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Gilded	By : tinkerheck Category: > Black Butler (Kuroshitsuji ???) Views: 3150 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji, aka Black Butler. I make no money from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
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++++++++ disclaimer ++++++++

I do not own Kuroshitsuji, aka Black Bulter, in any of its forms or related media. I do not own these characters. I spent money to learn about this series, and I make no money in borrowing it.

++++++++ story notes ++++++++

Set in the anime universe, after the end of the series, with minor references to the manga as well. Written in first-person Sebastian ('Alexander'). SPOILERS: This fic assumes you have seen the anime series and the OVAs.

Although I do not consider this an AU, please do so if it makes you more comfortable. (You'll have to decide for yourself, and you'll have to read it to do that!)

The tags & warnings I selected cover the entire fic, from beginning to end. As such, you will not find all of these situations in every chapter, and some will not show up until late into this fic.

I have no respect for overly-organized religions, or the zealots that follow them, because they have no respect for me. If I have written something that illustrates this perspective and it offends you, please simply stop reading this fic.

++++++++ chapter notes ++++++++

This started as a one-shot. This chapter, technically, has its own ending. However, I decided to continue.

I fly beta-less. Please forgive the typos.

As always, thanks for reading!

+

Gilded

Chapter 1

+

There is something I need for you to understand about my job. Something about human souls.

There is an insanely large difference between souls whose innocence or naiveté – or, sadly, stupidity – simply fulfills our dietary needs when eaten, versus a soul that has been put to the test, beat to the ground, and has managed to stand back up again. All on its own.

These souls possess… a different kind of purity, and they draw us near like moths to a flame.

A guileless nature is appealing to a vengeance demon such as myself, no doubt. But it’s an easy mark. All humans are born tabula rasa. It is the bread and butter of our existences. Shooting fish in a barrel, I believe the human expression goes. A demon could survive quite nicely on the entrapment of common innocent souls, despite that their potency is weak and it takes tens or even hundreds of those kinds of souls to equal the power and pleasure you get from one of the other ones. They are such easy prey that you could equate them to fast food.

Your demonic tummy grumbles, so you pull up to the ultimate soul food (pun fully intended) drive in, pick a dish that’s aching to be plucked for whatever reason, and grab a quick bite. Fast, easy, cheap.

And, unlike your human fast food, they are severely lacking in calories, as you’ll find that not much longer than a phase of the moon passes and your strength wanes. You’ll need to eat another one. However, such a catch is so easy that you do not mind. You become complacent, and feeding once a month or so on food that is easy to eat no longer becomes a chore. It becomes… existence. And that’s all.

Most of us are lazy, just like you. We will go for the easy kill.

However, some of us get bored. It takes a couple thousand years of being a demon, but we crave more. We want a challenge. I do think of myself as a demon in this category, although I have not always succeeded.

Once beyond a certain age, or after having had an extreme experience, a human’s clean slate begins to tarnish. What happens after that is what makes the difference between fast food and the uncommon, delicious soul.

A soul whose purity is worth savoring, a complicated soul, takes considerable more effort to obtain. However, it is worth it in the end. It can last you several decades, sometimes even centuries, before you need to feed again.

These souls are difficult. They are often smart humans, who do not suffer fools gladly. The belief systems of the society that they live in usually mark them as ‘jaded’ or ‘sullied’.

I am here to tell you, that is so not the case.

Bitter, yes. But non-pure? No. Not these rare souls. Most have seen tragedy; some have suffered horrors such as famine, war, slavery or rape, to name just a few of the disgusting exploits that humans have invented to entertain themselves. These souls have been tested and tested again, only to prove their worthiness each time.

Over the millennia, I have noticed that the less worthy seem to have a low opinion of these individuals, while simultaneously depending upon them to fix all that is wrong in their measly lives – such an obvious irony! It eventually led me to feel sick at the thought of eating unworthy souls simply for sustenance. With nothing else at the buffet, I will elect to bide my time and go hungry, thank you very much.

