Wings
Notes: For Kit ( hanakotoba_fic ) with whom I had a discussion (as in, about two lines) about the differences between Seb/Ron and Seb/Will. I dunno, it seemed like a good idea at the time.
A demon was the last thing Ronald expected to find on his bed.
When they had a meet-up, Sebastian always insisted on following the proper British protocol for a meet-up: namely, sending a letter or phoning first, and entirely without snide little fits. One time, Ronald had sent him flowers, along with the request for a bunk-up, and he'd heard about it for weeks afterwards - weeks!
For Sebastian to wind up on his bed, uninvited and unannounced, meant Something Serious.
However, it was also an hour before work, and Ronald was not in the mood to be charitable. The subtlety of a demon winding up in the Reaper world, and in his bed in particular, went unnoticed as Ronald negotiated his way out of the tangled cotton sheets, and slid out of bed. Cold air slapped at his bare legs as the Reaper moved to stand in front of Sebastian, nearly naked and quite aware of that fact, when Ronald noticed a second odd thing about Sebastian.
Namely, there were two large, heavy, dark wings poking out of the butler's back through shredded holes in his shirt - which Ronald would guarantee upset Sebastian more than, say, the clumps of dried brown-red blood that may or may not have been at the base of the wings.
"... What happened?" And though he'd meant for his voice to be 'snarky' and 'cold' (in other words, just like William), it came out gentle and playful, more chiding than angry, "fuckin' hell. Don't you look a treat all Biblical?"
Ronald could feel Sebastian rolling his eyes, and grinned as he let long, slim fingers poke gently at the feathers - they were far warmer than any bird's, long and black, with a rounded tip like a pigeon's.
Sebastian shuddered, breaking Ronald's concentration. "Don't touch them," the butler said, and maybe it was the early hours and Ronald's over-active imagination, but it sounded as though Sebastian had stuttered then.
A cloth was pushed into his fist. Ronald lifted it, staring first at the cloth, then at Sebastian, then at his back. "Gonna be hard," he said, finally, "for me to clean you up without touching you."
"Just clean the blood off," Sebastian ordered, and bent forwards, with his hands on his knees, bracing himself.
Ronald's wicked grin hadn't more than touched his lips before the demon added, "and if you should think to do anything... Ronald-like, please bear in mind, Reaper, that your supervisor will be quite annoyed to know with whom you are fraternizing."
The grin fell. Ronald huffed sulkily, kneeling behind Sebastian, unsure whether to be amused or alarmed when the demon nudged his knee, and pointed out a basin of water where he could've been relatively certain there hadn't been one before. Oh, brilliant. That was the first sign of needing either a therapist or a psychiatrist, so Eric had said. Myseriously appearing bowls of water.
Then again, it was Eric. Eric lied more often than he told the truth. And at the time of that particular fact-divulging session, Eric had also been drunk enough to decide that dyeing his hair with fabric dye had been a fantastic idea.
Dipping the washcloth into the basin, Ronald made a mental note to steer clear of any shops that might sell dye, and leaned forwards. He touched the point of the wash-cloth to the base of the right wing, rubbing as lightly as he could.
Sebastian shifted, and Ronald tugged at his hair, steadying the demon in place with a hand to the throat.
"One squeeze," Sebastian breathed, "and you'll fly out that window, Knox."
"Reeeelax, I'm a gentleman. I don't strangle people 'fore I've had my tea," Ronald commented absently, then pressed his fingers into Sebastian's windpipe. "Besides. You like the kinky stuff."
"I do. However, your 'kinky stuff'--"
Ronald rolled his eyes - Sebastian was probably unaware of it, but the butler had a way of speaking when he was about to give a lecture that was very distinctive, and usually sent an alarm to Ronald's brain saying 'stop listening now'.
"--as your working man English so woefully calls it--"
Idly, Ronald bent his head, and turned his face to the feathers, wondering what would happen if he just...
"--means pulling. You are not going to pull at my wings. They are quite sensitive, and I will not have you pl-ah-..ah..."
...kissed them.
Ronald brushed his lips across the fragile curvature of Sebastian's wing.
The demon trembled violently, his back drawing tight and taut and prettily stiff.
"Sensitive, huh?" Ronald asked quietly, and dropped the dish-cloth down into the basin, slipping his arm around Sebastian's waist. "That's interesting. That's very interesting."
"Don't you dare," Sebastian warned, yet his nails were drumming, tapping, eager. His voice just couldn't do 'angry'. And that arch to that long, lovely back, that didn't really say 'don't touch' - if Ronald was a betting man, and he was, and he won a substantial amount, he would've been tempted to believe that the demon was tempting him.
Which, of course, he was. But knowing it wasn't a part of the game.
"You don't scare me, demon," Ronald murmured, words painting vibrations against the joint of the left wing, making Sebastian shake harder, making him keen. "You don't scare me at all."
The demon hissed something in a language that Ronald didn't understand, and bent forwards again, stretched out both wings. Smiled, though Ronald couldn't see, and licked sharp, sharp teeth.
"Do your worst, Reaper," Sebastian challenged, "you don't scare me either."
