Blood Pact [Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler), Sebastain/Older!Ciel, R]

[arizonaicerose.livejournal.com]

Title: Blood Pact.
Author: arizonaicerose 
Rated: R
Warnings: vampires, blood
Word count: 3495
Summary:  A sudden determination breaks across the boy’s face as he pulls away from the candles. “What would I have to do?” Though he knows no matter what it is, he will do it. Ciel’s ready to try anything that may save him from a lifetime of sickness and pain.
A/N: Ohh this just came to me and in a matter of 2 days was written and waiting anxiously for July 1st to come. I hope that prompter likes it.
Prompt was: - Kuroshitsuji, Sebastian/Older!Ciel: au - Ciel is small, sickly and frail for his age, the last of his lineage -- oh and he's just made a contract of sorts with a 500-year-old vampire who wants to suck his blood

x-x-x-

Deep blue eyes stare at the candle before them, his eyes unfocused as they stare ahead. Shadows dance across the young boy’s face as he stares ahead, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The boy’s mind was being pulled in a hundred different directions.

It sounds unbelievable, to hear after years of suffering and pain. After agonizing pain and constant sickness to hear that he can be cured. Even without hearing of what this miraculous cure is, Ciel finds himself wanting to know more.

Though part of him remains skeptical. How could all of the smartest, well paid doctors (even the numerous healers he has paid for) not know of this cure; yet his butler knows about it.

Coughs rack the small frame as he lies in the oversized bed. Turning he rolls to his side while tucking his knees under his chin. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth as he tries to stifle the violent coughs. His petite body shakes violently, swaying the head of the bed, as bright blue eyes clench tightly.

‘It hurts,’ is all he can process as each part of his body is set aflame again. He feels in in his chest the most. But even now- after seventeen hard years- even his toes and hair hurt. All thoughts and feelings are overwhelmed by the never-ending pain as the young boy scratches at the sheets. Nails catch at the frayed fabric as a corner pulls up from the edge of his bed.

Feet dig and push into the soft mattress as Ciel tries to keep his writhing body under control. Toes curl and twitch perfectly in time with his heart beat, as the pain pulses through his body.

Whimpering into his pillow, as the violent coughs subside, Ciel forces his body straight while weakly rolling onto his back. Breathing harshly, sweat beads roll down his face and onto the mattress below soaking into the material. Rattling pants tear at the boy’s raw throat and shake his ruined lungs.

The heels of  his palms press against eyes as Ciel tries to force the pain away. He concentrates solely on his breathing. Slowly he breaths in, forcing his body to relax despite the mind numbing pain that he feels spark across his chest. Just as slowly he breathes out; air rushes from his lungs and along his trachea before it slides effortlessly out of his mouth.

“Will it hurt?” He sounds so much younger then his actual seventeen years. Yet, the boy still fears pain. He’s lived with it for too long.

“Only for a few seconds, then the pain will slide away. Until you feel nothing anymore.” A grin, Ciel swears he can see teeth glinting in the moonlight (is that even possible), fills the air as the boy glances down at his interlaced fingers. It does sound tempting to not feel anything anymore.

Pain. That’s all the boy knows anymore. It is present from the first second he opens his eyes in the morning, until when he finally closes his eyes at night to sleep. It does nothing more then leaves him curled in a ball of agony. He cannot breath without his lungs rattling anymore; a rattling that leads to the violent coughing fits that overtake him for hours at a time. Searing pain radiates from the center of his chest, before sliding down to every section of his body.

He is barely able to fulfill his job as a ‘gentleman’ anymore. It takes all of his strength just to go out on personal errands. And as much as he hates it, he has had to rely on his staff more often then normal. Even simple dinner invitations are nearly impossible for the boy anymore. The last time he had tried to head out, had ended with everyone talking about the ‘poor sickly boy who could barely stay upright through a simple meal.’

“Are you sure that this will work Sebastian?” Disbelief is tangible in the boy’s voice. Even if he knows that his butler never lies, never tells a single strained truth, it is still almost impossible for him to believe fully.