The worthy are rubbed the wrong way by life to the point where they realize their lot is never going to change – life will always suck, as it were, and they will die tired, bitter and misunderstood, mostly due to their worthless peers.

Silly human belief systems label these as the fallen. They are humans that have given up and are angry, they have ‘lost their way to the light’ – an intensely nauseating turn of phrase, by the way – and they need to be saved.

No, they don’t. They already are. They saved themselves a long time ago. It’s the rest of you idiots that could use some honest salvation. And most of you wouldn’t know just exactly what that entailed if it were to march up and bite off your privates.

The worthy soul is strong and capable. They make mistakes and then they correct their behavior in turn. They do good deeds without having the need to be seen doing it. They love, deeply – despite outward inclinations. A contract for such a soul is hard-won, very involved… and a disastrous bitch if broken. Under such circumstances, a demon does not get punished or humiliated, as a human might imagine. One simply develops an ache, and it never goes away.

But the fulfillment is worth any effort, and the wait–

Oh, the wait.

So achingly delicious.

Such a soul was my young master, Ciel Phantomhive. The one that got away. I did not want his soul because it was innocent. I wanted it because it had seen tragedy, it had sought revenge, and it was still intense. Pure. Over time I came to love Ciel; yes, you heard correct, I did not say lust – although I am convinced that I’d have taken him that way as well, if we’d had more years together as human master and demon servant.

You do not believe me? That is too bad. I do not lie, ever. Demons are capable of love. We know nothing of heaven, but we know plenty about love.

I loved him, and then I lost him. Due to outside interference the chance to fulfill our contract was ripped from us. I say it now: if I ever run into any of those four again, I will dismember them with my bare hands on principle alone. Alois Trancy did not simply give us a ‘taste’ of his grief; he gave us an eternity of it, and then he and his comrades moved on to an unearned reward at our bloody fucking expense.

Ciel’s soul was no longer ‘him’, as it were. I don’t even think he knew who he was anymore. The contract was still in effect but my delicious meal had been stolen from me. We decided to leave for Hell together.

As expected, he put up with his new living space like the trooper he is, but he did not take to being an actual demon. He was young and brash and foolish – I still called him my Young Master, for the contract was still in place, and I treated him as such. But he simply would not take my advice. I don’t think he was a lazy or stupid demon. He probably would have made a very good one, if his heart had been in it.

It turns out Ciel had a death wish, and it wasn’t long before it came true. He would taunt and pester our demonic peers, until one day he finally went too far – or perhaps I should say as far as he finally needed to go? Either way, I was late in coming to his aid, but he managed a glance at me before his opponent could strike the killing blow.

Ciel did not look angry in that moment, or even sad. He was moving on, to what I do not know, and he seemed at peace. I still dream about that beautiful face.

Ciel was destroyed. He vanished, and the contract mark evaporated from my hand in that very instant. Infuriated, I tore his killer to shreds.

I am indeed vicious, you see.

Take heed, Claude Faustus, Alois Trancy. Being torn apart is also your fate should you grow lax in avoiding me. And for the record, I will not endeavor to be gentle.

+

“Are you composing a symphony?”

I startled her, this Miss Gilda Franks, and she glanced at me with wide, dark green eyes.

When her file showed up in our office as a candidate for revenge, I read it immediately, just as I do all of them. I confess I spend more time reading files than I do actually approaching the marks. That’s how I find them, the delicious ones.

Her file suggested she was pretty and young. Just my type.

It also said she was seventeen, a hard case, a prodigy, had herself declared an emancipated minor last year upon early graduation from high school, and was attending a musical conservatory on a partial scholarship (and was already thirty grand in debt because of it).

Ah, money. The easiest form of entrapment.

I didn’t think she was going to be that easy, though. I certainly hoped she was not going to be that easy.

“Um. Yeah,” she said, voice full of hesitation. Her file also said she was quite wary of men, mostly due to her bastard of a biological father.

“May I see?”

