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22 May 2011 @ 11:11 pm
[Black Butler] Amour, Impérissable - Sebastian/Ciel  
Title: Amour, Impérissable
Author: Kagome
Series: Black Butler
Prompt: #05: Transparent
Word Count: 2,357
Rating: R
Characters, Pairings: Sebastian/Ciel, mentions of Alois
Summary: He hates how Sebastian can still see right through him.
Warnings: sexual content, spoilers if you haven’t seen all of the second season, angst. Oh, and it’s pretty twisted.
Notes: In which Sebastian is cruel. No cavity-inducing content to be found here, but I do hope you all enjoy anyway! Oh, the title is in French… the translation is: “Love, Undying”. This was actually inspired by the lines on the cover page for chapter eleven of Phobia.


I.

Fingers shyly intertwine and lips curve upwards—there is a soft chuckle and an even softer sigh before lips meet in a gesture that is as old as time itself.

Ciel watches, detached and yet very present, and he doesn’t notice how his own hands ball into tiny fists at his sides.

“Is my young master anticipating making the young couple his next meal?” Sebastian queries, his voice sounding from somewhere behind Ciel. Not far away, the demon-child knows—never far away.

Ciel shakes his head and turns away, facing neither the couple nor his butler. “No,” he quietly replies. “We shall keep moving. I didn’t stop to watch them because I’m hungry.”

“Is it because they are experiencing what you were unable to, yourself?” Sebastian dares to ask such bold questions, but if he didn’t, he wouldn’t really be Sebastian, would he? “You exited your human life at such a young age, after all—you didn’t marry, and you were always focused on your work. Could it be that you are envious of their shared happiness and devotion?”

Ciel snorts and rolls mismatched eyes to the sky. “Don’t ask such imbecilic things, Sebastian,” he replies. “Why should I be jealous of something as fleeting as human emotions? Have you forgotten what I am now—what I have been for quite some time?”

“I have not, my Lord,” Sebastian replies with a sweeping bow. As he lifts his head, he adds, “Nor have I forgotten what you once were.”

And Ciel, who will forever be a child (and yet, will never again be a child), says nothing. He only thinks that it is incredibly unfair how, even after a little over a century, the elder demon can still see right through him.

II.

Some few years down the road, Ciel finds himself gazing at that very same couple yet again (and not at all by chance)—it is an outdoor wedding, pretty and simple and elegant, and the smiles on their faces are soft and genuine and filled with affection.

He watches with what he tells himself is disinterest as they speak their vows: “In sickness and in health, ‘til death do us part….”

And only at this moment does he allow himself a small smile, for the couple has no clue as to just how appropriate those ‘sacred’ vows of theirs are, and they won’t know until it is too late for anything to be done about it.

“They seem so very happy,” Sebastian drawls, ever-present, right by his side.

“It will be short-lived,” Ciel intones, and Sebastian gives a little bow.

“If you will it, my Lord,” his butler answers.

The newlyweds arrive at their honeymoon suite perfectly intact and well, but the demons do not allow them the opportunity to consummate their marriage.

III.

“Sebastian, I order you to….”

IV.

“Such a waste of space,” Sebastian comments as his gaze flickers from the lifeless bodies on the floor to the empty hotel bed.

Ciel flops unceremoniously down onto the white satin sheets (white like her wedding gown, white like her soul, pure and clean and untouched—but no longer), full and tired and restless all at once. “They are dead,” he remarks, “and their love with it; they said as much when they spoke their vows.” He stretches, eyes half-closed as he gazes up at the equally-immaculate ceiling. “Some would say that love lasts forever, and I say that’s utter rubbish.”

Sebastian chuckles, low and dark, and in the next moment, he is looming over Ciel, and his words are softly spoken against the other’s lips: “It cannot last forever when mortals are the ones professing it, but what of those such as ourselves, who cannot be touched by mortal death?”

Ciel hates – absolutely despises – how Sebastian pokes and prods at him with little questions such as that, and he hates how those red eyes scrutinize him, and he hates how Sebastian laughs at him without making a sound.

“We are capable of dying, Sebastian,” he reminds the elder demon, purposefully side-stepping the central topic. Little fingers tangle into ebony hair and tug sharply. He has every intention of pushing his butler away, but something in Sebastian’s eyes changes (Ciel cannot say, cannot fathom exactly what that something is—but it is cruel and it is hungry), and that slight alteration makes Ciel pause.

