Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I.

Flashes of blue TV screen: on the other side of the TV surface, a nurse with plump, candy-pink lips grins and tells a delicate, golden-haired boy about how harmful tobacco is for human children and their fragile bodies. Ciel is lying on the sofa, salty popcorn is scattered around. On his tongue, it feels like tears that have swelled up in a microwave. A bowl with its remains is pressed against his side.

A dreary summer evening.

The mutual insults from Alois, a person the prosthetic who replaces the status of a boyfriend but is not one, are still fresh in his head. Alois is not an ideal partner, but “better than nothing”, a less empty void than the void in Ciel’s chest. A phantom of a loving person.

If you close your eyes for a minute and omit most of the details, it even begins to seem like the truth.

Canterville Ghost, tell me you love me, and not just want to inhabit my body. To inter its hot flesh.

The Canterville Ghost is silent. Ciel throws another handful of popcorn into his mouth. Salty, like Alois’s sperm, like Ciel’s bitter tears. He cried all day yesterday, and today apathy and emptiness set in.

The door lock clicks as the key turns in it, just like Alois once — literally a week ago — abused Ciel’s body, turning his ugly circumcised penis at unthinkable angles.

Mother returned from work.

II.

Rachel Phantomhive is a woman in her forties who, unlike her friends, is not a predatory MILF or an old, overgrown shrew and loser, but simply a single woman with two children, whom she raises entirely by herself. Ciel sometimes thinks that his father was an incubus; the twins, Ciel and Sirius, are the fruit of the wicked love of a human woman and a demon. The children have never seen their father’s face in their lives — their mother doesn’t even want to remember him.

As if their father was a disease that their mother successfully recovered from, gained immunity and was no longer infected with male charm.

All men are assholes. That’s what she thinks. They are vile bastards who bring no benefit to society, only rape women (even if it’s voluntary intercourse), conceive children, drink, smoke, use drugs — few of them are capable of climbing the ladder of success and building a career!

This doesn’t apply to Rachel’s sons. They both fit the male build quite well, despite their fragility and frailty, but for her they are just sweethearts. Her babies.

Tired and squeezed out after a day of work, Rachel complains about life.

“I’m going crazy, Ciel,” she says. “I’m going to quit. I can’t work in a team like that.”

Ciel doesn’t know, because he’s never really worked in his life, he only works part-time with Sirius: they clean the office of the bank where their mother works (a leading economist or something like that, Ciel doesn’t understand). Every weekday they: sweep the employees' kitchen, wipe the dust, throw out the trash, water the flowers, vacuum the first floor and wash the floor there. Long women’s hair is lying around everywhere, because all the employees are obviously women with long hair. Ciel really gets annoyed at collecting this hair with a mop, so yes, you can’t work in a team like that.

No, Ciel, that’s not what I’m talking about, Rachel says. All the colleagues are gossips and empty-headed fools who do nothing. And who will serve the people, huh?

Ciel doesn’t know. He doesn’t take out loans or mortgages and doesn’t understand much about it.

Rachel is cooking dinner, or rather, heating up some store-bought meatballs, but shh! don’t insult the woman and don’t mention that she didn’t cook it.

Sirius comes back from his walk.

III.

Ciel cries to him. He feels so bad! His fragile crystal heart is broken.

Sirius tries to console him.

“Dear, I feel so sorry for you, really,” says Sirius. “That Alois is just a jerk.”

yes! a jerk! Ciel whines pitifully, smearing tears, snot and spit on his brother’s shoulder. That bastard pig of Youth doesn’t see the bunny boy feelings…

“And anyway, his quirks are to blame, not you. He should have been more open to you.”

yes! It’s all his quirks' blame! Ciel sobs, clinging to Sirius with trembling hands. Sirius hugs him back no less tightly.

To be honest, Ciel is not sure now which of them is to blame for their breakup, but he trusts Sirius’s opinion. Sirius says that Alois is an asshole who simply used Ciel. Endless hysterics, stupid jealousy and resentment for no reason — these are all subtle manipulations that led to the breakup.

Often we blame not ourselves, but those around us. Ciel, covering his eyes swollen from tears, listens silently and willingly believes that Alois is to blame for everything, and Ciel himself is innocent, because Alois is an asshole who simply used him…

Yes, Alois is to blame for everything. Ciel is still the same sugar angel sprinkled with glitter — beautiful and innocent.

Mum calls them to dinner. Ciel drags himself to the bathroom to wash up.

IV.

A sleepless night: Ciel monitors Twitter while Sirius lies on the next bed and gets his healthy eight hours of sleep.

There are no new tweets from @femb0y_power, and Ciel is glad about that. The last thing he needs is for Alois to start talking shit about Ciel; after all, they don’t officially follow each other anymore, so they can talk shit behind each other’s backs. It’s disgusting, but that’s how the world works.

Notification!

Ciel swallows dryly and nervously. He suddenly feels anxious and therefore a little scared and cold, even though it’s summer. His heart cracks his ribs and flies out of his chest. Joke. It’s still there for now.

Ciel checks with a frozen breath.

…

Thank God, just a new follower. @refl3ctlesss. The one without a reflection follows the two-faced one — because Ciel’s ID is @ciel2ffaced.

Yes, Ciel is two-faced. He praises from one account, and pushes you in the back from another. His doppelganger @eatapplesfromthemiddl3, an unknown profile, shits on everyone who gets his hands on him. Even Alois. Ciel wrote a lot of nasty tweets yesterday, giggling and reveling in his sweet poison.

He’s so vindictive and vile, but can you blame him?

Out of curiosity, he goes to the page of the one without a reflection, but finds nothing there: the profile is empty, the avatar is a cat, the nickname is a mango emoji. No tweets, no retweets. Ciel is a little disappointed, to be honest.

Notification!

A like on a photo of a chocolate milkshake Ciel drank a month ago on a date with Alois (and which he shamefully spilled on his thighs in his slutty black denim shorts). Ciel is almost sad — that happy (?) time seems so far away that it is impossible to reach, even though it has only been thirty-six days.

Notification!

A like on a photo of a dreary cityscape taken thirty-eight days ago.

Notification!

A like on a textual rant about a fight with Alois.

Notification!

Notification!

Notification!

@refl3ctlesss likes photos and text tweets — anything where Alois is not in the frame and is not mentioned in one hundred and forty characters. A pattern. Ciel is curious.

Notification!

Notification!

@ciel2ffaced

i think that breaking up will do us good

Like.

@ciel2ffaced

we just exhausted each other. someday the world will run out of coal

Like.

Ciel decides to write a private message to the one who has no reflection. Like, it seems to him that the person behind such a thoughtful ID is interested. Well. He skips everything about Alois, so he is counting on a relationship! Ciel is single.

This is stupid. The tears have already dried, and he rushes into this extreme headlong, but he feels bad. Please do not despise Ciel!

@ciel2ffaced

hiiiii c: i noticed your activity on my account

@ciel2ffaced

how are you? am i disturbing you?

A long minute of silence. Ciel nervously chews the skin of his right thumb, a bad habit he can’t get rid of. His hands were once chewed to the point of flesh, and it looks like it will happen again soon.

@refl3ctlesss

Hello. You are not. I’m petting the cat.

The periods at the end of sentences are so serious. A bore, apparently. Ciel pouts, although no one can see it.

@ciel2ffaced

damn that’s cool

@ciel2ffaced

i’m allergic to their fur

@ciel2ffaced

i can’t pet them :с

@refl3ctlesss

Too bad. They’re very cute creatures.

The conversation doesn’t go well. Ciel is angry with himself and at the same time a little embarrassed. Communicating on the Internet is difficult, sometimes even more difficult than in reality. It’s easy to offend the person on the other side of the screen by not responding in time or ignoring a message. Plus, online relationships often die quickly. It’s sad.

@ciel2ffaced

i hope this isn’t too weird… i’m usually not really active on social media and i noticed your likes.

@ciel2ffaced

wanted to text to you

That’s right — Ciel has forty followers on his account, either five or up to fifteen likes on his tweets; he gets up to thirty on his photos. At least, since @refl3ctlesss appeared. Their like on the photo of Ciel in a scarf is the thirtieth.

@refl3ctlesss

It’s okay.

@refl3ctlesss

I don’t mind talking to you. You’re pretty.

Ciel smiles smugly and kicks his legs on the blanket. Sirius rolls over and continues to sleep like a log.

@ciel2ffaced

am i cute baby girl???

