
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/692375.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Kuroshitsuji_|_Black_Butler
  Relationship:
      Sebastian_Michaelis/Ciel_Phantomhive
  Character:
      Sebastian_Michaelis, Ciel_Phantomhive
  Additional Tags:
      Catboys_&_Catgirls, Magic, Supernatural_Elements, Demons, Humor, Drama,
      Dubious_Consent, Underage_Character, Animal_Transformation, Immortality,
      Eventual_Explicit_Content
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-02-20 Chapters: 1/3 Words: 832
****** The Ninth Life ******
by Saucery
Summary
     Ciel gets turned into a catboy. And we all know how Sebastian loves
     cats, don't we?
===============================================================================
 
Sebastian had been terribly negligent in his duties, in that he had only
managed to rescue his master from certain doom. Thanks in part to the
interference of a massive candelabra (crawling out from under the weight of a
thousand glass candles - all smashed, of course), Sebastian had been a little
too late to rescue Ciel from the spell. 
A spell that was only beginning to show its effects. Sebastian knew that, as a
result of his deflecting most of it onto the caster (a Venetian gentleman with
a lugubriously pointed hat), Ciel was still, thankfully, in human form. Mostly.
Well, his body was a human's. His mind, however... 
"Grar," said Ciel, and nipped Sebastian's hand.
Oh, dear.
It had taken the better part of their trip home for Sebastian to determine
exactly what manner of a creature Ciel was. What manner of animal, rather.
Because Ciel was obviously an animal. A mammal. The carriage rattled around
them, and Ciel seemed disconcerted by it, as if he'd never been in such a
noisy, enclosed space. He curled around Sebastian's arm with an utter disregard
for personal space, which should have been impossible enough, given his past
and his hatred for prolonged tactile contact. But what was even more impossible
was that Ciel was biting him, teeth making little indents in Sebastian's
shoulder, worrying away at the already-tattered waistcoat until Sebastian could
feel bruises forming on his skin. His falsely human skin.
"Young master," said Sebastian, infusing his voice with the sort of patience
only a demon could muster. (And why did humans claim that patience was an
angelic quality? Angels were ridiculously impatient, always wanting to change
things, to save souls, to battle evil; demons, by comparison, were paragons of
eternal patience, content to feast on the dark residue of human sins,
coagulating honey-like around the hives of urban cities, content entirely to
let it all go to rot.) "Master," he repeated, when Ciel appeared to take no
heed. "My shoulder, if you please. Why must you gnaw on it?"
Ciel's eyes flicked up to his, dark and wide and pupils abnormally elongated.
"Hurts," he grit out, the humanness of the word startling Sebastian, but then
Ciel was back to his animal noises again, his hands locked claw-like around
Sebastian's arm.
His master was in pain. This alone was not upsetting to Sebastian, as Ciel's
agony often colored his soul a delightful red, as blood diffused in water, and
Sebastian had acquired a particular weakness for the taste of Ciel's pain. It
made him fantasize, with a sort of fevered hunger-lust, of the time when he
would take Ciel's soul. Would it taste so deliciously red? So acidic? Wine
laced with the gentlest arsenic...
No, what displeased Sebastian wasn't that his master was in pain, but that his
master was in pain and that Sebastian was not the one allowing it. 
It was entirely different to linger a little longer than necessary in the
doorway of some decrepit villain's equally decrepit mansion, enjoying the music
of Ciel's odd, restrained whimpers behind an ominously ornate door. It was
entirely different to close his eyes and listen to them, relish them, bottle
them away in his mind, for a moment more, before swooping in to rescue his
master from the clutches of yet another Iron Maiden. 
No. This was something Sebastian could not control, could not choose to end,
and the thought that his centuries-old power was useless against this half-done
human spell was mortifying. As was the thought that his own delay in saving
Ciel might have endangered their contract; after all, Ciel was only his in
exchange for flawless service, and the inability to reverse a simple
anthropomorphic spell could certainly count as a considerable flaw.
And what if Ciel never turned back? His exquisite soul, that Sebastian had
spent years carefully garnishing with rage and vengeance and misplaced
attachment - what would happen to that soul? Had it been ruined? Would it ever
be his - would it ever open to him, as Ciel's love for him would have made it
do? Would this... creature even remember that love? Or would Sebastian's taking
of this soul be a mere tasteless rape, a jolt of colorless absorption, like all
the others before? A pathetic, ugly theft, when what he wanted was for Ciel to
give it to him, open all the way from the skin down, down to his naked,
trembling core, his shimmering, incomprehensible depths - surrendering himself
to Sebastian, calling his name, willing, ecstatic, his...
To think that he'd finally had the chance to truly prepare his meal, by serving
a child, tender in body and in mind. But youth was, evidently, as insubstantial
as it was malleable. One simple, stupid spell, and it might all just disappear
- all of it - all of Ciel - his hatred, his acrid terror, his shame, his love -
"Damnation," snarled Sebastian, pulling his animal-master closer to him. And he
meant it, too. In every sense of the word.
 
===============================================================================
 
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