Fic: Kuroshitsuji, Bard/Maylene/Finny, "Playtime"
Title: Playtime
Fandom: Kuroshitsuji (Bard/Maylene/Finny)
Words: 2000
Rating: MA
Series: Manga, just before Phantomhive manor is visited by the members of the circus at the end of Chapter 32.
Summary: While Sebastian and Ciel are away, the servants occupy a night's free time.
Prompt: citrus_taste #48: Meet me in the back
Disclaimer: Don't own Kuroshitsuji or profit (except in pleasure) by hijacking it for smut.
Warnings: Graphic threesome with yaoi, yet a bit of a tease.
The house was far too quiet without Mr. Sebastian and the young earl around, and Bard hated it. It wasn't as if there was usually noise in the halls once Ciel Phantomhive was put to bed. The child slept well most nights, and Mr. Sebastian was silent as the grave when he made his rounds, checking to be sure that all was as it should be. But vivid war dreams meant Bard didn't relish sleep, though he did enjoy lying in bed, listening for the barest sounds of the butler's perfect, nearly inaudible footsteps, and the flickering light of the candelabra as it cast a faint glow beneath his door. There would be no footsteps or candles tonight. Tanaka was asleep, resting far from the servants' quarters to keep an eye on Lady Elizabeth, comfortably sleeping in guest chambers. Perhaps it was the right night for a little playtime.
Tossing off the rough wool blanket he preferred to the plush coverlets of the gentry, Bard sat up in bed and smacked his lips. He reached for matches and lit the solitary candle on his side table, then rose in his nightshirt and padded from his room. The moon was high, casting long shadows on his floor beside the little halo of his candle. He made for the room across the hall on feet as quiet as a soldier could make them.
Maylene startled at the knock on her door, blinking long-lashed eyes and groping for her glasses, then remembering the young master who gave them to her was not in the mansion, she reached beneath her bed to be sure her rifle was at hand. "Who is it?" she squawked, voice cracking.
"Bard," came the calm reply, as he turned the knob and let himself in. None of the trio who made terrible servants but vowed to protect the estate with their lives kept their bedroom doors locked in the night, knowing they might be called upon to rise and serve at any hour. However, Bard observed, Maylene apparently slept more soundly than he. Or maybe it was just her poor eyesight as she blinked owlishly up at him.
"What is it?" she asked, swinging her legs around to sit up in bed, less tense now, for if there truly was trouble, she'd know it.
"I'm bored," muttered Bard, leaning against her door frame and holding up his slender candle.
"Oh, go back to bed," Maylene announced with a dismissive wave of her hand. The man was always bored, always looking for something to fill that agitated mind of his. He'd told a few tales of his past, and the kind of violence he'd seen certainly justified agitation, but she didn't need it aimed in her direction. She was nervous enough as it was. Maylene was content to do all in her power to please Mr. Sebastian and the young earl of Phantomhive, even though she rarely succeeded better than Bardroy, the master of food-burning.
"Let's wake Finny," Bard replied with a lop-sided grin, reaching up to scratch his chin stubble with his free hand.
Those three words were possibly the only thing he could have said that kept Maylene from rising and putting Bard out of her room by (clumsy) force. Finny. Such a sweet child-like young man. She had a soft spot for him, no question. And waking Finny-on the few occasions when the butler and his young charge were away from the estate-was a pleasure it was difficult to forego. She made a soft, ineffectual sound of protest, trying to behave.
Bard chuckled. "C'mon." Then, he turned from her door and made his way to the room beside his, where their prey slept. Maylene followed, leaving her glasses behind.
If Bard never found sleep easy and Maylene was easily roused, Finny was their opposite. Once awake, he, like his companion servants, was instantly alert and ready to take on whatever task was demanded of him (with varying success depending on whether he was asked to smash down a wall or arrange flowers in a vase). But waking him was an effort. And at this moment, an effort of pleasure for bored Bard and mischievous Maylene.