@ciel2ffaced

🦄🦄💖💖✨✨✨✨✨🌈🌈🌈🎀🎀🎀

@refl3ctlesss

Less emojis, young gentleman. My eyes are already blurry.

Ciel grins. Well… Okay, his profile says [he/him], and the reflectionless one has remembered that.

@ciel2ffaced

ごめんなさい〜!

@refl3ctlesss

What?

Idiot. Baka. Baka-kun.

@ciel2ffaced

i apologized

@ciel2ffaced

in japanese

@refl3ctlesss

I don’t know Japanese.

Well, Ciel doesn’t know too. All he knows is what he learned from watching anime and a couple months of studying Duolingo. Achievement: he can read katakana and hiragana!

But he won’t understand a damn thing he reads. Meh, never mind.

@ciel2ffaced

what languages do you know?

Silence.

Perhaps the mysterious stranger is trying to figure out how to beat him up.

You can’t trust anyone on the Internet. You can tell a lie, or you can tell the truth. Ciel can say that he’s twenty-seven, although he’s seventeen. Ciel can say that he studies at Moscow State University and generally lives in distant icy Russia, but in reality he hangs out in London. In virtual space, the line between lies and reality is erased.

@refl3ctlesss

I know French and German.

@ciel2ffaced

oh cool!! i speak french too

@ciel2ffaced

la ill baguette

Of course, Ciel is fooling around. He knows that this is an incorrect construction, but sometimes we all want to be childish, and not be boring adults, right?

Killing the inner child is also infanticide. Think about this when you protest against abortions, but at the same time do not allow yourself a drop of childish joy and fun.

@refl3ctlesss

Impressive.

@ciel2ffaced

hehe

Ciel falls into the silky sea of his bed and places his previously switched-off phone face down on his chest. He smiles at the ceiling, into the darkness. A little lighter, a little fuller. A light dose of serotonin enters his blood through the syringe like heroin — only Ciel’s hands have never been touched by a needle. Mum is against it!

@ciel2ffaced

you know i’m feeling so good now

@refl3ctlesss

I’m glad to hear it. Judging by your latest tweets, you’re not doing so well.

Reflectless retweets in private messages where Ciel thinks that breaking up will be good for them and gives a very wise thought about the coal running out someday.

@refl3ctlesss

I hope you’re okay now.

@ciel2ffaced

don’t worry!!

@ciel2ffaced

i feel awesome

Ciel is lying a little. He still has a long way to go to feel “awesome”. Right now he just feels less emotionally exhausted. It’s hard to be hysterical all day long, you know.

@ciel2ffaced

okay i’ll go to bed

@ciel2ffaced

thanks it was nice chatting

@ciel2ffaced

sweet dreams may your teeth rot from sugar <3

@refl3ctlesss

Good night to you too.

V.

In the morning, Ciel has some energy. He will be able to function normally for some time.

Their mother has already left for work. Sirius is staying at home with him.

They finish the remains of the omelette, drink tea, sit down in the living room to play; Ciel picks up his gamepad for the first time in months. Well, Alois did not like computer games, and Ciel did not play.

It is so stupid — to break yourself to match another person.

Alois, a child of cabbage and flowers, comes from a family of fanatical vegans and environmentalists — they do not eat meat, eggs, fish, ice cream, do not drink milk, do not buy clothes made of wool and fur. Ciel tried to adopt their habits: he was so worried, so worried! What if Alois hates him, seeing frozen pieces of meat in the freezer? It would be a disaster. Ciel, in despair, would be disgusted by his own existence.

Right now, Ciel doesn’t give a fuck. He eats steak, he eats ice cream, he eats bacon chips — he doesn’t give a fuck. How could he fall in love with someone who doesn’t eat bacon chips? and chicken nuggets? Ciel loves chicken nuggets. Ciel doesn’t love Alois. At least right now.

If we remember what happened the day before yesterday…

No, it’s not worth thinking about. The temporary clouding of consciousness can happen again, and Ciel will probably pick up a box cutter again. The stupid boy was cutting his narrow, slightly rounded thighs — Alois had been holding onto them for leverage not long ago.

Ciel is now so disgusted to think about a dick being shoved into his tender depth — an ugly circumcised dick, a measly three and a half inches.

They are playing Minecraft with the Cave Horror Project mod — beautiful foggy graphics and a huge, unnaturally realistic sun for the game. Two models, their precious pixel-like alter egos, are running on the screen.

“There’s a house there,” says Sirius, checking the map. In the northwest there is indeed a large square, standing out with its soft brown color on a green background. “Let’s get there?”

“Okay,” agrees Ciel. “But we’re going to swim, I don’t want to go through the forest.”

They have already been attacked by some white thing with a bunch of unnaturally twisted paws, with which they fought the entire in-game night — ten minutes. Enough.

Ciel crafts a boat, and they, being the smartest in this game, swim away. Fortunately, their models spawned not far from the water. While Sirius rows, holding down two buttons, Ciel looks at the map.

Playing with his brother is always so much fun; Ciel really likes these moments. They think, reason, joke, Sirius playfully nudges Ciel, Ciel feeds him cookies from his hands, and they are quite happy.

Maybe Ciel doesn’t need a relationship yet? Maybe he’ll live for himself for now?

…

Too simple. Ciel plays life hardcore, but there is no save button, and that’s why he suffers later. So stupid.

That same evening, he receives a message from reflectless.

VI.

@refl3ctlesss

Want to meet up since we’re both in London?

@ciel2ffaced

damn cool

@ciel2ffaced

i don’t mind

@ciel2ffaced

where

@ciel2ffaced

i live in lewisham 

@refl3ctlesss

Got it.

@refl3ctlesss

You know the coffee shop “Delight”?

@ciel2ffaced

i go there sometimes

@ciel2ffaced

they have delicious cakes and decent sandwiches

@refl3ctlesss

Would it be convenient tomorrow at four?

The stranger asks him out on a date, and Ciel obviously agrees. It’s such a wild coincidence that they both live in London, because they could be scattered all over the world, and they would be separated by hundreds of kilometers.

Ciel agrees without thinking at all. He feels so bad (not that bad, but still), and this person shows sympathy for him! Ciel immediately throws himself on their neck and calls them his benefactor.

Ciel just needs support. Ciel just needs a replacement for Alois. Someone who will wipe his snot, eat bacon chips with him and will not judge him for not thinking about environmental issues and eating meat.

So Ciel feverishly rummages through his half of the closet. First impressions are the most important, and Ciel is looking for something more interesting than a T-shirt and slutty shorts. Well, he has a lot of rags, and Sirius no less. Mum likes to dress them up.

Sirius is lying on his made bed and watching him, his ass sticking out of the mouth of the closet monster.

“And this one?” Ciel pulls out a hanger with a black T-shirt — the white inscription “bitches never sleep” curls like a snake at about the level of his chest — and shows it to Sirius. This is a damn fashion verdict, and Sirius is a very scrupulous judge.

“Needs ironing.”

“Ugh!..” Ciel growls irritably. He hates ironing. If only because he is afraid of burning his hands.

His mother burned him once when he was six. Accidentally, of course. There wasn’t even a scar left, but Ciel still doesn’t like irons: they spit out rusty water, snort hot steam and are merciless to delicate hands.

Ciel takes out another T-shirt, a white one. You’ll get dirty quickly, says Sirius. Ciel takes out a regular shirt with three-quarter sleeves, also white. You’ll get dirty quickly, says Sirius. Ciel pulls out a frilly, milky-colored shirt — not too white, but not too yellow either. Uh, says Sirius, I don’t know, Ciel. It looks okay, not wrinkled. But it’s too fancy. Are you sure you’re going to meet someone actually respectable, and not some idiot?

I’m sure, replies Ciel. They put periods at the end of their sentences. It’s a sign that they’re a pedant. Okay, agrees Sirius. Go ahead, bitch, dress like you stepped out of a Victorian engraving. Ciel squeals delightedly and pulls on the shirt.

And shorts. And shoes. It’s chilly today.

Sirius’s gentle hand carefully ties a ribbon around Ciel’s fragile, brittle neck into a bow. Ciel puts a little drop of mascara on his long, fluffy eyelashes, stuffs his phone, house keys, lip balm, inhaler, a couple of condoms, a bank card, a pack of strawberry chewing gum “Chupa Chups Big Babol” into a micro bag made of black leatherette — and leaves this castle.

The Englishman’s house is his castle. Ciel’s castle consists of three rooms, littered with all sorts of cozy junk, and is located in Louisheim. A pleasant and rather quiet area. Ciel cannot imagine himself in another place.

