freezingrayne: (Sebastian)
[personal profile] freezingrayne
Title: Taking Liberties
Fandom: Black Butler
Pairing: Ciel/Sebastian (ish?)
Rating: Teen
Words: 400~
Teaser: “You’ll go where all naughty little boys go.”

Just flexing some fic-writing muscles after a couple weeks of disuse.

“What’s going to happen to me when I die?”

Ciel asks it every so often, whenever he’s feeling particularly dull or capricious. On most occasions, Sebastian simply reminds him he needs his sleep, but tonight his butler appears to be in an exceptionally good mood.

He smoothes the coverlet unnecessarily. “You’ll go where all naughty little boys go.”

Ciel drops back down onto his pillow and closes his eyes. Across the room he can hear Sebastian drawing the curtains. “As long as there are no garden parties.”

“No.” Ciel can’t see his smile, but he can hear it. “No garden parties, young master.”

“What will happen to me there?” Ciel asks, pushing his luck, forever testing the waters. The rest of the question hangs unspoken.

What would you do to me?

“What will happen, you ask?”

Ciel’s eyes snap open. Sebastian is leaning over him, much closer than he’d been a moment ago. His proximity makes Ciel’s skin crawl, his insides shiver—feelings he’d long since grown accustomed to, even learned to crave.

“I can’t tell you that, my lord.” His voice is velvet, soft and rich, like a careless luxury.

“Why not?”

Sebastian isn’t touching him, but Ciel feels as if his body is being pushed back against the bed, some invisible weight settling on his chest.

“Because there aren’t words in your language to describe it,” Sebastian says, eyes glittering. “And I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise, now would I?”

He brushes an elegant hand down Ciel’s cheek, tracing his jaw. His fingers are impossibly hot, like metal warmed by the fire.

“You’re taking liberties, Sebastian,” Ciel says, frowning.

For just a moment, Sebastian’s mask slips, expression cracking to reveal the naked hunger in his eyes.

“Am I?” His smile widens, until it seems to take up the whole of his face.

“U-Unhand me at once!” There’s a tremble to his voice that Ciel can’t seem to prevent.

Sebastian pulls away and bows low. “My apologies, young master.” His voice is once again bland, his expression tranquil.

The air is cold against Ciel’s jaw where Sebastian’s fingers had been. “Never mind,” he says shakily. “That will be all.”

Sebastian bows again, taking his leave. “Goodnight, my lord,” he calls from the door, that smile tainting his voice again. “Sweet dreams.”

Ciel’s dreams are not sweet. They are full of burning eyes and black wings, mouths stretching wide to swallow him whole. He feels things brushing against his skin, feathers and gnawing teeth, and the pressure of hot, hot hands.

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December 2011

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