Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ciel doesn’t wake up with a headache, but he does wake up pissed . He’s hardly started to shift out of sleep, but he’s already registering the sunlight filtering into the room and the distinct lack of another person in bed with him. 

He opens his eyes and rolls onto his back, glaring at the empty space beside him. 

Last night is still fresh in his mind. One moment he’d been awake, kissing Sebastian after finally, finally getting the man into bed. And the next, he’d been drifting off to sleep. It’d happened so fast he hardly noticed what the man was doing. It was unlike him to fall into a trap so easily, and especially with someone so unfamiliar. 

He’d been had. It pissed him off to no end. 

Thrashing at the sheets grumpily, he sits up and rubs at his eyes, trying to force himself alert. The hotel room is almost exactly as he remembers it last night, sans Sebastian’s shoes, now missing from beside the door. As well, the man had folded Ciel’s clothes and left them on a plush chair that probably cost as much as Ciel’s tuition. 

His stomach drops. 

This hotel isn’t exactly in his price range . 

Usually, he takes care to make sure he sees the men he goes along with pay for the room. He hadn’t been nearly careful enough this time, a little too easily worked up by Sebastian. It’s embarrassing, really, but he got himself into this situation. He has no idea how he’s going to get out of it , but he’ll manage; he always manages. Groggily, he slides out of the bed and begins to dress. His clothes from the previous night feel rough against his skin after the pampering of the hotel robe, and he mourns that he can’t take it with him. He’d never take it off if he could. 

Ciel has just finished dressing when there’s sound outside the door. He freezes, hands stilling on the final button. 

His first thought is that it’s Sebastian, that the man had never left. Maybe he’d only stepped out, maybe for a cigarette, or breakfast. Ciel is hungry. Maybe he’d anticipated that the boy would want breakfast, and he’d left for just a moment to fetch it. He did seem awfully concerned with Ciel’s wellbeing the night before; it wasn’t entirely implausible.

The thought is a relief, even as Ciel stares at the door handle, waiting for it to turn. It’s only because they left things unfinished, he thinks, nodding to himself, hands falling from the buttons. He went out last night looking for someone to fuck him, and he didn’t get it-- he’s unsatisfied, is all. It has absolutely nothing to do with the man himself. 

Still, he watches the door closely, listening hard. Nothing. The sound outside stops. Ciel inhales sharply. And then-

Someone knocks on the door. 

Curious. Sebastian had the door key, Ciel thinks. 

He walks towards the door and peers through the peephole, irritated that he has to press up on his toes to reach it. Outside, someone has carefully left a tray laden with breakfast on the ground in front of the door. Ciel can see a room service uniform retreating down the hall. 

His shoulder slump. Disappointment is bitter and humiliating, and Ciel wants to kick something. Instead, he opens the door and takes the tray. He’s mad and he’s embarrassed, but he’s also starving. 

The tray is carefully laden with some of the most decadent-looking food Ciel’s seen in his life. He wastes no time in eating it, taking it up onto the luxurious bed with him. If he’s going to be abandoned in this hotel room, he’s going to make the most of it. Carelessly, he spills crumbs on the bed, lets droplets of juice stain the comforter, and tangles the sheets around the mess. It’s as he’s pressing ripe strawberries to his lips that he sees the note, and then the money. 

Crawling across the bed, Ciel frowns. Folded into a neat square on the nightstand is a sheet of paper, one perfectly-drawn heart on the outside. Beside it is a wad of cash, rolled and rubber banded. 

Mouth dry, Ciel takes the note, unfolding it carefully. Part of him is relieved, again. Certainly, Sebastian has left his number. Or an address. Or a fucking email -- he seems the eccentric type-- but anything to give Ciel a way to get to him again. 

Instead, it’s two little lines, the words neat and uniform. The room is paid for. Check-out is two-thirty.  

Another cycle of disappointment. With a shout, iIel crumples the note in his fist, kicking his feet against the bed. On the nightstand, the wad of cash taunts him. He feels like a common whore, but without the part he signed up for. How dare that man not even fuck him and then leave him here like a cheap hooker. He feels used, and above all, he feels like a child for not seeing this coming. 

His face feels hot. He won’t be made a fool of like this-- not without putting up a fight, at least. He’s got no clues, nothing to go on except the man’s name (which could be fake), his car (of which Ciel didn’t think to take a picture of the plates), and the fact that he has enough money to rent a place like this (and then not even fuck Ciel in it). 