She looked up at me then, her green eyes flashing. “Nope.”

“Very well. Is this seat taken?” I asked, smiling lightly and pointing to the chair opposite her. She was consuming, illegally, an alcoholic beverage at a small outdoor café. The table was built for two, but she was there alone.

Gilda looked me up and down, carefully taking in my appearance before answering.

This was America, and it was nineteen ninety-three. I didn’t wear the same thing I wore during Ciel’s time, but the butler thing was still my shtick. I was so very good at it, you see.

In fact, I am one hell… oh, you get the picture.

These days I wore thin black leather gloves, tailored black business trousers with a simple black leather belt, shiny black oxfords (with tassels!), black socks, and a black button down shirt made from the finest long-staple Egyptian cotton. Pocket watch gone, I now wore an expensive silver watch with a black leather strap.

My undergarments, since I am positive you are wondering about them, were boxers and a “t” shirt, both of black silk.

It was acceptable for the day and age, and still within my personal rules that I should look very, very desirable.

“Are you a nut-job?”

She managed to pull me out of my reverie.

“Pardon?”

“I don’t want you to sit down at my table if you are crazy. I’ve had enough of that for one lifetime.”

“And yet you are so young,” I said smoothly, sitting down.

A waiter came over within seconds, flipped his little book open and asked me what I’d be ordering.

“Coffee. Black.”

I had no intention of drinking it, but at least it would go perfect with my outfit.

The pimply-faced server rolled his eyes and walked off.

“I see I’m going to have company whether I want it or not,” she sighed. “So what’s your name?”

I smirked at her. May as well start the game right now, yes?

“What do you think it is?”

She smiled half-heartedly. Adorable. Looking away, she shook her head.

“Listen, I’ve heard some cheesy lines before, but that…” The girl looked back at me, smiling sweetly. “You want me to guess your name?”

I laughed quietly. She wouldn’t even be able to pronounce it, let alone read it.

“No,” I began, smiling back at her just as sweetly while folding my gloved hands on top of the table. I tried to ignore how filthy it was. “I want you to pick a name that you feel would suit me, if, say, we were to… get to know one another.”

Her face dipped low, and her eyes bore into me. It was the kind of expression I’ve often seen adult humans giving their offspring when said offspring are acting strangely or unreasonably.

“You want me to name you?”

I tried to avoid smirking, but as usual, could not help myself. Little Miss Hard Case... It was all beginning to make sense.

“Yes. Play along. You will like this game.”

I should have scolded myself for using a statement that smacked of self-fulfilling prophecy. It was far too soon for such things.

Still, if she truly thought I was a ‘nut-job’, she wasn’t calling the security guard over just yet. In fact, her pheromone levels were beginning to rise. That, combined with the sweetness of her particular soul made for a very heady brew. Kind of like my young master, but older. Just as sexually appealing, but of course more feminine. She was a intoxicating – exactly like Ciel – and I had to remind myself to focus.

It was obvious to me by then that the little fool had no idea just how vulnerable a target she was to most demons. All demons have hobbies or tendencies, just like humans. Some focus on sex appeal, like myself. Did you think those stilettos were just for show, darling? How silly of you. And no, you may not try them on.

Some demons like accomplishing things, others just like the chase and kill aspect of our existences. But it doesn’t really matter what their hobbies are; the fact of the matter is that most of them simply do not enjoy the games we play. Most of them are only in it for the kill, the victory, the proverbial notching of a bedpost…

The sucking of a soul. Quantity versus quality. Fast food.

They make me ill, my colleagues.

There are so many more delicacies to be had in my profession. All one has to do is look a little closer.

I have never eaten human food, but I ask you, which is better? Eating a bar of chocolate – the good stuff, mind you, do not waste your hard-earned money on a bar of shit – in two unmannerly gulps? Or would you rather rip the wrapper off slowly, in pieces, teasingly, admiring the shiny foil liner as it lays in your hand, smelling the delightful aroma before you even peel it back to see the treat… Then taking your time, taking just one reasonable bite… you savor the dark, rich flavor, rolling the pungent creaminess over your tongue until it melts so softly and you nearly cum in your under things from all the pleasure it’s providing you with, until finally, finally you swallow it, ever so slowly. Then you look down at your hand and you see that you have many more bites to go.

