Silverware and Glasses

Here in the main household he was alone. Sebastian had never equated being alone to being lonely, but without Agni the silence was less pleasurable than it had once been. He felt that there was something missing.

And he was pent-up.

He hated to admit it, even to himself, but Sebastian had adjusted himself to a certain lifestyle with Agni around, one that granted him satisfaction every evening and—if Agni was up for it—during stolen moments throughout the day. Sebastian didn’t like to dwell on the absence of pleasure. It made him feel needy, and feeling needy made him feel human. However, he couldn’t deny that he felt Agni’s absence. Especially at night, when lying alone on his bed with nothing to do made Sebastian’s thoughts spiral into places they never dared explore before.

What would he do if Agni was there? He wouldn’t give him a moment to speak, that was for certain. If Agni happened to walk in the room that moment Sebastian would drag him to bed, and ravish him. He’d pin him down and strip him of every last scrap of clothing that blocked his view of Agni’s perfect body, and sink onto his warm, pulsating flesh before either of them could have a moment to process the situation. They’d both come too quickly, desperate from their long absence, but that was fine. It would only draw out their next round, and the indescribable pleasure that would—

Sebastian clenched his legs together and rolled to his side, trembling all over. His body was aflame, as though Agni really had been there touching him. At some point his breathing had become rugged. He let his hand fall between his legs, barely daring to face what he was about to find. And there it was. Sebastian let out a groan of humiliation at the realisation that thoughts alone could make him like this. Agni was ruining him.

There were two ways he could deal with this problem. He could leave it and wait for it to go away. The idea of pleasuring himself, debasing himself, conflicted entirely with Sebastian’s sensibilities. He could have anyone, why would he settle for his own hands? But he was already too far gone for that. The idea of denying himself was more than he could bear. There wasn't a choice, not really.

He tried not to think about what he was doing as his hand met his own flesh. He stroked along his length, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to conjure up the fantasy that left him in this writhing state. But now that pleasure was available to him the fantasy kept slipping away. He tried to picture Agni’s form, how his flesh felt against him, but all he felt was his hand. There was no wondrous life filling the room, only Sebastian’s static breathing.

It wasn’t going to work. Not like this. Sebastian rolled from his bed and crossed the room, flushing at the feeling of his erection on display, even though no one was there to see it. No. Because no one was there to see it. Alone he couldn’t pretend to himself that his weeping arousal was for his partner’s benefit. He had to face the fact that there were parts of him he could no longer control.

He kept a drawer in his room filled with a few of Agni’s effects. An undershirt; some trinkets; a bottle of the oil he used on his hair: bits and pieces that had fallen into Sebastian’s possession after their shared nights together. He opened it now, sighing as the faintest scent of Agni drifted towards him.

He took the hair oil first and released a few droplets onto his hand, then breathed in deeply. Agni’s scent. Of course, there was so much more to the real Agni, from the particular flavours of his blood, to the lingering scent on his skin of the delicate soap he favoured. This was only one piece of that delightfully intricate puzzle. With his non-oily hand Sebastian gently ran his fingers over the soft cotton of Agni’s shirt. There was nothing remarkable about it; it was just an undershirt. An undershirt that had touched Agni. Sebastian pulled it out, held it to his chest and inhaled the ever fading scent of him. If Agni ever knew Sebastian was doing this he’d be disgusted. Sebastian knew that. He knew that. But he needed something to fill his emptiness, to plug up the void Agni had left in his absence.

Sebastian leaned against the wall and sank to the ground, shirt in one hand, oil in the other. For a moment he second guessed himself, hardly believing he was about to do this, but feelings spoke louder than thoughts. He closed his eyes once more and let his oil slicked hand find his cock, then buried his face in Agni’s shirt as though to conceal his humiliation. With his vision cut off, he was almost able to convince himself that the slick heat of his hand was Agni’s mouth, that the scent of the oil was only Agni’s hair. That Agni was really there.

He began to pump his length, curling in on himself and grunting into the shirt. The oil made his movements slick, each stroke more intense than the last. He groaned, but Agni’s shirt muffled the sound. He dove into the fantasy. This time it didn’t slip away. He felt himself trembling, slipping to the brink faster than he anticipated. Agni. It was Agni’s mouth around him. It was Agni he was feeling. It was Agni who had torn his mind to shreds.

When he finally came he stifled his cries, mouthing Agni’s name over and over into the waiting silence. He shuddered, his seed spilling between his fingers, then gradually slowed his movements, Agni’s name still swirling in his mind. Chest heaving, he dropped back against the wall, imagining that Agni was picking himself up between his legs. There was no one to see, so Sebastian vanished the mess with a lazy wave of his hand, but he imagined it was Agni cleaning him off, as sweet in his aftercare as he was in all other moments of their courting.  

Even then Sebastian didn’t move from his spot. Slumped against the wall, the very image of indecency, he hugged the shirt to his chest once more, just as Agni would have done to him if he were here. Sebastian was never usually one for cuddling, but in that brief moment he could see the appeal. Sebastian would have given anything to be in Agni’s arms again.

“I miss you,” he whispered aloud.

Sebastian had a whole night ahead of him.

He had never been on a luxury cruise liner before. The last time he’d spent a prolonged period in the human world the technology required to build something as grand as the Campania simply hadn’t existed. With his master in bed and hopefully asleep until morning, Sebastian had the rest of the night ahead of him to play with as he pleased. He had no interest in feigning sleep, especially not in the cramped servant’s quarters he was expected to share with the new footman. Instead he found himself exploring, wandering the decks in search of something interesting. This was how he found himself on the third class deck, in a lively little bar that showed no signs of slowing down despite the late hour. There were a few maids and valets in uniform lounging around, clearly in much the same situation as himself. Sebastian had little interest in talking to any of them, but here at least he could relax without seeming conspicuous in his butler’s attire.

