The music floats through the air, happily and lazily without a second thought. Every note wafts into the listener's ears as the hourglass figures of elegant women pressed to dashing men flit around. Women's skirt fabric shifts in my ears as does the shuffling of the men's feet. Everything seems like it's out of a fairy tale, like the kind mother would read to me if I behaved that day. All the girls perfect, the opposite sex their mirror image but in what they desire, everything seems so perfect.
As it should, after all this is a Phantomhive ball held at the newly restored Phantomhive manor. Why shouldn't they all glide around the floor like the meaningless pawns they are, mere decoration in my vile name. Let them dance, let their ignorance scar me further for tonight is a night of 'celebration' as my Aunt Red calls it. To be honest I have no idea what could possibly be 'celebrated' in the return of my person. She calls it a blessing I call it another adjective. Either way one slices it I'm still left alone, the odd one out at my own wretched party.
"Ciel, darling!" My flamboyant aunt crows, sashaying to my side on the outskirts of the ballroom, "Please join your own party my dear! This is the celebration of your return!"
"I don't like dancing." I say crossing my arms over the stuffy outfit she somehow wrangled me into, "Besides, my broken rib still hurts."
She sighs, finger combing some of my hair, "Ciel
I'm sorry I thought a party would cheer you up."
"You thought wrong." I sigh, "Honestly, just enjoy yourself, don't fret over a sour boy. I'm sure there's some man dying to have his hand down your bodice."
"It's true. I may be young, madam, but I'm not stupid."
Her mouth pops open and close like a fish out of water as she searches for words before finally shaking her head, smacking me upside mine, "Child, so much like your father, always speaking his mind."
My heart tightens. My father, Vincent Phantomhive, that pile of ash under the ground in the exclusive Phantomhive burial ground. The only memento of him I still can hold onto his a few shirts that survived and his ring. My fingers idly trace the large blue diamond as Auntie picks up on my demeanor.
She inhales sharply biting her crimson lip, "Oh, God, Ciel I'm
"It's fine." I snap, "He's dead, I remind you of him. End of story."
"Just enjoy the party." I exhale tightly, sick of her pity, "I don't need your fawning."
At last she does as she's told, exiting my side and into the sea of people that seem to be nothing more than a colourful illusion in my eyes. Until however in those colours stands one of dark, not a rich one of blue or green or red but black.
There by a wall the same as mine stands him, that tall, lean, demonic savior that heard my cries of need in what I presumed to be my final moments. He, Sebastian Michaelis, remains a still statue with those cunning red eyes trained on me and only me. Something in my chest stops at the meeting of those eyes, so red and deep, slanted in lust tainted with passion. My throat tightens at the smirk that pulls the demon's lip at my apparent expression, for judging by my internal stirrings I'm sure I have a stupid look on my face.
I don't know what it is about him that makes me feel like I'm faint, like my head is swimming in the sky and only my heart is capable in making any logical decisions. Maybe it's those eyes I've come of loathe in a wanting way, or perhaps those lips that I've found myself dreaming of for nights on end, whatever it is I can't get him out of my head. The smirk expands to a grin as he flicks back some of that long hair of his and takes his first steps towards me.
Within moments he's standing before me, those eyes glistening down upon me, piercing the soul I've sold to him. Extending a gloved hand he kneels to one knee, keeping those eyes on mine, "My Lord," he starts, that alluring voice of his worsening my condition of sin, "May I have this dance?"
Tightening the muscles in my arms I press them deeper into my chest, "No. Not in front of all these people, are you mad?"
"I have another venue in mind, my Lord." He informs me, "Outside if your asthma permits."
"I could show you as we dance, for the next song is to begin and as a new master and servant I would like to use it to get to know you better." He slides his hand under mine, I cannot help but melt at his touch, "Come, I think you will like how the garden looks under such light."
Before I can so much breathe a word of protest he takes my hand and effortlessly pulls me outside and into his arms in what seems to be a fraction of a moment. We stand, chest to chest, he positioned as the man and I as the woman in a formal dance amongst the aristocrats. Those red eyes seems to shine brighter, that smirk more heartbreaking as he holds me close to the point of I can feel his slight heart beat.
Closing my eyes I press my forehead to his chest, inhaling his scent trying to assure myself that this is a dream. Just another one of my twisted fantasies of me wanting my butler of all people. I'm asleep, not awake, and Sebastian is not holding me close.
"Young master, open your eyes, the music is about to start and it is rude to not look your partner in the eyes while dancing." Sebastian teases, knowing good and well on the pounding heart in my chest and anticipated nerves.
"No." I murmur.
The music begins, Sebastian taking the lead dancing as if we're on air. I can feel his lips brush the top of my head as he mutters something I can't register at the moment as his hold on my waist lowers.
"My Lord, please, at least see what I've spent so much time creating for you." He insists, a slight whine to his tone.
Not able to resist him for much longer I open my eyes to see the white rose gardens I used to love so much as a child. Surrounding us in the moonlight they all glimmer with tiny dew drops carefully sprinkled on them. No matter where we turn the roses glow a captivating opal in the natural light but sparkle in the artificial light of the manor.
quite beautiful, Sebastian." I whisper, leaning my head on his chest as he twirls us, "I didn't know a demon could make such beauty
"Or find such beauty." He muses.
"What are you talking about?" I laugh faintly, "White roses are rather common, not that much of a hassle."
Sebastian stops even as the music continues inside alongside the traditional dance amongst men and women inside. Those deep ruby eyes search deep inside me as he keeps me close, "I wasn't referring to the roses, my Lord."
I can feel the blush growing on my face as I tilt my head upward to meet his face, "My soul then?" I ask, my voice lower than a murmur, I don't even know if he heard me.
"No," he replies, his voice as undetectable as mine, "You."
Pure want and desire blossom in my chest as he brings our lips together, gently meeting them then parting only to be brought together in a more heated need. My hand that rested in his flutters to his shoulder as his arms encase me, one around my torso the other on my face. His thumb traces my jaw line as his tongue does the same in my mouth. Shock runs up and down my spine as I feel the electricity of what must be love race through me, pounding in me like a fire in my blood.
He moves his lips from my mouth to my neck, kissing down my soft skin, his fingers that once traced my face now wander to the front of my dressing, toying with buttons and lace. I gasp as he bites on my collarbone and his free hand finds a way under my clothes. His hands are slightly cold but are warming due to our temperature as he explores my body to the best that clothes allow.
Suddenly he scoops me into his arms, burying his face in my neck, I gather his silky black hair under my fingers, "Excuse me, my Lord." He apologizes into my neck, adrenaline still pumping through me, "That was out of line. A butler should never express that sort of passion in public revenue. I do hope you can forgive me."
He lifts his face from my neck, those eyes threatening to cause my heart to implode. I lean closer to him, allowing my lips to linger centimeters from his. His body instinctively leans forward in anticipation but his propriety forces him to remain at bay. I want to laugh at both how close our lips are and yet how much self control he shows of not giving in.
Wrapping an arm around his torso I say into his trembling lips, "Oh I can forgive you." I kiss him, tugging his coattails into a lustful embrace, "But can you forgive me?"
He smiles, resting his forehead to mine, "Yes, my Lord."