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The usually silvery disc of the full moon high in the sky was in the process of being dyed blood red by the Earth’s shadow, its increasingly orange light streaming through the tops of tall trees and filtering through the ruins’ crumbled façade. Silence reigned between the two lone figures facing each other in the center of what had once been a building, possibly a cathedral to gods unknown.
Considering what was about to take place, Ciel Phantomhive thought, the ambience was perfectly apt.
These were the last few moments of his life. He had visited his revenge upon his tormentors, his abductors, and the murderers of his parents, and now, it was time to fulfill his side of the Faustian bargain which had bound Sebastian to him all this time. His soul was forfeit, payment for services rendered.
The slowly dimming red light illuminating their surroundings seemed to be mirrored and magnified by the hellfire blazing in the devil’s irises as he gazed down at the child who had been his master until this point. Unmoving. Quiet. Waiting.
After the last of the abominable creatures who had dared to try and erase the Phantomhive legacy had breathed his last, the demonic butler had gathered his passed-out lord and spirited him away; Ciel had only come to aboard a narrow gondola made out of dark wood, whose prow had been cutting a swath through the surface of a perfectly still water surface. Nothing else had been visible on all sides, except for the single craggy island towards which Sebastian had steered them.
The seconds dragged on as glowing crimson eyes with slitted pupils bored their calm yet hungry gaze into a single uncovered blue one.
Ciel was the first to speak up after what had seemed like another lifetime to him; his voice was quiet, but echoed through the total silence like a gunshot.
“What are you waiting for, demon?”
Life finally returned to the tall, slim statue in front of him as Sebastian smiled, a slow quirk of lips without showing teeth; while his ravenous hunger was plainly visible, he would still not face his master with his inhuman fangs in plain view. Or at least, not yet. A butler’s aesthetic – or was it the demon’s?
“Your final orders, my lord.”
His velvety timbre had lowered, and seemed to encircle Ciel from all sides, reverberating in his ears.
He fulfilled his end of the bargain…but I have not. Not yet. I have to turn my soul over to him willingly. That is what we agreed on.
Though far from adulthood, Ciel Phantomhive, the Queen’s watchdog, had lived through what could only be described as hell on earth, and had returned from it on borrowed time. He had long since made his peace with the thought of death, had never expected for his soul to enter paradise. Not after all the sins he had committed, both with and without his most valuable chess piece.
It was time.
“… Very well.”
Ciel raised both hands to the back of his head, where a carefully tied knot connected the straps of his eyepatch. Black-gloved fingers slowly loosened it, until the dark silk concealing the contract mark in his right eye soundlessly fell to the ground.
No hesitation. No fear. He would meet his own personal death with the dignity befitting a Phantomhive.
“I order you to take what is rightfully yours.”
Ciel’s eyes wandered to one of the dilapidated outer walls; a crow perched there silently, its beady eyes fixed upon him.
“Leave the rest for the birds.”
Long-lashed eyelids closed over glowing red in amusement for a moment. “How generous of you, young master.”
Sebastian took a step towards him, measured and surprisingly unthreatening, and Ciel found himself asking in a disinterested, detached tone, “Will it hurt?”
The demon halted his approach, eyeing him curiously for a moment, but deigned to answer in spite of the final order already being in effect.
“It will, a little.”
A pause.
Ciel was mildly surprised by the words which followed.
“I will attempt to make it as gentle as I can.”
The young earl looked up at his demon’s face, and was met with kindness. The full moon above them was about to be completely swallowed by shadow.
An indefinable emotion welled up in his chest.
I will be erased from the face of the Earth. No one will ever find this body. It will be as though I never existed. No, as though I died when they first held a funeral without a body for the boy they thought was lost.
Suddenly, the feeling intensified, and Ciel recognized it as resentment.
I will not be coddled. Not until the very end, and especially not by him.
Not by the unholy being who had saved him and damned him at the same time, who had skillfully guided him through his daily life ever since while simultaneously tainting his already compromised soul to perfection for this very moment, who had shielded him and nursed him back to health multiple times just so he could give yet another order to kill, burn down, destroy –
And yet, had he not let himself be willingly led down this path? Had he not always, at all times, known exactly what his servant was, and made ruthless use of that fact?
He could not shift the blame onto the devil, like so many human beings were wont to do for moments of weakness and sin once death drew near. He would not. Ciel Phantomhive was far too self-aware to flee into such cowardice.
