
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2246676.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Kuroshitsuji_|_Black_Butler
  Relationship:
      Sebastian_Michaelis/Ciel_Phantomhive
  Character:
      Sebastian_Michaelis, Ciel_Phantomhive
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-09-03 Words: 4725
****** bring you to my hell ******
by dustofwarfare
Summary
     Other devils might enjoy offering fruit to tempt the innocent into
     damnation, but Sebastian -- he much prefers sharing it with one
     already damned
Notes
     So I maybe have a Thing for demon!Sebastian, okay? And a weird kink
     for almost-soul-eating? Good lord, this show was made for me in a lab
     :| Anyway, this is weird.
     Follows the "Book of Circus" arc (manga and anime) and includes
     spoilers for both (as I assume the anime arc will end the same as the
     manga, but one never really knows) - admittedly, I have extrapolated
     a lot about Sebastian's demonic form and how I think he looks when
     he's going to eat a soul, and I love the aesthetic of the flat, black
     circle eyes and mouth. I watch a lot of horror movies, what.
     The title is from "Desire" by Meg Myers, which if you've never heard
     it, you should go_right_now_and_listen because it could not BE more
     Sebastian/Ciel :|
bring you to my hell
They are nearly inside the carriage when the little girl stops and asks Ciel to
buy an orange.
She’s a little moppet of a thing, her wide eyes and youth lending a certain
charm to the lower-class lilt of her accent. Ciel regards her for a moment with
an unreadable expression, but somehow Sebastian is not surprised when the
commandment comes down for him to purchase the orange.
Sebastian resists pointing out how he’s supposed to be the one handing out
fruit to innocents, and gives the girl the change from his pocket. It’s more
than a penny, and her eyes light up when he presses the coins into her palm.
Such a simple thing, money, and how easy it is to manipulate humans with it. A
smile, a war, an army -- they all have their price.
“May God’s blessing be with you on your journey,” the little one chirps,
beaming brightly at Sebastian. Her soul shimmers in the depths of her eyes, a
thing of soft light and gentle warmth, a thing Sebastian finds utterly
unappealing -- not for its innocence, but for its faintness.
This sad little lamb, she will not lose her soul to a demon like him. No,
neglect and the casual cruelty of humanity will be enough to dim her already
feeble light, and the dirt and grime of the streets will strangle whatever
beauty she might have grown to possess. Like a flower choked by so many weeds
before it ever had a chance to bloom.
Sebastian merely smiles in response to the girl’s heartfelt blessing of
gratitude, then turns and walks away. A devil’s sheer indifference is the only
blessing he can give.
* * *
There is something beautiful about Ciel as he stares out the window at the
countryside, the lingering traces of his earlier terror still clinging to him
like smoke. Sebastian takes the orange from the windowsill, and begins removing
the rind with his knife. He thinks about doing this to Ciel, peeling the
bruised flesh away and getting at the succulent fruit hidden beneath.
(Demons do not need to sleep, but sometimes Sebastian does so just so he can
dream of the moment when he will take Ciel’s soul, take all of that burning
intensity and violent anger and swallow it whole, feel it burn down to the core
of his infernal essence. He does not often indulge in such fantasies, because
when he awakens he is starving, aching and hard for something he cannot -- yet
-- have.)
Watching Ciel delicately taking pieces of the proffered orange with his clever
fingers, placing them in his mouth...it makes Sebastian’s teeth sharpen, makes
him bite back an inhuman growl as his hunger grows.
By the time Ciel is finished with his snack, his fingers are sticky from the
orange. The smell of the fruit is not displeasing, and Sebastian is curious as
to the taste of it; most human food is unappealing to him not because of its
flavor, but its texture. So he pulls his little lord onto his lap, and licks
curiously at Ciel’s fingers. Beneath the sharpness of the citrus on his tongue,
Sebastian can taste the slightest hint of ash.
Ciel says nothing as Sebastian sucks his fingers clean, one by one. By the time
he’s finished, Sebastian’s eyes are aglow with unholy fire, and Ciel is
writhing on his lap, caught up in his own hellish pleasure. Other devils might
enjoy offering fruit to tempt the innocent into damnation, but Sebastian -- he
much prefers sharing it with one already damned.