He makes a petulant mess of the breakfast tray and then collects himself as best he can. He straightens himself in the mirror, frowning when he notices how smooth his hair looks. He had let Sebastian wash it after all. If only the bastard were here, Ciel bets he would be smug about it. He seems the type. 

Ciel hesitates by the bedside for only a moment before taking the money. If it’s there , he might as well, he tells himself. 

It’s not that he doesn’t like taking money from men. He’s done it before, and he’ll probably do it again. But that’s what it is: usually he takes it from them, digging into their pockets as they sleep, or slipping it from their fingers when they’re too drunk to keep him at bay. Sebastian would be the first to give him money, and Ciel’s not sure what for. He doesn’t like not knowing things. 

The lobby is as gilded and beautiful as he remembers, and he’s loath to leave it so soon. He’s always had a shine for pretty things, but he hardly had anything in his life word fawning over. Sometimes, he’d look at his brother’s pretty things— rings, jewelry, toys— but it wasn’t the same. He’s always wanting after something of his own. Maybe he’ll buy himself his own ring, a nicer one than even his brother’s. 

𖤐⭒๋𖤐⭒๋𖤐⭒๋𖤐⭒๋𖤐⭒๋

Even days later, Ciel is lingering on the night. 

He hadn’t spent the money after all, stashing in his room among his more secret clothes. Not that his parents paid enough tension to go through his things, but there was something satisfying about having something that only he knew about. 

It’s not just the money, though. Ciel finds himself daydreaming over big, strong hands carding gently through his hair, massaging over his calves, his shoulders. A strong, soft mouth bigger than his own pressing to his lips, his neck, his cheek. He’s let a lot of people touch him before, though none have ever been so gentle as Sebastian was. He can only imagine—- flushed and curled up in bed, one hand tucked between his legs—- what it would be like for Sebastian to fuck him. It was embarrassing to admit how excited he'd been on the car ride to the hotel, and disappointment didn’t sit well with him. It never did when Ciel didn’t get what he wanted. 

It’s as easy as always to get into the club. 

It’s the same one where he met Sebastian, and he’s been here every night since. The first night, he’d settled himself at the bar for hours, lazily accepting whatever drinks he was given. A flash of dark hair, a lanky figure, a peculiar outfit choice— anything that could have possibly been him, Ciel followed doggedly with his eyes, trying for even a glimpse of Sebastian. 

It was only disappointment he found, stomach sinking lower and lower as the night wore on. Plenty of men he’d usually go for approached him, but Ciel could hardly focus on them, always drifting away from the conversation, drawn to his search. Eventually, every man gave up, usually with a muttered curse about how Ciel was a whore or a brat anyway. 

He went home tipsy and in a bad mood, puking for half an hour over the toilet. How mother only came to check on him once, before ignoring the sound for the rest of the night. It’d been a long time since Ciel let himself get drunk enough to throw up, and he’d feigned sick the next morning.

The second night, and then the third, and the fourth and now, tonight, the fifth all went the same. Ciel accepted only half the drinks offered to him, entertained only half the men who fawned over him. No one was ever enough to spark his interest. Too short. Too crude. Too needy. Every disgusting hand that claws at his shoulder, he can only think of the nearly protective way that Sebastian held that same shoulder. It all makes Ciel feel rather pathetic. All this, over some man . But his ego’s been hurt, and he can’t allow that. 

”What’s a frail thing like you doing here?”

Ciel pauses, turning towards the voice. He’s propped himself against the bar, idly watching the crowd. The man beside him is… not bad. He’s tall and skinny, and he’s got square glasses and a neat enough haircut. If Ciel squints, he could almost remind him of Sebastian, albeit a more restrained one. 

He should probably kick a fuss at being called a frail thing , but he doesn’t. Instead, Ciel weighs his options. It doesn’t look like Sebastian is putting in an appearance tonight, no matter how many times Ciel scans the crowd or wills him, spitefully, to materialize. It’s time to go home, to call it quits even if doing so feels against his nature. Ciel Phantomhive doesn’t just give up , but perhaps this time he has to admit defeat. 

But this man is promising. At least for a night, that is. It’s easy to fall into Ciel tilts his head and frowns. “Where else would I be?”

The man snorts and sits across from him, uninvited. “The coy act isn’t my favorite.”

