do you..." His hips stop moving and his mouth falls open at my comment. The second he realizes what I am saying, he nearly shouts. "P-pervert! What are you saying?"

     "Young master, you shouldn't leave your mouth hanging open like that," I whisper. "Something might just find its way in."

     Reaching up and running one of my hands along his jawline, I give into the temptation to brush a finger across his lips. They are unbelievably soft. He catches me off guard as he parts them, sticking out his tongue to lick the tip of my finger. Then, he pulls that fingertip into his mouth, sucking lightly. His hands drift down so that they are both pressing against my chest, leaving his mouth to deal with its new toy. The sight of his lovely mouth around my finger is enough to make me groan. As I make the sound, I can see the faintest smile ghosting across his face. Rocking my hips against his body, I push against him harder than I had originally intended. His body leans forward, pushing him against my stomach. I can feel the length of him, fully aroused once more, pressing up against me. His mouth falls open at the contact and he makes a most erotic moan. I must confess, I am getting very tired of that nightshirt he is wearing.

     With both of my hands, I reach up and make quick work of the last of the buttons on his clothing. He looks away as I push the garment off of his shoulders, but he makes no move to stop me. The finger that had been between his lips traces a pattern down the side of his face and neck, slowly descending across his body. He shivers under my touch. His body leans ever so slightly into my hand even as the other runs through the softness of his hair. My fingertips run across his chest, softly pinching one nipple. His eyes close and he arches into the touch. Unable to resist, I pull my hand away to touch elsewhere. As my hand squeezes his backside, he lets out a most undignified squawk. His eyes open and he glares at me. "You're enjoying that, aren't you?"

     "Very much, young master," I say, smiling brightly. "You do make the most delightful sounds."

     He stammers incomprehensibly in response. There is nothing I can do but lean forward and claim his lips with my own. Catching him off guard has its advantages. His mouth falls open in surprise. In an instant, his tongue tangles with mine as he returns the kiss with enthusiasm. I can feel his hands on my chest even as he loosens the knot in my tie. The pressure fades when the tie is undone. Apparently, he was not satisfied with my state of dress, either. Then, I can feel his fingertips on the cloth of my shirt even as he runs his tongue across my lips.

     An instant later, I pull back. The shirt is unbuttoned and his hands are flat on my chest with nothing in between us. I am shocked. Either a miracle has occurred or the young master has some how developed a new skill. I have watched him try to button and unbutton his own shirts countless times, invariably without success. His expression is unmistakably triumphant as he smirks at my reaction. Now I am left wondering if he really just enjoys having me dress him enough to feign ineptitude with shirt buttons.

     Tentatively, he reaches up with his fingertips and traces the line of my jaw. His hands are uncertain, but he grows bolder as his hands run across my skin. His touches are enough to send a shiver down my spine. Even as he is touching me, his eyes flicker between his hands and my face. Is he looking to see if I am enjoying what he is doing? That is surprising. I have slept with other people, even since the contract between he and I was formed. It was always for the benefit of my master, in some way or form, but I am unaccustomed to my partners caring whether or not I am enjoying myself. He leans forward and his tongue flicks out to run across my neck before he presses his lips to my skin, much like I did to him only moments ago. His lips are unbelievably warm against my skin and I am groaning even without meaning to at the touch. I can feel teeth as his lips drift lower, pressing first to my shoulder and then again to my chest. His fingers lead the way, trailing in straight, direct lines towards the top of my trousers. He curls them, letting his fingernails dig into my skin over my ribs. Not nearly as hard as I would like, but definitely enough to earn him an approving groan. My own arms around him loosen slightly, running across his sides as his face follows the trail made by his fingertips.