The low heel of his shoes clicks loudly and cheerfully on the asphalt, and Ciel’s heart flutters with excitement — ah, if only @refl3ctlesss does not turn out to be a bald fat man over forty! Ciel doesn’t want his new love interest to be some nerd who doesn’t have a job and lives with his mum.

Cars rush past and people scurry by. Life goes on as usual. Ciel pops a piece of gum into his mouth and actively grinds his teeth. The strawberry flavor enhancer spills in his mouth like a sweet syrup.

He wants a soda, a strawberry milk kiss.

Ciel remembers how Alois tormented his lips, smeared with the cloying smell of raspberry “Lanolips” balm, and his face darkens. The experience with kisses is not very pleasant, just like the experience with sex. Sometimes it’s great, but most of the time it’s so-so.

…

Ciel hopes that this will not happen with @refl3ctlesss, that it will be a pleasant experience. It was pleasant to talk to him.

With Alois too, once upon a time.

Let’s not talk about Alois.

VII.

@refl3ctlesss’s signature: he’s a man, he’ll be sitting at a table with a stack of papers, waiting.

Ciel sees him right away, because there are no other customers outside.

Ciel is smitten.

Ciel doesn’t believe in God, but oh God. Ciel is going to have a heart attack or his rib cage will snap, and the beautiful songbird will fly away.

The man is handsome. His hair is sloppily cut, but his hair looks better groomed than Ciel’s, and his shirt is blindingly white, and his trousers are so pressed, and his oxfords are polished to such a shine that the rays reflecting off them could set something on fire (if that’s how physics works; Ciel doesn’t know). His shoulders are quite broad, his arms look strong. Ciel comes closer, and the man, hearing the click of his heels, turns his head in his direction.

Eyes. Two deep black abysses, full of some secret knowledge and therefore mocking, a little cold. Ciel experiences resentment — or rather, feels like an ugly, nondescript nonentity, an ugly effeminate duckling. Usually he doesn’t have such problems.

A nasty feeling.

“Two-faced Ciel?” asks. A pleasant voice, not very deep, but not squeaky either, a little languid and flowing. Ciel smiles a little nervously.

“Yeah.”

Ciel sits down next to him on a high stool — almost like a bar stool — and it takes him some effort to sit down steadily. It’s hard when you’re just a little taller than average, and the whole world is designed for giants.

The stranger’s name is Sebastian. Ciel likes this name.

They don’t say much: Ciel is still a little shy.

Order: latte with caramel syrup, chocolate milkshake and red velvet cake. Coffee for Sebastian, sweets for Ciel. While the guy at the cash register, who looks like a Greek, is fiddling with the coffee machine and blender, Ciel sneaks a look at Sebastian.

Handsome. His face is also handsome upon closer inspection: high cheekbones, a straight nose, a sharp chin, eyebrows that fly apart. True, he is a bit pale — somehow unhealthy, but Ciel has a similar problem.

Ciel notices moles — a small imperfection of a perfect face: two under the left eye closer to the nose, one under the right eye closer to the cheekbone and one under the mouth on the right. A chaotic scattering. Ciel has more of them, especially on the left cheek there are a lot, and these cute dots form something similar to the constellation Cygnus.

“Let’s talk about something?” Sebastian suggests.

Ciel is embarrassed:

“I don’t know what to talk about, to be honest. I don’t want to discuss the weather, I warn you right away. It’s boring and cliched.”

“Hah, right. How was your morning?”

“Horrible,” Ciel grimaces. “I woke up lying on my back because both my legs were numb. And then I felt sick after breakfast, which is doubly worse… Yours?”

“The cat woke me up. She begged for food so pitifully that I couldn’t refuse her and got up. Then I read the manuscript.”

“The manuscript?”

“I’m a literary agent,” Sebastian smiles, and this is illegal. His smile is too sly and flirtatious, and his gaze is too charming. Fuck, Ciel is in love. “I read great works all the time… Joke. Alex Michaelides should stop writing.”

“Oh, I know him!” Ciel remembers. “My brother reads him… I read one book too, but his philosophical reasoning is weak. Dostoevsky is better.”

“I absolutely agree. The first book was okay: I didn’t quite understand who the killer could be, and I was really interested, — but the next two, alas, don’t have the same charm,” Sebastian sighs, and this is illegal. His sigh breaks Ciel’s heart into a thousand pieces, into nine large pieces. “Books have become boring these days. No charm…”

But Dostoevsky has this charm. Ciel likes the Russians: they have quite intelligent works. Lermontov is sad, Gogol is cheerful, Dostoevsky is thoughtful, Chekhov is mocking. Ciel only dislikes Tolstoy: he’s too complicated and boring.

They are brought coffee, a milkshake, and a cake on a plate with a painted dessert spoon. Ciel eats the Red Velvet and swings his legs. Sebastian tastes the coffee, barely touching it with his lips, and sprinkles sugar in there. There’s nothing to stir it with. Ciel kindly lends his dessert spoon.

It’s a bit of a contactless kiss, because Sebastian licks the rest of the cake off the spoon. Ciel would kiss him now, but it’s too early. Not the right state.

Word by word, phrase by phrase. Ciel, gently applying his soft lips to the milkshake tube, complains about the vile Alois, about his ex.

“…And he tells me: I wanted your attention! How am I supposed to understand this, tell me, please? Because this idiot is always hysterical over little things, gets offended for God knows why and is jealous of me for everything that breathes?” Ciel even sobs emotionally. Tears press on his throat. Tears press on his nose, on the tear ducts. Sebastian’s hand gently falls on his fragile shoulder. “He says, like, I have an anxious-avoidant attachment style, I need your attention, love and support all the time. Fuck, couldn’t you tell me this earlier, before you keep fucking with my brain? Such things need to be said BEFORE the relationship! We should TALK, I can’t read minds!”

“That’s right,” Sebastian replies, stroking Ciel’s shoulder and neck, which resembles a porcelain vase. “I’m glad I have a relaxed-engaged style.”

“…Huh?”

Sebastian just smiles.

“I don’t throw tantrums for no reason and I take my partner’s life calmly. After all, their whole world shouldn’t revolve around me.”

Wise words.

…Perhaps this suits Ciel. When his love interest understands that Ciel has other things to do besides his personal life and that he may not have enough energy for everything.

Sebastian is so understanding. This warms Ciel’s insides, cooled by the milkshake.

VIII.

Sebastian pays for both of them.

“Uh, is that okay?” Ciel blinks. “Like, we’ve only known each other for less than an hour.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t mind paying for such a cutie,” and again that charming smile.

Ciel backs off. Eating at someone else’s expense is fine, until his conscience catches up with him.

And he’s a cutie.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” Sebastian asks.

“Maybe to the park?”

“Let’s go.”

“I have a feeling this is a date.”

“This is a date.”

And to make it more romantic, they wander along countless paths, and birds chirp incessantly in the foliage of the trees, and at some point Ciel realizes that they’ve gone somewhere where there are no mothers with children sitting on benches, and he doesn’t really care. Sebastian doesn’t look like a maniac.

Sebastian doesn’t torment his fragile body with his cock and hands. Sebastian talks about his work: publishing house N doesn’t want to publish the author M, their manuscript, however, is shitty, the story is not very good, a typical isekai about elf girls, the struggle for power, magic and penises: the main character fucks everyone in a row.

“Does anyone really read this?” Ciel is perplexed. “This is just disgusting.”

“Believe me, yes,” Sebastian sighs. “I recently saw a Korean novel. The title is long, just awful: “I was reincarnated as the main character of the novel I read, but I was kidnapped by Baron Francois, and I became dependent on his huge penis, which will one day impregnate me! ~”. I looked at it for about five minutes and just tried to understand why people are interested in such carnal and low.”

“I don’t really like sex in books,” Ciel mutters. “Usually it is described physiologically and roughly. I like the emphasis on sensuality.”

Too bad it doesn’t happen like that in real life…

Fucking Alois.

Ciel grits his teeth.

“I think so too. Sex is not only physical intimacy, but also emotional. It’s especially nice when both partners are on the same wavelength, and not on the currents closest to this wave.”

At some point, they stop. At some point, Ciel just looks at Sebastian, and the remains of Alois in his heart haunt him and try to say something, prove, dissuade him, but Ciel ignores them.

Sebastian’s eyes are not black. They are dark brown. Like bitter chocolate or cocoa sediment. It’s a pleasant eye contact, Ciel is comfortable immersing himself, and he does not need to create the illusion of sincerity and involvement.