Ciel feels his lips quirk, amused. At least it’s someone interesting , after all of the useless men who have approached him thus far. He shifts to face the man and leans against the bar. “I guess I should have seen that coming. You seem like the strict type.”

“Is that so?” 

Curling further over the bar, Ciel nods. “You do. Unless you’d like to prove me wrong?”

“You seem like you’re looking for something,” The man says, ignoring the boy’s proposition, before correcting himself, “Someone, more likely.”

There’s no use in denying it, not with a man who can obviously see through him, so Ciel only nods. “Yes. I am.”

“And are you ready to give up?”

“For now,” Ciel says, shrugging. He eyes the man, letting his lashes lower. “You remind me of him, actually.”

To his credit, the man doesn’t react in the slightest at that. It’s a surprise to Ciel. Most men would curl their lip in disgust for being wanted because they reminded you of someone else. Instead, this man only nods cordially. “You remind me of someone too.”

𖤐⭒๋𖤐⭒๋𖤐⭒๋𖤐⭒๋𖤐⭒๋

It’s rather ill-advised. The alley is beyond disgusting, and Ciel mourns this pair of tights, because he’s going to have to throw them away as soon as he gets home. It would have been better, he decides now as he pulls the man’s belt buckle free, to just let Claude-- that was his name, Ciel had discovered on the way out of the club-- take him home. He wasn’t in the habit of letting strange men take him anywhere , with notable exception. But this was ridiculous. Even the club bathroom would have been better, though at the time Ciel hadn’t felt like waiting in line. 

Claude is blessedly silent as he watches Ciel fumble at the button of his pants. It makes it all the more easy to pretend that this is Sebastian under Ciel’s fingers, even if a part of him thinks that Sebastian wouldn’t shut up even if he were the one being undressed. He can almost hear the teasing echoes of the man’s voice. 

A car speeds by as Ciel tucks down the waistband of the man’s boxers. They’re just outside the club, really, halfway down the alley that divides the building and the closed shop next door. The entrance is only around the corner, and though it’s dark here without a street lamp to illuminate the alleyway, if someone were to really come investigate, they’d easily be found out. 

Uneasily, Ciel shifts on his knees. They’re already starting to hurt. He tries not to focus on the feeling or the prickle of anxiety at the back of his neck as footsteps pass leisurely past the mouth of the alley. He feels dirty, though it has nothing to do with the man in front of him. He wraps his fingers around the man’s dick and looks up at him with a practiced expression. 

Instead of the usual reaction men give him, Claude laughs. One of his hands is pressed to the wall almost casually, but the other pets a piece of hair out of Ciel’s bad eye and lingers encouragingly. 

“How many men have you done this to, I wonder,” Claude says. It’s a statement, not a question, and lacking in the judgemental edge that most men hurl it at him with. 

Ciel presses a kiss to the head of his dick, offendingly half-hard, though it twitches when Ciel squeezes the base. He murmurs against the skin, “I doubt it would matter.”
That seems to amuse Claude further, and he skates his fingers down to cup the boy’s cheek. “It wouldn’t,” He agrees. 

At least he doesn’t mind being a placeholder,” Ciel thinks, running his tongue over the head of his dick. Ciel doesn't mind being a placeholder either, not when he’s so distracted. Usually, it’d be beyond infuriating, but he’s far too busy thinking about Sebastian’s hand replacing Claude’s on his cheek to notice the feeling. 

It’d be different, certainly. Claude’s hand isn’t unkind, but it’s detached and far too careless. He guides Ciel’s chin forward, and Ciel presses his lips again to the head of the man’s dick, letting his eyes fall closed. It’s easier to pretend if he doesn't have to look at Claude’s curious expression. 

For all the tenderness and care Sebastian had touched Ciel with, he doesn’t think that that’s all there is to the man. After all, he hadn’t minded bantering with Ciel, and had even called him a harlot. There had to be something lurking under all that carefulness, and Ciel was interested in drawing it out. 

Still, Ciel grunts and opens an irritated eye when Claude tugs him forward more insistently. Sebastian, Ciel thinks, wouldn’t rush him. Not the first time, at least, he’d like to imagine. 

He doesn’t complain, though, only parts his lips and allows himself to be pulled down, the head slipping across his tongue. He’s fully hard now, and this is familiar enough that Ciel finds himself on autopilot, mind wandering towards Sebastian again. Maybe he would be a little rough. He remembers the man’s black fingernails against the pale of his own skin, a pretty picture that lingered in Ciel’s mind. He could imagine those nails sinking into the flesh, leaving pink marks. 