The door opened with a tiny creak, and the moonlight spilled over the precious sight of the small figure of Finian in sleep. He was curled in his blankets, thumb in his partly open mouth, for all the world exactly like the boy he so often seemed. Maylene let out a whispered, "Awwww," and Bard hushed her. There was no need, of course, for such a small sound wouldn't wake the softly snoring creature, but stealth gave Bard pleasure in this little game as he approached.
It was easy work for Maylene to gently untangle him from his covers and for Bard to pass her the candle and lift the limp body into his arms. Finian shifted and grunted a little, then lay his head on the broad chest of the tall man and fell back into his dreams. Maylene smiled and leaned in to press a kiss to his forehead. Such a dear boy, she thought, as a delighted shiver ran through her, settling between her legs. "Where to?" she asked Bard in a voice rich with desire.
"Butcher block," said the soldier-chef in his usual, stern voice, a man of few words when his dick was hard. Maylene sighed. So many lovely settings in which to play, and he always chose the kitchen. Still, last time was her choice and it was the lovely bear-skin rug in the library. How cozy and delightful that had been. She felt the familiar moisture begin to pool and shrugged a little as she followed Bard from the room.
Tiptoeing past Tanaka's room, they made their way softly to the kitchen. Bard enjoyed the little weight of Finny in his arms, reminding himself as they walked the pleasure this always brought, an escape from a soldier's mind, especially one with so little work to do at present. Simultaneously, Maylene was scurrying behind in her sleeping cap and overlong nightgown, trying not to trip on the hall carpet. She was envisioning all the little sounds she would pry from Finny's lips with the right teasing caresses. So much fun for all three of them on a still, moonlit night!
At last they arrived at their destination, Finny still fast asleep. Maylene hurried to the cupboard and found the gas lamp she sought. With effort, she was able to light it and bring it to where Bard was draping Finny over the large, clean butcher block in the corner. Bard grinned hard as he took a half-full pitcher of water and doused the unsuspecting sleeper.
Finny woke with gasps and choking noises, face turning to see a line of knives protruding from slots along the far edge of the block. He yelped and tried to rise but found himself pinned at his lower back by Bard's broad hand. He whined more softly as he wakened fully and grasped the situation.
"You didn't have to make him all soggy," Maylene complained, grabbing a towel to wipe off the poor wet face and dripping hair. She was as careful and gentle with Finny as she could be, given the blur before her weak eyes at this range.
Bard was busy hiking up Finny's nightshirt and responded with a grunt. "He's awake now," he offered, running his strong hands up the meat of Finny's slender thighs.
Finny moaned, a pretty sound to his kidnappers' ears, one they knew well and enjoyed thoroughly. "Hello, Finian," Maylene said, unnecessarily, stroking his hair wet back from his face, then tugging it to cock his head back so he'd moan again. Finny obliged.
Bard had Finny's plump little behind raised and his legs kicked apart. He considered trussing him up, tying his ankles to the legs of the butcher block, but Finny was so cooperative, there was hardly need. He shrugged and decided to leave him as he was for the moment, then headed to the larder. So much to choose from here. Should he be lubricated with olive oil or butter? Another shrug and Bard claimed the soft stick of butter and brought it back to Finny, who hadn't moved an inch, though Maylene had.
With purpose but little grace, Maylene had climbed on top of the block and was spreading her long legs on either side of Finny's face. Bard took in the sight of the dark curls of her sex in the flickering light and Finny's parted lips. The boy did so love to be taken.
"See Maylene's pretty place, Finny? Shall I touch it for you?" she coaxed, parting her lips and exposing the pale, moist pinkness beneath.
Finny whimpered and did his best to nod as Bard came up behind him and slathered his ass, cock, and balls with butter. That made his whimper a rewarding long "Ohhhhhhh" of a moan that stirred Bard's cock to full hardness, and he lifted his nightclothes to release it.
Maylene watched as well as her eyes allowed as Finny was prepared. Bard was in a hurry tonight, it seemed, so she slipped her finger out and into Finny's mouth quickly, and he sucked like the obedient little plaything he was. "Mmm," praised Maylene, "so nice." She withdrew the digit gently, then, in a deft move that broadened Bard's smile the more, she gripped Finny by the hair and ground her mound into his waiting mouth.