Then he spotted the reaper.

Of course there was a reaper. What kind of trans-continental assignment from the queen would be complete without a reaper present? He looked like a passenger; he certainly didn’t appear to be on duty. Although he was more or less dressed in uniform, his collar lay open and his jacket was missing, no doubt discarded somewhere in his eagerness to reach the dance floor. Something drastic must have been scheduled to happen if he was here, but not immediately. Tonight he looked  carefree, dancing away with a bright eyed young woman occasionally darting in and out of his arms. He had impeccable footwork. It irked Sebastian somewhat to admit it.

Sebastian ordered a drink, only because he had nothing better to do with his hands. Being third class there wasn’t much choice, so Sebastian found himself staring down a pint of beer so dark it almost matched his clothing. He took a sip. Oh. It was putrid. But now that he’d paid for it he felt obligated to choke it down. He couldn't believe humans liked this sort of thing.

There was an empty table at one side of the room, which Sebastian sat down at. It had been hastily vacated, there were still half-finished drinks and personal effects scattered around left by a group of people clearly eager to start dancing. Sebastian paid that no mind and chose one of the chairs with no jacket draped over the back, and set to watching the dancers. There were a couple of dozen humans dancing away, but as Sebastian sipped his drink he kept finding his eyes inexplicably drawn back to the reaper. He was quite handsome, Sebastian idly found himself thinking, despite those ridiculous goggles he wore. His garishly two-toned hair looked soft. Sebastian had a fancy of plunging his fingers into that feathery fringe, tugging his head back and—

Sebastian glanced down at his now almost finished pint. Perhaps it was stronger than usual beer. His kind didn’t feel the effects of alcohol too readily, but there was at least the beginning tinges of a buzz. Enough, at least, to make bedding a reaper seem somehow no longer abhorrent.

“Whaaaaat is going on here?”

Sebastian hadn’t noticed the reaper sail over until he’d spoken. The drink was stronger than he’d thought. He tried not to let his surprise show. Without haste, Sebastian allowed his eyes to slowly climb the reaper’s form, pretending he was nothing more than bored.

“I’m enjoying a drink,” Sebastian said. He tilted his glass for emphasis.

The reaper planted both hands on the table and leaned across so that he was almost hovering over him. He thought he could intimidate Sebastian. How cute.

“Somehow I doubt that.”

“You’re right,” Sebastian admitted, “it’s quite revolting.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Let him who is without sin cast the first stone,” Sebastian drawled, “Somehow I doubt you’re here on holiday, so sit down reaper and stop embarrassing yourself.”

The reaper hesitated for a moment, then slunk into one of the free seats at the table. “Don’t call me that, someone might hear.”

“You don’t want people to know you’re a reaper?” Sebastian asked deliberately loudly.

The reaper cringed, then glanced about to make sure no one had heard. His embarrassment was endearing. Sebastian wondered how much more he could draw out of him. He imagined those milky cheeks stained red, flushed with the humiliation of losing himself to a demon. Yes, Sebastian liked that thought. He took a sip of his drink to disguise his creeping smile. He liked it a lot.

“What should I call you then?” Sebastian asked as he set down his drink, “If you don’t want me to call you reaper.”

“Ronald Knox.” He made a hand gesture as he said this that Sebastian recognised from one of another reaper he’d met. It was rather insipid. “And you?”

“I have had many na—”

“Ugh,” Ronald interrupted, “You lot are so fucking tedious with your goddamn cryptic bullshit.” He reached across the table, tugged Sebastian’s beer from his hands and, to Sebastian’s horror, started drinking from it. “Just tell me whatever name you currently go by and be done with it.”

Sebastian was too scandalised from the sight of his beer, his beer, vanishing between the reaper’s foul lips, to work up a proper reply to the taunt. Rancid as it was, the sheer violation of proper boundaries had Sebastian seething. He really would have to put this reaper in his place.

“Sebastian,” Sebastian said. “Sebastian Mic—“

“Of course you are,” Ronald remarked.

“Would it be too much to let me finish even one sentence?”

Ronald ignored this. “Guess I shouldn’t be too surprised. A disaster like this is like a buffet to your kind.”

“What disaster?” Sebastian asked, his curiosity piqued.

“You don’t know?”

“Unlike your kind, I possess no clairvoyant capabilities.”

Ronald shrugged, “Well you’ll find out soon enough.” He took another sip of Sebastian’s beer.

“Must you drink that?”

“You said you didn’t like it.”

“That’s besides the point.”

“Fine.” Ronald stood up. “I’ll get my own.”

But when he returned he returned with two, and Sebastian found himself having to force down another one of these putrid drinks. Ronald watched in fascination as he quickly downed the rest of his first one, then suppress a shudder at the sight of a whole second one waiting for him.

“You don’t have to drink it,” he said with a lilting grin.

“I can handle this much,” Sebastian sneered

Ronald raised his own glass in a mockery of a toast. “Bottom’s up then,” he said.

Not wanting to be outdone, Sebastian drank most of his glass, then regretted it when it fell thickly on his stomach. Ronald had barely made a dent in his own.

“So, what do you want?” Ronald asked, breaking the silence that was threatening to spread.

Sebastian peered expressionlessly at Ronald over the top of his glass. “I believe you were the one who approached me.”

“Only because you wouldn’t stop staring at me.”

Sebastian hadn’t realised Ronald had noticed. “I was surprised to see a reaper down here,” he said.

“Oh? So you were thinking about the best way to kill me I bet,” Ronald said.

Sebastian let the barest of smiles creep onto his face. He was surprised Ronald would be so confident when he thought a demon was planning to kill him. “Believe it or not, I wasn’t.”