You may even decide that one bite was enough for now, and you put the rest of it away for later. In a safe spot. A place where another jealous demon, or a jealous reaper, or a jealous human nut-job (I was beginning to like that expression) cannot steal it from you.

Whoever said this had it wrong – life itself is not likened to a box of chocolates, it is rather a human soul that can be. Gilda’s soul is definitely made of very fine chocolate. While committing sin is a concept that I am all-too-familiar with, wasting her soul with one gulp would indeed be a very great sin.

But such a soul can captivate to the point you begin making mistakes. Perhaps that is why I carried things out too long with Ciel Phantomhive…

She startled me out of my reverie with her sweet voice.

“M’kay… I’ll go with…” She narrowed her eyes and tapped her lip with her finger.

Feathers and boots! She was so pretty in the simplest ways. How could I have not seen it before? Such a joy, discovering things about you humans.

“Alexander. You look like an Alexander to me.”

I nodded. This was a very good name. If we contracted, I would hear her sweet voice calling out to me – where are you, Alexander? Or perhaps save me Alexander! I am sure to hear the over-abused Alexander, kill this wretch.

From one such as her, or my former young master, I’d prefer to hear the line make me come like a cat in heat, Alexander.

Yes, I know. That was a teensy bit presumptuous of me.

“Alexander it is, then.”

Absentmindedly, I straightened what was found in front of me, tinny utensils that were trying to pass for silverware and a vulgar paper napkin – sacrilege! This was apparently meant to be a place setting? Despite the fact that it would never be anything more than what it was, which was utter crap, I arranged the items in nice, perpendicular lines. The ‘knife’ couldn’t cut into an apple tart neatly, let alone a human body. I heaved a sigh.

While the unfortunate ending to the experience with my darling Ciel had left me in ruins for a very long time, it’s true, I still sincerely and from the depths of my heart missed buttling.

When I looked up at her, I realized that I had been off in my own fantasy world again, dreaming of crisp linens and polished handrails.

“My deepest apologies. What did you say?”

“I said, did you want to name me too, or shall we go with what was given?”

She had wit, and a sharp tongue. All the delicious ones do.

“Please tell me your name.”

“It’s Gilda.”

I knew this, of course. But should I tell her what else I knew?

Oh, what the hell. It’d just be a little hint, after all.

“Gilda?”

“Yes,” she responded, suddenly cautious. “Okay, so it’s not a beautiful name. It’s not like Alexander or anything,” she smiled, “But… that’s my name.”

Wait – did she just inadvertently call me beautiful? I shook my head again to clear it.

“Gilda. That’s Teutonic. Germanic. It means offering. Or…” perhaps more appropriately in your case, I did not say out loud, “a sacrifice.”

The only sacrifice I was interested in seeing her make was letting me dine on her soul. However, if Gilda’s name was also her nature (your names often are, incidentally, but I am sorry to say you rarely back it up) it could prove problematic.

She shrugged her shoulders high, giving me a sheepish look.

“Well… shit happens, Alexander. What can I say?”

The waiter brought my coffee, finally, and I paid the bill before he could ask me what I wanted to eat. He rolled his eyes and walked off again, leaving me wondering why I had bothered to give the little mongrel a tip.

“I have a proposition for you, Miss Gilda.”

“Oh, here it comes,” she said, annoyed, and beginning to get up. “I fucking knew it–”

“No, please. Wait.”

She sat back down in her seat and eyed me.

“All right. What is it?”

“Would you like to form a contract with me?”

+

At first she got upset again, because she thought I was suggesting that we get a motel room and engage in illicit sex. I laughed, promptly establishing that I was not a prostitute, and said, “You are engaging in underage drinking as we speak. Did you think I was going to add underage sex to your day?”