"Might change your mind after this morning," Ronald said, lazily, and rose to close the window, pull the curtains, lock the door.
A demon was the last thing Ronald expected to find on his bed.
When they had a meet-up, Sebastian always insisted on following the proper British protocol for a meet-up: namely, sending a letter or phoning first, and entirely without snide little fits. One time, Ronald had sent him flowers, along with the request for a bunk-up, and he'd heard about it for weeks afterwards - weeks!
For Sebastian to wind up on his bed, uninvited and unannounced, meant Something Serious.
However, it was also an hour before work, and Ronald was not in the mood to be charitable. The subtlety of a demon winding up in the Reaper world, and in his bed in particular, went unnoticed as Ronald negotiated his way out of the tangled cotton sheets, and slid out of bed. Cold air slapped at his bare legs as the Reaper moved to stand in front of Sebastian, nearly naked and quite aware of that fact, when Ronald noticed a second odd thing about Sebastian.
Namely, there were two large, heavy, dark wings poking out of the butler's back through shredded holes in his shirt - which Ronald would guarantee upset Sebastian more than, say, the clumps of dried brown-red blood that may or may not have been at the base of the wings.
"... What happened?" And though he'd meant for his voice to be 'snarky' and 'cold' (in other words, just like William), it came out gentle and playful, more chiding than angry, "fuckin' hell. Don't you look a treat all Biblical?"
Ronald could feel Sebastian rolling his eyes, and grinned as he let long, slim fingers poke gently at the feathers - they were far warmer than any bird's, long and black, with a rounded tip like a pigeon's.
Sebastian shuddered, breaking Ronald's concentration. "Don't touch them," the butler said, and maybe it was the early hours and Ronald's over-active imagination, but it sounded as though Sebastian had stuttered then.
A cloth was pushed into his fist. Ronald lifted it, staring first at the cloth, then at Sebastian, then at his back. "Gonna be hard," he said, finally, "for me to clean you up without touching you."
"Just clean the blood off," Sebastian ordered, and bent forwards, with his hands on his knees, bracing himself.
Ronald's wicked grin hadn't more than touched his lips before the demon added, "and if you should think to do anything... Ronald-like, please bear in mind, Reaper, that your supervisor will be quite annoyed to know with whom you are fraternizing."
The grin fell. Ronald huffed sulkily, kneeling behind Sebastian, unsure whether to be amused or alarmed when the demon nudged his knee, and pointed out a basin of water where he could've been relatively certain there hadn't been one before. Oh, brilliant. That was the first sign of needing either a therapist or a psychiatrist, so Eric had said. Myseriously appearing bowls of water.
Then again, it was Eric. Eric lied more often than he told the truth. And at the time of that particular fact-divulging session, Eric had also been drunk enough to decide that dyeing his hair with fabric dye had been a fantastic idea.
Dipping the washcloth into the basin, Ronald made a mental note to steer clear of any shops that might sell dye, and leaned forwards. He touched the point of the wash-cloth to the base of the right wing, rubbing as lightly as he could.
Sebastian shifted, and Ronald tugged at his hair, steadying the demon in place with a hand to the throat.
"One squeeze," Sebastian breathed, "and you'll fly out that window, Knox."
"Reeeelax, I'm a gentleman. I don't strangle people 'fore I've had my tea," Ronald commented absently, then pressed his fingers into Sebastian's windpipe. "Besides. You like the kinky stuff."
"I do. However, your 'kinky stuff'--"
Ronald rolled his eyes - Sebastian was probably unaware of it, but the butler had a way of speaking when he was about to give a lecture that was very distinctive, and usually sent an alarm to Ronald's brain saying 'stop listening now'.
"--as your working man English so woefully calls it--"
Idly, Ronald bent his head, and turned his face to the feathers, wondering what would happen if he just...
"--means pulling. You are not going to pull at my wings. They are quite sensitive, and I will not have you pl-ah-..ah..."
...kissed them.
Ronald brushed his lips across the fragile curvature of Sebastian's wing.
The demon trembled violently, his back drawing tight and taut and prettily stiff.
"Sensitive, huh?" Ronald asked quietly, and dropped the dish-cloth down into the basin, slipping his arm around Sebastian's waist. "That's interesting. That's very interesting."
"Don't you dare," Sebastian warned, yet his nails were drumming, tapping, eager. His voice just couldn't do 'angry'. And that arch to that long, lovely back, that didn't really say 'don't touch' - if Ronald was a betting man, and he was, and he won a substantial amount, he would've been tempted to believe that the demon was tempting him.
Which, of course, he was. But knowing it wasn't a part of the game.
"You don't scare me, demon," Ronald murmured, words painting vibrations against the joint of the left wing, making Sebastian shake harder, making him keen. "You don't scare me at all."
The demon hissed something in a language that Ronald didn't understand, and bent forwards again, stretched out both wings. Smiled, though Ronald couldn't see, and licked sharp, sharp teeth.
"Do your worst, Reaper," Sebastian challenged, "you don't scare me either."
"Might change your mind after this morning," Ronald said, lazily, and rose to close the window, pull the curtains, lock the door.