Or maybe-- Ciel lets his tongue curl around the man’s length idly, ignoring the low sound he makes-- Sebastian would hold his cheek and coo soft praise at him. That makes his stomach clench, thighs tensing. Sebastian had left behind enough outlandish words, sweet nothings that ate at Ciel still. It wasn’t hard to imagine that he’d left free a few more. In Ciel’s mind, black nails pet back his hair, brush over his cheek, scratch delicately over his scalp. Claude’s nails press into the hollow under his jaw, and he ignores the pained tears that well up. 

“You’re,” Claude tells him wondrously, “Quite an interesting boy.”

Ciel’s brows furrow. He’s hardly doing much. He puts his hands more firmly on Claude’s hips and begins to bob his head slowly, glancing up at the man through his lashes. 

“And so pretty,” Claude adds, lips curling devilishly. 

It’s nothing compared to the silken, teasing praises Sebastian had christened him with, and that only in bathing the boy. Feverishly, Ciel imagines the man’s velvety voice curling over more salacious worship. He lets out a soft, pleased note of his own and swallows around the length in his mouth. 

Above him, Claude groans and Ciel barely hears it, drowning in his own fantasy. He’s only peripherally aware of his surroundings, of the whiz of another car, the concrete under his knees, the garbage strewn around him. Even the feeling of Claude’s hands crawling over his skin is fleeting, even as Ciel feels as though a sticky film is left behind as always. Another man’s hands on him always makes him feel disgusting afterwards, leaving him unclean, itching with their lingering poison. 

But it hardly registers now. Ciel is lost to it, to the ache of his knees and the thought of Sebastian in this man’s place. He squeezes his thighs and rocks his hips into nothing, swallows eagerly around Claude’s dick and clenches up inside, thinking of how Sebastian would taste. It’s easy to match the fog in his mind to the reality of weight on his tongue. The movements are all the same. He bobs his head and moves his tongue in his best performance that he can remember. This is practice, he thinks to himself, drawing another low note from the man above him. When he gets his hands on Sebastian, when he’s through with him, the man won’t know what’s hit him. 

He’s nearly got his nose pressed into Claude’s hips when the man above him jolts. For a moment, Ciel thinks he’s about to come, but then he hears Claude speak. The words reach him as if through jelly, and it takes him a beat too long to realize it’s not him that’s being spoken to. 

His eyes open and flit towards the mouth of the alley. There’s a figure there, half-shrouded in darkness, and Ciel squints. There’s a cigarette in his hand, a yellow-orange bead of light as the man inhales. 

“Apologies,” Their guest says, and Ciel’s stomach clenches. He begins to pull back, heartbeat swelling like static to his ears. “I didn’t realize I was interrupting something.”

“No need to apologize,” Claude says, sounding amused even now, as if unbothered by this turn of events. 

“I dare say, though,” The guest says, stepping closer, as though this is a casual conversation between two friends, as if Claude didn’t have his dick halfway down Ciel’s throat. When the boy tries to pull back farther, his hand flexes as if trying to keep him there before relaxing. “This is quite the place for that.”

Claude watches the man approach, hand leaving Ciel’s head. Ciel pulls back fully and turns toward the man, chest heaving. The proud part of him is seething. Now, of all times. here, of all places. He must look a mess, on his knees, shorts tented, face damp with sweat and spit. He feels alight as the man stops a few feet from them, close enough that Ciel can make out now the familiar features. Something like excitement curls in his stomach and he puts his hands in his lap, cheeks flushed with shame at being caught out. 

“Really, anyone could-” Sebastian pauses-- because it is Sebastian, of course it is, right when Ciel had begun to give up hope-- and a flicker of recognition passes over his face. Ciel watches, rapt and with held breath, as his eyes move from Ciel’s pink face to his hands, curled in his lap, and then to Claude, smug face and open trousers. One of his perfect eyebrows twitches, and Ciel isn’t sure with what emotion. 

“I see you’ve been busy since we last met,” He says at last, directed at Ciel though he’s still looking at Claude’s face.  “Hello again. How odd to see you here of all places.”

It’s not odd, not at all. This is where they met, where Ciel had been looking for him. Still, Ciel only wipes his mouth with the back of one hand-- pleased when Sebastian’s attention moves towards him for a moment to track the motion before snapping back to Claude-- and clears his throat daintily. With as much false nonchalance as he can muster, Ciel settles back on his heels and replies delicately, “Hey.”