From the moment I sat down, Gilda smelled like she had hot, delicious, reactive blood. And now she was confirming it, as blush number one suddenly appeared. Lucky, lucky me, there would be many more to follow.

I was proud of myself, at least, that I managed to keep her attention on me for the next twenty minutes while I explained to her what I was and what I could offer. Eventually she sensed that I was not going to hurt her, so she listened carefully, and asked a few very pointed questions about the contract. Her intelligence and candid nature surprised me. To her credit, I could tell she absolutely did not believe me, but she did not run away screaming or demand security come and toss me out.

Of course, the fact that she would have been in hot water for holding underage liquor in her hands might have added to that decision. But I digress.

When I had said all that I could, she leaned back, and scrutinized me.

It did not make me uncomfortable. Beautiful people are used to being stared at, and unlike most humans, I happen to enjoy it.

“All right,” Gilda suddenly stated, as she picked up the notebook she had been composing on, and flipped to a blank page. “I’ll make a list. I love list-making,” she said, winking, looking delightfully older than her seventeen years. “I’ll weigh the pros and cons. Just to amuse you, you know?” She smiled at me as she clicked the end of her cheap pen. There was genuine warmth in her expression. I’ve seen the opposite enough to recognize it immediately.

Could it be that my abundant natural sex appeal was actually getting under Little Miss Hard Case’s beautiful skin?

Then again, it might have been the alcohol in her beverage. I made a mental note to remember to keep her from imbibing without me being close at hand for any needed rescues should we decide to form a contract. Can’t have the client going off and getting her delectable soul lost to another because of intoxication, now can we?

At the very least, if she thought me to be an insane person she was being very polite about it. Manners are a rare thing, so full marks to her.

“Are you going to make this really abstract? Because I can’t form an opinion over that.”

A student of the arts. Yes, she was.

“All I can say to that, Gilda, is that I do not lie. Nor will I ever.”

She bit her lip for a moment, staring at me in consideration. I found myself wanting to offer my services prematurely, as in, I would gladly bite her lip for her.

“Okay then… Let’s start with the cons, shall we?”

I nodded.

“The payment for this contract will be my soul, right?”

I nodded again.

“So, that means death, right?”

“Yes. I promise to be gentle, of course.”

“Uh huh,” she eyed me. “Okay, that’d be number one. And of course, loss of the ownership of my soul is number two.”

“You consider death to be more tragic than the loss of your immortal soul?”

“Well… At present, I know I’m alive. The jury is still out on whether or not the rest is even true.”

I tilted my head at her. “You’re agnostic?”

“Leaning towards atheist, but, yeah.”

“I see.”

Believe it or not, I do have some moral obligations to my prey. One is making sure they understand what they are getting themselves into. I was going to have to convince Gilda more thoroughly of the very real consequences of any decision she might make, and before we contracted.

Lovely. An atheist with a sacrificial nature. I do so love a good challenge…

“So, what happens next? Eternal suffering?”

“That depends on your definition of suffering.”

“Well, the traditional definitions of damnation are daily burning, daily beatings, probably rape, dismemberment only to have the limb grow back overnight so it can be pulled off again… Those sorts of things.”

She was eyeing me critically as though she was writing out a list for the grocer’s.

“That would be someone’s idea of Hell. I am not offering you Hell, nor anyone’s vision of it. I would eat your very soul at the end, and then you would belong to me, would be inside of me. No burning or dismembering – but only because I would now be in charge of your own private eternity and I’m not really into that sort of thing. It’s distasteful, and frankly, too much maintenance.”

“So, what then?”

I paused. Most humans did not get this part. I had a tiny bit of hope that she would.

“Oblivion.”

She stopped writing and gaped at me. Yes, she gets it. And her soft mouth, while ever-so-slightly open like that? Gods, I wanted to kiss her, surprise her, feel those pretty pink lips making that ‘o’ shape right on top of my own mouth and twirl my tongue right into it…

“Really?” she finally asked. “That’s bad. I don’t like that.”