“Why were you staring at me then?”

This was one of the few situations where Sebastian wished that lying was possible. His master wasn’t there, no one would have to know. But something about that seemed base. The truth, he decided, would make the reaper more uncomfortable than any lie.

“Your hair looks soft,” He admitted. “I was imagining how it would feel to touch it.”

Ronald turned pink and ducked his head into his beer. Now that was the proper response. That reaction was so much more interesting than any threat could ever be. Sebastian watched as he took a long drink, recovering his dignity. When his eyes met Sebastian’s once more he’d regained his confidence. His expression even cockier than before, if that were possible.

“I’d say the same to you but your hair looks terrible,” Ronald said.

“Now that simply isn’t true.” It was time to steer away from this messy subject before Ronald had any more ideas about insulting Sebastian’s hair. “Whatever happened to that girl you were dancing with?” Sebastian asked.

“Who? Oh,” Ronald passed half glance behind him, where the girl was still dancing while occasionally stopping to glower at Sebastian. “I don’t even know her name.”

“If you were planning to bed her you’d best go back. She doesn’t look too happy with you.”

Ronald waved a dismissive hand. “She can go, I’ve been with plenty of women,” he said. His eyes met Sebastian’s, unwavering and damnably precocious. “But I’ve never fucked a demon before.”

Sebastian choked on his drink like a disgraceful human who couldn’t even keep track of his own bodily functions. Whatever Sebastian had expected Ronald to say, it wasn’t that. He found his guard shattered around his feet, and in the reflection of each jutting shard was Ronald’s insolent little grin. The preposition had come completely out of nowhere. It was obscene.

But he’d already taken too long to reply. Ronald was grinning at him with that annoying smug goddamn smirk. It was more than Sebastian could bear. For once he didn’t know how to handle this situation. Why did so many of the reapers he met seem to have this sort of interest in him? Well alright, he knew why. Sebastian was under illusions about his appearance. After all, he’d sculpted it to perfection himself. And he couldn’t deny this young man was handsome. He’d be athletic under that suit. Sebastian tried to imagine how that lithe body would feel in his arms and decided that two could certainly play at this game. What fun he could have with it too.

He recovered his face, then leaned back in his seat, peering at Ronald through his lashes. “What makes you think you’d be the one in charge.”

Ronald didn’t answer that question. “Would you like to find out?”

‘No,’ was the reply Ronald clearly expected. ‘No,’ was the reply Sebastian would have given in any other situation. But he’d drunk just enough to throw caution to the wind, and the temptation of breaking this reaper was more than he could bear.

“Go on then,” he said instead, “Show me.”

A beat. Sebastian was right then. Ronald hadn’t expected him to agree.

“I can’t exactly show you here, can I?”

Sebastian cocked his head to the side, grinning now. He was starting to enjoy this game. “I suspected so. You’re all talk aren’t you.”

Ronald, bless him, snatched up the bait. “I meant we’d better go somewhere else. You must have some fancy first class digs right?”

“Hardly,” Sebastian said, “I’m staying in servants quarters of my master’s suite.”

“Is it a private room?”

“No, I’m sharing with the footman.”

Ronald clicked his tongue. “Well we can’t go to my room, I’m staying in a dormitory.”

“Then what do you suggest.”

Ronald shrugged. “Maybe there’s a carriage in the cargo hold we can use.”

“That’s an abysmal idea.”

“Got a better one?”

He didn’t, not that he planned to admit that. To save himself, he stood up, his chair squeaking against the new tiles, and gestured to the door. “Follow me.” Much to his pleasure Ronald did, although he paused to finish what was left of his drink first. They exited the thriving hum of the bar, and were met with silence. A silence that carved right into Sebastian’s veins. ‘You’re really doing this,’ it seemed to say. ‘You’re really going to bed a reaper.’

He didn’t much like that commentary. He decided to ignore it.

“Where are we going?” Ronald chimed from behind him in that grating voice of his. Sebastian hoped he’d have something better to occupy his mouth soon, so that he wouldn’t have to hear much more of it. In truth, Sebastian didn’t know the answer. He stayed silent, allowing Ronald to follow in blind faith as he used all his senses to check each room in turn, searching for one along this seemingly endless corridor that remained unused. With each room they passed, Sebastian grew ever more concerned that they were stuck aboard a fully booked ship.

But then he struck gold. He quickened his pace, eager to reach it and ensure he was correct. It was only small—certainly not a lodging—but it would do. He pushed the door open and, without any ceremony, stepped inside.

Ronald, however, remained on the threshold.

“This is a cupboard.”

“I think you’ll find the correct word is storeroom. Look,” he tugged on a short chain above his head, filling the room with light, “there’s even electric lighting.”

“It’s a cupboard.”

Alright, so it was a cupboard. But it was a large cupboard. Large enough that they could easily stand side by side with wriggle room on either side. Plenty of space for doing what needed to be done. Sebastian conveyed this to Ronald without words, just a cold raising of his eyebrows. He could either accept this glorified cupboard, or he could be the one to give up first. It was an amazing drug pride. One small dose was all it took for Ronald to swear total obedience to him. And the poor dear still thought he was in control.

“It’s fitting I guess,” Ronald said, stepping over a bucket so that he could wedge inside. “Matches your whole butler getup.”

Sebastian shut the door behind him. Then they were alone. Ronald Knox was mere centimetres away, ready and willing to be touched. Suddenly Sebastian wasn’t sure where to start. Proper protocol dictated that this is when they should kiss, but nothing about this was proper. He shuffled closer, close enough to feel Ronald’s shallow breath against his skin.

But he didn’t kiss him.

“Get on with it then,” Sebastian said.