Chapter Text

“Are you two acquainted?” 

Ciel glances at Claude before looking back at Sebastian and saying pointedly, “No.”

“Quite,” Sebastian says at the same time, attention still on Claude. He begins to dig around in his pocket, seemingly unperturbed by their situation. It irks Ciel to no end. “Cigarette?”

“No thank you. They’re quite awful for your health.”

“So are teenage boys,” Sebastian says, eyebrows raised, but he drops it, hand leaving his pocket to instead card through his hair. He still doesn’t look at Ciel and instead gives Claude a knowing smile. “Don’t let me interrupt.” Even saying it, he doesn’t make any move to leave. His spent cigarette falls from his hand and he steps on it leisurely. 

Above Ciel, Claude snorts. Realizing he’s still kneeling dumbly, Ciel scrambles to his feet, dusting himself off. His knees ache already. This was a bad idea. He can feel Sebastian’s eyes on him, but when the boy tries to meet his eyes, the man is already focused again on Claude. It makes Ciel want to kick him. 

“I think we’re finished here, actually,” Claude says. “I hate to get in the middle of a lovers’ quarrel. I’ll be taking my leave.” With steady hands, he begins to button his pants, pausing only to look at Ciel and faux-whisper-- loud enough for Sebastian to hear, the bastard-- “I see what you mean about the resemblance.”

“Shut up and get lost,” Ciel hisses. He can feel his ears burning, and he wipes at his mouth furiously. 

Claude laughs at that, fixing his belt before straightening. He fiddles with his hair for a moment before turning back towards the mouth of the alley and the sound of traffic. 

“So nice to meet you,” Sebastian says as he passes, voice positively acidic. 

“Likewise,” Claude returns, impassive. 

He’s hardly turned the corner of the alley before Ciel is stomping towards Sebastian, fists balled. 

“Now, now,” Sebastian says preemptively. He puts a hand up as though to ward off an attacking beast. His eyes dart furtively towards the exit, but Ciel’s already upon him. 

“I hate you!” Ciel shouts, kicking at his shins. He gets a fist in the front of the man’s shirt and tugs, trying to get him to lean down to his level. 

The man stays staunchly upright, patting his arm appeasingly.  “I can’t see why. I gave you the best accommodations money can buy.”

Ciel pulls harder and hisses, “And neglected to actually fuck me in them!”

Sebastian has the audacity to wince. “Must you put it so vulgarly?” They’re alone in the alley, but he still makes a show of looking around them as if searching out any eavesdroppers. 

“What am I supposed to say?” Letting go of the man’s shirt, Ciel puffs up his chest and huffs, “I will not be treated like a child.”

The look Sebastian gives him at that is half amusement and half pity. Ciel’s blood boils, and he kicks him again for good measure. 

“What a violent boy,” Sebastian says, then frowns. “And so indecent.” 

Ciel looks down at himself. The top three buttons of his shirt have come loose and his collar is a rumpled mess. Rolling his eyes, he reaches for it, but Sebastian’s quicker. With delicate, determined fingers, he fixes each button, then deftly straightens the collar. The back of his hand brushes under Ciel’s chin in the motion, and Ciel makes a faux-irritated noise. 

Smiling, Sebastian doubles down, putting a thumb and forefinger against the boy’s dainty chin and tipping his face up. “You’re just as exquisite as I remember, even debasing yourself like a common whore.”

“I’ll show you debased,” Ciel spits on instinct. He crosses his hands over his chest. “Don’t try with the compliments,” He says haughtily, “I’m mad at you.”

“Ah, I didn’t notice,” Sebastian teases. He makes a thoughtful face, and Ciel can already tell that whatever he’s about to say next isn’t good. His thumb brushes over the round of his chin before sliding along the underside of his lower lip. “If I recall correctly, you seemed to enjoy-”

“You do not recall correctly.”

Sebastian barely holds back a laugh, releasing his face. Ciel shudders in the night air. “My mistake.”

Ciel turns away from him, pretending to study the wall of the alley beside him. It’s strangely overwhelming, seeing Sebastian so suddenly. He’s just as Ciel remembers him, if not more handsome and more infuriating. He looks more unkempt today than he did last time, and Ciel wonders-- not without a pang of nauseous jealousy that he quickly tamps down-- if he was also with someone else before this. 