     He leans forward, running his tongue across my nipple. Then, his lips fasten around it and he bites lightly. I can feel his lips turn up in a smile against my skin as I gasp. His touch is inexperienced. He has no idea what to do with his lips or fingers. Even so, I am enjoying this immensely. However, what little confidence he is showing is clearly feigned. He pauses the instant his fingers hit my belt line, looking up at me. I do so enjoy seeing the mark of our contract in his right eye. No one could deny that he is a beautiful boy. He is all the more lovely simply for the fact that he is mine, in at least that one way. Unable to resist, I reach up and brush a few strands of his soft hair out of his eyes so that I can see the mark more clearly. I am impressed that he has allowed things to go this far, that he has done this much. He may regret this tomorrow, though I am uncertain whether or not he will admit it. "Do you want to stop, young master?"

     "No," he says, shaking his head. He isn't blushing nearly as much now. He scoots backwards on my legs, giving me a little room. The feel of his fingertips on my stomach is unexpectedly teasing, those small hands so close to other things. He stares at his own hands as he reaches down with one hand and runs the palm of it across the obvious bulge of my arousal in my suit pants. Even through the fabric, his touch is warm. As his fingers wrap around the thickness to stroke me through the fabric, I let out a happy sigh. His other hand reaches down to join the first, growing bolder. Having him touch me like this is wonderful, but I believe I can improve the situation.

     Reaching down, I interrupt him as I unfasten my trousers, pushing them open. I look up to see what he will do in reaction. He leans back slightly, watching me. I can see the blush on his cheeks returning in full force as I push aside my undergarments aside and pull my arousal free of the confines of my clothing. Sliding my fingers over my length, I keep my eyes fixed on his face as I touch myself. He's enjoying watching nearly as much as I enjoy having him watch. Leaning back against the headboard, I run my free hand across my chest, teasing my nipples and dragging my nails across my skin. His mouth drops open when I run my hand across my throat and down the center of my chest, shuddering without meaning to. His own fingers find their way down to his own erection, following the same slow rhythm that my hand has on mine.

     With his free hand, he reaches out and wraps his fingers around my own, stroking with me. When his hand slows, so does mine. Tentatively, he leans forward, scooting his hindquarters even further back on my legs. Ever so cautiously, he leans down and licks the very tip of my erection. It would be incredibly sexy if his face didn't screw up at the initial taste. Still, the sight of him running his tongue along my length is captivating. Pulling his hand away from himself, he pushes mine out of the way as he takes the tip of my length into his mouth. The feel and sight of that single action send a jolt like electricity straight to the base of my spine. For someone with virtually no experience in this department, he is certainly talented. The heat of his breath and the way his tongue sneaks out to lick at the sensitive skin just under the head of my arousal are nearly enough to drive a man mad. It has been a very long time since someone has had that effect on me. Even my hands are tightening in the material that covers the mattress. I will have to wash these sheets tomorrow.

     He is grinding his own erection against my leg, seeking some sort of relief. How incredibly lewd. Very unfitting for an earl, but I can't say that I mind watching him. I move my leg to press back against him. He moans, that sweet mouth pressing heavily against my own arousal as he does so. I'm certain he doesn't even know what he is doing with that tongue that is making me come very close to moaning heavily. Although I would love to see his pale skin flecked with my come, I don't think this is the night for that. "Young master."

     "What?" His eyes glide easily back up to my face as he sits back slightly. When I don't respond, he scoots forward until he is once again straddling my hips. There is nothing between his skin and mine this time. His eyes on mine are even as he pushes his backside against my arousal experimentally.

     It only takes an instant for me to flip him over, pinning him to the mattress. My lips are less than an inch from his own. "It isn't nice to tease, young master."

     "I'm not teasing," he breathes. His eyes meet mine and hold my gaze for a full minute before he looks away.

     "Oh?" I arch my back and press my body up against his, feeling the heat of his erection press against my own. Strands of my hair brush across the pale skin of his face. "Do you really want to go that far, young master?"

     Very slowly, he leans up towards me and presses his lips against mine. I open my mouth the instant I feel his tongue on my lower lip and return the caress. This isn't as hurried or heated as our earlier actions. If anything, he seems to be purposefully taking his time. I am more than content to follow his lead, enjoying the opportunity to memorize the feeling of him beneath me. His skin next to mine feels nearly as hot as fire to me. I would know. One of his hands reaches up and fists in my hair even as I push my hips arousal against his, careful not to put too much weight on him. Humans are so fragile. He is panting against me even as his tongue runs across the edges of my teeth. When he pulls away, I can still see a strand of saliva tying us together. "Do not make me repeat myself, Sebastian."