* * *
Sebastian is not surprised to find himself propositioned, when they return to
the manor. He usually enjoys the charmingly awkward way in which Ciel tries to
arrange for his own pleasure, without simply asking for it; he vacillates
between bullying Sebastian outright and attempting to trick him, neither of
which are necessary. Sebastian is more than happy to put his young master
beneath him, to make him cry out in ecstasy -- just as he will enjoy it when it
is Ciel’s soul he is devouring, instead of his eager young body.
Tonight, Ciel does not try to brattishly force his butler into licentious acts,
nor does he affect artfully innocent poses in an attempt to entice; instead, he
pulls Sebastian down by his tie and presses his mouth to Sebastian’s own,
murmuring “I need my demon tonight, Sebastian.”
Charmed, Sebastian smiles and nips softly at his young master’s lower lip. “And
you have him, my lord. Tonight, and every night, until the end. What is it you
desire of your demon, young master? Tell me how I may please you.”
Sebastian knows, of course, what Ciel wants. And though he may be evil by
nature instead of nurture, Sebastian is still a demon, and he likes making his
young master say the words.
“You do not understand,” Ciel says, fingers pulling harder at Sebastian’s tie,
his voice beginning to waver with some unnamed emotion -- a rarity, that, along
with his uncharacteristic eagerness for Sebastian’s touch. “I need my demon,
Sebastian.”
Sebastian blinks at him. “Ah, my lord -- I am not certain I understand what you
are asking of me,” he says, slowly. “Do you not wish for me to take you?”
Perhaps Ciel wishes to take him, though Sebastian will eat an entire four-
course dinner prepared by Bardroy, if Ciel manages to actually ask for that.
“Yes,” Ciel mumbles, face heating. “Obviously. Don’t be obtuse, it doesn’t suit
you.”
“I am not being obtuse, my lord. I am simply attempting to clarify my lord’s
wishes.”
“I want you to -- do that, t-take me -- as a demon, Sebastian,” Ciel manages,
words tumbling in a heated rush from that succulent little mouth. “I want the
demon who liberated me from that cell, who offered to make me the tormentor
instead of the tormented. I want that, Sebastian. I want to see it, I want to -
- to touch it, and I want it to….”
“Take you,” Sebastian supplies, his eyes beginning to heat.
“Yes,” Ciel says, determination and embarrassment warring for dominance on his
pretty face.
“Why?” Sebastian asks, though he thinks maybe he knows.
Isn’t it even more demonic than a demon? Ciel asked, back at the ruins of the
workhouse. And I’m the same.
“It is not your place to question me,” Ciel bites out, each word soaked in the
privilege of his rank, the right to be obeyed without question. “I have told
you what I want, now you will do it.”
“My lord,” Sebastian says, carefully, “I do not wish to disobey my master’s
orders --”
“You cannot disobey, devil! Is that not the deal we have made?” Ciel demands,
voice rising. His eye, the one that bears Sebastian’s mark, begins to glow.
“Indeed it is, my lord, but first and foremost I have promised to protect you,”
Sebastian reminds him, lightly smoothing Ciel’s hair away from his face. As
Sebastian expects, Ciel flinches violently from the touch, as he does when
things feel good that are not first preceded by pain.
“Are you saying it will kill me? Wound me beyond repair?” Ciel gives him a
scathing glance. “I had thought you possessed more self-control than that,
Sebastian. You disobey me and you fail me, in one night. Perhaps you are not
worth my soul, and I should find a better devil who is!”
Of course his arrogant little lord would think it a failing of his, somehow.
Sebastian sighs, ignoring Ciel’s tantrum for the moment. Such displays of
childish temper do not last long, and Sebastian knows well enough by now how to
deal with them. “It is not a matter of self-control, my lord. It is a matter
of, is such a thing possible.”
“It has to be possible,” Ciel argues, as if offended by the idea that he might
want something he cannot have. “I have...there have been times
you’ve…manifested attributes that are not entirely human, Sebastian, whilst
you’ve been...engaged in certain acts upon my person.”
“Yes, indeed I have.” Sebastian presses Ciel back against the bed, smiling at
him, showing teeth. “But that is not the same thing, my lord. My demonic form
is not intended to couple with humans. It is intended to eat them.”
Ciel’s face blanches at that, then he immediately scowls and shoves Sebastian,
hard, on his shoulders. “Then get as close to it as you can, Sebastian, give me
that. Unless you are incapable, in which case, I must question your fiendish
nature as I really do not think it should be that difficult.”