“You’re not going to try to set the scene a little.”

Sebastian cast a lingering gaze upon a box of toilet paper on a shelf over Ronald’s right shoulder. “In such luxurious accomodations I’d assume the scene was already well set.”

“Fair call,” Ronald said. He placed his palm flat on Sebastian’s chest, just over his heart. There was a moment’s hesitation. “You have a heartbeat,” he murmured.

“I’m in human form. It’s rather a necessity.”

“Does it ever feel like a human’s can?”

Ronald hadn’t moved, but he suddenly felt closer. The cupboard felt smaller, and his heart was growing. It seemed to move to his ears, because it seemed to be smothering him, giving him the feeling that he was underwater. All he could hear was his pulse, all he could feel was Ronald’s hand.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Sebastian said.

Ronald’s smile was full of pity. “Of course you don’t,” he muttered. “I guess I just have to speak a language you do understand.” He lowered himself to his knees, but kept his hand against Sebastian’s chest, allowing his fingertips to glide down Sebastian’s body. It was joined by the other only when it reached the leather of Sebastian’s belt, and it became abundantly clear what his intentions were.

“Not one for foreplay, are you.” Sebastian remarked.

Ronald cocked an eyebrow but continued to work at undoing Sebastian’s belt, then trousers. “I’d assume the scene was already well set,’” he said.

Cocksure little brat.

His trousers were undone. Ronald’s nimble fingers were already reaching inside to free Sebastian’s length. Sebastian sighed and closed his eyes to savour the sensations he knew awaited him.

“Eager aren’t you?”

“I could do without your commentary,” Sebastian said without opening his eyes. “Just do what I brought you here do to.”

Ronald snorted but didn’t reply, as though the sheer concept of Sebastian dominating him was so ludicrous it wasn’t worth even considering. That arrogant—

Ah…

So that’s what a reaper’s mouth felt like. Sebastian leaned against the wall, savouring the feeling of Ronald’s tongue against his flesh. He felt himself rapidly hardening at Ronald’s ministrations, responding like some needy, desperate human who hadn’t been fucked in years. But oh, it was nice to just let go, to let pleasure come to him. He let out a shaking sigh as Ronald took him in as far as he’d go, then the smallest moan as he felt himself leave Ronald’s hot mouth and was exposed to the cool air.

“You’re surprisingly sensitive,” Ronald mused, before drawing Sebastian back into his mouth.

Brat. Sebastian pulled his gloves off and tossed them aside so that he could finally run his hands through Ronald’s hair. It was as soft as he’d imagined. The strands fell away from his caresses like the finest spider’s silk. Always gloved, his hands were desperately sensitive, and the dual sensation of Ronald’s hair against his palms and Ronald’s mouth against his cock had him shuddering, moaning softly.

At the sound of Sebastian’s voice, Ronald pulled away again. “Are you going to come?” He goaded. “So soon?”

A breathy laugh passed through Sebastian’s lips. “Oh Sweetheart.” Sebastian ran a thumb over Ronald’s parted lips. “This isn’t nearly enough to satisfy me.”

He twisted his fingers into Ronald’s hair then, and pulled tight. Ronald opened his mouth to protest, but Sebastian took the opportunity to push his cock past those lips again. Ronald gagged. He writhed under Sebastian’s grip and tried to free himself. Sebastian indulged in one last thrust, then let go, allowing Ronald to pull himself off Sebastian and lurch the entire half foot away that the closet allowed for.

“What the fuck do you think—“

“Take your clothes off,” Sebastian said. “All of them.”

“Are you joking?”

“You just had my cock in your mouth and you’re embarrassed now?”

“There’s barely enough room to move in here.”

Sebastian blinked. “Take them off. Or you can go. It’s up to you.”

“You take yours off too.”  

Sebastian stared at him in the dim light. He had no intention of undressing. “Start with your jacket.”

“I know how to get undressed.”

“Then do it.”

Ronald hesitated a moment, then slowly peeled his jacket from his shoulders, his eyes locked with Sebastian’s in a glower. With long, languishing movements, Ronald’s hands trailed down his body, then back up to his tie, which he ever so carefully unhooked from around his neck. Sebastian made a point of watching every painfully slow movement as Ronald undid the buttons of his shirt. He’d lived for thousands of years, he could wait for one irritating reaper to take his clothes off, even if at this rate they’d arrive in New York before he’d reached his underclothes.

The final button came undone and Sebastian finally had to intervene. “That’s enough. You’re being too slow.”

“You said to take everything off.”

“Yes but at this speed I could go back to the bar and find someone else to spend the night with before you’d even taken your socks off.” Sebastian put his hand on the door handle. “Thank you for whatever that was Knox. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again.” He pulled down the handle.

“Wait…”

Sebastian released the handle. Without turning around he smiled to himself, savouring that hasty rustling of cloth as Ronald sprang to action. When Sebastian at last allowed himself a peek at Ronald’s progress, he was wearing nothing but his open shirt, and a tight, short style of underwear that had Sebastian wondering why he hadn’t taken a reaper to bed earlier.

Sebastian closed what little distance remained between them. He slid his hands over Ronald’s bare skin, brushing his nipples, then trailing down his back and cupping the flesh of his arse through that tiny undergarment.

“May I?” Sebastian breathed.

Ronald shrugged and looked away. “Go ahead,” he said. There was the faintest stammer in those words, one that made Sebastian smile to himself as he slid that sinful little garment from around Ronald’s hips. His cock sprung to attention the moment it was free of its confines, and Sebastian couldn’t help but run a hand gently over it. Ronald’s breath hitched at the touch, then he released a groan when the motion repeated.  Sebastian crouched and planted a kiss on Ronald’s inner thigh, then another on his stomach. He gave Ronald’s cock another mindless stroke and enjoyed the way Ronald’s legs started to quiver.