Fact was, he and this dark presence thoroughly deserved each other, had stood alone together even in the ever-frothing sea of humanity that was London. The young nobleman with the eyepatch, unsmiling, cynical, calculating, always underestimated due to his fragile appearance. The perfect butler, named after a dog and with a face oh-so-much like a ghost from a much happier past, both visage and moniker of Ciel’s own design.
He had shaped the demon, just as the demon had shaped him.
And now, the devil would be the one who would imprint himself on the boy one final time. He lowered himself to one knee, his face drawing ever closer…
“No.” Ciel’s voice was firm when he spoke up once more, stopping Sebastian in his tracks yet again.
“Go ahead and be brutal.”
I deserve this much. We both do.
Unwaveringly gazing into the twin seas of damnation right in front of him, the young earl continued.
“Etch the pain deep into my soul as proof that I lived.”
Define me once more. Make it all mean something. Anything.
For a moment, it seemed as though Sebastian was going to ask him for verification, as if he would waver in the face of Ciel’s resolution. It would have amounted to a final, futile victory, however petty.
However, instead, the smooth features right in front of him gradually segued into a grin, and there they were, the fangs, gleaming in the faint light.
The young earl glanced up at the moon for a fraction of a second; not a sliver of pale whiteness was left. Perfectly shadowed. Perfectly tainted.
A low, rumbling growl in his demonic servant’s formerly so smooth voice forced his attention back on the bringer of his impending demise.
“Yes, my lord.”
On the lower edge of his peripheral vision, Ciel noticed the devil slowly pulling off his white gloves with his teeth, revealing dark nails and the mark of their pact on the back of his left hand. The contract seal burned with an inner fire, black and yet so painfully bright that it would have been impossible to focus his gaze on it, even if the young earl had been able to tear it away from the hypnotic red glow of Sebastian’s eyes.
Time seemed to freeze as a timeless unholy essence and a mortal yet unbending soul sized each other up.
Then, the devil was upon him in a flash, having moved to quickly as to be invisible to the boy, forcing his tongue between parted lips with a snarl, sharp edges of teeth drawing blood which only seemed to fuel the frenzy flickering in the demonic irises.
Ciel went limp in his butler’s inescapable hold, sure that he would feel some sort of sucking sensation any moment now, his last impression in this world as his soul would be consumed.
Taking me out with what one could call my first kiss… how very like you, Sebastian…
Except, it was not going to be as easy as all that.
Suddenly, the forceful ripping of fine cloth reached his ears, followed by cool air hitting his exposed upper body. The young earl’s eyes opened wide after they had slid almost closed at the unexpectedly pleasant, if slightly painful, sensation of his mouth being claimed by that of a feral, fanged creature.
He could not suppress a small gasp, the sound and puff of air swallowed by his servant, whose expression changed into one of glee.
Before he knew what was happening, he was free of Sebastian’s constraining arms, only to be pushed hard into the small of his back, falling to his knees and sprawling on the hard stone ground on all fours. Behind him, the demon released a low, throaty chuckle, as if to say, Behold to what I am reducing you now, my haughty little plaything. However, no words followed. At this point, there was no need for them, so synchronized had their joint descent into madness become over the years.
Sharp talons raked along Ciel’s narrow back, digging in deeply and destroying the accursed design of the brand which had been there ever since they had met. Without so much as slowing down, they continued on their path toward his hipbones, making the young earl’s blood flow in earnest. The boy only just managed to bite back a scream, merely letting out a pain-filled grunt which he hastily stifled behind a gloved hand.
This is our final game. If you want to hear me cry out, you’ll have to do better. Earn it, devil.
Their whole relationship had been a series of games from start to finish, after all – a neverending quest to gain the upper hand over the other in every situation, by way of bestowing a covertly insulting name on a proud creature, sarcastic comments and glances, odious duties, injuries and untenable situations which could have easily been avoided… certainly, the demon had nominally been in the servant role, but he had just as definitely scored his share of small victories. And had he not even once remarked in so many words that his existence as Ciel’s butler had been a game to him in and of itself?
Children loved games. So, apparently, did devils.
Forcing himself to keep thinking along these lines in his bid to keep his breathing steady in order to not succumb to an asthma attack, the young earl only realized that the clothing on the lower half of his body had likewise been shredded into nothingness when fresh agony bloomed in his thighs. This time, a clipped outcry made it past his lips before he could stop himself. Its echo bounced off the dilapidated stone walls around them and mingled with his butler’s quiet responding growl, the sound filled with the merest hint of exasperation and excitement.
