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The manor is dark, and it would be quiet if not for the waves of fear and anxiety that wash through the halls. Only Sebastian is awake, and only Sebastian can feel it. The spindles of the young master’s nightmare radiate out from his chambers and disturb the otherwise peaceful night he’d been having running inventory in the cellar. It’s loud, even below ground, but Sebastian is determined to ignore it.
That proves difficult when Ciel starts calling for him—not verbally; his lips are clamped tightly around the screams that want to break free. Sebastian can hear it all the same like an itch in the back of his throat. It’s been over a year since he formed the covenant with the little earl, and Sebastian learned early on that he is as prone to night terrors as a lamb is to slaughter. It won’t go away on its own, and if the young master is too unconscious to tame his own terrors, then Sebastian will have to take care of it himself. He goes upstairs as if summoned by one of the bells, walking leisurely in case the nightmare ends before he gets to Ciel’s room.
It doesn’t. Standing outside the door that leads to the bedroom, Sebastian hears a frantic heart and rushing blood on the other side. The young master has parted his lips to pant. There is a whisper of swishing fabric as he kicks his legs about under the covers. On nights like these, Ciel has said he would prefer if Sebastian would wake him, interrupting the nightmare so he could go peacefully back to sleep. Sometimes he requests warm milk.
When he slips silently into the room, Sebastian is met with a new scent. He has encountered this emotion plenty of times before during his centuries of prowling amongst the humans, but this is the first he meets Ciel under such a circumstance. Well. He is getting to that age.
Sebastian sighs, the sweet tang in the air filling his nose and mouth. There is a writhing lump under the sheets like a rabbit caught in a trap, but it is just his master trying to run away from something that is not real. He makes little vocalizations, whimpers of fear mixed with something new that grow louder the closer Sebastian draws. He wonders if Ciel can sense his presence creeping up on him, a walking nightmare, but one he has willingly invited into his home.
“My lord,” Sebastian says before doing anything else. A gentle warning before he reaches a hand out and places it over where Ciel’s head would be under the blankets.
He pulls the covers back, feeling the inevitable onslaught of push and pull that his master does not yet know the difference between. Still asleep, Ciel curls up against the sudden draft. There are fine traces of sweat lining his skin, along his forehead. He breathes out of rhythm, fingers clutching the pillow beneath his cheek.
Sebastian lowers a hand to Ciel’s bare leg and traces it slowly upward, over the sweat-dampened fabric of his nightshirt, before stopping to brush his thumb across Ciel’s parted lips.
The young master gasps awake, his colorful eyes flying open and unseeing in the dark. Sebastian pushes the hair away from his eyes and feels the slight tremors vibrating through his body.
“Sebastian,” Ciel calls, as though he doesn’t know Sebastian is already there, touching him.
“I’m here, my lord. You were having a nightmare.”
Ciel closes his eyes again and focuses his breathing. He swallows to wet his throat. Sebastian stays like that, petting him until Ciel feels like giving him an order, whether it be to leave or to stay or to heat some milk in a cup.
“I’m so uncomfortable,” Ciel says after a moment of stretched silence only punctuated by his loud heart. He turns under Sebastian’s hand and bats him away. Sweat collects around his collarbones, glistening under his clothes.
“It will happen after such dreams,” Sebastian offers as solace, because this is only the first of many.
“I feel like I have to use the toilet.” Ciel reaches down to grasp himself, and he takes in an unsteady breath when it doesn’t feel like he had been expecting. He must not have noticed before, that blood had pooled between his legs and made him hard. Perhaps he didn’t know that could happen.
“That is also common, and while the two feelings are not dissimilar, I promise you do not have to use the toilet.” Sebastian tries to explain it gently. The little earl doesn’t have a father or otherwise respectable authority to teach him. Then Sebastian realizes that he is the otherwise respectable authority. He could almost laugh at the irony.
“Why? What is this, Sebastian?” The hand that isn’t still cupping the bump on top of his shirt comes forward to pinch the fabric of Sebastian’s sleeve.