Bard buttered his impatient prick and rubbed it between Finny's cheeks. The blonde's response was muffled by his lovely mouthful, but it spurred on the already hungry chef, who gripped his own cock and Finny's downward pointing erection and rubbed them together with rough pleasure.
"Oh yes, Finny," enthused Maylene, spreading herself wider with one hand and tugging Finny's scalp to bring herself even more sensation from his eagerly lapping tongue and his soft, eager lips. "Just like that, you pretty little whore."
Though such talk was not his forte, he did enjoy a dirty-mouthed woman, and when Maylene was aroused, she was a joy to hear. He chuckled as he pumped his shaft tight against Finny's. Soon, so soon, he'd ram it up that tight hole, but he enjoyed holding back for just a few moments.
Finny's muffled moans drove Maylene on, bucking and riding the devoted mouth of her delightful plaything. She watched the blurry expression of desire on Bard's face through hooded eyes as he toyed with but did not penetrate yet. She was swelling and wet and nearing climax, but she loved spurring Bard on. "That hard cock of yours," she panted, "it's just longing…to be buried…in that tight little ass." She gasped with pleasure and moaned, "isn't it, Bard?"
The usually squeaky, insecure voice was breathy and so ripe with excitement now. Both Bard and Finny groaned simultaneously at the sweet sound of it and the decidedly unladylike words. "Gonna fuck you good, boy," Bard ground out between gritted teeth, and lined his cock up to do just that. As he adjusted and forced his way in, something made him pause.
In that instant, all the three froze. No question about it: there was a sound. Someone was on the grounds. Bard swore under his breath and withdrew, Maylene slid back, and Finny whimpered in disappointment. "Let's go," Bard commanded, and the three rose and ran silently back to their rooms to dress and speedily prepare to greet their guests.
Finny would slip outdoors, pretending to have been awakened from sleep when he met whoever was loose on the premises.
Maylene would station herself among the rifles on the rooftop, ready to fire.
Bard would greet their guests at the top of the grand staircase, should whomever it might be get that far.
Yes, playtime would have to wait. But that was as it should be for those sworn to protect the manor of Phantomhive. There was always tomorrow.
~
Fandom: Kuroshitsuji (Bard/Maylene/Finny)
Words: 2000
Rating: MA
Series: Manga, just before Phantomhive manor is visited by the members of the circus at the end of Chapter 32.
Summary: While Sebastian and Ciel are away, the servants occupy a night's free time.
Prompt: citrus_taste #48: Meet me in the back
Disclaimer: Don't own Kuroshitsuji or profit (except in pleasure) by hijacking it for smut.
Warnings: Graphic threesome with yaoi, yet a bit of a tease.
The house was far too quiet without Mr. Sebastian and the young earl around, and Bard hated it. It wasn't as if there was usually noise in the halls once Ciel Phantomhive was put to bed. The child slept well most nights, and Mr. Sebastian was silent as the grave when he made his rounds, checking to be sure that all was as it should be. But vivid war dreams meant Bard didn't relish sleep, though he did enjoy lying in bed, listening for the barest sounds of the butler's perfect, nearly inaudible footsteps, and the flickering light of the candelabra as it cast a faint glow beneath his door. There would be no footsteps or candles tonight. Tanaka was asleep, resting far from the servants' quarters to keep an eye on Lady Elizabeth, comfortably sleeping in guest chambers. Perhaps it was the right night for a little playtime.
Tossing off the rough wool blanket he preferred to the plush coverlets of the gentry, Bard sat up in bed and smacked his lips. He reached for matches and lit the solitary candle on his side table, then rose in his nightshirt and padded from his room. The moon was high, casting long shadows on his floor beside the little halo of his candle. He made for the room across the hall on feet as quiet as a soldier could make them.
Maylene startled at the knock on her door, blinking long-lashed eyes and groping for her glasses, then remembering the young master who gave them to her was not in the mansion, she reached beneath her bed to be sure her rifle was at hand. "Who is it?" she squawked, voice cracking.