“It is not I who would encounter difficulties, my lord,” Sebastian says,
irritated, his eyes glowing with hellfire. “It is you who might end this night
without a soul, should you provoke the lust of a demon who wants to consume
it.”
“That would void the contract,” Ciel says, and his eyes are wide but his voice
is steady, even. The haunted look never quite leaves his eyes, just as that
imperious tone never quite leaves his voice. “And I know you will not do that,
Sebastian.”
“My lord--”
“Shall I make it a command, then?” Ciel’s eye glows again. “How disappointing.
Very well, Sebastian, I --mmph.”
Sebastian places a single finger over Ciel’s mouth, stopping him before he can
say the words. He leans down and says in a voice that echoes with inhuman
vibrato, “If you wish for it to be brutal, my lord, you need only say so. I
promise you, it can be done in this form as well as any other.”
“What I want,” Ciel says, flatly, shoving Sebastian’s hand away, “Is exactly
what I have told you to do. Do not make a habit of questioning my wishes again,
Sebastian. You are not contracted to give your opinion. You are my servant.”
Sebastian understands what his overbearing little tyrant of a master is
attempting to do, but it makes it no less annoying to be spoken to in such a
fashion. “But you haven’t told me, my lord. You have skirted around the
command, you have implied, you have used phrases like engaging in certain acts
upon my person. If you wish to be fucked by something inhuman, say so.
Improving the clarity of your speech will greatly improve your servant’s
ability to understand what it is, precisely, that his lord desires.”
Ciel’s face flushes with color, but to Sebastian’s surprise, his little tyrant
blinks those wide eyes at him and says, without preamble, “I wish to be fucked
by something inhuman, Sebastian.” The contract mark flares to life in his eye.
Sebastian slowly removes his glove with his teeth, the fabric whispering over
his own burning seal on his hand. “Yes, my lord,” he says, and where there was
once a thing shaped like a man and wearing a butler’s livery, there is now
something else, something dressed in darkness, something that watches Ciel with
long, sly eyes lit from within by Hell.
* * *
Ciel is a mass of contradictions, a complicated creature who wants a demon in
his bed and still cannot say the word fuck without blushing, who buys oranges
from street urchins mere hours after burning children alive for their own good.
He is resistant to all but the most necessary of touches, eschewing even the
most innocuous attempts to offer physical comfort -- and yet, when Sebastian
appears in this form, a creature straight from Hell and radiating
malevolence...Ciel crawls towards him on his knees, reaching out one small hand
just like he did that night they made their contract.
“May I…?” Ciel’s voice is quiet but not from fear; if anything, his insistence
on asking before touching is due to the manners bred into him since birth.
“You may always touch me, young master,” Sebastian says, in that voice that
sounds like gears grinding together, like dark things stirring beneath the
ground. “I am yours to command, your servant, as you have taken such pains to
remind me.”
“How you manage to sound sarcastic even with that voice is a marvel,” Ciel
says, blinking those wide eyes at him. He is peering into the darkness that is
Sebastian, as if looking for something recognizable to touch. He almost, but
not quite, touches the edges of Sebastian’s form. “Are you -- insubstantial,
then?”
“No,” Sebastian says, offering no more than that.
“Then why can’t I feel anything?”
“Because you are too far away from me,” Sebastian tells him. His wide mouth,
full of teeth, stretches into a smile. “Come closer, young master.”
Ciel moves closer, on his knees, very slowly. It is arousing, though
Sebastian’s mindset is more of a predator luring its prey, the hunter closing
in on the kill. What they are playing at, here, is deliciously dangerous and
incredibly stupid.
Ciel bats at the feathers swirling around them, scowling. “Must they do that?
Why cannot they be still, they’re wings, aren’t they?”
“They can be,” Sebastian says, and settles the feathers behind him. “This form
is but a representation of my essence, young master. As is the form I wear for
you. Do you understand?”
Ciel nods, and then he is there, next to Sebastian. His fingers trail over the
edge of Sebastian’s form. “You feel like smoke stretched over the thinnest of
paper.”
Sebastian is surprised at the whimsical nature of that description, but he says
nothing as Ciel’s fingers map the odd arrangement of angles that define him.
Sebastian reaches towards him, draws a talon down the side of his young
master’s face. Ciel shivers, but it isn’t fear that suffuses his scent, not
anymore. He moves closer, shuffles over the bedclothes to kneel in front of
him.