He sighs, because it’s a butler’s duty to attend to his child master’s education in all things. This is an entirely human experience that Ciel will have to learn from a demon, so Sebastian will do his best to be clinical about it. His little lord is a prideful thing, but he does not yet know to be ashamed about something like this.
“It’s nothing to be afraid of,” Sebastian says, because he can see the terror still clinging to Ciel’s eyes, dregs of the nightmare that haven’t evaprotated yet. “This is a necessary step to growing up.”
His gaze flicks down to Ciel’s hand, where his fingers constrict around himself like he wants to choke a hose out of letting any water out. Of course it won’t feel good like that.
“I don’t want to be uncomfortable. Tell me how to make it stop,” Ciel orders, trying to command what he has no knowledge about.
Sebastian moves to sit on the edge of the bed. Without asking permission, he circles his hand around Ciel’s wrist and nudges it away from himself. Ciel allows the touch, but when Sebastian goes to drag the edge of his shirt up, he curls his legs in and holds the hem in a tight fist. His face burns, and there are the first inklings of embarrassment. Humans are remarkable in the way they know which things should ordinarily be private. To a demon—his demon—the modesty is unnecessary.
“You have nothing left to hide from me,” Sebastian reminds him. Put aside the bathing and the dressing, and Sebastian has still known Ciel at his weakest and his darkest. The first night they met, Ciel was nothing more than a would-be sacrifice, something subhuman in the eyes of those who summoned Sebastian in the first place. There is nothing Ciel could do or say or think that would change the way Sebastian sees him, which is, for the moments of their contract, the one who holds his leash.
After considering it, Ciel releases his grip, and Sebastian exposes his lower half to the night. His cock is small and straight, fading to pink right at the tip. Sebastian doesn’t think it would even fill up his palm. He shakes his head; Ciel needs to be the one to do it, to explore himself. Sebastian is merely the guide.
“You can get rid of it by touching yourself.” Sebastian raises one finger, and with his other hand, he slides two fingers and his thumb up and down on it, slowly, letting Ciel hear the soft shifting of his gloves together. “You must do it gently at first. Your body will tell you what is good.”
“Good?” Ciel repeats curiously. He mimics Sebastian, pinching around himself with two fingers and a thumb. When he drags slowly up and down, his intake of breath is shaky and surprised.
“It feels good,” Sebastian clarifies. “Your body will get more uncomfortable before it’s over. You will feel warm, but then you will settle back to normal shortly after.”
“How do I know when it’s over?”
“You will know.” Sebastian offers a little smile. Ciel doesn’t know it, but Sebastian can feel him reaching out, desiring his butler to give him the comfort he doesn’t understand he’s looking for yet. His little master’s eyes stay trained on his face, even as his eyebrows draw together and his lips part like he’s breathing hard from a nightmare all over again. This is entirely different, but Sebastian thinks perhaps it’s not.
He moves to get up from the bed, but an order he isn’t expecting rips itself from Ciel’s throat.
“Don’t go—!” he calls, almost desperately.
Sebastian slowly eases back onto the mattress. He reaches forward, runs his knuckles down Ciel’s cheek. Ciel turns into the touch, and this is dangerous.
He waits and watches. Ciel’s eyes pinch closed, and Sebastian’s gaze draws down the length of his body. Ciel’s hand has picked up speed, and Sebastian wonders if he has found the pace that suits him the most. He pants, kicking against the bed, his hips softly rolling without grace.
Ciel only pulls his face away from Sebastian’s palm when a moan catches him by surprise. It won’t be long now. Sebastian trails his fingers down Ciel’s throat, to his chest, pinches the small pink nipple poking against his shirt. Ciel’s next sound is a whimper.
“Seb-ba…” He gives up on his name halfway through. “Something is going to come out. I need to sto—ahh…”
“Shh…” Sebastian soothes, lowing his hand to rub circles over Ciel’s stomach. “Let it come.”