Ciel rises up on his toes like a doe, resting his hand somewhere under Sebastian’s collarbone, and Sebastian himself willingly hunches over for him, who is more miniature, and it seems that they are kissing, it seems that they are on the same wavelength, it seems that this is

love.

IX.

Somehow swift and fast: Ciel does not really distinguish and understand what is happening, but he surrenders to the current. Let the sea carry him away from this shore. He is not destined to be a lonely moored ship, he will again go on this endless voyage.

In the supermarket, they take two cans of cola, some chips, Ciel still remembers some marshmallows in caramel, and all this is paid for with Sebastian’s card. His sugar daddy buys sweet things for his sugar rake.

Ciel does not have a father. He has a vague idea of ​​this image. Daddy issues?

Most likely.

Ciel hangs on Sebastian’s arm so naturally, as if this body part was created especially for him. Sebastian laughs that he is terribly clingy. Ciel complains that he wants to eat.

It is getting dark. The first stars are starting to light up in the sky, and Ciel absentmindedly thinks that his mother will soon return from work, that she will be worried. He will tell her that he went to his friend Arthur for a sleepover. It is normal to stay at a friend’s from Saturday night to Sunday morning. Mum will understand.

X.

A snow-white, advertising-spotted “comfort” taxi pulls up to them. Sebastian offers: do you want to stay at my place? Let’s watch something, I’ll treat you to my cooking.

“Uh, no,” Ciel shakes his head. “I feel awkward imposing myself…”

“I’m inviting you.”

“I’m just awkward.”

“You’re going to put me in an awkward position. Come on in.”

Sighing, Ciel gets into the back seat. Sebastian climbs in after him, and the taxi starts moving, and the driver — a sad Spaniard — drives them silently. The scent of Sebastian’s cologne is clearly detectable in the car — something liqueur-woody.

“Where exactly are we going?” Ciel purrs sleepily and rests his head almost on Sebastian’s shoulder.

“To Blackheath.”

Blackheath. The neighboring borough. Well, not that far from his native Louisheim. Ciel yawns into his palm and closes his eyes with a blissful smile.

He feels so good, warm and happy — happiness bubbles and sparkles somewhere in the depths of his narrow chest. Can this happen every day? Such euphoria of glitter, cola intoxication and Sebastian’s arm, so naturally hugging his waist? Ciel wants to laugh, wants to spread his arms and spin around in place until he falls.

To be honest, Ciel rarely visits this part of London, as well as the rest of it. Maybe in the center on school excursions, but Ciel is hardly a schoolboy anymore. Next academic year is his last.

…To be honest, Ciel is very worried about finishing school.

Like… he needs to do well on his exams and choose a university — and this too difficult decision will affect his whole future life. Ciel is not sure what he wants to do with his whole life. Not wash floors!

…Let’s not talk about it. Ciel is drunk with love even without alcohol, there is no point in ruining this pleasant state with some thoughts about the future. The future is scary — Ciel doesn’t want to think about it. He wants to kiss, and Sebastian willingly indulges him, merges with him with his lips, hotly, passionately and at the same time tenderly. Ciel loves such kisses.

He once kissed Alois in exactly the same way.

Let’s not talk about Alois.

Ciel peels himself away from Sebastian’s lips and looks into his eyes. It seems like little devils are jumping there.

Sebastian makes his head spin, his stupid head. A demonic man. This suits Ciel, a sugar angel, a real angel. Contrast: a monster and its cute prey.

Perhaps they are both monsters.

The taxi driver drops them off and drives away. Ciel looks around curiously, a little sobered. The street lamps come on and illuminate the street, shrouded in semi-darkness, with a brittle pale light.

There are such cute houses here, like toys. Cozy cottages are crowded together, and the gardens around them are blooming and fragrant. A cute place. There is something similar to my native Louisham, but a little different, here it is more gothic, more strict, more green. In Ciel’s opinion, of course.

In the distance, a church spire is visible, cutting the blue sky. “Ciel” in French means “sky”.

They approach a small cottage with a nice front garden — a rose garden full of different kinds of roses: pink, red, white with a purple tint, yellow-red… Sebastian takes the keys out of his pocket. Ciel looks at the rose bushes.

Sebastian’s house is drowning in viscous black, brown, gray and reddish flowers, everything is so serious and Sebastian-like. The furniture is beautiful — only noble wood with tiny inclusions of iron and plastic.

In the hallway, Ciel hangs on Sebastian’s neck again.

He is too amorous and trusting — a second thought that is lost as soon as Ciel manages to grab it by the tail, by the end.

They are met by a cat — big, fluffy, white. She purrs affectionately and rubs against Sebastian’s legs, dirtying his trousers with her fur. Ciel steps back quickly, his nose itching.

Damn it.

“What is it?” Sebastian asks, alarmed.

“I’m allergic to cat hair,” Ciel mutters, watching the cat nervously.

“Don’t worry, Lumi is hypoallergenic. And I have anti-allergy medication somewhere,” Sebastian reassures. “Take off your shoes and come in.”

Ciel raises his eyebrows, a little taken aback, but obediently kicks off his cute shoes, since that’s the will of the owner of the house, and trots after Sebastian into the kitchen, which is also tastefully furnished and very clean.

Usually, the kitchen where they cook looks a little shabby and dirty — the unfortunate grease stains or some other unpleasant dirt can be anywhere, but the kitchen in Sebastian’s house is sparkling clean. Either Sebastian fanatically cleans it until it looks like it was in IKEA, or he doesn’t cook.

The latter assumption is a lie — the food is delicious and clearly homemade. Ciel, who suffers from a mild eating disorder and sometimes has a hard time forcing himself to stuff breakfast, lunch and dinner into his tender stomach, eats baked potatoes and stewed meat with pleasure. Not too fatty, not too salty and not too spicy. Even better than his mother cooks, Ciel thinks.

“Tea or coffee?” Sebastian rummages through the cabinet, taking out two mugs — both transparent and tall, but with different prints: one with a blue hummingbird, the other with a blue motorcycle filled with flowers. Vibe. “There’s also wine and champagne.”

“No, thank you, I don’t drink. Tea is better.”

First of all, Ciel can’t drink yet, he’s not eighteen. Secondly, on holidays, Mum gives Sirius and Ciel all sorts of alcohol-containing potions to taste, and Ciel, frankly speaking, isn’t particularly impressed. Some are sour, some are bitter. Not tasty. Ciel would rather kill his body not with alcohol, but with the sugar in his soda.

Sebastian nods and turns on the electric kettle. The blue backlight comes on.

This won’t be water tinted with a tea bag, but real noble tea: Sebastian pours boiling water over the teapot and leaves it to brew.

Ciel is impressed and delighted by Sebastian’s housekeeping in the kitchen, but he’s also interested in the question: when will they finally fuck? after tea?

Sebastian gives Ciel an anti-allergy pill. Lumi sits by its bowl, its tail beautifully wrapped around its paws, and patiently waits to be fed too.

“What kind of breed is it?” Ciel asks. Well, the cat doesn’t look like a former yard cat, there’s something aristocratic about her.

“Neva Masquerade,” Sebastian answers, simultaneously rummaging through the same closet as before, but on a different shelf. “A female, by the way.”

“She is lovely.”

Lumi yawns, opening her soft pink mouth and yellowish teeth wide, shakes herself and meows briefly and plaintively.

“Wait, dear,” Sebastian places a plate of cookies on the table. Ciel is a little confused by so many types: they look the same, but the fillings on top are different colors. “I’ll finish with Ciel and then I’ll take care of you.”

Lumi, tired of waiting, jumps onto the nearest chair to her — the chair next to Ciel. She purrs amiably, pokes her cold wet nose into his knee.

And then she climbs onto him, stamps her soft paws, curls up. Ciel looks helplessly at Sebastian. Sebastian laughs.

“She likes you.”

“It’s normal, right?”

“Absolutely. If you get tired of it, move her to the chair. She’s quite intrusive.”

Lumi purrs, and this soft, even hum resonates through Ciel’s fragile body. Honestly, this is the first time he’s held a cat on his lap, and the feeling is pleasant — she’s so warm and heavy. Ciel hesitantly scratches her behind the ears.

The tea is ready. Sebastian pours boiling water and tea into cups and finally sits down at the table. Offers milk. Ciel refuses. Offers sugar. Three spoons, if you don’t mind. No problem, Ciel.

Sebastian’s foot coquettishly rests against Ciel’s small foot, and his gaze remains completely innocent. Ciel looks at him with a slight reproach and tries to hold back a smile. His heart flutters.