Sebastian realised his mouth was open, but he didn’t care enough to shut it. He wanted him. God he wanted him. He wanted to bury himself in this cocky reaper’s perfect little arse and utterly loose himself to everything around him. He climbed shakily back to his feet, eyes running up and down that splendidly toned body, and buried his hand in Ronald’s hair again, dragging him closer.

“Not so suave now, are you?” Ronald said breathlessly.

So Sebastian kissed him. It seemed like the only good way to shut him up. Ronald’s mouth was hot against his own, and so, so pliable. Sebastian seemed to get lost in it, that softness. The taste of beer was still fresh enough on his tongue that it made Sebastian feel filthy, but everything about this encounter made him feel filthy. None of this was befitting of a perfect butler. That was part of the thrill.

The kiss seemed to wear down something in Ronald. Sebastian broke away, and immediately found his lips recaptured. And then again. And again, until Sebastian found himself leaning lazily on the wall while Ronald tried to drink everything from him. It was cute, the way he thought he’d pinned Sebastian to the wall. But for now, Sebastian only kissed him back.

Ronald’s hips rolled, forcing a smootherd groan from Sebastian’s lips. Sebastian let his hands trail down Ronald’s sides, then held him in place as as he returned the favour. Ronald broke the kiss then, his eyes squeezing shut, his breath ragged. It was the opening Sebastian was waiting for. He tightened his grip on Ronald’s hips, then pushed him across the tiny room, easily switching their positions in the two strides it took to reach the other side. He pushed Ronald into the door then, glad for the fact that it opened inward and wasn’t about to collapse. Their lips met once more, hungrier this time, almost desperate, before Sebastian broke away and put his lips to Ronald’s ear.

“Still think you’re the one in control?” Sebastian whispered. For good measure he bit the reaper’s earlobe, drawing a groan of mingled irritation and arousal from beneath him.

Even Ronald seemed to know when the game was lost. “If I was in control we’d be finished by now.”

Ronald clearly hadn’t realised that he wasn’t paying himself a compliment there. But he was right, perhaps it was time to speed things up a bit. It was unfortunate they had no oil to hand. Preparation was a pain for someone he didn’t care about, but it was going to be less pleasant for both of them if Sebastian didn’t at least make some effort. If he looked for long enough Sebastian was sure he’d find something in this cupboard they could use, but bothering for a reaper he’d only just met and who he’d likely be fighting before their voyage was out seemed like too much effort. Instead he pressed two fingers against Ronald’s lips, which immediately clamped shut.

“Suck on them,” Sebastian commanded.

“Hell n—“ Sebastian shoved them in anyway as Ronald tried so speak. For a moment Sebastian was sure Ronald would to bite them, but he never did. His wide, furious eyes fell half lidded, and he began to lavish the same expert attention on Sebastian’s fingers as he had on his cock not so long ago.

Sebastian shuddered, then buried his face in the crook of Ronald’s bare shoulder. He’d known his hands were sensitive, but he hadn’t realised… he bit back the noise that built in his throat, then rocked his hips against Ronald’s once again, if for nothing else than to convince himself that he wasn’t so worked up from Ronald sucking his fingers alone. Even so, he didn’t last long. Before long he freed himself from that horribly, horribly talented mouth, and spun Ronald around so that his chest was pressed against the door. Sebastian positioned his fingers at Ronald’s entrance, then pushed them inside without any ceremony.

They went in easily enough. It may have been Ronald’s first time with a demon but it certainly wasn’t his first time with a man. Even with Sebastian’s half-hearted attempt at lubrication, it didn’t take long for his fingers to move smoothly. Under his ministrations, Ronald slowly started to turn into a writhing, mewling mess. His back arched, that smooth skin pulling taught along his sides. Sebastian ran his free hand over his back just to feel him. Oh, how he loved the feel of him.

Ronald seemed dangerously close to spilling over the edge when Sebastian withdrew his fingers. The sudden loss seemed to break him. He cried out, throwing his head back, scrambling against the door as though that might somehow bring the sensation back.

“Are you ready?” Sebastian asked. The answer was obvious of course. But he wanted Ronald to admit his need. To feel the burning shame of admitting to the arousal that was so apparent. To submit entirely to a demon.

Ronald mumbled something incoherent.

“I didn’t catch that.”

He mumbled it again. This time Sebastian did understand him, but now that he’d heard it once he wanted to again. “Once again,” he said, feigning innocence.

“I said hurry up and fuck me,” Ronald cried. He kept his face forward, so that Sebastian couldn’t see his shame, but there was no hiding the burning red that spread down his back.

“We’ll have to work on your manners,” Sebastian mused. Then, at long last, he pushed into him. They cried out as one, Ronald at the sudden intrusion, Sebastian at the sheer sweet heat that enveloped him. He only waited the duration of Ronald’s shuddering gasp for him to adjust. Then Sebastian withdrew slowly and reentered equally so, drawing out a long, irritated groan from Ronald. Sebastian laughed to himself, then picked up the pace, closing his eyes and loosing himself in the sensations. In his arms, Ronald cried out again, this time not in frustration. The feeling was mutual. With each stroke Sebastian’s wiped the clarity from his mind. This, Sebastian thought, was well worth the wait.

“Does it feel good? Losing like this to one of my kind?”

Ronald didn’t reply. He was getting close, Sebastian could feel it in every convulsion, every time he clenched around Sebastian’s cock. “‘So soon?’” Sebastian purred. However, as much as it satisfied him to use Ronald’s words back at him, Sebastian hoped the answer was yes. As much as he wanted to hide it he could feel himself creeping ever closer to that blissful edge, and he couldn’t bear to be the one to fall first.