Ciel’s gasp stutters, as does the motion of his hand. There isn’t much that comes out, only a few drops of nearly clear liquid. It dribbles over Ciel’s fingers and doesn’t land anywhere else. Ciel shakes with it, and he still shakes even when it’s over. His hand remains firmly around himself, like he’s too tired or too afraid to let go.
Sebastian allows him a minute to catch his breath and think about all the things he just felt. Then, Sebastian lifts Ciel’s hand away from himself and brings it to his mouth. The cleans off the small mess, and if Ciel cared about yelling at Sebastian for touching him in such a way, his eyes look too heavy.
He gets off the bed, but he doesn’t leave Ciel behind. Getting both arms under his master, Sebastian picks him up out of the tangle of sheets, feeling how heavy he is in his arms. Exhaustion has washed over Ciel.
“A quick, warm bath, and then back to bed.”
Ciel agrees by letting his head rest on Sebastian’s shoulder, and he soaks quietly in the tub with his thoughts about how much his body is going to start changing.
What isn’t surprising is that it happens again the next night, and then the night after, until an intermittent pattern has developed now that Ciel can put a name and a feeling to the itch just under his skin. What is surprising is that Sebastian’s presence continues to be a requirement.
Like the loyal pet he is contracted to be, Sebastian goes to Ciel’s room whenever he senses Ciel’s need for him. It’s frequent, these nights lately. The first few times, Ciel tells Sebastian to sit on the bed and watch. Sometimes he has questions, and the more Sebastian educates him, the redder his face will get. Eventually, the questions stop, as though the little earl can’t bear to think about why his body would crave things when he knows he won’t live long enough to marry his fiance and give her children.
“Why can’t I control it if I’m not doing what it wants me to do?” Ciel had asked one night, after his sweat and the few drops of come had cooled.
“Why can’t you control when your stomach grumbles?” Sebastian had answered. “Humans are bound by instinct more than they care to admit.”
“Animals.” Ciel had rolled his eyes, and he’d met Sebastian’s gaze with a small, tired smile.
Sebastian thought Ciel would find some sort of shame after a while, but he continues to call for comfort in the middle of the night. Sebastian won’t tell him this is something that humans typically prefer to do alone; it strokes his ego to drink up the frantic gaze that Ciel sends his way whenever his hand wanders between his own legs.
Tonight, the questions are less about Ciel and more about Sebastian.
“Do you ever do it?”
“I don’t need to.”
“Could you, if you wanted?”
“Oh, yes.”
“What makes you want to?”
“Very few things.”
Ciel ponders the answer, looking away to chew on his lower lip. His nightshirt is unbuttoned, Sebastian’s suggestion, and he rubs his fingers against the crease between his hip and thigh. That is another thing Sebastian told him about; it can feel good to touch other parts of your body before and during, a palate cleanser, like ice cream between courses. Makes it sweeter.
Sebastian almost asks if Ciel would like him to demonstrate, but that kind of line must be crossed by the young master himself. Sebastian can only lead him up to it.
“Demons can’t have children,” Ciel says.
Sebastian smiles. “No.”
“I don’t understand this at all.” Ciel puffs his cheeks full of air and exhales slowly. While he stares at the ceiling of his canopied bed, his hand comes to circle himself and move lazily up and down. Sebastian watches, because he’s been given permission to, and notes how Ciel’s fingers are still clumsy and unsure.
“You need only understand yourself and what you want. Everything else is an inconsequential fact,” Sebastian says.
Ciel turns his head, his hair fanning over the pillow, and regards him with bright, curious eyes. Sebastian meets his gaze, counting the up and down pattern of Ciel’s hand in his peripherals.
“I want to see you,” Ciel says. This was inevitable, in the same way Ciel was always going to start growing up.
“How would you like me? I am at your mercy.” Sebastian tips his head with a little quirk in the corner of his mouth.