“You understand oblivion?”

“I’ve had some dreams that were… Well. Whatever. I read. I’m fairly intelligent. I get the concept. And that concept has moved to the number one spot.”

“Over death and losing ownership of your soul?”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely. Oblivion is right up there with getting eaten by a shark. Only it’s worse, because it’s for… always. Right?”

“Correct.”

“Kay…” she intoned, slightly nervous. “This isn’t really a con so much as curiosity, but what about how you carry out your part of this contract? I don’t care for slackers. Are you thorough?”

“Viciously so,” I said, smiling my sexiest, most evil smile.

She had the gall to grin at me, the little minx.

“Here’s a con – maybe. Will I have to watch?”

“That is entirely up to you.”

She paused. “That’s… vague. Your answer is too ambivalent. But, I guess the question was ambivalent too, so that’s not going in either column.” She crossed out some lines and wrote a few small notes next to them. “Listen, the oblivion thing has thrown me – I mean, how many souls have you eaten? How many people do you already have in there?”

“Thousands,” I answered, truthfully and without ego. It shames me to say that nearly all of them had been fast food, and eaten when I was a very young demon. Then my tastes went and grew up, damn it all.

“And they are all in oblivion? They don’t even … I don’t know, run into each other in some sort of communal nothingness?”

“The very notion of community would–”

“Yeah, yeah, it destroys the concept of oblivion. I get it. Will I be aware of you?”

I smiled at her. I couldn’t help myself. Affection is a strange thing.

“Would you want to be aware of me?”

“Can you just answer the question?”

“No.” I decided to let her take that anyway she wanted, and Gilda rolled her eyes.

“So you do not lie, but you are allowed to be vague. Great. Are you aware of me, while I’m… in there?” she asked, pointing in the general vicinity of my chest.

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s something, at least,” she sighed. “Back to the list. Can you tell me anything else that I should put in the cons column? Not that oblivion isn’t horrible enough…” Her voice drifted off, sounding slightly put off.

“Yes. Well. As we accomplish your goal, we may have to deal with some of my… peers… as they attempt to thwart my contract with you.”

I conveniently left out the part that Grell Sutcliff, the Gay Red Reaper, was likely to show up, acting jealous. He behaved badly enough in the past with regard to my unshakable affections for Ciel. Should this girl and I choose to bed each other… Gods only knew how that nut-job would react.

“They may try to get their hands on you themselves, either for the eating or the killing.”

She made that ‘o’ again with her lips. Heaven’s belt…

“I will protect you, Gilda. You have my word.”

She shook her head, still confused. “Why on earth would they want me?”

I looked away. Just how much was I going to have to reveal to get my mark on her?

“You… smell good. You taste just as nice, I have no doubt. Your soul is remarkably pure for a human. For some of us, you are even irresistible.”

“No, no way. I’ve done bad shit just like everyone else. I lost my virginity at twelve, I’ve done drugs, I swear, I eat fatty foods–”

“No. Those are slips. You’ve slipped, that is all, and they were very small slips my dear. The life you have led thus far is one of integrity. And that is due to your uniquely bright soul. Your soul is quite clean.” She narrowed her eyes at me. I smiled down on her pretty face, sweet and genuine. “You know I am right.”

She pursed her lips. “Well. All right.” Gilda worked her pen over the cons column one last time. “Supernatural bad guys might… steal me.” She looked up at me, questioning her interpretation. I nodded my acceptance.

Gilda finally moved to the pros column and immediately filled in something. “Alexander will protect me from said supernatural bad guys.”

I nodded again, smiling happily. I would protect her. Just as sure as I would eat her up, eventually. Slowly, with my bare hands. Maybe I’d even go down on her while I did it, just to give her one last thrill–

Noticing my lack of focus, she cocked an eyebrow and drew a single line through both that pro and that con, as they had cancelled each other out.