"Bard," came the calm reply, as he turned the knob and let himself in. None of the trio who made terrible servants but vowed to protect the estate with their lives kept their bedroom doors locked in the night, knowing they might be called upon to rise and serve at any hour. However, Bard observed, Maylene apparently slept more soundly than he. Or maybe it was just her poor eyesight as she blinked owlishly up at him.
"What is it?" she asked, swinging her legs around to sit up in bed, less tense now, for if there truly was trouble, she'd know it.
"I'm bored," muttered Bard, leaning against her door frame and holding up his slender candle.
"Oh, go back to bed," Maylene announced with a dismissive wave of her hand. The man was always bored, always looking for something to fill that agitated mind of his. He'd told a few tales of his past, and the kind of violence he'd seen certainly justified agitation, but she didn't need it aimed in her direction. She was nervous enough as it was. Maylene was content to do all in her power to please Mr. Sebastian and the young earl of Phantomhive, even though she rarely succeeded better than Bardroy, the master of food-burning.
"Let's wake Finny," Bard replied with a lop-sided grin, reaching up to scratch his chin stubble with his free hand.
Those three words were possibly the only thing he could have said that kept Maylene from rising and putting Bard out of her room by (clumsy) force. Finny. Such a sweet child-like young man. She had a soft spot for him, no question. And waking Finny-on the few occasions when the butler and his young charge were away from the estate-was a pleasure it was difficult to forego. She made a soft, ineffectual sound of protest, trying to behave.
Bard chuckled. "C'mon." Then, he turned from her door and made his way to the room beside his, where their prey slept. Maylene followed, leaving her glasses behind.
If Bard never found sleep easy and Maylene was easily roused, Finny was their opposite. Once awake, he, like his companion servants, was instantly alert and ready to take on whatever task was demanded of him (with varying success depending on whether he was asked to smash down a wall or arrange flowers in a vase). But waking him was an effort. And at this moment, an effort of pleasure for bored Bard and mischievous Maylene.
The door opened with a tiny creak, and the moonlight spilled over the precious sight of the small figure of Finian in sleep. He was curled in his blankets, thumb in his partly open mouth, for all the world exactly like the boy he so often seemed. Maylene let out a whispered, "Awwww," and Bard hushed her. There was no need, of course, for such a small sound wouldn't wake the softly snoring creature, but stealth gave Bard pleasure in this little game as he approached.
It was easy work for Maylene to gently untangle him from his covers and for Bard to pass her the candle and lift the limp body into his arms. Finian shifted and grunted a little, then lay his head on the broad chest of the tall man and fell back into his dreams. Maylene smiled and leaned in to press a kiss to his forehead. Such a dear boy, she thought, as a delighted shiver ran through her, settling between her legs. "Where to?" she asked Bard in a voice rich with desire.
"Butcher block," said the soldier-chef in his usual, stern voice, a man of few words when his dick was hard. Maylene sighed. So many lovely settings in which to play, and he always chose the kitchen. Still, last time was her choice and it was the lovely bear-skin rug in the library. How cozy and delightful that had been. She felt the familiar moisture begin to pool and shrugged a little as she followed Bard from the room.
Tiptoeing past Tanaka's room, they made their way softly to the kitchen. Bard enjoyed the little weight of Finny in his arms, reminding himself as they walked the pleasure this always brought, an escape from a soldier's mind, especially one with so little work to do at present. Simultaneously, Maylene was scurrying behind in her sleeping cap and overlong nightgown, trying not to trip on the hall carpet. She was envisioning all the little sounds she would pry from Finny's lips with the right teasing caresses. So much fun for all three of them on a still, moonlit night!
At last they arrived at their destination, Finny still fast asleep. Maylene hurried to the cupboard and found the gas lamp she sought. With effort, she was able to light it and bring it to where Bard was draping Finny over the large, clean butcher block in the corner. Bard grinned hard as he took a half-full pitcher of water and doused the unsuspecting sleeper.
Finny woke with gasps and choking noises, face turning to see a line of knives protruding from slots along the far edge of the block. He yelped and tried to rise but found himself pinned at his lower back by Bard's broad hand. He whined more softly as he wakened fully and grasped the situation.