Ciel had never been surprised at his demon servant’s love for cats, as inconvenient and vexing as it always had been to him. Both creatures were guided in their steps by a flair for casual cruelty, both were impossible to ever fully tame… and both enjoyed toying with their prey before devouring it.
This final truth was further reinforced by the fact that now, claws dug themselves into the soft flesh of his buttocks, spreading them apart for a hot, blunt, and wide object to be pushed against the puckered ring of muscle between them. There was no force behind it yet – of course not. His personal death wanted a reaction before indulging in his twisted desires.
At that point, the young earl was ready to abandon all stoicism for a moment, to cry, beg, do whatever the sadistic monster behind him demanded… anything in exchange for a quick death. Anything to be spared this. Not even the cultists who had purchased him like a side of beef, who had put him in a cage, beaten him, starved him, branded him… not even they had violated him in this manner.
And perhaps this was precisely why Sebastian was going to do it now.
Hot breath washed over the wounds in his back as the devil’s shadow fell on Ciel, a slick tongue swiping along part of what seemed to be the deepest one, aggravating the sting as it lapped at the blood. There should have been no natural way for the tall man to bend his spine enough to reach, the realization almost enough to make Ciel shudder…
… and then, a low voice, once more barren of anything dark or feral, its tone as pleasant as if it were presenting the morning tea, inquired, “Is there anything you would like to tell me, young master?”
Had it not been for the audible smirk tainting the polite appellation, perhaps the boy would have reached for this final straw, the last implicit offer of escape, even if it might have turned out to be nothing but malicious make-believe.
As it was, he realized that the demon already knew that there was only one answer he could give, and had merely asked to truly drive the point home.
I requested to be brutalized. I wanted to be defined by my death.
If he folded now, his final moments might pass quickly and far more mercifully, but would be ones steeped in shame and defeat. A pathetic whimper instead of a blaze of glory, likely indistinguishable from those of the countless other souls his butler had devoured.
If, however, he endured whatever this dreadful creature had decided to visit upon his body before taking what was his after having been given free reign…
Sebastian was immortal, for all Ciel knew. He had initially been attracted by a young boy’s indomitable spirit even in the face of losing faith in god. The butler had told those who knew of his nature a multitude of times that the Earl of Phantomhive’s soul was so special that he would rather devote time to its cultivation than gorge himself on lesser specimens, as he had heard hinted at more than once.
While there was obviously no way for the boy to win this final power struggle between them, if he could muster the strength to force a draw by not giving in to the demon’s attempts to terrorize him…
No… perhaps that would be a final triumph for me, after all. You will be my burial monument, devil, even after you shed the name of Sebastian Michaelis and leave my broken body behind for the crows. Use whatever filthy methods you can come up with, claim my body and soul, everything that I am, inside and out, as is your due. Do your worst. My flesh may be like so much gauze and muslin to you, but my spirit, you won’t break – and that should be memorable enough for you to think fondly of this young, weak little master for a few hundred years at the very least.
Ciel swallowed, and managed to state in a level tone which did not betray a hint of pain or fear, “Is this supposed to be you at your most abominable? How unimaginative – any lowlife human thug could do better with a knife and a crowbar. I admit that I am a little disappointed in you, devil.”
He could feel the demon’s gaze at him turn into one of utter disbelief for a moment as Sebastian processed this taunt.
Then… laughter. Loud, unrestrained, verging on crude, certainly nothing a butler’s aesthetic would have ever permitted. It took long seconds to wane, segue into a chuckle, and fade.
“… Understood. I shall endeavor to do better by my young master, then.”
Sebastian’s tone made abundantly clear that he was not only referring to Ciel’s words, but also to their intent – grudging admiration, satisfaction, and even a hint of playfulness swung in it. The catlike predator was intrigued by the newest trick of its prey, and ready to rise to the challenge.
The young earl did not dare to hold his breath in anticipation of what was to come now, as his monstrous servant would have heard it hitch and judged it to be pathetic. As a result, the brutal invasion of his body with an unforgiving thrust, barren of anything resembling preparation, forced an agonized scream from him, once again cut off by his firmly pressing his palm over his mouth. It felt as if he was being split in two, and he knew that something inside him had already torn in this initial assault, as warm fluid was seeping out around the thing lodged deeply within him, slowly dripping onto the stone tiles below.