“What’d you say?”

It wasn’t Ronald who spoke. They both froze, Ronald especially staring in horror at the closed door. Sebastian had been so lost in the moment he hadn’t bothered to listen for anyone’s approach. Truth be told, he didn’t much care if they were overheard as long as no one could link it back to him. Ronald, on the other hand, seemed mortified by the prospect. And that was a thrill in itself.

“I didn’t say anything,” came another voice on the other side of the door, closer this time.

“Weird, I could’ve sworn I heard—“

Sebastian slowly thrust in again, then cupped over Ronald’s mouth, smothering his cry, keeping it all to himself.

“Shh,” Sebastian said. “We don’t want them to overhear us do we?”

He stopped moving, but kept himself fully sheathed inside Ronald, pressed against his most sensitive spot. Ronald writhed in his arms as the voices grew closer, practically sobbing as the promise of pleasure tickled against him, never quite offering enough for release. The sheer sight of it had Sebastian desperate to start moving again. That slick body squirming in his arms, the clenching of muscle around his cock, it was driving him mad. Everything Ronald Knox did seemed to be a conspiracy to make him lose his mind. He wanted to slam him through that door, and roughly fuck him on the ground in front of whoever cared to cross their path, but he reigned himself back. He had another, slower torture in mind.

One hand circled Ronald’s cock and caressed him gently. Very, gently. He deliberately refused to create any of the friction Ronald so desired, and instead barely more than fondled him. Ronald keened at the lack of friction. He tried to grind against Sebastian’s hand, but Sebastian had him positioned in such a way that wouldn’t allow him to get any leverage. He clawed at the door in a futile grab for a better position. So pathetic. What an utterly delicious sight. Ronald trembled around Sebastian, his whole body clearly aching for release, for movement, for anything. But as long as they were in danger of being overheard, Sebastian had no intention of moving an inch. There were still humans nearby, and they were closer than ever.

“Good god what was that?” One of the voices said.

“Sounds like there’s a dog scratching to get out.”

Sebastian chuckled at this. He felt Ronald’s body catch fire, the sheer humiliation of being heard rushing through him like an inferno. Sebastian dropped his hand from Ronald’s mouth, allowing him to make whatever noises he dared to make. The reaper convulsed, now fighting desperately on his own to swallow the cries that threatened to escape and reveal all.

“Did you hear that?” Sebastian’s fingers trailed down Ronald’s chin as he whispered, then curled around his throat, not choking, only resting. A reminder of who was in control. A collar, in a way. “They think you’re a dog.”

“Should we let the brute out?” Another voice asked.

Ronald tried to push Sebastian back from the door, but Sebastian had no intention of moving. Sebastian only pushed deeper into him, forcing Ronald flush against the door. This time he swallowed his cry, but only barely. His arms were trembling at the force of keeping himself up, his whole body falling apart from the overstimulation of Sebastian’s dual ministrations.

“’s not any of our business,” the first voice said. Sebastian felt every muscle of Ronald’s body loosen as relief spread through him. The footsteps started up again, then faded to nothing.

The room once again fell silent. Ronald squirmed in his arms like a cat who’d had too much attention. Sebastian wanted to see his face. He could only imagine those crimson cheeks, the humiliation in his eyes when they were overheard. He was disappointed to have missed it. Manhandling the poor reaper like a rag doll, Sebastian pulled him off his cock and turned him around to face him. His eyes had completely glazed over, his desire consuming him entirely. Sebastian brushed Ronald’s sweat slicked hair from his eyes to get a better look, and found a delicious fury staring back.

“I’m going to kill you,” Ronald spat.

Sebastian only grinned. “Would you like to do so now or wait until after you’ve come?”

Ronald grabbed Sebastian’s face and drew him into a forceful, desperate kiss. Then, just as he was pulling away, Ronald bit down hard, until Sebastian’s blood rushed into his mouth.

“Fuck you,” Ronald said in a shuddering whisper.

Sebastian tried to keep his expression as cold as possible, even though his own senses were so alight he was almost surprised to find himself bleeding blood and not flame. He dabbed his lip with his clean fingers, pretending he was more interested in his wound than the wanton, desperate reaper before him.

“Would you prefer to stop?” Sebastian asked. He only did so because he knew the answer was a resounding no, and delighted in the expression of horror that dawned on Ronald’s face. Sebastian laughed to himself, then leaned in and kissed the dip of Ronald’s throat. He wanted to coax a proper response out of Ronald, but he knew it would take too long to work around the reaper’s pride, and Sebastian knew even he wouldn’t last that long. Instead he lifted Ronald’s legs one at a time and wrapped them around his hips, then finally, blissfully, pushed his way back inside.

“Don’t you dare drop me,” Ronald hissed between his teeth.

Sebastian thrust hard to shut him up, and it seemed to do the trick.

It was hard to get any leverage in this position. As Sebastian ground against Ronald’s prostate, Ronald tightened his grip with his legs, barely allowing Sebastian any space to properly move. Sebastian felt like he was less thrusting and more rutting against Ronald, in a frantic animalistic fervour. He found himself having to move desperately quickly to compensate for the lack of depth. But it was worth it for Ronald’s response. Locked in like this, Sebastian’s cock was wedged firmly against his prostate, and every shallow grinding rut only massaged his most sensitive part, driving him madly towards bliss. He was shaking around Sebastian, barely managing to hold himself up. Sebastian drank in that expression, that semi-conscious bliss that drenched his every feature.

And then Ronald fell apart. Even though the walls of reality were steadily crumbling around him, Sebastian kept his eyes fixed on Ronald’s face as he reached his limit. Eyes clenched shut behind his fogged glasses, Ronald threw back his head, lips parted sweetly as his orgasm hit. He cried out with abandon, the sounds alone bringing Sebastian to breaking point.