How hopelessly stupid it is to fall in love with a person you’ve known for less than a day. Lumi jumps off Ciel’s lap, and Sebastian’s hands end up on his soft thighs, predatorily digging into his flesh. Ciel demandingly pulls him by the tie into a messy, slobbering kiss, in the process of which their teeth and chins knock.

“The bed or the table?” Sebastian asks hoarsely. God, he’s so hot. Ciel gently places his hand on the erection sticking out through his pants and smiles slyly.

“Bed. My back will hurt after the table.”

Already checked. Ciel is smart enough not to mention his ex in such foreplay. This sometimes hurts the pride of new partners, remember.

They pick him up under the butt, and Ciel squeals in surprise and clings to Sebastian’s neck. Alois has never carried him in his arms. 1:0 in Sebastian’s favor.

Ciel doesn’t pay much attention to the interior of the bedroom, because they sit him on a double bed and kiss him greedily on the lips. Sebastian stands, demonstratively bent over, like an older man in front of a younger one. The light here comes only from the bedside lamp and the moon outside the window.

Ciel’s head is foggy. He vaguely feels kisses, he vaguely hears the dull thud of a belt buckle hitting the floor, Sebastian kisses his stomach and gets dangerously close to the buttons of his shorts.

“…can I?”

Yes, you can. That’s what they’re here for, right?

Ciel’s shorts fall to the floor. His underwear is soaking wet and the outline of his genitals is almost clearly outlined through the fabric.

Suddenly Ciel remembers his first time: Alois staring at his crotch in bewilderment and asking such a shameful and disgusting question, because of which Ciel still feels a little disgusted when it comes to intimacy… He doesn’t want Sebastian to repeat this experience, please, no.

Ciel’s underwear falls to the floor before Ciel realizes to bring his legs together and hide the most shameful part.

“How lovely,” Sebastian purrs. “All wet, and just for me.”

His fingers spread Ciel’s labia, revealing Ciel’s reddish, bloodshot inner world, not in the spiritual sense, but in the physical sense. Ciel looks away, embarrassed, and buries half his face in the pillow.

“I feel a little ashamed…”

“Why?” Sebastian frowns, feeling his clit.

“Well, because I’m like that…” Ciel points vaguely at his crotch. “My ex was almost turned off by it at one point. Like, he doesn’t want to stick his dick in me because I have a pussy, although it’s much more convenient this way — natural lubrication and all that…”

“Ciel, forget about him. It’s just me here — and I like orchids made of flesh and blood.”

What a poetic way to call cunt something else.

Sebastian charmingly pushes one finger into the slippery grasping channel of his vagina, staring at Ciel, who seems ready to cry.

“Everything is fine,” he whispers with his lips alone.

“I’ll take good care of you, don’t worry,"he whispers with his lips alone.

“You won’t want to make love to anyone else anymore,” he whispers with his lips alone.

“What vanity…” Ciel smiles weakly and relaxes his shoulders slightly. He accepts a kiss on the corner of his lips. “Go ahead.”

He doesn’t give a fuck anymore. They are naked, they are in bed. There is still a way back, but it has almost disappeared in the fog of lust.

The sheets are wrinkled, the bed creaks, and God, how Ciel missed this feeling of fullness between his legs. Sebastian’s cock is bigger than Alois’s, a little thicker and more beautiful, there is no ugly circumcision, and Ciel is pleased to have something like this inside himself — no matter how vulgar it is.

Perhaps Ciel needs such a partner — who thinks about his feelings. Sebastian asks in a whisper every minute: does it hurt? He can slow down. No, Ciel moans pitifully, clinging to his neck. Deeper and don’t you dare slow down.

Alois was just fucking him any way he could.

Perhaps Ciel needs a partner like that — one who thinks in principle. Sebastian prudently stretched his pussy a little with his fingers and put on a condom.

Alois was just fucking him. Ciel, you’re not on your period, there’s nothing to be afraid of, I’m sure you won’t get pregnant.

Asshole. Asshole. Bastard.

Ciel’s fingers dug into the sheet with such force that it begins to come apart with a quiet crack.

Sebastian breathes hoarsely and heavily above him, enters deeply and almost masterfully, hungry and thirsty, holds onto Ciel’s thin hips, kisses his face, shoulders and neck, tasting his flesh, whispers all sorts of sweet nonsense, and Ciel only moans muffled under him, and the headboard rhythmically knocks against the wall, and Ciel exhales it with a whistle, and arches his back and legs, rhythm, heat, lust, darkness, sweat…

Sebastian falls on him with a hoarse guttural growl, and Ciel moans high up, feeling how in response to Sebastian, heat spreads in the lower part of his sunken belly.

Transparent ejaculate flows around the shaft of Sebastian’s cock. White ejaculate flows into the condom. Sebastian squeezes Ciel in his arms at the level of his shoulder blades, kisses him hard and almost desperately, and Ciel, sweaty and tired, barely responds.

Hid chest feels heavy.

“Inh… al… r…” Ciel wheezes incoherently and coughs, turning his head away.

“…What?” Sebastian raises his head. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

Ciel starts coughing hoarsely, unable to answer. Sebastian sits up, alarmed, still inside Ciel’s limp hole.

“Are you okay?”

Ciel tries again with an effort:

“Inh… ler…”

Sebastian seems to guess. Carefully sliding out of Ciel, he slides to the floor, rummages through his black leatherette bag, and hands Ciel an inhaler. Ciel is still able to take his own medicine.

Sebastian sits next to him, watching him worriedly. Ciel clears his throat.

“Oh, my God… I thought I was going to die…”

“Sorry to ask… Do you have problems with your lungs?”

“Well, almost. I have asthma.”

The eternal flaw of his body — mutilated, twisted lungs. The killer of his body. Ciel can suffocate at any moment.

When they were arguing, Alois said that it would have been better if Ciel suffocated while running to his house.

Sebastian does not say such things. He only anxiously touches his chest, his soft, barely noticeable bulge. Here it’s soft, fatty tissue, and here it’s hard, bone.

Ciel closes his eyes tiredly.

He doesn’t see that the sperm in the condom is not white, but black.

XI.

He is washed in the bathtub with a soft sponge and a deliciously mango-scented shower gel. He is wrapped in a long black fluffy robe — several sizes larger than Ciel’s clothes. He is laid down on this huge bed with already clean bed linens, and Sebastian settles down next to him, kissing his forehead.

Ciel texts to his mother that he will stay at Arthur’s place. His mother doesn’t mind.

He is such a liar. Ciel dozes against Sebastian’s wide, warm chest.

It seems that Sebastian has a wedding ring on his finger. Ciel doesn’t pay much attention, tired, full and content.

He feels so good.

04.06.25 — 16.08.25

Chapter Text

I.

Ciel wakes up late. Bright sunlight slips through a narrow gap between the thick curtains. His ribs, clenched last night in a fit of passion, hurt a little.

A couple of minutes later, Sebastian comes into the room in a regular black T-shirt and shorts (these things look extremely strange on him, too homey) and puts a cup of tea on the bedside table and puts a white rose with a lilac tint next to it — Sterling Silver. Without thorns.

A freshly cut flower. From the rose garden?

“Good morning,” he smiles charmingly and sits on the edge of the bed next to Ciel’s knees. “How did you sleep?”

“Wonderful,” Ciel smiles sleepily. “The mattress is wonderful.”

“Orthopedic,” Sebastian nods.

Ciel looks at the bedside table with curiosity.

“For me?”

“Mgm.”

Ciel crawls to Sebastian, buries his nose in his neck. Sebastian hugs his back and pushes him back onto the bed. He kisses him — on the ear, on the cheeks, on the nose, on the lips. Ciel is unable to respond to such an insatiable and hungry man who is ready to bite off his cute face.

“And is the rose also for me?”

“Yes, it is. A gift.”

“Men are usually not given flowers.”

“I have never given flowers to anyone in my life. You are the first exception.”

Ciel smiles shyly.

The feeling of yesterday’s euphoria has almost evaporated, but it still hovers somewhere in the nooks and crannies of his body: Ciel feels so easy, so pleasant. It is almost natural.

“To be honest, I was a little worried that you would reject me after the first night.”

“For what reason?” Sebastian mumbles, busy running his fingers through Ciel’s hair and scratching his head. “You have a nice body. You’re thin, petite — like a doll. I think it’s cute.”

Ciel blushes. A little. Not used to hearing so many good things about himself at once.