Digging around in his pocket, Sebastian pulls out another cigarette. Ciel watches with rapt interest as he retrieves a lighter from another pocket. It’s a fancy one, of course, square and silver and glinting in the low light filtering in from the mouth of the alley when he flicks the top open. The boy flushes when Sebastian puts the cigarette daintily between his lips like it’s something obscene. 

“I want one,” Ciel says before he can stop himself. 

It’s an awful idea-- Ciel has acute asthma, for God’s sake, and it’s certainly not getting any better. 

Sebastian’s eyebrows knit. He takes the cigarette, unlit from his mouth and gives Ciel a curious once-over. “Have you ever had one?”

There’s no use lying. Ciel knows that, and yet he still says, as evenly as he can manage, “Yes. All the time.”

The man doesn’t seem to buy it. He only pauses for a moment before tipping his head to one side and putting the cigarette between his lips once more. With practiced grace, he lights it and inhales. His fingers look comfortable around the cigarette, like it’s an extension of his hand. Ciel finds it fascinating, stomach clenching as he watches the man exhale smoke. 

He thinks his demand has been dismissed, but then Sebastian holds the cigarette out to him expectantly. 

Ciel swallows and takes it, trying not to think about the fact that this very same paper was just touching Sebastian’s mouth. He remembers what that mouth felt like on his-- it’s childish to get caught up on the thought, but he still feels his ears warm. There’s no time to think about that, though. He can’t let on that this is his first cigarette, not after confidently lying. Even if he knows Sebastian didn’t buy it. Even if he knows this is going to burn like hell and stink up his clothes. It’s an altogether awful idea.

Still, he’s anything but a quitter, not when Sebastian is watching so expectantly, gaze heavy and crawling over Ciel’s skin like a living thing. The cigarette feels foreign against his mouth, and he fumbles for a moment trying to figure out the best way to breathe it in. He manages, though and is able to keep his cool for all of two seconds before he begins hacking up a lung, hardly managing to grab the cigarette rather than drop it. 

Sebastian laughs like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever seen, cooing at Ciel in a way that makes him feel like even more of a child. He plucks the thing from Ciel’s dainty fingers-- it looks so much smaller in his hand than in the boy’s-- and puts it to his lips, tongue flicking out over the paper for a moment before he inhales. Ciel shudders again and wraps his arms around himself.

He makes it look so elegant, but the disgusting taste of it still lingers in the back of Ciel’s throat. It tastes like tar, or a thousand burnt tires. But when Sebastian exhales, he hums like it's something delicious. Ciel’s stomach clenches, and he turns his head to the side to hide the flush of his cheeks returning full-force. A car passes the mouth of the alley. Distantly, a group of girls bursts into laughter, echoing along the night. Ciel almost forgot they weren’t really alone. 

“...Are you gonna fuck me now?” Ciel asks, pretending to examine the wall. 

Sebastian laughs heartily, and then a warm hand descends on Ciel’s head. Usually, he hates when people ruffle his hair-- it makes him feel like a kid-- but Sebastian slides his manicured nails along Ciel’s scalp pleasantly, so he doesn’t mind. 

“How about I start with taking you home?”

“ Your home?” Ciel presses, eying the man. 

To his dismay, Sebastian laughs again. “I was thinking of dropping you off.”

Ciel makes a sour face. He nearly stomps his foot. “ No. I want-”

“I heard what you want,” Sebastian says, tucking a piece of Ciel’s bangs back out of his face. He leans down so their faces are level, the grin on his face betraying that he is most certainly enjoying Ciel’s behaviour. “And I said no.”

Ciel’s stomach twists unpleasantly this time. He coughs again and gives the man his fiercest glare. “Do you not want to fuck me?”

The look that passes over Sebastian’s face is almost menacing in its intensity. Ciel has the distinct impression of looking into the eye of a big cat as the man’s gaze roves over his face hungrily. “That’s far from the truth.”

“Then what?”

Sebastian stands, his hand still lingering in Ciel’s hair. His nails scratch over his scalp almost idly, and Ciel almost whines when he pauses. 

“I’m not in the habit of fucking on the first date.”

Ciel frowns. He’d hardly call their first meeting a date, and he certainly wouldn’t say that about this either. “We haven’t been on a date.” 