     My eyes are glowing with delight at that invitation. Those words are music to my ears. "As you wish, my lord."

     It would be easier to turn him over on his stomach. I much prefer that, honestly, but if I did so then I would be sorely deprived of the one thing that has been on my mind most of the evening. To watch his lovely, blushing face as I push into him. After all, isn't that what I've been picturing every night as I stand outside his door, listening to the sounds he makes in the darkness within? I lift two of my fingers and press them to his lips. "Get these wet for me."

     A smile pulls at the corners of my mouth as he leans forward and tentatively licks the tip of one of my fingers. Then, he leans forward and takes both of them into his mouth. The feel of his tongue on my fingers reminds me of having it somewhere else only moments before. I reach down between us, stroking both f us as he bobs his head slowly over my hand. He can't seem to look me in the eye while he is doing this. I wonder if he realizes how beautifully perverse it is to feel his tongue pushing in between my fingers as he works to wet them. The feel of my hand on our mutual arousal pulls a moan from his lips. I can feel it in my fingers. He must be able to read my enjoyment in the expression on my face because he looks as though he is about to pull away and protest.

     Swiftly leaning over, I replace the fingers that I had placed in his mouth with my tongue. Keeping my mouth on his, I lean backwards so that I am sitting on my knees in between his legs. I press one of my moistened fingers up against his entrance, running the tip of it over the puckered flesh even as I kiss him. He gasps against my lips as I push the tip of it into him. It must feel strange, but he does not protest as I begin to flex the digit inside of him. The instant that he relaxes against me, I push the second finger in to join the first. I stroke both of us in time to the fingers that I am thrusting into his body. Just feeling him around my fingers is ecstasy. If watching his face and listening to the quiet sounds he makes are this delicious, then being inside of him will be exquisite. I scissor my fingers, stretching him. He squirms heavily, muttering when the pace slows. One by one, I pull my fingers out. He bites his lip as the second one leaves him, groaning audibly at the loss of it. I cannot keep my master waiting for long.

     Taking my hands away from our mutual arousals, I sit back and put my hands on his hips, sliding his backside up onto my thighs. The tip of my erection brushes against him. Looking up at me, he leans forward and props himself up on his elbows. I return the gaze evenly for a moment before I begin to push into him.

     "Sebastian," he gasps. I am easing myself in slowly, but I wonder if I should have taken more time to prepare him. Silently, I curse my own impatience. His eyes are half-lidded and he is biting his lip again.

     "Shh, young master," I tell him. I don't want to hurt him, but I also don't want him to hurt himself by biting that lip too hard. As I push myself all the way into him, I lean down over him and press a soft kiss to his lips. I do not like seeing him in pain. "I am sorry. The pain will pass soon. I promise."

     I pull away to watch his face. He is no longer biting his lip. He reaches up with both arms and wraps them around my neck, pulling me closer even as he grimaces. He is not accustomed to doing things like this, and I will not rush. Moments pass and I stay perfectly still, waiting for him to let me know that it is all right to move. His entire body is tense, even to the point of being nearly painful around me. I run a hand through his hair as soothingly as I know how, willing him to relax and calm down. There are tears in the corner of his eyes, but I do nothing about them. He would not appreciate me drawing attention to them or even trying to wipe them away. Slowly, he relaxes slightly. To anyone else, I'm certain that the change would be nearly imperceptible.

     "Sebastian," he whispers, voice barely audible. "Move."