“Did you expect me to cower in fear?” he asks, staring up at Sebastian. “This
is the form you took when you came to me. You are my salvation.” Ciel leans in
and kisses the edges of Sebastian’s mouth. “I will not fear you, demon.”
Sebastian’s wings flare, wrapping around Ciel to draw him closer. Ciel is warm,
so warm that Sebastian wants to open his jaws and swallow him whole. He will
need to alter his form, and soon. It is not yet time for what he wants.
But perhaps it would be all right to pretend. Just for a moment….
Sebastian moves, pressing Ciel back against the pillows as he swoops down upon
him, mouth open to reveal the sharp fangs. His talons are embedded in the
pillow next to Ciel’s head, and the noise he’s making is between something
between a hiss and a click, and the guttural caw of a crow.
Ciel does not struggle, though Sebastian would like it very much if he did. He
simply reaches up and traces the edge of Sebastian’s wing, then nods. “My
salvation...and my damnation.”
Sebastian lowers his head and licks Ciel’s neck, tasting the quickening beat of
his pulse. His hunger is overwhelming, making him shudder. “Ah, young master. I
want so very badly to tear you apart.”
“Yes,” Ciel says, in a voice gone hazy with lust, as he spreads his legs
wantonly for the monster to settle more fully on top of him. “You will enjoy
that, won’t you.”
“Oh, yes,” Sebastian sighs, the sound a hiss, and he can feel Ciel hardening
underneath him. What a depraved little creature you are, young master. “I will
enjoy it so very much, my lord.”
“You shall take your time about it, too, I imagine,” says Ciel, staring through
his lashes up at Sebastian with his mismatched, luminescent eyes. “I insist. I
am a meal to be savored, demon. Isn’t that what you tell me?”
Sebastian answers him, but not in words his master will understand. His mouth
is moving closer and closer to Ciel’s, dangerously so, and his lust reaches a
fever pitch as the tempting little thing wriggles and writhes beneath him.
“Ah, Sebastian,” Ciel chuckles darkly. “You are nearly undone by your hunger, I
can feel it.” Ciel turns his head, each breath smelling sweetly of his soul.
“How close are you right now, devil, to taking what you have not yet earned?”
“Very, very close, my lord,” breathes Sebastian, as Ciel’s mouth teases his
own.
“And is this how my soul shall be extracted, my hungry devil? With a kiss?”
Ciel asks, pushing himself up and rubbing against Sebastian with abandon. He
kisses Sebastian, gentle little pecks, one right after the other.
“Yes,” Sebastian hisses, forcing himself not to capture Ciel’s mouth, not to
let the pull of it start because if it does, it will be over -- and part of
him, the part that is a predator to the very core, is beginning not to care.
“I would offer you a taste of it to hold you over, Sebastian, but you are
forever forbidding me to snack between meals, so it is only fair I do the same
to you.”
“It would not matter, my lord,” Sebastian says, shuddering as each brief touch
of Ciel’s mouth makes the pull start, only to stop abruptly as his mouth is
taken away. “I would not be able to stop, once I started.”
Ciel’s arms are around him, tangling in the darkness and the feathers and the
evil that is Sebastian. His kisses linger longer and longer, until the demon
pulls away, staring down at Ciel with a wide, empty circle where his mouth
should be, and in the places that were once eyes.
Ciel stops, his mouth a hairsbreadth away from the dreadful face that was once
Sebastian, finally aware that he might have pushed his demon too far.
“Sebastian. Sebastian. Enough. You will not violate the contract. Tonight you
are to take me, not my soul.”
It takes Sebastian a moment to understand the sound he is hearing is his master
calling his name, that the touch he feels is Ciel stroking his back, the curve
of his wing. He buries his face in Ciel’s neck, breathing hard as he tries to
regain some sense of composure. “We cannot -- ah, young master. How you tempt
your demon.”
“That was impressively terrifying,” Ciel tells him, still stroking a hand down
Sebastian’s back. “When your mouth and eyes went all round, as they did.”
Sebastian exhales, licking at the sweet skin of Ciel’s neck. “You came very
close indeed, my lord, to see such a thing.”
“Close to being eaten?”
“Yes, my lord,” says Sebastian, nipping harder.