Alois always said that Ciel was a stupid, bulimic cunt.

Let’s not talk about Alois.

“You’re nice inside, too, don’t worry… A bit tight, though… Can I ask a rude question?”

Ciel thinks for a moment and nods.

“Are you a virgin?”

“Uh…” He wrinkles his nose, as if the memory of Alois gives off a garlicky, putrid stench. “Well, no… No.”

Ciel remembers sucking Alois’s ugly cock. Ciel remembers Alois licking his pussy, asking him to choke him with his thighs. Ciel remembers Alois groping him in the park, licking their lips slobberingly under the sign of a 24-hour supermarket, fucking in Alois’s rented bachelor pad — bare walls, dirty floors, cockroaches scurrying around the kitchen.

Ciel shudders. Sebastian strokes his shoulders, and at some point his hands slide down to his small chest.

“Wait, I’m not ready for a morning round,” Ciel weakly resists. Not that he really minds it. “I want to eat.”

Ciel may have an eating disorder, but in the morning he wants to eat. His stomach is twisted with a sad, penetrating emptiness. Ciel is bleeding gastric juice.

And he also wants to puke.

The cheeky hand obediently slips away. Sebastian kisses him on the nose.

“Get up then. Breakfast is ready.”

“You are so thrifty. I am a terrible household invalid compared to you,” Ciel smiles embarrassedly. “I can clean, but I can’t cook… Okay, I’m lying. I can cook pasta, sausages and potatoes. And porridge in a slow cooker.”

And Ciel also knows how to use a microwave — this is the height of culinary skill (without sarcasm).

“Commendable.”

Ciel eats a warm omelet with cheese, while Sebastian fiddles with a coffee pot. Usually Ciel eats so well only on weekends. Most often, he eats chocolate pillows of dry breakfast cereal drowned in milk with a delicate chocolate filling — not the most filling food.

The omelet melts in your mouth. The cheese stretches, like in a pizza commercial. Not a very flattering fact: in pizza commercials, they mix glue with the cheese to make it stretch more.

Lumi, who has already eaten her morning canned food, jumps onto the chair next to Ciel and purrs.

“Are you going home after breakfast or should we take a little walk?” Sebastian asks, pouring coffee into his cup. Ciel refused to drink it.

“Mmm, I don’t know,” Ciel thoughtfully pulls the drool-covered fork out of his mouth. “I need to go home. Mum will be worried.”

“Mama’s boy, huh?”

“Whose else? I don’t have a father.”

Sebastian looks at him with his mysterious, deep gaze. Ciel sips his tea just as mysteriously.

Are his daddy issues that noticeable? Most likely, yes. Ciel wouldn’t look for a father figure in other people.

“…did he die?” Sebastian suddenly asks. Quietly, but in the silence, this phrase will be deafeningly familiar. Someone turned the volume up to maximum.

“He didn’t,” Ciel looks away.

The topic of his father is a rather sore spot. Ciel doesn’t remember him at all (if he ever saw him). His mother doesn’t talk about him and doesn’t keep in touch with his paternal relatives either.

His father is like the Canterville Ghost — he also slips away. A human phantom. Like Alois, but with the difference that Alois was more tangible physically.

“He just abandoned my mother. I can’t say if it was after I was born or when I was just a lump of cells.”

Before their mother’s vagina vomited them into this world.

Sebastian’s hand touches his hand gently. Ciel looks at that big palm, those long fingers, those black nails — and it hits him.

“You know,” Sebastian’s spidery fingers stroke his knuckles hypnotically. His breath is so hot and wet, “I can be your daddy.”

He sees something he shouldn’t see, and this knowledge scares him.

The ring. Sebastian has a wedding ring on the ring finger of that hand.

Sebastian is married.

II.

He’s a homewrecker.

He fucked with someone’s husband, and it gives Ciel a slimy, unpleasant feeling in his mouth. He thinks he’s about to be caught and punished.

Gluttony and lust for other people’s flesh are among the deadly sins. Someone is coming for Ciel’s soul soon. Here’s your bill — pay for your whipped cum cocktail.

Ciel doesn’t go for a walk with Sebastian. Instead, he runs away.

He takes a taxi to his street and, after getting off, wanders along the deserted road to his house, hugging himself. A cool, unsummery wind blows between his ribs.

Slime coats his body. He needs to wash. Ciel is dirty, vicious, and defiled, and now he thinks he can defile others, too. Disfigure in his own image.

Sebastian has a wife (or husband). Sebastian may have children. How will these people feel about their husband or father turning left and slobberingly kissing a seventeen-year-old nymphet?

He will be punished. Ciel is sure of it.

Frightened, he does not look back. Frightened, he hurriedly climbs the back stairs to the second floor and unlocks the door. It seems to him that their neighbors already know everything, and now he will be stopped by the hypothetical Mrs. April and asked: did you like riding a married man’s dick, Ciel?

He liked it. Ciel is very ashamed and wet in his pants.

No one is home.

III.

Ciel can’t find a place for himself, rushes around all three rooms, eats an apple, turns on the TV just to have some background sound, so that the silence doesn’t press on his fragile skull. Let the world not go quiet.

He texts to Sirius. Sirius is at the store, buying groceries for Mum: such an important task! he will be home soon. Mum is getting a manicure today.

Ciel finishes chewing the last apple slice. Some degenerate quiz for clerks and housewives is on TV, and he overhears a stupid question: is it worth eating apples from the middle?

Obviously, yes.

Ciel collapses on the couch, plugs wireless headphones into his ears, but can’t choose what to listen to. His own favorite playlist now seems like garbage. Silence is a cool beat.

Sebastian probably isn’t torturing himself right now. Stroking Lumi and reading manuscripts. Or maybe he’s remembering Ciel and jerking off. Ciel doesn’t want Sebastian jerking off on him.

The door lock clicks. Sirius is back.

Sirius is back — and Ciel throws himself on his neck, babbling incoherently about everything that happened.

He’s married, Sirius, I’m such a bastard, I pushed him down the wrong path.

Ciel is crying choked back tears, smearing spit, snot and tears on Sirius’s shoulder. Sirius hugs his shaking body tightly — as if he’s having a convulsion, as if he’s having an epileptic seizure.

“Ciel, you didn’t know,” Sirius mutters comfortingly. “You didn’t know, did you?”

He didn’t know. Sebastian didn’t show him the stamp in his passport and didn’t tell him that he already had a wife (or husband). Ciel didn’t even see the ring on his finger while they were fucking — maybe he just didn’t want to see it.

“Let’s go unpack the groceries. And have some tea,” Sirius beckons him like a siren, but more tenderly.

Sirens sink ships and drive even the strongest sailors crazy with their singing. Ciel is already drowning — it’s simply impossible to make things worse.

They eat yesterday’s cheesecakes with tea: Sirius eats strawberry one, Ciel eats chocolate one. Delicious, but not enough: Ciel runs out of his cake somehow quickly. He remembers the “Red Velvet” that Sebastian bought him. Ciel shudders.

It seems that Sebastian said something about being Ciel’s daddy.

Father. His function in the family is vague for Ciel. What should a father figure be like? she should protect, cherish and try to give the best for the child — is this what Sebastian is suggesting?

…

Ciel sullenly takes a sip from his cup of tea, which seems like tasteless warm water. Notifications jingle — from Twitter. Ciel does not want to write to Sebastian yet.

@refl3ctlesss

How are you? Am I disturbing you?

You are. Ciel frowns at the screen and turns off his mobile. He has important business now: he is drinking tea with his brother, and then they will go and play something.

“Arthur recommended a new game to me,” says Sirius. “Want to try it? Some pixel horror game.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

Should we talk about Arthur, whom Ciel considers unworthy of his noble presence? Perhaps we should. Arthur is a professor with a PhD in hornylogy and computer games, and a prominent researcher of hentai manga, especially the Korean remana. He always knows what to read and what to play.

Ciel despises him. Because Arthur introduced him to Alois.

Let’s not talk about Alois.

They download a torrent of the game. They unpack the files. The download begins — pink Windows 20.

To be honest, Ciel doesn’t like it very much yet. Electronic music, everything so eye-catchingly pink, girly. Their main duties: monitoring the condition of their poor streamer and fucking her from time to time. Yes, there is sex, but it is not shown. Their ward, whom they have the honor of seeing through the in-game webcam, simply disappears from view, and hearts float everywhere. Let’s make-make-make-make love~

“Dear Bianca” by biz × ZERA plays in the background, and Ciel sings along to the Japanese vocals, skipping three fourths of the words. In fact, he does not sing anything that does not sound very similar to English.

