The man at his side laughed, but Ciel was no longer paying him attention. He set his glass on the table and forced himself to walk slowly across the room. Regardless of the role he played, it would be unbecoming to stomp his feet like a child out of jealousy. And of course, he wasn’t jealous, he told himself. He was upset. He was right to be upset. Sebastian was disrespecting their bargain, and therefore disrespecting Ciel, his lord and master.
Sebastian glanced up at his approach. He smiled, but did not pull away from Lady Dahlia.
“Darling,” said Sebastian, eyes dancing. “Is something the matter?”
Lady Dahlia turned her bright eyes to him too, and Ciel realized he had no idea what to say. He didn’t know if anyone else was listening. He didn’t care. All he wanted was for Sebastian to step back and for the woman to remove her impertinent hand from his butler’s arm. He was flushed with the wine—not with embarrassment—and his mind too muddled to divert the subject. His marked eyes stung behind the patch.
The best he could do was say, “I thought you’d find me when you returned.” And if he placed undue emphasis on the word me, if his voice was high with nerves, well, he’d die before confessing it.
Lady Dahlia’s slim fingers tightened on Sebastian’s sleeve, then let go. “So this is your Ciel,” she said to Sebastian. She was almost of a height with the demon, and spoke right over Ciel’s head. “I can’t believe you left him alone with this rude lot.”
Sebastian turned his smile back towards her. “I was barely gone a moment,” he said.
Ciel had never so desperately wanted even a few inches more of height, to at least reach Sebastian’s shoulders. Maybe if he didn’t look like such a child, he wouldn’t be ignored like one—and yes, so he’d wanted to slip unnoticed through the night. But not like this. Not by Sebastian.
Scowling, on the verge of storming from the room, he corrected, “It’s been twenty minutes, at least. My lord.” He tried to spit the last words, but they came out a shade too plaintive. Almost whining.
A thrill of victory twisted inside him as Sebastian stepped towards him. The familiar intrusion into his personal space was at once comforting and frightening. “You’re so impatient,” teased Sebastian, and that was nothing new, he always teased. Just—just never with quite that predatory look in his eyes.
Ciel wondered how foolish Sebastian’s conquests must be, not to flee in the face of that hungry gaze. How foolish he was, to stand still now.
The girl laughed. "Oh, do make it up to the boy. He's so sincere, it's utterly charming."
"Did you hear that?" asked Sebastian, fingers light along Ciel's jaw as he spluttered. "She thinks you're sincere, little minx."
There was a moment, as Sebastian bent towards him. A breath of pause in which he could turn aside and escape the touch. It would be the smart thing to do. There was only so far he was obliged to go for sake of a stupid ruse the damned demon wasn’t even playing. He could step back.
Instead, he stood still, and closed his eyes as Sebastian kissed him.
He’d been kissed before, but never like this. Never gently, never cool fingers cupped along his cheek, never a choice to stand or flee. Never his own hand free to clutch at Sebastian’s shoulder, to claw his own mark. The sweetness and promise of shadow and blood. Soft lips, touch of tongue, stuttering heartbeat—he could live without air if he only had this.
He’d been wrong, he thought dizzily. If this was a kiss, he’d never been kissed before.
Only when Sebastian pulled away did Ciel remember the rest of the room’s inhabitants. Flushed, he looked around—the crowd had dwindled, and every lordling, poet, and starving actor in the room looked away with a smile when he met their gaze.
They didn’t matter, Ciel realized, heart pounding, as if Sebastian’s touch had restored him to clarity. Every man and woman in this room was either a traitor or a fool, and they’d all burn alike by the end of this. He didn’t have to care what the not-yet-dead might think of him. Not when he found himself so fascinated with the dark fondness in Sebastian’s eyes.
Ciel sank inward to his thoughts, though he remained the image of compliance as Sebastian traded a few last pleasantries with Lady Dahlia, conferred briefly with their contact, and led Ciel from the salon.
Sebastian had played him, Ciel mused, but now he could see the breadth of the game. The ruse had been flawed right from the start. These drugged-out artists weren’t the type to respect prior commitments. Not a completely useless scheme—it was a good enough excuse for Ciel’s presence—but Sebastian had framed in terms of protection and then neglected him. The demon had wanted Ciel to feel affronted. The demon had wanted Ciel to seek him out.
The demon had wanted Ciel.
So the cold demon could not resist all temptation after all. He kept himself, starving, from Ciel’s soul, yet now he schemed for flesh as well. Sebastian knew so many of Ciel’s weaknesses, and Ciel knew so few of his, but perhaps he could somehow exploit this hunger. Play the touch-starved child of nightmares, build up his shame in a wall to be torn down. Learn something of Sebastian to even the scales
And if Ciel got lost in kiss or two along the way, well, he supposed that couldn’t be helped.
As Sebastian helped him into the carriage, Ciel let his bare hand linger just a breath too long in the butler’s gloved grasp. “I’d like a bath,” he said, “when we get home.”
Sebastian climbed into the carriage behind him. His smile was cold, but his voice burned like embers: “Yes, my lord,” he said, and closed the door.