     And so I do. Slowly, I pull back as far as I dare before pushing back into him. The pace is agonizing when every hair on my body is telling me to go faster, but it is worth it simply to see the expression on his face. This must have been what he was needing, for that look of pain is gone. His eyes are closed and his head is tilted back. His mouth hangs open in a little 'o' and I can hear the breath catching in his chest every time I angle myself in a particular direction. Dipping my head down, I press my lips to his neck. My tongue and teeth against his skin match the rhythm of my hardness buried in his heat. He tastes like sweat, salt and the finest English breakfast tea.

     Against my lips, he cries out as I begin to quicken the pace. All around me, the only thing that I am truly conscious of is him. The smell of his hair and skin. The sound of his voice as he whispers curses propriety would never allow under his breath. The feel of him around me and his own insistent hardness rubbing against my skin as his hips push back against every one of my thrusts are everything. My young master is my all in this moment.

     I pull my hand from where it is buried in his hair and spit into it, drawing his eyes back to my face. Reaching between us, I wrap my fingers around his member. The second I move my hand, those arms around my neck constrict and I can feel his fingernails digging into my skin. The bite of them will be enough to draw blood, but that sort of pain is the type I enjoy. He is smirking as I groan heavily. Then, any sense of coherency he had is lost as I angle my strokes towards the point inside of him that I know will send him over the edge.

     "Faster," he whispers. His lips are at my ear now as I hold myself up over him. I couldn't agree more. A little of the restraint that I have been trying to preserve is slipping. I want to hear him cry out for me. I am going a little faster than I probably should, a little harder than I ought to. He doesn't seem to mind. That sweet, hot tightness around me constricts even before his arm tighten around my neck.

     "Sebastian!" His voice is nearly a shout. With as much whimpering, cursing and shouting as he has done tonight, his throat will be raw in the morning. But that sweet voice calling my name just like that is exactly what I wanted to hear. His entire body tightens as he comes, coating my hand and both of our stomachs with his pleasure. I only have an instant to watch his face before he buries it at the crook of my neck.

     I am quickly rushing towards my own completion, but the final stroke is the feel of his lips on my throat. Unexpected and exactly what I needed it pushes me over the edge. Grunting, I bury myself completely in him even as I give myself completely over to that feeling. The pleasure snakes through me like electricity, causing me to cry out as I fill him with my seed.

     Even my eyesight swims when I come as hard as I just have. We are both panting and trying to catch our breath. As slowly as I can, I pull myself out of him and lay next to him on the bed. My eyes never leave his face. As soon as I am laying on the mattress, he scoots himself over so that he is curled up very close at my side. Reaching down, I run a hand through his hair and then wrap an arm around him. I truly enjoy the feel of having him next to me like this. He may order me to leave in a moment or two, but I will stay until he does. My place is at my master's side.

     Next to me, his breathing is soft and even. Humans are intriguing creatures. Fascinating, really, in their inconsistencies and habits. While that is true, it is rare that one captures my interest the way my young master has. I wonder if I will really be satisfied with only taking his soul, when the time comes. For now, it does not matter.

     Moments pass and I find myself wondering if he has fallen asleep. As if he could read my mind, he says, "Next time, don't bother knocking. There's no point."

     He presses his face against my chest and lets out a reluctant sigh. Smiling in amusement, I ask, "Next time?"

     "Idiot," he mutters. "Don't pretend it won't happen."

     "As you wish, my lord." I hide my smile as I tilt my head to press a light kiss to his hair. In response, he tilts his face up to look at me for a moment. Slowly, he leans up and presses his lips to my own. The kiss is soft, sweet and very welcome. I return the caress, leaning into him slightly.

     He pulls away and huffs. Then, he rolls over and presses his back to my chest before grabbing a pillow and pulling it under his head. "And don't forget to oil the hinges on my door. It's been squeaking while you're standing out there leaning on it every night for the past week and a half."

     "Yes, my lord."
End

~)*(~

Author's Note: This was done as a request fic for Madeleine-Elizabeth on DeviantArt. As my first story from Sebastian's point of view, I'll admit that it was a challenge. Hopefully it isn't too god awful. There are a couple of lines in this that are pretty terrible, I'm well aware. Hopefully you enjoyed, though. Let me know what you think!
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Temptations