To just walk into the contract blindly. In life that was a perfect way to be ripped off, to loose anything and everything that you owned. It had only recently happened to a young lord, who had blindly agreed to a transaction without ever reading a single line from it. Now, if Ciel could remember right through the constant haze he was in anymore, he was the ringmaster of a circus, working for barely enough to keep him fed and clothed.

“Yes, it will. I promise My Lord.” A deep voice rings, its tone soothing as a tall, thin man bows low at the waist. “I would never lie to my master, after all I am one hell of a Butler.”

The statement still does not help Ciel to feel better. It cannot clear up the fear that digs and buries itself in the pit of his stomach.

Outside his door he can hear the servants worried whispers. There are always whispers and stares anymore. Life had stopped being fun years ago. He is tired of being a circus freak; sometimes he wants nothing more then to plug his ears and clench his eyes shut to make them all disappear. No matter where he runs Ciel always, always hears the whispers and sees the stares.

The little girl on the corner of the street that pulls on her mother’s long skirt while pointing a finger at the small, bony boy that can barely breathe as he walks from the carriage to the front door of a shop. The kitchen servant that whispers behind her hand to the chief about how he is too sick to eat today (and has been for a week now). The man behind the counter that stares at the boy who leans heavily on his cane as he tries to hold back the body shaking coughs. The group of school aged children that stand near the rickety old see-saw as the whisper to one another about the ‘poor boy who is too sick to attend any school.’

Blue eyes flick up quickly at the other man, who was currently still bowed, before dragging back down to the candle. Teeth dig into his lower lip, digging into the paled flesh as he thinks over his options.

A sudden determination breaks across the boy’s face as he pulls away from the candles. “What would I have to do?” Though he knows no matter what it is, he will do it. Ciel’s ready to try anything that may save him from a lifetime of sickness and pain.

Besides he still has to keep the promise that he has made to his father. All those years ago, back when he was still a happy- albeit sickly- child. Back when he used to sit on his mother’s lap and listen to his father’s deep voice tell him stories till late into the night.

Even now as he lies in the bed, with sheets soaked in sweat, he can still remember that fateful night. The night before his family was torn apart and young Ciel’s happy life was shattered; before that horrid fire took away everything he knew and loved. Even now, years after it had passed, young Ciel could still feel his father’s scruffy beard rubbing against the top of his head. He remembers the soft arms that held him tight as he slowly recovered from yet another horrible coughing fit.

‘My son,’ his father had whispered as he hugged him close, ‘you’re the only precious gift we have. You have to promise me that no matter what you will survive. Because you are the last. Until you have a beautiful son of your own, there are no others.’

He still has to fulfill his promise. Though lately, with his disease taking a drastic turn for the worse, Ciel has been unable to meet the maidens that were set up carefully for him. Besides who would want to go out with someone who could barely walk ten steps, who coughs up blood on a regular basis?

“All you would have to do is hold still.” The raven haired man straightens upright again as he holds the boy’s eyes in his. He does not want the boy to take the decision lightly. Even if his fresh virgin blood calls out to him. Intrigues him and begs to be drank; he does not want the boy to hate him for an eternity. Hate that lives that long will bring nothing good. It will only fuel bloodlust that will damage the young boy for his entire life. “I will do all of the work. However, you must be prepared for the changes that you will have to learn to live with. You can never reverse this. Never go back on it later when you regret the change. And you will…everyone does.”

Eyes narrow as Ciel tries to find his courage that he had held until minutes ago. Breaths catch in his throat as he tries to follow with the other man’s rules.

“Let me explain this to you. Then you must decide. I will give you…” Sebastian presses a finger to his lips for a second before smiling. The smile slowly sharpens until it becomes a deadly smirk, a fang glints in the candle light before he continues, “a week to decide.”

Ciel listens carefully placing everything into his memory as he listens. Eyes widen as truths, ancient truths, are told. The things of stories and nightmares are brought to life slowly and Ciel finds himself unknowing of just what is real and what is make believe.

