#vphantomhive

@v-phantomhive

@v-phantomhive

That put hot fear straight through him, just for a moment, before he cleared his throat and raised his chin. Vincent wasn’t the first master he had, and they all gave that similar threat, but this man said it like he owned those words. It was hard to still act brave and obedient. Sebastian took in a big deep breath, and couldn’t help but nervously look around the new environment.

@v-phantomhive

Sebastian looked up from the ground, and for a moment surprise passed across his face at the question. As a butler, it was always his job to be quietly polite. To not talk when he wasn’t spoken to. It was his second day of working under the Phantomhives, but he was committed to being perfect.

              Embarrassing. 

               Vincent always had that power to rile him up so easily - not that it ever took much for the blond to get hot and bothered - but this time, the man did it in such a way that it was like torture. He wasn’t acting nervous or unsure as he usually did before the carnal act prompted him to suddenly take what was being freely given… this time, a simple tease and a slight push had aged skilled hands teaching Myles exactly how inexperienced he truly was.

              It wasn’t rushed and he took his time, warm hands feeling slowly at his sides tracing along the hem of his pants only to squeeze at his hips just at the right moment to make the blond sharply suck in air through clenched teeth in anticipation. Then came the lips crawling along the nape of his neck made the freckles turn into goosebumps and the teeth gently tugging on his ear made him melt so easily that his own hands clung desperately for more against Vincent’s shirt.

               He wanted to whisper something, anything, but when eyes met, Vincent already occupied his mouth before he had the chance with a kiss that gained momentum the longer he stood. The hand at his hip snaked its way up his spine dragging his shirt along with it and pulling him closer as if he knew Myles’ knees were going to give way. Suddenly Myles was being guided backwards to the bedroom, surprisingly strong arms still wrapped themselves around him and he obeyed without protest as he let himself be handled through deep kisses and needy tongues. Clothes peeled off like they were on fire, leaving nothing but a bothered freckled male desperately trying to unbutton the other’s shirt when he was promptly halted. 

              It wasn’t until his back hit the bed that Vincent spoke; demanding and impatient yet some how seductive as he leaned back to watch and readjusting his clothing like something filthy had touched it.  Myles had never done this before-- in this way, as if on display. Embarrassing. Degrading. It was clear the older wasn’t going to touch him by the look in his eyes and the blond’s face furrowed as if he didn’t understand, but the command left him trembling in that uncharacteristically exposed kind of way and even as he slowly shifted under Vincent’s gaze, Myles couldn’t help the hesitation. He didn’t want to do it himself, he wanted Vincent, he wanted him close– a needy embarrassed moan made his lower lip tremble and one leg at a time, he shyly exposed himself knowing that he couldn’t protest. 

             The freckles on his face and chest burned brightly against his hot skin as fingers slid across shaking planes to obediently obey the man who had played him so well, but eyes closed as they began their work, soft panting turning heavy as it went on. He wanted to be rewarded for a good job, he wanted Vincent to praise him for listening so well, and-- the mind was a dangerous place as he weakly called out Vincent’s name at the thought, his free hand crawling to his own cheek still to scared if he opened his eyes to look at the other watching, he’d lose all semblance of control on the spot. But he had to.

SYMBOL STARTERS. // accepting. // @vphantomhive​.

       ❛  …  i don’t get why i have to be the woman. you’re far more feminine than i am.  ❜    

HE’S NOT SAYING IT TO BE RUDE, IT’S JUST PLAIN FACTS. VINCENT IS prettier than him, so to speak, with delicate features  &&  long eyelashes, cheeks naturally pinched pink with a blush. yet still he sits here, allowing him to paint his now manicured nails a striking red, obscurely focused on the task. years at war leave his hands calloused  &&  scarred, which makes him wonder even further why it’s him that has to squeeze into a corset  &&  drown in skirts at some shady event. it would be much easier to simply wear gloves  &&  leave his fingernails alone, but vincent insisted, leaving him with little choice in the matter. he hopes rachel will handle his makeup, rather than the latter option, who surely isn’t very good at something of the sort. she, at least, has experience  (  though he doubts she’s ever done it for a man  ).