The first thing that came to mind as he gasped for air through his fingers was beyond cynical. Whatever he just destroyed, I won’t be needing it anymore, anyway.
Warm skin settled against Ciel’s temple in a twisted gesture of closeness as Sebastian bent over the boy’s body, and a tongue, far longer than it should have been, slid wetly across his cheek, gathering moisture which had already been there. It seemed that he had involuntarily shed a few tears, so hard had he clenched his eyes shut.
“Exquisite,” the demon murmured into his master’s fine hair, the hunger in his voice more evident than before. Obviously, he took great pleasure in teasing himself like this one final time prior to progressing to the main course.
Ciel never had a chance to verbalize a biting response, as the intruding length inside him now withdrew, only to slam back in, bringing fresh agony. At least this time, his hand was in place in front of his mouth in preparation, muffling the already far quieter outcry.
This alone won’t yield you anything more than that first scream, devil. The initial breaching and tearing had been horrible, and would be aggravated over and over by subsequent movements, but if Ciel Phantomhive knew anything, it was that the first instance of pain was always the worst.
At first, it seemed that his butler was content with merely continuing to violently force himself into the small, fragile body below him, emitting growled huffs next to Ciel’s left ear with every sharp snap of his hips. However, after a few neverending minutes of drawing nothing beyond stifled grunts out of the young earl, he apparently decided that the lack of a more extreme reaction was unsatisfactory.
When one of the clawed hands firmly holding on to his hips was pulled away, the boy braced himself for more torment originating from wherever it would now strike. He gasped in surprise when long fingers instead curled themselves around his own small, flaccid penis, firmly yet nowhere near forcefully enough to cause pain, their talons retracted for the time being. Then, they began to move, up and down, up and down, up and –
Ciel was disgusted when the reason for the devil’s change in tactics dawned on him, as his body impossibly began to react to the manual stimulation, in spite of the continued agony raging in his brutalized backside.
You’re aiming for humiliation now. If I continue to keep quiet because I am trying to not let you know you are getting to me, it’s a win for you.
Oh, he was humiliated by the way his modest length began to stiffen in the warm, gentle grip, regardless of his wishes and the fact that there was nothing erotic about his current situation, but it would be a cold day in hell before he would admit to it.
Those were the rules of just about every game in existence: One player moved, the other attempted to thwart him.
Reluctantly, Ciel dropped the hand he had held across his mouth, his gloved palm once more braced against the stone floor. He did not hold back the next groan, not only imbued with pain, when it welled up in his throat… and Sebastian’s movements paused for a moment.
The young earl grinned. Surprised you, eh?
In these last minutes of his life, he would take all the small victories he could get.
A low whisper next to his ear destroyed the illusion of having discouraged this course of action from continuing; his voice the essence of lewdness, the demon all but purred, “Oh my, aren’t we a dirty young man, enjoying the attentions of a lowly servant in this manner…? Whatever would your esteemed relatives think if they could see you now?”
Ciel could feel his cheeks burning as his mind automatically supplied him with an image of a scandalized Elizabeth, tears in her widened eyes and hands cupping her mouth in shock. He only managed to banish the embarrassing specter from his mind when the demon followed up his observation with a satisfied chuckle.
My relatives would already be reeling at my associating with you at all if they knew of your true nature and our contract, and considering that they will never know now… what a cheap shot.
Defiantly facing forward and knowing that his blush was once again receding after his dispassionate analysis, he deliberately let a moan escape when the demonic hand resumed its movements, especially since Sebastian had neglected to start surging inside of him again alongside the movement.
The demon had not yet given up on his strategy; although he began bucking his hips once more, he did so in a rhythm that could almost be called sensual, had Ciel’s insides not already been damaged by his prior assault, and hot breath washed over the boy’s ear again when his personal death continued to taunt him.
“Oh yes, what a wanton little whore you are, young master… is this why you enjoyed your work on the underside of society so much? The darkness, the shameful depravity of it all…? Is this what you imagined those few nights after which you would not let me aid you in your morning ablutions? Oh, I could smell it on you, you know… not on your hands, you never did this to yourself before, proper as you pretended to be… but on your stomach, on the sheets… those dreams must have plagued you, the knowledge that you would have only had to ask, and your loyal servant would have assuaged every last one of your sordid fantasies... but you couldn’t do so without laying bare just how base you are at your very core, could you now…?”