Ciel’s hand falls away from himself, and he gets his knees under his body to sit up. There is energy in his movements, though it’s late at night and he should be sleeping. The prospect of such newness gets him excited. Sebastian feels the curl and the tug of their contract, and it’s undeniable how much Ciel wants him, even in his own naive way.
“Sit over there.” Ciel points to the head of the bed.
After a gentle bow, Sebastian removes his shoes and repositions himself to lean back against the headboard with his legs stretched out in front of him. He considers it, and then he decides it best to remove his gloves as well, just to keep them out of danger of getting dirty.
Ciel climbs over him and settles on Sebastian’s thighs. His small body is warm, thrumming with something so tangible that Sebastian swears he can hear it buzzing in the air. He goes to undo his fly, but Ciel catches both of his wrists.
“Wait,” he orders, trailing his gaze up Sebastian’s chest. “You should take all of this off.” All of this, Ciel illustrates by pulling Sebastian’s tie out of its tuck.
“Yes, my lord.” Sebastian lifts his hands and methodically undoes the layers of his uniform. Ciel remains perched on his legs as he peels off the tailcoat, the waistcoat, and finally the tie. He pulls his shirt out from underneath the waistline of his pants and undoes the buttons from top to bottom.
Ciel watches, fully focused, as his chest is exposed. When the two sides of it fall open, Ciel pushes his hands over Sebastian’s shoulders to slip it off of him. The discarded fabric pools around his waist, draped over the pillow, forgotten for now. It will have wrinkles, but Sebastian is rather handy with an iron. He can afford to risk the sanctity of his uniform when there are little, curious hands exploring his chest and stomach.
“You look quite human,” Ciel says. His fingers are warm against Sebastian’s cold and pale skin. “Does it feel human for you?”
“As close as I can manage it, which is quite accurately,” Sebastian answers. Throughout all of this, he has been immune to the cloud of lust swirling within his master, but Ciel’s hands are dangerously close to reversing that. In his distraction and fascination with Sebastian’s body, Ciel has gone limp between his legs. Never before has Sebastian thought it was cute, but he might have to start averting his eyes when he bathes his master every night.
“Show me.”
Sebastian opens up the fly of his trousers and pushes them down as far as Ciel’s spread legs will allow. He’s flaccid, for now, and he watches Ciel’s expression thinking about what it must look like to him, seeing it for the first time. Perhaps he is comparing them by size or color, or perhaps he is wondering if his would look the same should he ever make it to adulthood.
“It’s not hard,” Ciel says, almost disappointed.
Sebastian reaches for himself. “Not yet. If you give me a moment, I should be able to—”
“Wait,” Ciel orders again, pushing Sebastian’s hand away to make room for his own.
“Be gentle with me,” Sebastian says. Ciel sends him a questioning, mildly annoyed glance, but Sebastian just grins back.
His touch is light at first. Sebastian would tell him he doesn’t have to be so tentative, but part of it is fascinating how careful Ciel is, as though he’s handing something rare.
Two fingers stroke down the soft curve of his shaft, which lies against the swell of his balls. Even like this, Ciel’s hand looks small against him. The image of Ciel’s delicate fingers wrapped around the length of him is what gets Sebastian to start growing stiff, and he watches the interest in Ciel’s eyes grow with him.
When he is as big as he’s going to get, Ciel fits a fist around him and stares. It’s unintentional that Sebastian pulses against his palm, but he likes the gasp it draws from his master.
“You use more than just three fingers, don’t you?” Ciel slowly glides his fist up and down. The foreskin around Sebastian’s shaft drags with each movement, pulling back to reveal how red the head has gotten.
“I usually do it just like how you’ve got there.” Sebastian nods down to Ciel’s tight fist. “But you can also use the featherlight touch of your fingers around this area.”
Gently, he takes Ciel’s hand away so he can rub his thumb over the slit at the top. Moisture wells at the tip, and Sebastian spreads it around the head to make it shiny and slippery.
