Kuroshitsuji / Sebastian MichaelisxCiel Phantomhive / 2 / 7
Title: A Cinderella Boy Fairtale
Author: Black_Eyeliner or blackeyeliner86
Fandom: Kuroshitsuji
Character / Couple: Sebastian Michaelis - Ciel Phantomhive
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: The ballroom Midnight
Word Count: 2426
Warnings: Shonen-ai , Missing Moments, Lime
Disclaimer: The characters are age and belong to Yana Toboso. This is inspired by the quote freely I. Santacroce
Table: Table
Fairtale
A Cinderella Boy # 2 The ballroom Midnight
*
Cinderella: "It's Midnight!"
The Prince: "Yes, I know it is."
Cinderella: "Goodbye."
The Prince: "But you can not go ..."
Cinderella: "Oh please ... I must! I did not meet the Prince! "
The Prince:" What? The Prince? Oh ... You Did not Know ...? "
*
The fragrance just give vent to the cup spiced Assam black studded solid gold and filled with the usual afternoon tea and smoking, scenting a little at a time the whole room, large and pretentiously furnished. From
thin curtains draped in style Venice, the last light of the sun breaks down the west through the fine threads of fabric in a swirl of warm and vaguely orange, lacquered in a golden glitter and impalpable the red felt carpet, ceiling richly stuccoed and the various flasks containing essences and precious ointments, imported a few generations behind the prosperous colony of London's China and Malaysia.
almost seemed that night that the reddish rays of the sun, an increase of about to exhibit a bit 'longer than the dark silhouettes of a flock of larks, hopping on a twig near the knotty cherry, recreating a game of' shadows from the vaguely Japanese and making them dance on the walls and narrating stories about medieval tapestries and decidedly retro.
-Close the windows, Sebastian. That screeching sound begins to annoy me.
words, despite the child will still crack the inflection and tone in some places would make the voice of the young Count almost like a squeak, however, sounded calm, barely perceptible in the fresh air of spring in London, then went out in the breath that crossed the same, small lips that had spoken in an attempt to cool the hot tea just enough to prevent burns and to soothe a drink composed and elegant.
Meanwhile, crossed by an imperceptible quiver, the long fingers of the impeccably gloved butler lingered in the folds of clean cloth: only time that a mocking smile curl his lips exquisitely full nth order of his Master, and the man went back to fit into the silence the clean linen, and hooked her slender figure, dressed in black curve on the mahogany chest waxed.
A Sebastian, as always, it seemed extremely interesting to take some time to satisfy every whim of his master, so he shook again, that the very essence of that command as a poison exhilarated saturate the atmosphere of a quiet bedroom Ciel tend, like a spring stretched to the extreme before we go off with an angry snap.
peeve: amused him, as never before.
-Did you hear, or how many more times do I repeat it?! How
immensely pleased to have the desired effect, the butler grinned smugly before removing the heads of his starched and most elegant ladies from the tray and place them gracefully in the chair, then walked to the window, closing the windows so as required.
-I humbly ask his forgiveness, bocchan, but I fear that now the priority is dressed appropriately for the dance tonight.
proclaimed respectfully Sebastian, hiding the smile on his lips still persisted with a bow to the effect that the hair silky and spruce her hair flowing slip forward, shaded his face pale and sharp features, was, as usual, deliciously satisfying to peer furtively, with a touch of impeccable desire, Ciel turn up your nose and upper lip curl whenever the word dance was uttered.
-You know that I did not want all this to lose my time in these silly games girl ... ...
-Oh! Lady Elizabeth does not want to disappoint some, right? Allow me to point out that was so thoughtful to bring even these beautiful dresses from London ... A choice of fabrics and colors that certainly befits the beauty of the young gentleman, if I dare ...
promptly interrupted him Butler, teasing aware if he knew the pride of Heaven was more fragile, sweetly vulnerable, snatching a faint blush to her cheeks bitter, then you appropinquò lovable, perhaps more than the labels would allow it, satisfied that he passed the faint puff pouting lips of the young Earl of Phantomhive. Sebastian
Again let the silence stretched indefinitely, muffling even the rustle of pages of the magazine that his Master continued to browse casually, without even give him the thrill of returning his gaze irreverent.
- ... Or maybe he does not want because the fact of not knowing how the crowd dancing to the point fear them not just a figure like a perfect gentleman?