“Okay, I’m adding that you’ll ‘end my life gently’ to the pro column, so that makes it three-one. But I can cross out death from the con column along with it, so…” She made the marks. “Now it’s two-none. You need to give me more pros, Alex.”

“The obvious one – You will have the revenge you seek.”

“Revenge. Yeah, that’s a biggie,” she said, marking the pro column again. “Two-one. What else?”

“You will never have to soil your hands. I will do all that for you. I will do many things for you.”

And to you, if I get my way. Heh.

“Killing people or… That’s not a con. Plus, I haven’t even told you what it is that I want yet.”

“I am not talking about completing the contract now. I have skills that I will happily put to whatever use your heart desires, until the contract is fulfilled.”

“I’m confused. What exactly are you offering me here?”

“Miss Gilda, I am… one hell of a butler.”

Slowly, she tilted her head at me. Sublime happiness covered her entire face.

“A butler, huh? Yeesh. No one has ever taken care of me before. That’d be nice. Very nice,” she said, smiling, and made a note. “So, on top of performing unsavory acts to secure my revenge, you’d include all of the normal butler things? You know, keeping track of my schedule, preparing my food, all that?”

“Yes, All of it. The idea – at least this is the way I handle my contracts – is to keep you happy and satisfied until our time together is done. I would never ask you to suffer in exchange for your soul, with the exception of your actual death – and again, I promise to be gentle regarding that. Whatever suffering you encounter after I consume you is largely up to you.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. Time to get back on the subject of my ace-in-the-hole.

“This is one very large pro. I will be your butler. I will prepare and bring your meals to you, I will clean up after you. I will wake you up in the mornings, bathe and dress you, tend to your schedule and any needs or whims you have throughout the day, and I will bathe you again and tuck you into your bed at night.”

She raised her eyebrows. Giving me an incredulous look, Gilda scoffed at me.

“Oh, come on.”

“Yes. And without an ounce of suggestive behavior,” I said, then added quietly, “If that is how you want things.”

Her mouth opened with the intent to respond, then she stopped herself. A blush started in her cheeks, deepening as she turned away from me, smiling. I knew what she was thinking. There was all that delicious blood, you see, rising to the occasion.

“Of course, if you want something more than that, we can negotiate the terms as we go. Either way, that will have no effect on our contract.”

She kept her eyes off of me, and bit her lip. Gilda took her time scribbling another entry in the pro column. When she was done, my gloved hand shot out like a lightning bolt and removed the notebook from her hands.

“Hey, I–”

She was beet red, smelled glorious, and I proceeded to read aloud what she had written.

“Let me see if you have it right. ‘I will be taken care of by a devastatingly hot butler, who will wait on me hand and foot. He may also fuck me silly for free, if I ask nicely’.”

I cleared my throat. “Tch. Such language,” I finally said, smirking as I handed her notebook back to her. She took it, slightly mortified and refusing eye contact. So fetching. I knew she was not a virgin, but holy stones – how much more appealing was she going to get?

“I will not disagree with you that I am devastatingly hot, but kindly remove the last part of that entry, Miss Gilda, if you would.”

“Oh… sorry. My bad,” she said, chastened, and blushing harder now because of it. I didn’t like that. Chastened did not suit her.

She had misunderstood me.

“The only reason being is that I will gladly do that to you whether we form a contract together or not.”

She gaped at me again. The ‘o’ was now an ‘O’. Something besides my tongue would fit quite nicely in there now.

I was getting distracted again. Trying to calm her nerves, I added, “So you see, in the interest of fairness, you cannot count that as a pro.”

She cleared her throat now, scratching out the vulgarity. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she muttered. I believe the correct name is magenta? Anyhow, it was a pretty color and it was decorating every inch of her skin that was visible by that time.

“All right, so we have Oblivion and Loss of Soul Ownership in the cons… and Revenge and My Very Own Butler in the pros. It’s even.”

She stared at the list and frowned.

“What is it, my dear?”