“That isn’t really the point, is it, Young Master?” Sebastian asks, fingers sliding beneath Ciel’s shirt, torso fitting between slim legs that spread of their own accord.

Ciel bites at his bottom lip and he doesn’t say a word. Heat spreads within him, and he knows that the source of it should be his anger, but it isn’t. No, this is heat born of an entirely different nature altogether.

Fingers tighten in Sebastian’s hair, and this time, he pulls his butler closer instead of attempting to push him away, and Sebastian complies quite readily, as is appropriate, given his station (If I could not do this much for my master, what kind of butler would I be?).

Lips meet, and their kisses are anything but gentle, filled with venom and sharp teeth. Impatient hands tear at easily-shredded clothing, and nails rake along pale skin, marring pretty flesh with angry red lines.

A sinful mouth and skilled fingers very nearly send Ciel over the edge, but in that last instant just before Ciel spirals into everything and into nothing, Sebastian pulls back with a wicked little smile, and when he next moves between Ciel’s still-spread legs, the demonling doesn’t order him to stop.

Ciel groans at the sensation of being stretched, of being filled, and he locks his legs around Sebastian’s waist, heels digging into the small of his butler’s back.

They fit together like broken pieces of a puzzle, and yet….

And yet.

V.

“What the hell was that all about?” Ciel demands some few (or several) hours later, when his breathing has calmed somewhat.

Sebastian’s smile is kind. “I was merely fulfilling an order that my master had not yet given—that is all, my Lord.”

Sapphire-turned-ruby glares heatedly at twin pools of bright crimson. “I would not have ordered you to do such a thing as that,” Ciel half-snarls as he pushes the semen-spattered bedsheets away from himself and rolls onto his side, closing his eyes.

“Do forgive me, then, Young Master,” Sebastian murmurs. “For I have apparently made a grievous error, and I do apologize for it.”

His butler sounds entirely unapologetic, which isn’t surprising.

Not in the least.

VI.

He can leave his eyes closed for hours, and never sleep.

But he always, always dreams.

His dreams are perhaps nothing more than memories played back at him in painfully vivid clarity, and right now, the dream-memory that is haunting him is that of a blonde boy who was very different (and yet, not so very different) from Ciel himself.

“They love you, you know.”

“Love? That’s disgusting. You don’t know Sebastian.”


Besides, in order to love someone, one must possess a—

VII.

“What were you saying, Young Master?” Sebastian asks, and Ciel starts, eyes wide for just an instant before narrowing into slits.

“Whatever are you babbling about, Sebastian?” Ciel replies haughtily, answering his butler’s question with one of his own.

“You were talking about love,” Sebastian reminds him. “I am very interested in hearing exactly what it takes to love someone, my Lord. Please do finish.”

Ciel feels himself blush. Had he been talking aloud without realizing it?

He looks down, studying his fingernails, and even though he knows that he shouldn’t bother finishing his sentence (even though he knows that he should order Sebastian to drop the subject and to let it bury itself in the ground), he answers very, very quietly: “In order to love someone, one must possess a soul. Demons know nothing of love, because they lack what is required to feel such an emotion.”

“Do they?” his butler asks, and Ciel feels those eyes boring into him.

“You dare to question me?” Ciel doesn’t understand why he feels the need to ask such a thing—he knows without any doubt whatsoever that Sebastian will always, always question him.

“Forgive me, my Lord, but I must point out that you are incorrect, for you see, we demons can have many souls, depending on how well we feed. Were you not aware of this?”

The question prods at him, awakening anger, but truth be told, Ciel mostly feels a sense of somber defeat. “That’s not the same, Sebastian, and well you know it. We demons do not possess souls of our own.”

“And what of demons who were once humans?” Sebastian asks, gloved fingers caressing Ciel’s cheek. The gesture is gentle, belying the demon’s true nature.

Ciel’s breath hitches and something tightens painfully in his (hollow?) chest.

It is a question, he discovers, that he cannot answer.

Or rather, it is a question that he can answer, but to answer it would mean speaking the truth aloud, and that is a satisfaction that he doesn’t want his demon butler to have.

(Not yet, not yet, not ever.)

VIII.

“Sebastian, I order you to….”

IX.

It is a lazy summer day. Master and servant are both full and seemingly content when the servant dares to pose a question that warrants a punishment much harsher than a slap: “Young Master, when you were a human, did you love me?”

Ciel does not yell. He does not strike Sebastian. He does not move at all, except to glance at his butler and reply, “I felt safe when you were with me.”