Sebastian tried to reign himself  back, but it was too late for that. One final stroke was all it took before he too was lost in the unbelievable pleasure that was Ronald Knox. He claimed those lips once more and kissed him messily through his orgasm, continuing to rock his hips as he rode out every spike of pleasure. As he climbed down from that high seat of madness, Sebastian rested his head on Ronald’s shoulder again and tried to come to his senses.

“You alright there demon?” Ronald said with a breathy little laugh that made Sebastian want to claim him all over again. Sebastian didn’t offer any more of a reply other than to hum against his hot skin. He wanted to stay there. He could have even slept there, standing up in the supplies cupboard, had Ronald not started wriggling in his grip. Sebastian pulled out at last and let Ronald down. He suddenly felt like something drastic was missing from his life.

“Let me clean you up,” Sebastian said. It seemed like the gentlemanly thing to do in this situation, even if his mind still felt foggy from his climax. But Ronald waved him away.

“It’s fine, I was going to bathe now anyway.” He pulled his underwear over the sticky mess, which had Sebastian wincing.

“I wasn’t aware that third class had bathing facilities.”

“They don’t.” Ronald wrinkled his nose, shrugging on his shirt, “I was planning to break into the baths in first class. Don’t dob me in.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Sebastian waited for Ronald to dress. By comparison he had very little to do, save for buttoning up his trousers and retucking his shirt. Ronald caught him watching and cast him a lazy smile, one that Sebastian deliberately tried not to react to.

“Don't worry. We’ll be seeing each other again very soon,” Ronald said, draping his tie around his neck. “Try not to obsess over me in the meantime.”

“I’ve already forgotten you.”

Ronald laughed lightly and stretched onto his toes to kiss Sebastian on the cheek. Even after everything they’d just done that one tiny act of affection caught Sebastian off guard. Creatures like him didn’t deserve such tenderness. It was all wrong.

“You’ll remember me soon enough,” Ronald said lightly. “We’ll see quite a lot of each other the night after next.”

With Ronald fully clothed, and the hallway clear as far as Sebastian could detect, they shuffled out of the cupboard, and bid a final, awkward glance at each other. “The night after next then,” Sebastian said with a nod. Ronald winked, then turned and walked away.

The night after next. Strange that he’d lived so long and yet somehow that seemed so very far away.

Sebastian’s hand drifted absently to his cheek as he watched the reaper vanish around the corner. Still, Sebastian stared after him.

So very far away.

According to the case files—which Sebastian had relieved Scotland Yard of when no one was looking—Miss Byron’s study had been thoroughly combed over after her body had been found inside. The rest of her manor had naturally also been searched, but Ciel voiced his lack of faith in the Yard’s abilities so many times that Ronald was ready to tear the house down brick by brick just to shut him up. They didn’t have the information from Byron’s maid, Ciel had explained, there was every chance they’d missed evidence, especially if they didn’t know to concentrate on her brother’s disused bedroom.  

“Besides,” he continued, “They don’t have Sebastian’s eyes.”

Miss Byron kept her home in far better nick than her brother. The garden was neat and only  overgrown to a level one would expect when the lady of the estate was quite dead. However, by Sebastian’s standards this was nothing short of obscene. He glanced at a minuscule weed and wrinkled his nose.

They had no key– no one had given them permission to be there. But even from outside, Ronald could tell the house was empty. The door itself was no obstacle. Sebastian tried it first and it swung open without any resistance.

“How careless,” he mused, with an amused lilt to his voice. Ronald had a sneaking suspicion it hadn’t been unlocked until his demon hands had touched it.

The entry hall was gloomy and stuffed with the thick musk of an unoccupied room. Their footsteps clicked loudly as they approached the staircase, the sound somehow magnified in the unoccupied house. If someone else was here they would have easily heard them. But there was no one, not even staff. The heavy weight of death lingered in the very walls of the manor.

“Where is Mr. Byron’s old room Sebastian?” Ciel asked.

Sebastian closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. When he opened them again they glowed for a moment, his demonic power barely contained. “This way,” was all he said before he led them up the stairs and down the corridor to the left. How Sebastian knew which room it was by scent alone Ronald wasn’t certain, but he found himself irritatingly impressed by the feat.

“You ever use him to hunt for truffles?”

Ciel huffed a laugh, “I knew it would be worth keeping you around.”

“I’ll have you know I found truffles growing near the manor just last week,” Sebastian chimed in, “I believe you sampled them the other night.”

“Sounds like you’re quite the truffle hunter then.”

“Among other things,” Sebastian said with a glimmer of pride.

For a moment they allowed Sebastian to savour his moment in the sun, but then Ciel snapped the curtains shut. “He’s calling you a pig, Sebastian.”

A click of his tongue was the only indication of Sebastian’s displeasure, but he fell silent after that. Damn. Ronald would’ve drawn out his goading for as long as he could if it weren’t for Ciel. Not that he had long to dwell on it. They soon arrived at the bedroom in question. Sebastian opened the door, then ushered Ciel and Ronald in ahead of him.

The room was familiar somehow, although Ronald couldn’t place why. There was nothing memorable about it; it was nothing more than your standard stately bedroom, covered all over in blue wallpaper and furnished with what had become antique furniture since the last time it had been used.

And yet, for all its years of disuse, the room was free of dust. Ronald ran his finger over the table and marvelled at how it came away clean. Miss Byron must have employed some bloody efficient servants if they kept an unused room so spotless. Ronald turned to ask Sebastian his thoughts, but found he hadn’t followed them in. Instead he hesitated at the doorway, looking uneasily—almost fearfully—around the room, as though he was trying to locate something neither Ronald nor Ciel knew how to look for.