Vampires. Who would have ever imagined that they really existed. Let alone walking around amongst normal people. Vampires who have to live by feeding off of innocent people. People that they seduce to get close enough to a supple neck. The people who never age, walk the world for an eternity. They get to watch the world evolve, watch as the earth that they are bound to grows and ages before them, while they remain untouched. Unaged.

Fingers slide along his smooth neck as Ciel tries to decide what to do. His cure will also become his curse. Does he agree? He would never move his lineage along. Either way, no matter what choice, he will never be able to fulfill his father’s promise.

Greed takes over. Talks to him, whispers in his ear about the ideals of both options. Death comes with pleasing results. He will get to be reunited with his family. He would be able to curl up in his mother’s lap again while listening to his father’s stories. He could feel his father’s scruffy beard scratch the top of his head again.

However, the thought of living forever is pleasing to him too. Again greed whispers in his ears about the good of living forever. No more sickness. For the first time in his life he would be able to move like a normal teenager. He could run down the street and back without falling ill for a week. Ciel knows he would be privy to the most luxurious lifestyle if he choose to. And he would be able to achieve it without family status and work.

Both options sound too tempting to him as greed whispers into both ears. Whispers loud enough to swallow up the protests that his conscious tries to offer.

Down in the cellar the decision was hard to make. His mind wavered on the two choices handed to him. It was easy down there, when he was feeling partially normal, to say no to the option. However when he was lying in his bed, too sick to move. Too weak- even with help with his butler- to change into more respectable clothing, the option was easy. Too easy. Easy enough that he did not need the week to make it.

x-x-x-

A blanket is wrapped loosely around the boy’s shoulders as he stands outside. The full moon hangs high in the sky as stars twinkle brilliantly. Dulling eyes stare at the beautiful scenery above him and finally he can understand why poets use such beauty for their works. A soft breeze drifts along and Ciel finds himself shivering while pulling the blanket closer to his frail body.

Toes dig into the soft grass as he watches his butler walk towards him. His heart races and he feels like a teenaged girl that has slipped out of her bedroom for a risky night. Toes curl, dirt sliding under his tender skin, as he tries to keep his breath calm.

“Have you decided?” And again Ciel finds himself melting into the deep voice that can only be Sebastian’s.

“Yes,” his voice is chipped and cracked as he answers. Breath catches in his throat as he steps forward. A sacrificial lamb walking up to the altar. Offering up their blood to be spilt over the glistening golden altar to save those who pray for it; this time it is Ciel who does the praying. “I’m ready for you to help cure me.”

Ciel refuses to say it the way it truly is. ‘Ready for you to turn me into the same monster you are.’ He still finds himself unable to say that. Unable to believe that in a few seconds he shall be a monster. The same monster that this beautiful- breathtakingly beautiful- man is.

Arms wrap around the boy’s body, one encircling his waist while the other buries itself into his dark hair. Ciel feels his breath catch for a second as he is pulled against the other man. Again his heart races as he lays his forehead against the sturdy chest. He can feel his mind slip away as the fingers in his hair tighten.

“This is your last chance to back away.” Ciel wants to laugh at how the chest rumbles as the man talks, at how it reminds him so much of his father, and for a second he does waver- death would bring him back to his father, and not this pseudo-father. “Once you agree you cannot back out. When you finally die you will be untouchable to your family.”

Courage floods the small boy as he feels a cure within touching distance. For the first time in his life he is able to believe, to think of a future without pain and suffering. “I will never back out.” He declares, and for the first time there is no fear in his voice.

Fangs slide out as Sebastian smirks, fingers tighten their grasp in the boy’s hair as he tugs the head back. His arm that holds the boy’s waist, never relents its tight grasp as it forces the boy to bend over backwards. Dark eyes glint as he watches pain streak across the boy’s face.

Finally after years of watching that supple neck. After wanting to taste the blood that he would watch- how the young body teased him with a steady pulse- flow through his body. And now he would get his chance to taste the beautiful boy before him.