Ciel did not know why, but the whispered obscenities only fed the strange fire which had begun to flare in his lower abdomen, which still remained unhindered by the same amount of pain he had experienced before. What he did know was that protesting, or giving in to humiliation in any way, shape or form, was tantamount to forfeit. Therefore, he resolved to refuse thinking about the contents of the devil’s tirade, concentrating on nothing but the sensation of moving fingers teasing, tugging, rubbing…
It did not take long for him to peak with a suppressed grunt, the few short spurts of his ejaculation flowing over Sebastian’s fingers and splattering onto the cold stone.
The demon promptly lifted his hand from underneath Ciel’s body and leaned forward, treating the young earl to a good view of licking at the translucent white substance staining his black nails.
“Mhm… your first such emission while being conscious, stolen by an inhuman denizen of Hell itself… how truly lost you are to everything wholesome and good…”
Now, Ciel allowed himself a harsh bark of laughter.
“I have been ever since you first marked me as your master, and you know it. Don’t be ridiculous.”
His statement made Sebastian pause for a split second yet again – another point for the earl.
“Of course. How forgetful of me.”
The words would not have been amiss back at Phantomhive Manor, before the contract terms had been fulfilled. Even the gentle humor, fake as it most likely had been in those instances, was there.
“Well then,” the demon continued, still in that chillingly pleasant tone, “considering that your time as my master has drawn to a close and I have still chosen to indulge you, I would say that it is my turn to receive a treat…”
Sharp fangs sunk into the back of Ciel’s neck as Sebastian resumed his rutting motions at their most brutal. For a short while, the boy had almost been able to forget that he was being anally penetrated by an appendage far too large for his delicate stature; the blood around his torn ring of muscle had had a chance to dry somewhat during the few minutes his former butler had remained still, and the renewed harsh movements caused all lacerations to open once more.
The young earl hastily raised his hand to muffle his outcry once more, only for his wrist to be caught in an iron grip and his arm to be wrenched backwards. His shoulder emitted a dull popping sound and promptly turned into yet another source of agony.
Sebastian laughed, the noise ringing with feral delight and reverberating down his prey’s spine. Apparently, he was now intent on hearing Ciel giving voice to his suffering, and would not tolerate his feeble attempts at preserving his dignity any longer.
The next moment, the boy’s other arm was treated in the same manner, his torso now held up only by the torturous bite and his useless, dislocated upper extremities. The pain increased to maddening levels, and the only thing which stopped him from screaming his lungs out was the fact that his throat now closed up with the asthma attack he had attempted to stave off earlier.
Oh, do continue like this, and you’ll deprive yourself of your feast by killing me before you can consume it…
All that was left to Ciel at this juncture was gallows humor.
Unfortunately, the infernal being knew too much about his history with the illness to allow for this to happen.
Teeth retracted from the deep wounds they had ripped into the tender skin just below the nape of the young earl’s neck to allow the demon to speak.
“Difficulties breathing? Perhaps I should provide some aid… oh, but regrettably, I currently have my hands full. I shall have to remedy that problem first.”
And with those words, the helpless boy’s arms were spread to his sides, stretching further, further, further –
Skin, muscle and tendon tore with a sickening, wet ripping sound.
With dull surprise, as if he was witnessing what had just happened to him from outside his body, Ciel noticed that suddenly, all pain had ceased. Even if his flesh had been rent enough by now to become somewhat numb, shouldn’t having both arms torn from their sockets hurt?
As the two appendages were unceremoniously dropped from the devil’s hands and hit hard stone with a soft thud, he began slipping into welcome unconsciousness even while his face approached the ground in slow motion.
It’s almost over…
He was caught by an arm wrapping itself around his midriff just before the tip of his nose connected with the grey tile. Ciel barely felt it.