Re: Ciel/Sebastian - Fake romance - FILL - 3/3
~
The man at his side laughed, but Ciel was no longer paying him attention. He set his glass on the table and forced himself to walk slowly across the room. Regardless of the role he played, it would be unbecoming to stomp his feet like a child out of jealousy. And of course, he wasn’t jealous, he told himself. He was upset. He was right to be upset. Sebastian was disrespecting their bargain, and therefore disrespecting Ciel, his lord and master.
Sebastian glanced up at his approach. He smiled, but did not pull away from Lady Dahlia.
“Darling,” said Sebastian, eyes dancing. “Is something the matter?”
Lady Dahlia turned her bright eyes to him too, and Ciel realized he had no idea what to say. He didn’t know if anyone else was listening. He didn’t care. All he wanted was for Sebastian to step back and for the woman to remove her impertinent hand from his butler’s arm. He was flushed with the wine—not with embarrassment—and his mind too muddled to divert the subject. His marked eyes stung behind the patch.
The best he could do was say, “I thought you’d find me when you returned.” And if he placed undue emphasis on the word me, if his voice was high with nerves, well, he’d die before confessing it.
Lady Dahlia’s slim fingers tightened on Sebastian’s sleeve, then let go. “So this is your Ciel,” she said to Sebastian. She was almost of a height with the demon, and spoke right over Ciel’s head. “I can’t believe you left him alone with this rude lot.”
Sebastian turned his smile back towards her. “I was barely gone a moment,” he said.
Ciel had never so desperately wanted even a few inches more of height, to at least reach Sebastian’s shoulders. Maybe if he didn’t look like such a child, he wouldn’t be ignored like one—and yes, so he’d wanted to slip unnoticed through the night. But not like this. Not by Sebastian.
Scowling, on the verge of storming from the room, he corrected, “It’s been twenty minutes, at least. My lord.” He tried to spit the last words, but they came out a shade too plaintive. Almost whining.
A thrill of victory twisted inside him as Sebastian stepped towards him. The familiar intrusion into his personal space was at once comforting and frightening. “You’re so impatient,” teased Sebastian, and that was nothing new, he always teased. Just—just never with quite that predatory look in his eyes.
Ciel wondered how foolish Sebastian’s conquests must be, not to flee in the face of that hungry gaze. How foolish he was, to stand still now.
The girl laughed. "Oh, do make it up to the boy. He's so sincere, it's utterly charming."
"Did you hear that?" asked Sebastian, fingers light along Ciel's jaw as he spluttered. "She thinks you're sincere, little minx."
There was a moment, as Sebastian bent towards him. A breath of pause in which he could turn aside and escape the touch. It would be the smart thing to do. There was only so far he was obliged to go for sake of a stupid ruse the damned demon wasn’t even playing. He could step back.
Instead, he stood still, and closed his eyes as Sebastian kissed him.
He’d been kissed before, but never like this. Never gently, never cool fingers cupped along his cheek, never a choice to stand or flee. Never his own hand free to clutch at Sebastian’s shoulder, to claw his own mark. The sweetness and promise of shadow and blood. Soft lips, touch of tongue, stuttering heartbeat—he could live without air if he only had this.
He’d been wrong, he thought dizzily. If this was a kiss, he’d never been kissed before.
Only when Sebastian pulled away did Ciel remember the rest of the room’s inhabitants. Flushed, he looked around—the crowd had dwindled, and every lordling, poet, and starving actor in the room looked away with a smile when he met their gaze.
They didn’t matter, Ciel realized, heart pounding, as if Sebastian’s touch had restored him to clarity. Every man and woman in this room was either a traitor or a fool, and they’d all burn alike by the end of this. He didn’t have to care what the not-yet-dead might think of him. Not when he found himself so fascinated with the dark fondness in Sebastian’s eyes.
Ciel sank inward to his thoughts, though he remained the image of compliance as Sebastian traded a few last pleasantries with Lady Dahlia, conferred briefly with their contact, and led Ciel from the salon.
Sebastian had played him, Ciel mused, but now he could see the breadth of the game. The ruse had been flawed right from the start. These drugged-out artists weren’t the type to respect prior commitments. Not a completely useless scheme—it was a good enough excuse for Ciel’s presence—but Sebastian had framed in terms of protection and then neglected him. The demon had wanted Ciel to feel affronted. The demon had wanted Ciel to seek him out.
The demon had wanted Ciel.
So the cold demon could not resist all temptation after all. He kept himself, starving, from Ciel’s soul, yet now he schemed for flesh as well. Sebastian knew so many of Ciel’s weaknesses, and Ciel knew so few of his, but perhaps he could somehow exploit this hunger. Play the touch-starved child of nightmares, build up his shame in a wall to be torn down. Learn something of Sebastian to even the scales
And if Ciel got lost in kiss or two along the way, well, he supposed that couldn’t be helped.
As Sebastian helped him into the carriage, Ciel let his bare hand linger just a breath too long in the butler’s gloved grasp. “I’d like a bath,” he said, “when we get home.”
Sebastian climbed into the carriage behind him. His smile was cold, but his voice burned like embers: “Yes, my lord,” he said, and closed the door.