The yes goes unsaid, but Ciel knows that Sebastian hears it loud and clear all the same.

X.

“Humans have dreamed up this new little notion in regards to affection,” Sebastian says, and Ciel knows that the words are merely a baited hook, but the once-Earl takes the bait in spite of himself.

“What is that?” he asks, even though he would like to tell himself that he cares little of human affairs or what lies they weave in order to make themselves feel better.

(Perhaps if he had never been among them, perhaps then it would be different….)

“If you love someone, you let them go,” Sebastian recites, and laughter lies beneath the words—it is fairly obvious that the elder demon finds this particular idea to be preposterous.

Ciel does as well, though for different reasons.

“You will always remain by my side, Sebastian,” Ciel intones, and if the words are more melancholy than they should be, what further harm can possibly result because of it?

“Indeed,” Sebastian replies, left hand lifted and bare. From the corner of his right eye, Ciel sees the proof of their (eternal) Contract. “I would have my young master know that I have never nor will ever have any intentions of leaving his side.”

Ciel does not comment on Sebastian’s proclamation of devotion; instead, he mutters, “Humans are such stupid creatures sometimes.”

For he knows that love is a selfish thing. Love does not ‘let go’.

He should not know. He should not understand.

But he knows and he understands all the same.

(And he wishes that he didn’t.)

XI.

“You were human once,” Sebastian murmurs into his ear, and when he pulls Ciel onto his lap, Ciel does not fight him. “Could you not teach me, Young Master, as I taught you to dance?”

There is no trace of genuine feeling in Sebastian’s words, and when Ciel searches blood-red eyes for sincerity, he finds none.

Again, he feels an ache that he has become all too familiar with.

He does not answer. Instead, he leans into his butler and he kisses him, long and slow and sweet, and with a sense of sadness and yearning.

Love cannot be taught, you stupid demon, he wants to say, but doesn’t.

Love cannot be taught.

It either is, or it is not.

XII.

They lay together, naked, limbs intertwined, and Sebastian touches him with false reverence, fingers skimming along sweat-slicked skin, dipping into hollows and making Ciel squirm even now.

Sebastian whispers words that are honey-sweet (saccharine-tipped daggers), and even though they leave Ciel feeling emptier than ever, he listens to the words and he allows the caresses and he succumbs to the poison that slowly invades his bloodstream.

All poisons – no matter how sweet – leave a bitter aftertaste, and all poisons – no matter how sweet – have the same devastating effects on the body (the spirit, the soul).

This particular ‘poison’ is no different.

XIII.

Sometimes, he wonders if he is simply desperately trying to hold onto the last vestiges of his humanity.

At other times, he wonders if he merely houses the remnants of the broken souls of two blue-eyed boys who – once upon a time – made a terrible mistake.

XIV.

“You could order me, Young Master,” Sebastian suggests, lips warm against Ciel’s neck. “You could order me to love you, and you know that I would not have any choice but to obey.”

For the span of a heartbeat, Ciel is tempted to take hold of the shining thread offered to him, and then he recoils from both the proverbial thread and his butler, disgusted with Sebastian for suggesting it, and disgusted with himself for even considering

“As if I would ever order you to do that,” Ciel hisses, suddenly filled with seething arrogance and fury and (un)hidden heartache.

Sebastian’s smile is cruel—cold and calculating, and his eyes see everything that Ciel tries to cover up. “I don’t suppose you would, would you.”

It is not a question.

Ciel does not (cannot) answer.

XV.

Sebastian, I—

XVI.

It is a bitterly cold winter day, but the chill does not touch them. Master and servant are restless, though for vastly different reasons.

The master dares to pose a question that warrants condescending laughter. “Sebastian, when I was a human, did you love me?”

Sebastian does not laugh. He does not smirk, nor does he raise an eyebrow. Instead, he quietly replies, “I desired you, Young Master.”

The no goes unsaid, but Ciel hears it loud and clear all the same.

XVII.

Solus amor ut permaneo forem est amor non reciprocatus.



~END~
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Roughly translated from Latin, the ending line is: “The only love that lasts forever is unrequited love.”

This one was quite mean, wasn’t it? O.o;
 
 
Current Mood: nervousnervous
 
 
 
Kagome: Black Butler - contemplativekagome_angel on May 24th, 2011 03:57 am (UTC)
Thanks very much! :) I'm glad you enjoyed.