“What are you doing?” Ciel asked. There was no concern in his voice, only irritation at Sebastian’s deviation from the norm.

“I don’t like it,” Sebastian said.

“Don’t like what?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. His brows scrunched, his placid expression gone. “Something happened here.”

“Can you be more specific?” Ronald asked. Sebastian shot him a glare and took a tentative step past the room’s threshold. He was breathing heavily, shoulders hunched slightly in contrast to his usual perfect posture. Ronald hadn’t even been aware that Sebastian needed to breathe. He still suspected he didn’t. Always the dramatist was Sebastian.

“The room’s been warded,” Sebastian said.

Ciel and Ronald both stared blankly.

“It’s a protection against my kind. It’s weak. Whoever cast it did so long enough ago that the immediate effect has worn off but…” He winced, a flash of canines poking out of his grimace, “it lingers.”

Ciel was apparently already bored. He began searching though an empty chest of draws for any evidence. However, something about his countenance made him look like a cat deliberately ignoring an overly affectionate human. No matter how he tried to hide the truth, he was clearly concerned about Sebastian.

“How does one make a ward?” Ciel asked without turning around.

“I’d rather you didn’t get any ideas,” Sebastian said. He took another shaking step into the room and tried to investigate as though he were unaffected. He really did always have a tendency to power through these sorts of things. Ronald remembered that night on the Campania and how Sebastian had still defeated him while he should have been incapacitated by his injuries. For him to be this weak now… was it a farce or did the lingering effects of the ward really have this much power over him?

“Is something the matter Knox?”

“No, it’s nothing.” Ronald spun around so that he wouldn’t be tempted to keep watching Sebastian’s struggle. Instead he busied himself by peering under a desk. There was nothing there, of course. It was more a distraction than anything. He was about to stand up again when something on the wood caught his eye. It was a slight white mark, half on the carpet and half on the desk’s wooden leg. Ronald craned for a closer look.

And suddenly Sebastian was at his side, one hand bracing himself on Ronald’s arm as he peered over his shoulder. Two days ago Ronald would have cried out in alarm over this surprise contact, but after being constantly on edge since starting his investigation, the most he did was flinch.

“What have you found?”

“I don’t know,” Ronald admitted, “It looks like white dust.”

Sebastian prodded the mark with a long finger, then examined it close to his face. Ronald couldn’t see a thing against the white fabric of Sebastian’s glove, but apparently Sebastian could see it just fine.

“It’s chalk,” he said.

“Why would there be chalk there?” Ronald asked.

“Perhaps Mister Byron enjoyed hopscotch,” Sebastian said dryly, wiping the dust from his fingers. He stood up again and sniffed at the air, frowning. Then he darted across the room and, while somehow remaining perfectly graceful, dropped to his hands and knees and shoved his head in the fireplace. Ciel didn’t seem to think this at all unusual.

“Blood,” Sebastian said suddenly, his voice echoing into the chimney.  

“Could you maybe share what you’ve found with the class?” Ciel drawled.

Sebastian emerged again. The tips of his fringe had turned grey in patches from the soot. “There are blood splatters in the fireplace. Ciel craned a look. “There, in the corner.”

“I can’t see it.”

“For someone with such large eyes I’d expect you’d see more,” Sebastian said. Then, upon seeing Ciel’s displeasure he added, “I jest. You’re only human, and there isn’t much left. No doubt whoever cleaned the rest of it didn’t catch these last drops. I suppose they had human eyes too.”

“The rest of it?”

Sebastian clicked in Ronald’s direction. “Knox, do you have access to the photographs you showed us before?”

Ronald frowned. He conjured his case file and flipped through it, scanning the catalogued murder scenes for the photograph in question. He knew exactly which one Sebastian meant the second he flicked to it. The photograph one of his colleagues had taken at the scene of Shelly Byron’s death, it wasn’t taken in the study where her body was found. It was this room. She’d died here.

Well that explained the chalk, even if it did bring up an array of other questions. Ronald tilted his head to get a better look at the botched summoning attempt. It was hard to make out much of the summoning circle beneath the blood splatter. No mere knife to the heart could have caused such a tremendous eruption of blood. Nothing natural could have. It was no wonder some had made its way into the fireplace.

Ronald handed the photograph over, but Sebastian hardly needed to glance at it before he explained the discovery to his master. If Miss Byron had been moved there was every possibility the other victims had been too, which also meant there were whole droves of evidence the Yard could have missed.

But Ronald didn’t care about catching the killer, that was something the living could sort out amongst themselves. He already knew the name of the killer—hell, he’d been in the killer’s home—what he cared about was why they were summoning demons and how on Earth that was going to play out. From his experience, no case involving demons ended cleanly.

“What I don’t understand,” Ronald said, “Is why anyone would put up a ward if they were summoning a demon.”

“Maybe they changed their mind,” Sebastian suggested.

“After their third attempt?”

“Well…”

“Maybe the wrong demon came though,” Ciel said quietly. Sebastian stilled at the suggestion, the unsaid implication hanging thickly in the air around them.

The spread of the blood. Ronald snatched the photo back and studied it intently. It didn’t look like it had been caused by natural means because it hadn’t. The killer had managed to summon a demon. And then what? He’d cast a ward, whatever that meant. Ronald didn’t know for sure, but judging by Sebastian’s response he suspected it didn’t merely banish a demon.

The wrong demon…

If there was a wrong demon, there had to be a right one. And then it clicked. The circle, the consistency, the errors. Ronald’s assignment to watch the Phantomhive manor. There was a connection after all.

The murderer wasn’t trying to summon a demon with some random circle design they’d stumbled upon.

They wanted Sebastian specifically.