You’ve made a mistake. The thought was not enough to even amuse Ciel anymore, so close was he to passing out. I’m in shock… I’m out of your reach, you can’t hurt me anymore…
The young earl could feel the remnants of his consciousness fleeing into darkness when there was the dimmest sensation of fingers being shoved into his mouth…
A sharp, foul taste hit his tongue and drizzled down his throat, something like blood and yet entirely different, and suddenly, the contours of the world around him sharpened, his windpipe opened up all at once, allowing him to breathe –
– and the pain crashed into him like a tidal wave of lava, searing through him like a ravenous beast and setting every single nerve ending ablaze, and he attempted to wrap his arms around himself to somehow soothe it, only to realize all over again that they were gone –
The time for games was past, the last shred of self-control Ciel had possessed blown to the winds. Now, he was reduced to a mortally wounded animal, wordlessly voicing his agony around the intruding digits without pause –
After reveling in the cacophonous symphony of his increasingly hoarse screams for what seemed like multiple lifetimes even though only a minute or two could have passed, Sebastian withdrew from his body without letting go of him or removing his fingertips from between his lips. He proceeded to carefully turn the mutilated boy over to lie on his back, the sudden cessation of activity finally allowing his prey to fall silent once more.
Ciel’s vision, still preternaturally clear thanks to the continued supply of demon’s blood although the remainder of his body was progressively failing, beheld a creature both terrifying and beautiful: long black hair here and there interspersed with feathers, large dark wings blocking out the view of the moon, lithely muscled upper body wrapped in a skin-tight, leather-like material – or was that part of his skin? One foot was propped up to steady Sebastian in a half-kneeling position; it was shod in the stiletto-heeled boot he still recalled from their first meeting, even though most of his then-future servant’s form had been shrouded in darkness back then. His tormentor was positively covered in blood, none of it his own for a change; even his length, uncovered and still jutting away from his body in unflagging erection, was stained red.
The devil smirked down at him, feeding frenzy written all over his features.
“Now that you have finally deigned to provide me with sufficient proof that I have fulfilled the first of your two last wishes… it is time to bring this delightful final game of ours to a close.”
The fingers withdrew from Ciel’s mouth, reformed as long, obsidian talons in the blink of an eye, and blurred into motion. Two quick slashes, followed by a punch to his chest resulting in an odd crunching noise, all executed in a fraction of a second.
The young earl stared down on himself, then refocused on Sebastian’s face in surprise.
The first strike of the devil’s claws had sliced across his abdomen, allowing for his innards to begin spilling out.
The second had slit his throat, permanently putting an end to his ability to breathe.
And finally… the sharp, pointed talons had been plunged into his chest, the demon’s fingers now wrapped around Ciel’s stuttering heart in a bizarre last caress.
If he had not still been under the quickly waning influence of the healing demon’s blood, he would not even be conscious at this point anymore, let alone possessed of lucidity. As it was, even the supernatural substance could not stave off the fact that his death was now only seconds away.
“And thus, your second final wish has been granted,” Sebastian stated, the tiniest hint of impatience in his voice. “The birds will find it easy to feast on your remains like this. Now then…”
He leaned closer until Ciel’s vision was completely filled with nothing but the demon’s countenance. Just before the devil got too close to be able to see, the boy pulled together his last bit of strength to mouth two words, of course unable to put breath behind them, but hoping that the movements alone would be clear enough.
They were. Sebastian’s mien segued from an anticipatory grin into puzzlement upon reading the sounds from Ciel’s lips – and then, he smiled just like he had in his butler’s guise so many times. However, this time, the smile was not one born of an ulterior motive; for the first time in all of their acquaintance, it felt like the devil truly wanted to express kindness.
“Rest ye well, Ciel Phantomhive. No… my lord.”
He closed the distance between them, their mouths meeting again like they had minutes, eternities ago for the first time, and now, the young earl felt what he had surmised he would feel before his ordeal had started: There was a sucking sensation, like a deep breath in but going on far, far too long. His consciousness, what little there was left of it at this point, gradually concentrated at a single spot, contracting into formless essence trapped in the broken, bloody thing that had been his body, and then there was an almost painless little twang as the connection was severed. The stream of air became an irresistible force, causing him to float up, over his own tongue and past his own lips, and finally down into the nothingness which had awaited him for so long. Curiously, it was not nothingness at all; while pitch-dark and quickly smothering the last of his conscious thought processes, it surrounded him with tight warmth, not unlike an embrace.
With what would have been a sigh, had he still been corporeal, Ciel Phantomhive ceased.
***
The malevolent entity who had been known as Sebastian Michaelis for the last few long and yet so short years threw his head back in ecstasy when the spiritual essence of his little master suffused every fiber of his being. All memories and sense impressions, everything Ciel Phantomhive had seen and experienced in his life, joy and terror, grief and satisfaction, hatred and love, a neverending progression of teas and desserts and the choicest bits of carefully seasoned meats, the touch of beloved family members and mortal enemies –
It was not like viewing a cinematic record as the Reapers did; rather than merely seeing the various items and events, the demon felt them visited upon his own body and delighted in every experience, even in those which had sent the boy into hysterical conniptions when he had still been alive.
