So, no FD here!
So, not actually participating in FD this round, but am behind on GF/PF anyway, so will post this now.
Title: Morning Routine
Fandom: Kuroshitsuji
For: animegirl07
Prompt: lace-up boots, Ciel/Sebastian
Ciel hisses, heat rising to his face as he fights to keep from squirming. The silk of Sebastian’s gloves brushes against his ankle again, feather-light and teasing. He bites his lip, refusing to be affected by Sebastian’s games, and moves his leg out of the way, just slightly.
“Complete your tasks without distraction, Sebastian.”
“Of course, bocchan,” Sebastian allows, but there’s a smirk in his voice that tells Ciel he’s played right into Sebastian’s expectations. Ciel huffs, just a bit, as Sebastian’s fingers fly through the rest of the lacing efficiently, without any more lingering touches.
Ciel refuses to let him “win” this little game, though, and when Sebastian rises from bended knee gracefully, Ciel’s small hand against his chest stops him mid-way, in a half-risen position that would look awkward for anyone else. But there’s elegance in the bend of his half-folded knees, in the curve of the cloth over his back, and Ciel can’t help but be uncomfortably aware of it as an order blooms in his mouth like a wilting flower.
“I want you to kiss me,” he says, and his reward sparks across Sebastian’s face, a flicker of surprise. It settles quickly into a smirk, but it’s an expression laced with approval. This is a point to him, then, a flaunting of his butler’s anticipations. He swallows hard, and forces the snakeish coil of panic in his gut to settle. He is a Phantomhive - he refuses to be afraid of anything, be it enemies, situations, or unexplored sexuality.
“Yes, my lord,” Sebastian replies, and the smirk deepens as he leans forward and presses his lips against Ciel’s.
It’s like drowning, Ciel decides, as Sebastian slowly coaxes his mouth open, the press of his lips gentle but unrelenting, like drowning in a midnight sea, cold and powerful and imposing and beautiful and black all at once. It steals his breath, the intensity, the immenseness of it, and he pulls away. Pretends his hands aren’t shaking where they’re curled around the arms of his chair.
“You may go,” he says, proud that his voice, at least, remains clear and sharp like a clarion sounding in the morning air. Sebastian rises, bows, and leaves him for the moment, though he will certainly return to fetch Ciel like a disobedient child if he tarries too long. Ciel pulls air into lungs that are frozen in his chest and presses his mouth into a line, holding that breath until his chest burns with the effort of it. Perhaps it was foolish, to take this leap, to push through unknown waters that, like so many things surrounding Sebastian, threaten to pull him under and hold him down.
But he has made his move, and the piece is in play, and once a piece is set in play, the move can never be recalled.
Title: Morning Routine
Fandom: Kuroshitsuji
For: animegirl07
Prompt: lace-up boots, Ciel/Sebastian
Ciel hisses, heat rising to his face as he fights to keep from squirming. The silk of Sebastian’s gloves brushes against his ankle again, feather-light and teasing. He bites his lip, refusing to be affected by Sebastian’s games, and moves his leg out of the way, just slightly.
“Complete your tasks without distraction, Sebastian.”
“Of course, bocchan,” Sebastian allows, but there’s a smirk in his voice that tells Ciel he’s played right into Sebastian’s expectations. Ciel huffs, just a bit, as Sebastian’s fingers fly through the rest of the lacing efficiently, without any more lingering touches.
Ciel refuses to let him “win” this little game, though, and when Sebastian rises from bended knee gracefully, Ciel’s small hand against his chest stops him mid-way, in a half-risen position that would look awkward for anyone else. But there’s elegance in the bend of his half-folded knees, in the curve of the cloth over his back, and Ciel can’t help but be uncomfortably aware of it as an order blooms in his mouth like a wilting flower.
“I want you to kiss me,” he says, and his reward sparks across Sebastian’s face, a flicker of surprise. It settles quickly into a smirk, but it’s an expression laced with approval. This is a point to him, then, a flaunting of his butler’s anticipations. He swallows hard, and forces the snakeish coil of panic in his gut to settle. He is a Phantomhive - he refuses to be afraid of anything, be it enemies, situations, or unexplored sexuality.
“Yes, my lord,” Sebastian replies, and the smirk deepens as he leans forward and presses his lips against Ciel’s.
It’s like drowning, Ciel decides, as Sebastian slowly coaxes his mouth open, the press of his lips gentle but unrelenting, like drowning in a midnight sea, cold and powerful and imposing and beautiful and black all at once. It steals his breath, the intensity, the immenseness of it, and he pulls away. Pretends his hands aren’t shaking where they’re curled around the arms of his chair.
“You may go,” he says, proud that his voice, at least, remains clear and sharp like a clarion sounding in the morning air. Sebastian rises, bows, and leaves him for the moment, though he will certainly return to fetch Ciel like a disobedient child if he tarries too long. Ciel pulls air into lungs that are frozen in his chest and presses his mouth into a line, holding that breath until his chest burns with the effort of it. Perhaps it was foolish, to take this leap, to push through unknown waters that, like so many things surrounding Sebastian, threaten to pull him under and hold him down.
But he has made his move, and the piece is in play, and once a piece is set in play, the move can never be recalled.