Bending down he breathes deeply, with his nose pressed against the soft, pale skin. The boy’s unique scent is too much, almost drives the vampire wild with unrelenting want and lust. Unable to resist the temptation he rolls his hips into the boy’s and is barely able to suppress a chuckle at the boy’s surprised gasp. It takes everything he has to not toss the boy down for a quick romp before continuing. Though is unable to keep his hips completely still as he moves them in small circles, brushing against the boy more then is necessary.

Gently he licks at the soft flesh, tongue drawing a line along the boy’s jugular before pausing above the pulse point. Gently he presses down, feeling the beating slow as he compresses the vessel. Finally he is able to be in control of the same pulse that has teased him…drove him wild for years.

Ciel whimpers as his head falls to the side, ear brushing his bony shoulder, as he tries to urge Sebastian to hurry. The intimacy of the situation leaves him a muddled mess. He tries to clear his mind, yet it is impossible as every breath and every fleeting touch erases all coherent thoughts until nothing but want and need are bubbling inside of him.

A whimpered cry breaks through the boy’s lips as he feels fangs slowly pierce his neck. Slowly they slide deeper until he can feel his warm blood trickle out. Moaning Ciel arches his back as he rolls onto the balls of his feet. Breaths come out in harsh pants as he claws at the black coat before him.

Death is painful. It hurts to have each of your systems slowly shut down until nothing but extreme need is left. Need to end it all. Need to breath properly. Need to have your heart beat that one last beat. Need to try to pull off the cold, prying fingers of the reaper as he slowly climbs up your body. Need to pull that iron clad grasp that holds your chest still, despite how much you fight. No matter what others said, death was always painful.

Sebastian pulls the boy closer as he feels himself drift away to the exquisite taste that rolls across his tongue. He knew this boy would taste sweeter then any of the others that he has ever tried before. But he could have never guessed just how wonderful he would taste. And once the first drop of crimson life had rolled across his tongue, Sebastian knew that he would be forever spoiled; never again would he be able to feed and not remember this one moment. All others will always pale and stale before this beautiful, delicious boy.

He is thrown back into reality as he feels the boy’s grasp weaken in his arms, reluctantly pulling away knowing that he will never be able to find another what will ever taste as good as what this young boy did. Licking at the marks Sebastian nips at his own arm, teeth nicking at the pale skin. Blood wells up and slowly drips over his arm and into the boy’s waiting mouth. A weak moan falls from the boy’s mouth as he licks his lips, his body starting to crave the nutrients. Craving to fill all of his body’s painful needs.

He knows the night will be long for the boy. But when the sun shines its newly born rays. Ciel will be reborn and this time his body will be strong enough to survive. He will be able to shed the shell of his old life, of the body that had failed him. And this time he will be the boy that he had been destined to be.

As he pulls away his arm, the wound already healing perfectly, he watches as the boy’s deep blue eyes flutter shut. Soon enough he would awaken to new senses and a new body. And much like a newborn that suckles on his mother’s teat, Ciel would have to relearn every movement again.

Ciel feels his heart thump one last time, painfully hard in his chest, before fluttering away. And again he is reminded of just how painful death truly was. And again he could feel himself wanting to pry at each place that ached. He wants nothing more then to just cry and scream and kick at the invisible hands that hurt him. Yet he finds it impossible to move, finds his body stock still from the nerve searing pains that consume his body and slowly set it afire.

Fluidly Sebastian scoops up the still boy, gathering him in his arms. Carefully, he wraps the shivering boy in the muddy quilt and turns to the rarely used guest house. Soon the shock of the pains would wear off leaving the boy able to move and scream through the changing. An action that Sebastian would rather not try to explain to curious staff. Instead he decides to be alone with the boy, until he is able to move without a scream being attached.

Carefully he hugs the boy close to him, finding it nearly impossible to keep from still trying to ravish him. ‘Perhaps,’ Sebastian thinks with a smirk as he glances down at the boy in his arms, ‘the first thing I shall teach him is how his new body reacts to pleasure.’ The smirk grows devilish as he kicks the front door shut behind him, closing him off from the rest of the world.

It would be a long night for both of them. A test of strength and of the new bonds that they each held. And for the lust that would soon flow through both of their veins.