Life. So much LIFE!
Demons had originally been expelled from the Angelic host and cast into Hell due to their envy of humans sparking rebellion against God Himself. Their punishment was to forever corrupt and consume that which they had desired to be, and in an act of the cruelest irony, the only method to not merely imitate the craved experience in taking human guise, but to actually live it, was to destroy a soul’s potential to become and bask in its stolen light for a few precious minutes.
All sentient denizens of Hell had long since made their peace with these facts, including Sebastian (who could not yet fully dissociate himself from the name, as much as he resented its origins – he was too caught up in Ciel’s thoughts calling it out countless times). They might come to feel something akin to attachment to a long-term contractor, but ultimately, they never denied their natures.
Being able to smell, taste, feel like a human being… experiencing his own gentle touch during countless dressings, undressings, and baths…
Amidst tasting dishes both sweet and savory and marrying the agonizing burn of a branding iron on his back with soft white cotton gloves and uncovered fingertips ghosting over nearly every inch of his body, the devil’s still-present erection nearly ached with need.
Even though his kind frequently employed sexual means to torment, tempt, and corrupt, and had full, conscious control over the requisite body parts, they had no means to experience lust, just like they could not delight in pleasant tastes or a friendly touch. Every climax, every breathy utterance was lifeless imitation, the only pale form of pleasure derived from the act the intellectual and sadistic enjoyment of the desired emotions or pain they caused in their human partners.
Not so now. The boy had not been sexually experienced beyond a few nocturnal emissions and the violent act which had just transpired, but his potential for sexuality was now Sebastian’s to use for a limited amount of time. An uncultivated soul, untouched by a demon’s taint prior to consumption, only yielded a few useless seconds. A soul which had been in contact with devilish essence for years, however…
Problem was, he had spirited Ciel away to this island, hidden away in an extradimensional pocket from prying human eyes, which had been created to allow demons to draw out their feasting without any interruptions. He had chosen to come here as he had expected something along the lines of the boy’s last wishes, and had certainly found the events of the last half hour incredibly diverting as an overture to this long-awaited meal, but… he was the only living being, other than the odd scavenging bird, currently existing in this realm. Leaving for more populated areas would take too long, even given the inhuman speed with which he could move. Manual masturbation would be a shameful waste after starving and depriving himself in front of a full plate for years in anticipation of this day.
Crimson eyes, their blaze magnified by the human essence coursing through him, fell on the corpse on the ground. Cooling, but not devoid of body heat just yet… unfortunately not in any shape to resist anymore, but it was better than nothing. Likewise, he had already thoroughly destroyed the previously so tight anal passage in his earlier assault – but if there was one thing the former butler had become adept at during his years in the employ of the now-deceased Earl of Phantomhive, it was improvisation.
Deadly black talons sliced through the fragile neck as if it was warm butter, and a moment later, the uncollared devil lifted the severed head up to meet its unseeing gaze while forcing his rigid length into one of the makeshift openings he had just created.
Yesss…!
It was warm. It was snug. It would serve his purposes.
With an inhuman noise, the demon began to rut into the lifeless flesh like the possessed creature he was at this moment, selecting the boy’s memory of his violation to come to the forefront of his mind. He reveled in the recalled feeling of being brutally penetrated and carefully masturbated alongside the real sensation of tightness enclosing his usually so pointless penis, staring fixedly at the expressionless yet oh-so-familiar face, his own sporting a distorted, frenzied grin. More… more... MORE…
Just as the perfect disc of the blood moon above him began to finally show a sliver of pale white once more, the solitary monster climaxed with a drawn-out howl.
He stilled, his eyes falling shut in bliss which he knew would far too fleeting to fully assuage him as usual, but not caring one whit at the moment. He remained in this position until the stolen sensations began to dull as his body gradually absorbed the fresh soul.
While he awaited the inevitable fading of the moment he had worked so diligently to earn for himself, the creature who was now irretrievably not Sebastian Michaelis anymore experienced the slightest twinge of regret.