“It’s wet,” Ciel says with an edge of awe in his tone. His fingers creep back up to Sebastian, reaching for the glistening skin. “Mine doesn’t get like that.”
“Ah, you might not be old enough.”
As Ciel continues to—for lack of a better term—play with Sebastian, his own begins to perk up again. A hand for a hand, Sebastian decides, and reaches for him. Ciel whines when he is touched by someone else for the first time, his hips rocking forward on their own, his arms and legs going tense with tremors. He breathes out shakily and tries to refocus on Sebastian, between Sebastian’s legs, where Sebastian twitches from the excitement of it all.
Sebastian pulls at the pink skin, earning him another gasp. Ciel abandons his efforts on Sebastian’s cock to rest both hands on his shoulders, like he fears losing his balance atop his lap. The skin under Sebastian's fingers is hot and soft as silk, and Sebastian drags his gaze from his hand up Ciel’s narrow chest, which is laboring for breath. He lifts his other hand to push one side of his shirt away and down Ciel’s shoulder, leaving him more accessible for Sebastian’s wandering touch.
His fingers brush over a nipple, not pinching but rather circling it with his thumb and forefinger. Ciel moans for him, pushing himself forward into both hands. Encouraged, Sebastian lowers his hand to Ciel’s back to hold him in place as he dips down, pressing open kisses all over his chest before closing around the other nipple to suck on it. Ciel makes more sounds, a mix of confusion and arousal and a warning that he’s getting close. He’s had days of rigorous practice but still can’t manage to last longer than a handful of minutes. His nails make a feeble attempt to dig into the skin of his shoulders.
“Sebastian…!” Ciel calls, just like always, and he shudders and spills over Sebastian’s fingers.
Sebastian lifts his head and licks his lips. He sees the glow of his own red eyes reflected in Ciel’s, and he thumbs over the tip to indulgently feel the mess his little master has made. Between his legs, he is aching.
Only when Ciel is oversensitive and writhing to get out of Sebastian’s grip does Sebastian let go. He keeps his eyes trained hungrily on his master’s face when he closes a fist around himself, the pleasure like a drug washing through him. Ciel recovers when he’s given a moment, and he watches Sebastian stroke himself not knowing that Sebastian is thinking about the other things that can be learned between the two of them.
With a determined set to his pouty lips, Ciel traces his fingertips up Sebastian’s chest and mimics what he felt just moments before. His fingers close around Sebastian’s nipples, sometimes pinching and sometimes rubbing. It hadn’t felt good until Ciel does it.
And then, because his master is so full of surprises, Ciel scoots back and leans down to press his mouth to Sebastian’s chest. His little tongue is pink and warm, wiggling around where his fingers had been. Sebastian sighs appreciatively and brings a hand to the back of Ciel’s head to keep him there. His hair is soft between Sebastian’s fingers, and he comes to the thought of things too unseemly of a butler to name.
“There is so much,” Ciel says when he pulls back to look down between them. Speckles of white stand out sharply against the black of Sebastian’s trousers.
“Another change to expect when you’re older,” Sebastian says with a smile.
Ciel takes Sebastian’s wrists and brings his hand to his mouth. His tongue, almost shyly, darts out for the smallest of tastes. He does what Sebastian did for him on the first night and cleans off his fingers.
Or he would, if the taste hadn’t shocked him into recoiling, and he drops Sebastian’s hand with a grimace like it’s a dead animal. Sebastian doesn’t stop the chuckle that escapes him.
“I don’t know what I expected from a demon that can’t taste anything,” Ciel grumbles.
Sebastian draws his arms around him and draws him in. “I wouldn’t say I can’t taste anything. I can taste you, and your soul, and both of them will have been the greatest things on my tongue for all of my existence.”
Ciel settles against him, somehow fitting perfectly just under Sebastian’s chin. “Yes, yes, I’m entirely aware of your impeccable self-control.”
Sebastian hums and pets his hair. “The best things are always worth the wait.”