“I’m going to cancel out the loss of soul thing with the getting revenge thing.”

“Are you sure? Shouldn’t you cancel oblivion with revenge? For that is the contract, at it’s heart.”

She nodded with finality. “No! Those aren’t even at all. I told you, oblivion is… Well. Oblivion is way bigger than that. Besides, it’s not like you’d be destroying my soul, you’re just gonna own it. Revenge makes for a fair exchange. And if you’re promising to kill me gently, it stands to reason that you’ll probably own me gently too.”

I had to fight to keep from looking shocked. She was already able to see through me, if only just a little bit. So like my young master…

“Yes. That is true.”

“And you don’t lie.”

“I do not, nor will I ever.”

“Okay then,” she sighed, scratching one clean line through each.

She grew silent.

“Say what are you left with, then.”

“My very own Butler… handsome, talented, loyal, efficient… who has suggested that any and all extras would be freely included,” she said slyly, eyeing me from under dark lashes. She had leapt over some of her shyness in the most adorable fashion. I bit down on my tongue as I felt my considerable human genitalia harden slightly.

No, I am not exaggerating. I do not do that either.

To be here, to engage in contracts with humans, I have to fashion the human body I’ll reside in myself. Making that body appealing is an obvious advantage. So ask yourself, if I expend such effort to make myself a beautiful male, do you think I’d make the mistake of giving myself a tiny prick?

In any case, now was not the time.

“Versus… Oblivion.”

She stared at me for a time. I could do no more than stare back.

She shook her head, and gave me a sad, resigned look.

“As appealing as your being my butler is…” She smiled shyly, face reddening again. Clearly she was thinking about the juicier fringe benefits of that arrangement. I knew I was.

“I’m sorry, but it just doesn’t stack up to the thought of oblivion. I mean, floating through nothingness while being aware of it? That’s horrifying, Alex.”

Smart girl. “So the answer is no?”

“I’m afraid it has to be.”

I sighed and nodded. I felt disappointed, but obviously she was not stupid. Although… I wished I could give her a sample, just to see if that would turn her.

Oh, I’d turn her. And I’d flip her, and stroke her, and kiss her and plunge into her…

She smiled again, sweet and genuine and such a wonderful prize. Gilda stood up then, prompting me to stand quickly. The barbarians looked at us, probably trying to figure out why I had risen if I wasn’t leaving myself, as well. Plebeians.

She crossed the wide strap of her bag over her neck and shoulder, swinging the canvas sack to her opposite hip. Clasping the notebook to her breast, she stuck out her hand for a shake.

“Best of luck, Alexander. Promise me you’ll never go off your meds, okay?”

I didn’t quite understand that.

Taking her hand, I turned it gently and kissed it. While my gloves were still in place, my lips had touched her skin, and skin contact meant I could feel what she felt.

I had surprised her. There was a rush of air when she gasped quietly, then some small tremors as she giggled quietly and her blood quickened. All over.

She tasted so very nice.

“My dear,” I said, looking up slyly at her blushing face. I was extremely tempted to flash my bright reptile eyes at her (I had a feeling she’d find them pretty), but I restrained myself. I turned her hand over and kissed the palm this time, one last sweet kiss, then released her. Standing up, I bowed slightly, and I put my hand to my chest over the black button down shirt. “Should you change your mind, promise me that you absolutely will not accept a contract from a demon other than myself.”

I shuddered to think what they would do to one so precious.

“I absolutely promise,” she said, laughing lightly. The hand I had tasted was tucked against her chest, curled into a little fist, as though protecting the memory of a stranger’s sweet kisses.

Really, it was too bad. Was I going soft? Had I not tried hard enough? I don’t know.

I probably would have taken my time with her and made the same tragic mistakes I made with Ciel, but still. It was a journey I would have gone on, no matter the odds.

I watched her walk away from me, selfishly hoping for a turn, a smile, a wave. And like a good Austen novel, Gilda did not disappoint.

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tbc

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