“So that is what it shall look like,” Ciel muses. “I hope I have not ruined
your dinner, knowing that beforehand.”
“Ah, my young master,” says Sebastian, in a sweetly sinister voice. “There are
many other things that can be done, before it happens. Merely seeing how the
table is set is not enough to ruin the meal, my lord. You have not yet seen all
of my tricks.”
“Clever devil,” says Ciel, shifting beneath him again. “Then I would have you
show me other ones, now. Tricks that do not result in my end.”
“Those that end in la petite mort instead of la mort, is that what you mean?”
Sebastian asks, laughing at Ciel’s sudden bright flush. “You teased a demon
nearly past the point of no return, and yet to speak of sexual pleasure makes
you blush.”
“Sebastian, my command was for an inhuman creature to bring me pleasure, not to
be nearly eaten and then taunted with euphemisms by my insufferable French
tutor.”
“And now you see why I suggested your orders be given in a clear and concise
manner,” Sebastian murmurs, leaning down to kiss him. He lets his teeth
elongate again, lets a trickle of that discordant echo back into his voice.
“But I should warn you, young master, you teased your devil quite mercilessly -
- and your devil is of a mind to repay you in kind.”
“Time to Il faut donner au diable son dû, hmm?”
Oh, young master. This devil is due so much more than your delectable little
body, but if I didn’t take the opportunity to lead you into sin, what kind of
fiend of Hell would I be?
“Yes, my lord,” Sebastian says, eyes ember-bright in the dark, hungry now for
different things.
* * *
Sebastian has Ciel on his hands and knees, his slender neck grasped between the
talons of one hand as he fucks him, harder and harder, listening in pleasure to
the needy, panting whines that spill from his young master’s lips.
He made his demanding little lord wait for it, teased him and made him ask for
all manner of debauched things, wrapping Ciel in the tendrils of his diabolical
lust until Ciel would scream his desires from the top of his lungs, if only
Sebastian would grant him release.
Three times he has driven Ciel to the point of release, only to pull back and
watch him suffer in sadistic enjoyment, thrashing on the bed beneath his devil,
tormented by ecstasy so cruelly denied.
Twice he has kissed Ciel with a mouth full of sharp teeth, tasted blood and
murmured perhaps I will let you come, this time -- yes, call your devil’s name,
see if he is pleased enough to allow it, as he worked Ciel’s cock with a hand
tipped dangerously with sharp obsidian.
And twice, he denied Ciel at the crucial moment, content to lick his talons as
he licked Ciel’s fingers in the train, tasting the boy’s suffering with every
long, slow lick and enjoying the barrage of filthy, angry words hurled at him
by his spoiled little master, who was aching now with a hunger of his own.
And once he sprawled on his back, one hand locked around Ciel’s fragile throat
to keep him still, the point of a talon resting warningly against his artery
while Sebastian stroked himself with his other hand -- simply so he could watch
Ciel’s face when he found release, when he arched his back and came with an
inhuman noise and a flutter of black feathers. Ah, how angry his little master
was, watching Sebastian shudder in the throes of ecstasy he himself was denied.
How angry, and how helplessly, utterly aroused -- for he could not hide that,
either, not from a creature who was born of sin itself.
“Tell me how you want your devil to fuck you,” Sebastian purrs, finally, when
he has Ciel trembling before him on hands and knees, stripped of his
inhibitions and entreating his demon to fuck me, Sebastian, fuck me now.
Ciel stares at him over his shoulder, panting, lust burning in his eyes and the
contract mark glowing with every word he speaks, every demand he utters that
his demon is all too eager to fulfill. “I would have him fuck me like I would
have him take my soul,” Ciel says, looking straight into Sebastian’s eyes.
“Without mercy.”
Sebastian smiles and traces the edge of his Ciel’s mouth with his talon, eyes
flashing when Ciel takes it into his mouth and sucks, licks at it with his
clever little tongue, gaze still locked on his demon. “Without mercy, my lord,”
Sebastian promises, pushing inside with one long, brutal thrust of his hips.
Ciel cries out in pain but he pushes his hips back demandingly, and his mouth
closes tightly over Sebastian’s talons, sharp teeth biting delightfully as he
moans.