The game was over. The drawn-out, constantly interesting, complex, magnificent match of master and servant, demon and human, had met its end, as had the almost as entertaining sport of being savior and knight, sword and shield, deadly tool and teacher and organizer and cook and almost-trusted confidante, standing with the child against the world. Oh, the devil had won – but in doing so, he also had lost. After all, had the way to this point not always been part of the ultimate goal, namely relieving an eternity of formless boredom?
Sebastian Michaelis, the perfect butler, had reconstructed Phantomhive Manor in a matter of days. He had procured long lists of suspects and their alibis in order to solve a murder spree in far less time. Impossible had not been in his vocabulary – if the young earl ordered something, this order would immediately be carried out to perfection.
Yet, it had apparently never even occurred to Ciel Phantomhive to simply give his servant a direct order to find his quarry and exact his revenge – and the demon had been perfectly content with this state of affairs, had not once been tempted to suggest it in spite of his hunger growing ever stronger. After all, it would have cut short Sebastian Michaelis’ time to carefully season the already so delightful soul to perfection, and deprived him of the manifold entertainments which had been bound to regularly manifest themselves in the Queen’s Watchdog’s way.
Biding his time for so long had paid off more perfectly than he could have ever hoped for – the boy’s contrariness to his very end had amply proved that fact.
The demon once again found himself shaking his head in amused disbelief when he recalled the two words his master had mouthed at him.
Thank you.
It had been the first and only time Ciel Phantomhive had ever thanked him, and the soul inside the devil verified that the young human had meant his words to encompass everything – being saved, supported, and finally defined. A last surprise, a last petty win for the indomitable little chess master.
Other contractors had deigned to treat him kindlier while the contract had been in effect. Some had even fancied themselves in love with him. However, this simple gesture of appreciation, uttered at a time when all pretenses and barriers had already broken down in preparation for the final blow… in all the endless centuries of his existence, such a thing had never once occurred.
Of course, he was not sure if the boy would have been thankful, had he been aware of one strategic omission in his butler’s sparse elaborations on the taking of a soul: While the precious human essence would cease to exist as an independent entity in becoming a part of the devil, whose body stripped it of its future potential for sustenance and pleasure, it was not irretrievably lost as a whole. Demons never fully digested their fare; they only grew bored with it after a while. Until that point, their meal could be manifested outside the hellish creature’s body at will while in the realms of the immortal, which included Hell itself, this island, and a few other choice spots. And as perfect as this defiant little soul had turned out, regardless of the fact that it could not be developed or grow on its own any further… well, suffice it to say, he did not envision himself losing interest in it anytime soon.
For now, the devil decided in a rare fit of indulgence, he would let the boy rest for a while – his latest toy had earned himself a reprieve with his delightful moments of unpredictability throughout their association, as well as with his overall cooperation in his own corruption. He could already imagine the impotent fit of pique awaiting him when Ciel Phantomhive realized that he would never be free of his former servant’s clutches… the mere thought made him chuckle in anticipation.
Perhaps he would not even opt to brutalize this wonderful little morsel again, at least not right away. Endless repetition was a mark of lacking imagination, after all. A nice game of chess to start off their reacquaintance in this context might prove to be just as amusing, and startle the boy into a more cooperative mindset. At some point, he might even attempt to infuse the soul into a stolen body to stabilize it in the mortal realm, which would allow them to pose as specialists of the occult together and enjoy another spell of adventure in this manner… Considering that his careful tending had produced a very versatile, spirited essence indeed, the possibilities were quite wide-ranging, and therefore good for at least a few centuries blissfully free of ennui.
Until then…
The demon eyed the severed head thoughtfully, its hair still clutched between the talons of his right hand. Usually, his kind did not resort to keeping souvenirs of their prey in any shape or form – it was regarded as sentimental and something to be scorned. Then again, he had never been one to give a damn about the opinions of the other denizens of Hell, and he was more than capable of defending his actions with both word and claw. One good reason for taking it with him came to mind immediately: Since the soul had exited through the oral cavity, lips and tongue were still imbued with something like an afterglow, which could be preserved in an environment where time had no meaning. Considering the quality of the essence in question, any naysayers might quickly be silenced and even impressed, should he decide to share this particular trinket with them as a means of at least fleeting satisfaction…
With a smirk, the inhuman servant-turned-eternal master rose to his feet, his wings spreading in a loud rustle of black feathers.
It was time to leave.
The last smidgen of red bled out of the pale white disc of the full moon as the devil, once again fully unbound by mortal appellations and desires, ascended into the sky and began his journey home.