He added after a pause, then filled with tense delight, to provoke the intimate, deliberately deeper voice, hoarse, insinuating as the lure of a demon or as a forbidden fruit candy, candy from the most dazzling dawn of Eden.
-We have already tried that, and did not go much as I do not know how you think can even think of dancing with a big man big man like you.
-What do not really think it's like you have become all of a sudden it is like saying ... ... ... Yielding
hissed the man, bending over the little that was enough to freeze the peach skin of the face of Heaven, the breath of a creeping temptation and irresistible dance of a serpent with scales of cream and marzipan poisoned.
- ... What do you say ... Would you try again, bocchan ...?
A whisper, came to lick the snow invisible as nails her porcelain face, I really felt the breath of Heaven to Sebastian's ice had scratched his lips, about to confound every attempt to reply.
still smiling, Sebastian thinned eyes, sparkling with a feline slits red halo, inhuman, intent on sounding immodest every detail of her face from Bacchus, so innocent in his expression of stubborn annoying to border on perfection of a Baroque oil on canvas.
With only the strength of the indissoluble bond, printed in two of pentacles mutual throbbing, violent desire on the skin and eyes, which bound master and slave, both sat in silence to be observed, the very essence of the kiss, some offer each other along the Thames night before, fill the air more rarefied, as a vague cloud of opium smoke exhaled to weave petals, garlands twisted in the aftermath of a recent lucid now precarious.
-And you? Try again, Sebastian?
A row of white teeth and perfect smile was revealed when Butler became larger, hungry, and then stole Sebastian other inappropriate cm distances, with difficulty held up to that moment: he admired the long thin strands of hair Ciel reflect the brilliance of the blue sky streaked with blue delicate now than the first, timid night, his expression grim gentleman in melt a sardonic smile, almost evil, like a little angel, falling down, he sees black dyed their feathers, trembling wings.
-Only if its order ... And if you scream my name again, bocchan
... Before we can conclude, Butler felt the tug to tie, favoring the poor fit of the force, a force almost non-existent than their own; and for a moment felt again the lips of honey, hot, movingly human, on their own. Suck the soul. Woven for a moment from their tongues tangled in a kiss with the taste of lust and death. To taste the sweetness, really like the juicy pulp of a forbidden fruit. Hearing them shake the fragile shell, in a last spasm of dirty pleasure. In his arms. Never
prospect appeared more tempting to Sebastian: nothing more than a taste, a small, indecent exception to the rule, a libidinous transgression of that covenant which would have dissolved only when the bells have marked the last syllable of recorded time limit.
But, just when the demon appeared to perceive already the first drops of soul melt under the palate, the sting of a slap softens the passion of the kiss tasted just the fingers moved by the force of a small child cruelty, printed almost focus on the waxy pallor of her skin.
-Stop! I've already said that I have forgotten how to have fun ... Have you forgotten what your place, demon?
Sebastian did not dare argue, eyes wide, mouth in a grimace of hatching Awe when he saw the features of the harmonious face harden again as Ciel, annoyed, the boy picked up from the ground crumpled sheets of newspaper, and during that fleeting effusion had slipped away from the legs, malgarbo then throwing it on the bed.
-Ma ... ... Bocchan
-Shut up! The
retorted contemptuously before he could say more, staring sideways and adding rage.
-May I ask who the hell you think you are?! Prince Charming? Or the fairy godmother?
-I beg your pardon, sir ... It will not happen in the future. Although he knew the same
shamelessly lying, at those words ambiguously upset, exhausted Ciel turned his eyes to the ceiling, with exhaust air of one who wants to cut, then raise your arms.
Yes, yes, of course. How do you want ... But now hurry up and get dressed. Already I've had enough and did not want to be too late.
There was nothing more interesting dell'invertire playfully roles for once, and pay the consequences, that pride with a gentleman from London, was the most delicious demon could ever want, Sebastian thought, beginning with an elegant grace to undressing little by little the young Count, taking his eyes down so as not to let that perfect skin, now naked, drew him back into temptation.
-Only a mere curiosity ... Who would prefer that I, bocchan?
Even if there were other temptations, much more difficult to not give in to the intoxication of lasciarvisi go.
-In what sense?
-Well, I meant ... You said ... A prince or a fairy? When
with thoughtfully he thought a little about things, moving a finger to his chin, Ciel Phantomhive could really look like nothing more than a child, then his words vitriolic tragically concealing appearances, in a sarcasm so exquisite as to be absolutely irresistible.