Sebastian curves himself over Ciel’s spine, his voice like disjointed bells
chiming in terrifying disharmony, suffused in reverence for this being that
belongs to him, this soul that burns so bright, it hurts the hellfire of his
eyes to look upon. “Show me how hot you burn, my master. Show me that warmth
that will sustain me, even in the darkest depths of Hell.”
Ciel comes with a loud cry, his whole body shivering and bucking beneath the
twisted, demonic form atop his own. Sebastian finds his own release, spending
violently and making a harsh, fierce sound like a raven’s call as he does so.
For a moment Sebastian is lost to the pleasure of it, his consciousness fading
briefly and leaving only the essence of what he truly is; malevolence
incarnate, a thing that exists only by smothering another’s light with its own
vile darkness.
Sebastian comes back to himself when Ciel elbows him sharply and says, in a
voice made slightly less demanding by his obvious satisfaction, “So much for
smoke stretched over paper. You’re heavy, demon. I would not meet my end
smothered by my bedcovers.”
Sebastian obligingly rolls off of him, settling on his back and letting his
form bleed back into the familiar lines of the Phantomhive butler.
“You don’t even look disheveled,” Ciel accuses him, all messy-haired and
flushed, with bites marking his neck and back, criss-crossed with thin, red
lines from Sebastian’s talons. He also has a split on his lip, which is
bleeding rather profusely. Sebastian leans down and licks at the blood, purring
like a satisfied cat.
“If I couldn’t ravish my young master and remain properly attired, what kind of
butler would I be?” Sebastian asks, pulling away at length. “You, on the other
hand, look quite deliciously debauched. Sucking on my talon, my lord? How
thoroughly animalistic of you.”
“Shhh, Sebastian, really,” Ciel mutters, blushing predictably. He rakes a hand
through his tousled hair, tugging at the blanket to cover his nakedness without
Sebastian noticing. “It is not necessary for you to...refer to recently
completed events, thank you.”
Sebastian smiles at his young master’s staunch adherence to prudish decorum,
mere moments after being fucked by a demon -- at his own insistence, no less.
But he is sated enough to let it go for the moment, and instead he rises to his
feet, adjusts his tie and says with a low bow, “I shall prepare young master a
bath at once.”
“Yes,” Ciel says, drawing his knees to his chest. He looks very small, curled
up so in the middle of that impossibly large bed. “See that you do so. And
Sebastian -- I would like a cup of warm milk, please. With honey. For
afterwards.”
“Of course, my lord,” Sebastian says, bowing again.
“But do not prepare it until after my bath, or it shall be cold. And no amount
of honey makes lukewarm milk tolerable, Sebastian.” Ciel pauses. “If you are
truly carrying me into Hell, shall I be condemned to lukewarm milk for all of
eternity?”
Sebastian, recalling his words spoken at the height of his pleasure, is now the
one fighting off a blush. “Ah. I do not believe there is milk of any kind in
Hell, my lord. But if there was, it would not inherently be lukewarm.”
“I suppose not,” Ciel says, looking somewhere over Sebastian’s shoulder. “One
man’s lukewarm tea is another man’s ambrosia. Perhaps for me it would be
lukewarm, and for another, too hot to sip without scalding one’s tongue.”
“My lord misunderstands,” Sebastian corrects. “There is no milk of any kind in
Hell, because its denizens do not consume it. Humans view Hell as a catch-all
for their fears and lustful urges, my lord, or as a convenient place to banish
gods who have outlived their usefulness. Rather like a storage closet in the
cellar, or a cobwebbed corner of an attic. But it is not an oubliette, nor is
it a place of eternal torment.”
“Then what is it a place of, exactly?”
Sebastian thinks on this for a moment. “Darkness,” he says, with a graceful
shrug. “I cannot think how to explain it better than that, my lord. It is a
place of darkness, in which all light is drowned by shadow.”
“Even mine, burn though it shall in the belly of my very own beast?” asks Ciel.
Sebastian smiles at him. “Yes, my lord. Even yours.”
Ciel does not smile, but then again, he never does. There is something that
looks a bit like relief in his expression, but it quickly gone beneath his
usual imperious expression. “My bath, Sebastian. I am quite sticky. And the
milk. Do not forget the milk.”
“Of course, my lord. I shall never forget my master’s orders to me. Not a one.”
Sebastian bows, and leaves him lying there in the darkness that he does not
fear, amidst the shadows of the things he does.
* * *
 
Il faut donner au diable son dû = "give the devil his due"
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