“Excellent point. Let’s remedy that, shall we?” The man takes his hand off Ciel’s head to fish around in his pockets. He comes up with a sleek black cell phone, most certainly the newest, more expensive model. “Kids these days all have cellphones, don’t they?”

Ciel wants to kick him for calling him a kid , but instead he only eyes him warily. “...You want to take me on a date ?” He can’t help the disdain that colors the word, so foreign in his mouth. 

Sebastian holds the phone out to him expectantly. 

“...Are you in high school? No one goes on dates anymore.”

“I do. I am a gentleman, after all.” He shakes the phone. 

Ciel looks at the thing like it’s poisonous, weighing his options. The man is rich. A date-- he shudders to think the word-- would likely mean a nice meal, or at least good dessert. And at the end of it, the promise of Sebastian finally fucking him. 

He just hates to leave things unfinished, that’s all. He takes the phone, sullenly punching his number into the screen as aggressively as he can. It’s only that he hates losing, and he can’t let this man get one up on him. And he wants a fancy dinner. There’s nothing more to it. 

“Wherever we go,” He grumbles, nearly throwing the phone back at the man, “I’m ordering the most expensive thing on the menu.”

“I would expect nothing less from a brat like you,” Sebastian assures him. He tucks the phone away, and then his hand is back on Ciel’s chin, tipping his head up. His touch seems to burn, and Ciel finds himself leaning into it, letting the man rub a thumb over his lower lip. “What other kind of trouble have you gotten into since we last met? Or was this it?”

Ciel huffs. “I hardly see why that’s any of your business.”

The nail-- painted black, filed to an elegant arc-- of Sebastian’s thumb digs into the plush of his lip, nearly pinching it. “I’m not fond of sharing,” He says, as if he’s telling Ciel the weather. There's a fixed smile on his face, the edges sharp and rigid. If Ciel didn’t know better, he’d think he was fuming. “What else have you had in this filthy mouth of yours?”

Instead of answering, Ciel puts a hand on the man’s wrist to pin it in place. It feels huge against his palm. He meets the man’s eyes as he takes his thumb past his lips, tongue sliding along the curve of that nail. 

Sebastian’s eyes narrow nigh-imperceptibly, and his lips flicker up into something threatening. Threatening what, Ciel doesn’t know, but he’s interested in finding out sooner rather than later. He can taste the man’s sweat on his skin, and it mixes with the lingering grit of tobacco smoke in his mouth to make for a heady mix. It’s easy to fall into the familiar rhythm, tongue roving over the skin. Ciel huffs through his nose and flutters his lashes in a way that has made men crumble before, but Sebastian only makes a low, approving noise. His other hand finds the curve of Ciel’s jaw, holding him still before he presses his thumb further into the boy’s mouth, forcing his teeth wider. 

He presses the pad of his thumb down against the back of the boy’s tongue harder than Ciel is expecting, and he gags slightly, eyebrows pinching. 

The intrusion is gone in an instant, the man’s thumb retreating to rest against his lip again, but the embarrassment lingers. He’s lost again. 

Ciel glares, fighting back the cough threatening to choke out of him. He needs to get home so he can find his inhaler. But still, he doesn't shake the man off, not when it’s getting interesting. Sebastian doesn’t back down either, half expectant, half smug. It’s Ciel’s move now. 

The boy pulls his thumb back past his lips, pleased when Sebastian’s eyebrows twitch like it’s not what he was expecting. He lets his tongue run over the skin again, slow, meandering along the ridges of the print. 

He waits until Sebastian’s expression relaxes before biting down as hard as he can, pleased when the man’s whole body jerks. 

“Brat,” Sebastian says, sounding delighted. He pulls his hand free and inspects his thumb for blood. Ciel is disappointed there isn’t any. “Do you treat all of your men like this, or am I special?”

“Why would you be special?” Ciel asks, putting his hands behind his back and giving Sebastian the most innocent look he can muster. It’s hard to tamp down a giggle at the way Sebastian looks at him for that. 

Sebastian breathes out through his nose like his nerves are being tested and lets his hand curl around the boy’s shoulder, turning him towards the mouth of the alley and pushing a little harder than necessary. “Do you need a ride home? How did you even get here, if I may ask?”

“None of your business.”

“Aren’t your parents soon to start wondering where you’ve gone off to?”

Ciel stomps towards the street, ignoring the question. 

“Ah. Still a brat,” Sebastian mutters, starting after him.