"You didn't have to make him all soggy," Maylene complained, grabbing a towel to wipe off the poor wet face and dripping hair. She was as careful and gentle with Finny as she could be, given the blur before her weak eyes at this range.
Bard was busy hiking up Finny's nightshirt and responded with a grunt. "He's awake now," he offered, running his strong hands up the meat of Finny's slender thighs.
Finny moaned, a pretty sound to his kidnappers' ears, one they knew well and enjoyed thoroughly. "Hello, Finian," Maylene said, unnecessarily, stroking his hair wet back from his face, then tugging it to cock his head back so he'd moan again. Finny obliged.
Bard had Finny's plump little behind raised and his legs kicked apart. He considered trussing him up, tying his ankles to the legs of the butcher block, but Finny was so cooperative, there was hardly need. He shrugged and decided to leave him as he was for the moment, then headed to the larder. So much to choose from here. Should he be lubricated with olive oil or butter? Another shrug and Bard claimed the soft stick of butter and brought it back to Finny, who hadn't moved an inch, though Maylene had.
With purpose but little grace, Maylene had climbed on top of the block and was spreading her long legs on either side of Finny's face. Bard took in the sight of the dark curls of her sex in the flickering light and Finny's parted lips. The boy did so love to be taken.
"See Maylene's pretty place, Finny? Shall I touch it for you?" she coaxed, parting her lips and exposing the pale, moist pinkness beneath.
Finny whimpered and did his best to nod as Bard came up behind him and slathered his ass, cock, and balls with butter. That made his whimper a rewarding long "Ohhhhhhh" of a moan that stirred Bard's cock to full hardness, and he lifted his nightclothes to release it.
Maylene watched as well as her eyes allowed as Finny was prepared. Bard was in a hurry tonight, it seemed, so she slipped her finger out and into Finny's mouth quickly, and he sucked like the obedient little plaything he was. "Mmm," praised Maylene, "so nice." She withdrew the digit gently, then, in a deft move that broadened Bard's smile the more, she gripped Finny by the hair and ground her mound into his waiting mouth.
Bard buttered his impatient prick and rubbed it between Finny's cheeks. The blonde's response was muffled by his lovely mouthful, but it spurred on the already hungry chef, who gripped his own cock and Finny's downward pointing erection and rubbed them together with rough pleasure.
"Oh yes, Finny," enthused Maylene, spreading herself wider with one hand and tugging Finny's scalp to bring herself even more sensation from his eagerly lapping tongue and his soft, eager lips. "Just like that, you pretty little whore."
Though such talk was not his forte, he did enjoy a dirty-mouthed woman, and when Maylene was aroused, she was a joy to hear. He chuckled as he pumped his shaft tight against Finny's. Soon, so soon, he'd ram it up that tight hole, but he enjoyed holding back for just a few moments.
Finny's muffled moans drove Maylene on, bucking and riding the devoted mouth of her delightful plaything. She watched the blurry expression of desire on Bard's face through hooded eyes as he toyed with but did not penetrate yet. She was swelling and wet and nearing climax, but she loved spurring Bard on. "That hard cock of yours," she panted, "it's just longing…to be buried…in that tight little ass." She gasped with pleasure and moaned, "isn't it, Bard?"
The usually squeaky, insecure voice was breathy and so ripe with excitement now. Both Bard and Finny groaned simultaneously at the sweet sound of it and the decidedly unladylike words. "Gonna fuck you good, boy," Bard ground out between gritted teeth, and lined his cock up to do just that. As he adjusted and forced his way in, something made him pause.
In that instant, all the three froze. No question about it: there was a sound. Someone was on the grounds. Bard swore under his breath and withdrew, Maylene slid back, and Finny whimpered in disappointment. "Let's go," Bard commanded, and the three rose and ran silently back to their rooms to dress and speedily prepare to greet their guests.
Finny would slip outdoors, pretending to have been awakened from sleep when he met whoever was loose on the premises.
Maylene would station herself among the rifles on the rooftop, ready to fire.
Bard would greet their guests at the top of the grand staircase, should whomever it might be get that far.
Yes, playtime would have to wait. But that was as it should be for those sworn to protect the manor of Phantomhive. There was always tomorrow.
~