They try the game on the fourth (!) game day out of thirty: they ignored the messages of the virtual Ame several times, and the game automatically gave one of twenty-seven endings. Ciel thinks that this is some kind of allegory for him and Alois.

Crossing boundaries — they really did cross boundaries.

“Needy Girl Overdose” is like a parallel to them. Everything is the same, except Ciel is not a producer and Alois is not a streamer. Everything is the same, except there is no save button.

Life is an endless game. The song switches. Chu-chu lovely muni-muni mura-mura! For those who don’t know, it’s a song about rape. Cool, right? Ciel watches without interest as Sirius stuffs the game Ame with Colorado beetle diazepam — the pills are also black and orange. The game is hysterically glitching.

n0_m0r3_l0v3_4_U.jpg

IV.

@refl3ctlesss

Ciel? Something happened?

@ciel2ffaced

eh no

@ciel2ffaced

everything is fine

@ciel2ffaced

played a game with my brother and forgot to answer

@ciel2ffaced

what is it @_@

@refl3ctlesss

Are you free tomorrow?

Ciel puts a grape in his mouth and thinks about what to answer. Now he is lying on the bed — in a home T-shirt with an unknown nameless anime girl, stupidly bought by his mother, and shorts — now he is free. Tomorrow is a dubious answer.

Maybe tomorrow he will not wake up. Maybe tomorrow an atomic bomb will explode.

Ciel also has to go to work at three o’clock tomorrow.

@ciel2ffaced

i’m working tomorrow

@ciel2ffaced

i’m free until three or after five

@refl3ctlesss

Unexpected. I didn’t think such a softie would work and get calluses.

This message is laced with sarcasm. Ciel frowns and gets angry. He really did have a callus — on his right thumb.

@ciel2ffaced

while all sorts of bitches spend mummy’s money, i earn mine own

@ciel2ffaced

i’m cool (⁠◡⁠⁠ω⁠⁠◡⁠)✨

@refl3ctlesss

Don’t you want to spend daddy’s?

…

What?

Ah. Sebastian said something about being his sugar daddy. Daddy. Ciel doesn’t know if he has a daddy kink. Alois never asked to be called “daddy”.

…Maybe it’s not so bad. If you think about it. Ciel likes to eat all sorts of tasty and unhealthy things. Especially for free.

His cheese is in a mousetrap. Just kidding!

@ciel2ffaced

let’s get this straight

@ciel2ffaced

if you really want to spend money on me you’re welcome

@ciel2ffaced

but only for small amounts

@ciel2ffaced

i can’t explain to my mother where i got a Gucci bag and an iphone 17

Given that he makes about sixty pounds a month. Given that the iPhone 17 hasn’t even been shown to the public yet.

@refl3ctlesss

Okay. Shall we go for a walk tomorrow at six?

Ciel thinks for a moment. Honestly, he doesn’t really want to meet Sebastian tomorrow. He still feels disgusted and sick even after an hour-long hot shower.

He types “no” and deletes it. He types “yes” and deletes it.

@ciel2ffaced

where are we going?

@refl3ctlesss

Wherever you want.

Ciel doesn’t want to go anywhere. Ciel wants to crawl under the covers and fall asleep.

@ciel2ffaced

to the mall then

@ciel2ffaced

haven’t been there in a long time

@refl3ctlesss

The one in Lewisham?

@ciel2ffaced

yup

@refl3ctlesss

Okay.

Ciel finds their correspondence boring and monotonous. No emoji, no stickers. Empty and gray. Sebastian is so boring: he puts periods at the end of sentences, and his eyes are dazzled by the emoji.

“Ciel, are you sure?” Sirius asks cautiously, sitting down next to him on the edge of the bed. “I’m afraid this could end badly.”

Siri is right. He shouldn’t hang out with the married man who is almost twice as old as Ciel. In theory, Sebastian could really be his father if he conceived in high school or at university.

But Ciel is too absorbed in this masochism: Sebastian is better, he is more attentive, he is a thousand times more caring than Alois, he is his ideal partner. It is pleasant to talk to him (as long as there is no word “daddy”), it is pleasant to fuck with him. Ciel jumps on him — and all thoughts evaporate. Jellyfish can live for thousands of years without brains.

Perhaps Ciel, a jellyfish, is just as brainless.

They wander aimlessly through the mall. Ciel loves window shopping and is glad that Sebastian doesn’t mind this pastime. Of his entourage, only Sirius understands the charm of pointless looking at products.

They enter a bookstore. Ciel studies the shelves with manga, while Sebastian leafs through the newly published books and grumbles under his breath: everything is boring, everything is dry, everything is meaningless. Have you chosen anything, Ciel? no? Then let’s go somewhere else.

They enter a store with beautiful, but damn expensive dishes. Ciel looks at the glasses, thematic sets of plates, lemonade bowls, vases, pewter figurines, expensive flowerpots (one hundred and forty-six pounds each) a-la gold, and a huge ottoman for almost two hundred and eighty pounds. Ciel thinks: only really rich people could sit on something like that. There are also expensive detergents, cute sponges in the shape of cats and hedgehogs, beautiful saucepans, spoons for ten pounds each, confetti soap and super expensive but beautiful lollipops (three pounds). Ciel twirls a narwhal lollipop, examines the sprinkles covered in clear caramel, and even considers buying it, but when he sees that there is no sugar in the ingredients, he changes his mind. Does the taste justify the price? Most likely not.

Sebastian buys two cups with wooden coasters. Ciel doesn’t want to think about how much money he paid for them.

They go into a clothes shop. Ciel doesn’t need any things yet, but Sebastian wants to look at a jacket. He has an important meeting with a publishing house soon, and he needs to look decent.

Sebastian is also very picky when it comes to clothes. There is no point in looking at white jackets, he is not going to a wedding. He doesn’t wear bright colors. Olive color suits his face well, but he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like eggplant color either. He has a black jacket — and not one, but four of them. Dark blue… Well, not bad, but he will think about it for now.

“Check it out,” Ciel pokes Sebastian with a hanger while he spins in front of the mirror, wincing. It seems that light gray is not in favor either.

Sebastian looks around. Raises his eyebrows. Silence.

“I’m not sure this will suit me.”

“In theory it should. I don’t know. I can’t combine colors,” Ciel shrugs. “Try it on, m?”

Sebastian sighs. As if burgundy is a bad color. The color of meat, strawberries — and blood.

After all, they don’t buy anything, but they keep the dark blue jacket for themselves in case they can’t find anything suitable in other clothing stores. Sebastian offers to buy something for Ciel. Ciel shakes his head: no, I don’t need or want anything. Except maybe something to eat.

They go to the food court.

“Come to think of it, this is the first time I’ve gone out to eat with someone other than my friends, but with, uh…” a love interest? boyfriend? sugar daddy? what should he call Sebastian? “Ahem. I’ve never gone out to just eat with my ex.”

“Why?”

Sebastian’s participation in the conversation is always nice. He asks, tries to understand, to get into the topic. In the bookstore, Ciel explained to him the differences between manga, manhwa and manhua, and explained the plot of “Chainsaw Man”. It warms you up when someone really listens to you.

“He’s a vegan,” Ciel says sourly. “He only eats vegetables, and it would be fine if he ate them silently, but no, he condemns all meat eaters. I tried to adopt his habits, but it didn’t work out very well. Firstly, I already have malnutrition, I’d die faster on vegetables alone. Secondly, eating only greens is generally unhealthy. We’re not rabbits.”

“Fortunately, I’m not a vegan,” Sebastian grins. “I don’t particularly like fast food, but I like meat.”

Ciel’s heart — a beautiful songbird, — is shaking its feathers and wailing loudly. Its pounding voice hits the bones of the rib cage and resonates.

Order: nine nuggets, cheese sauce, ice cream (chocolate and strawberry), two cans of Pepsi zero three, and Ciel’s pussy. What do you mean, the cheese sauce is gone?

Of course, Sebastian selflessly eats Ciel out, locked in a public toilet stall with him. Ciel covers his mouth with his hand, moaning pitifully and muffledly and pressing his hot back against the cold wall of the stall, while Sebastian torments his unfortunate pussy with his dodgy tongue, blowing hot breath on the sensitive flesh and flooding it with his saliva with the taste of strawberry McFlurry.

There is a sign on the wall: mey dresses like a slut. Provides food for thought.

Unobtrusive lounge music drowns out the slurping sounds and asthmatic gasps. Sebastian shoves his fingers into Ciel — one for now, but in the future at least three.