-Oh ...! Dressed as a fairy, of course, you'd be much, much more elegant even as six concerts now, Sebastian!
chuckled Ciel, curling the corners of the lips and admiring his own reflection on the dark surface of the cooled tea now, as well as Sebastian continued to smile, but without being seen, glanced sideways at magazine crumpled on the bed.
Evidently, in addition to the articles of the satirical Punch, Ciel Phantomhive had previously had some familiarity with the old tales told by familiar voices shaky in the light of a candle now consumed by time.
*
dolls, stuffed animals, ribbons and organza streamers along the brightly colored wooden handrails on the steps of the long staircase that led to the ballroom looked like a train enchanted a dream became a nightmare too soon.
Lady Elizabeth if she was already gone, taking with him only the memory of a desperate cry, then drowned in the contentment of a as he had always wanted to waltz, danced together in Heaven.
The window from which the last image of Potentia Regem had been thrown, was left wide open, letting the first gusts of a cold Zephyr blow right into the living room, and almost seemed that the wind did it on purpose, frosting powder blue floors marble and the furniture, rolling back the diamond that had been donated and that it had crumbled between his turns.
-Bocchan, with all due respect ... But it's almost midnight ...
-Do not worry, Sebastian ...
Heaven was silent, his voice nothing but a hiss, like the wind that continued to ripple out to the branches of cherry garden Sprinkle the petals like pink sugar crystals.
- ... So there is no danger to the twelfth stroke these dresses are turned into rags or the house becomes a pumpkin.
He added in a brief sigh, then smiled cynically and letting Sebastian would deal with cleaning up the commotion while he was sitting, looking into space, on the last step of the great staircase leading upstairs. Sebastian
merely nodded with a deferential nod: after all, his young master was right. Both the house that his master had already been destroyed once. For the second the flames and hell would have expected a ringing much farther than the first as soon as midnight struck.
-course, my lord. But you see ... I would not want little sleep could somehow interfere with its commitments in the future. I would remind you that this time the agenda is full.
-Okay ...
the second stroke of midnight, it seemed that the words of Heaven had dissolved before being handed down in the ballroom, immeasurably large for just two occupants.
- Lead ... ... But you, Sebastian.
At the third stroke, Ciel held out his hand to the man stretched impeccably dressed in black before him, leaving standing hoist, ensnared by the sweet smile that was only the deceptive lure of a call dance a waltz.
A romantic waltz that had very little.
And when the fourth stroke, Sebastian took him in her arms, leading him into the bedroom, in Ciel escaped the clash of the fifth and sixth, beaten by the clock pendulum of the ballroom where the lights were turned off now but the seventh when he stood out, stripping, a gloved finger Sebastian grazed grazed a nipple, making him wince and blush in embarrassment. The eighth chime
tore a moan to the lips of the young Count: To the surprise of finding his or her hand between those of his family's butler and a ring glistening in the glare of the new oil lamp in his thumb. Stay here until
- I fell asleep.
Oh, heavens, sky. I perhaps is showing its weakness, bocchan?
The ninth and tenth stroke mark the silence that followed, like wings to embrace the shadow of the moon through the windows closed.
No, it's just a simple order, Sebastian.
Sebastian smiled, tucking in the sheets of silk to his young master, hearing the heavy breathing become gradually more and more feeble, after it was condensed into a few words tired, perhaps even dreamy.
-Not all shoes are collected by the princes lost
.* It seemed to feel Ciel whisper, while the eleventh chime, Sebastian drew the curtains to the moon, already too high and sticky like a piece of yellow paper with the blue of the sky, not sortisse negative effects on the body of his wonderful gentleman.
*
Heaven Only when it was finally asleep, Sebastian saw at the foot of the magnificent four-poster bed just one of the shoes in blue paint that Lady Elizabeth had bought in London that morning.
Then he pulled another from his pocket without making a sound, just as it did with the diamond Ciel, placing it next to her companion and blowing on the candles.
In the dark, streaked with silver stars spun, the twelfth stroke of midnight, was accompanied by the faint echo of a voice telling an old story:
The Prince: "What? The Prince? Oh You Did not Know ... ... ...
Bocchan ...? "
Note: * quote freely inspired I. Santacroce.
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