“Do you want my dick?” Sebastian asks, licking his lips and grinning roguishly.

Ciel doesn’t answer. His head is empty.

Heat. Heat. High. It’s like a drug addiction — but instead of marijuana or heroin, it’s Sebastian’s cock and fingers. It seems like nymphomania — except that Ciel’s sexual intercourse is not promiscuous.

Of course, Sebastian selflessly fucks Ciel, impaling his soft, pliable body on his hard, unyielding cock. Ciel’s black leatherette bag lies on the floor, open, and an empty condom package sticks out of it.

It’s good that Sebastian is thinking about contraception. Ciel would hardly have thought of such a thing.

It feels so good.

V.

“Fuck, I’m late for work…”

Fear cuts through the veil of euphoria easily and quickly, like a sheet of paper cut by sharp scissors (not about the movement of two fingers in tight flesh, but about real scissors). Ciel looks at the time in horror while Sebastian carefully wipes his thighs with wet wipes.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you a ride. I have wheels today.”

Ciel ignores the last sentence. Not that he cares where Sebastian’s car was yesterday.

They leave the toilet, and Sebastian hugs him around the waist. Ciel sighs. From the outside, they probably look strange: a doll-like, disheveled boy and a refined, tall man. It’s immediately obvious who was fucked.

“Ciel!”

Ciel shudders with his whole body and turns around. Fuck.

Arthur. Fucking Arthur, who introduced him to fucking Alois. Damn.

“Hello, didn’t expect to see you here,” Arthur smiles vaguely and emptyly. The professor of hornylogy lives exclusively on hop-containing products, that is, on beer. On good German or Czech beer.

“Eh, yeah. Ha-ha.”

Ciel thinks: he speaks like a moron. Sebastian’s hand is greedily digging between his protruding pelvic bone and his ass, and Sebastian himself is looking at Arthur with disdain, the way one usually looks at a centipede or a piece of shit. However, these two different substances suit Arthur equally well.

“And who is this?”

Ciel looks back at Sebastian in confusion. Sebastian smiles sweetly, and therefore poisonously. Any medicine turns into poison in large quantities, and honey is often used for medicinal purposes. Honey is also essentially poison.

“Oh, we’re friends.”

What kind of idiocy is this. Shit. Usually the ones who say they’re just friends are the ones most suspected of having a romantic relationship. Ciel isn’t ready to tell his mum that he has a new boyfriend who’s twice his age (most likely).

For some reason, Arthur laughs. In his hand is a gold can of Monster Energy, Zero-Sugar Ultra Gold. A pint of gasoline with a slight pineapple flavor.

“Friends? I didn’t know Ciel had friends… Close friends?”

“Enough, to the point of contact of mucous membranes.”

…That’s logical.

Arthur doesn’t seem to understand what Sebastian is saying and again applies to the can of magical elven concoction that makes his body function four times more efficiently.

Ciel feels awkward and stupid. He wants to run away. Or die. He’s also late for work.

“We should go. It was nice chatting,” Sebastian smiles sarcastically, and his fingers dig even harder into Ciel’s buttock. His poor butt.

Arthur doesn’t seem to understand what Sebastian is saying.

They leave.

Ciel sits in the backseat of Sebastian’s fragrant car, a nimble black Renault Logan. There are no canisters of bleach, a hammer, or rope at his feet — a standard kit for murder in the forest belt. Sebastian does not intend to kill him.

“Where are we going?” Sebastian asks, driving out of the parking lot.

“To Barclays,” Ciel replies, looking sadly out the window. Houses and green spaces flash by. “Do you know?”

“I do. They’re giving me a loan there,” Sebastian grins and looks at Ciel through the rearview mirror. Their gazes meet there, but Ciel slips away.

VI.

There’s not much to say about work. Ciel dusts, Sirius sweeps the kitchen floor and mops the floor there. Then they polish the banisters of the stairs leading to the second floor until they shine. Ciel vacuums the first floor and collects the garbage bags there, and Sirius mops the floor again. They finish in about an hour, and at four they leave the bank.

Ciel wants a cherry cola, so they stop at a supermarket on the way. Half the shelves are empty for some reason.

VII.

@refl3ctlesss

Are you busy?

@ciel2ffaced

i finished a long time ago

@ciel2ffaced

an hour ago

@refl3ctlesss

Oh, good.

@ciel2ffaced

we’ll sit down to dinner now

@refl3ctlesss

Also good. You’re so skinny. You need to eat more.

@ciel2ffaced

ugh bore

@refl3ctlesss

Ciel, I’m serious. I can wrap my arms around your waist like a ring with almost both of my hands.

@refl3ctlesss

That’s not healthy.

@ciel2ffaced

🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮

@refl3ctlesss

Ciel.

@ciel2ffaced

what

@ciel2ffaced

?

@refl3ctlesss

You’re ruining your health. You can’t do that.

@ciel2ffaced

i know 😭

@ciel2ffaced

i can’t get fat

@ciel2ffaced

i eat three times a day and snack on all sorts of junk

@ciel2ffaced

i just drank some soda and ate some crab chips

@ciel2ffaced

it was delicious

@refl3ctlesss

I still doubt you eat three meals a day.

@ciel2ffaced

i solemnly swear

@refl3ctlesss

I still don’t believe you. Did you enjoy eating my cooking?

@ciel2ffaced

oh yeah

@ciel2ffaced

very tasty

@ciel2ffaced

kissing the cook’s hands

@ciel2ffaced

<3 <3 <3

Less than three. Less than three. Less than three.

@refl3ctlesss

I’m glad. If you want, I can cook you something.

@ciel2ffaced

i like lentil soup

A lull in correspondence.

@refl3ctlesss

I’ve lived for so many years and still don’t know what lentils are.

@ciel2ffaced

beans look like peas

@ciel2ffaced

there’s chicken broth carrots onions potatoes

@ciel2ffaced

chicken meat itself

@ciel2ffaced

and lentils

@ciel2ffaced

mum also adds soy sauce it’s tastier

@refl3ctlesss

I need to cook this. I’m interested.

@ciel2ffaced

it’s delicious you’ll probably like it ^⁠_⁠^

@refl3ctlesss

I’ll take your word for it.

@ciel2ffaced

oh shit

@ciel2ffaced

how come i didn’t think of that right away

@ciel2ffaced

you asked to talk about my eating disorder

@ciel2ffaced

to find out the top secret recipe for lentil soup 😨

@ciel2ffaced

🚓🚓🚔🚔🚨🚨

@ciel2ffaced

they’re coming for you

@ciel2ffaced

i’m a minor by the way

Silence. Ciel lies on his stomach and swings his legs, rhythmically hitting them on the couch.

@refl3ctlesss

You’re kidding

Ciel raises his eyebrows in surprise. Sebastian was so surprised that he forgot to put a period at the end of the sentence. Or should there be a question mark?

@ciel2ffaced

uh no

@ciel2ffaced

i’m seventeen

Silence. Maybe Sebastian has already had a heart attack due to nerves? Ciel thinks he needs to be consoled.

@ciel2ffaced

but i’m of age of sexual consent

@ciel2ffaced

then everything is fine

@ciel2ffaced

i don’t mind dating you

@ciel2ffaced

and fucking with you

@refl3ctlesss

Ciel, they can put me in jail.

@ciel2ffaced

they won’t put you in jail

@ciel2ffaced

i agree

@ciel2ffaced

the main thing is don’t let me drink, smoke or sniff any nasty stuff <3

@refl3ctlesss

I’m starting to hate you. You can’t cause such emotional upheavals.

@refl3ctlesss

I’m old, Ciel.

@ciel2ffaced

and how old are you?

@refl3ctlesss

I'm thirty-two.

@ciel2ffaced

oh well i thought something like that

@ciel2ffaced

though really it’s a shit almost twice as old as me

@ciel2ffaced

okay, i don’t give a fuck

@ciel2ffaced

you offered to cook for me

@ciel2ffaced

are you inviting me over?

@refl3ctlesss

You could say that.

@ciel2ffaced

yay

@ciel2ffaced

i’ll come

@ciel2ffaced

<3

@refl3ctlesss

I’m still trying to figure out what that means.

@ciel2ffaced

heart

@refl3ctlesss

I see.

@refl3ctlesss

<3.

@ciel2ffaced

bas don’t embarrass yourself

@ciel2ffaced

i can call you that right?

@refl3ctlesss

As you like. But not Sebby or Bassy. It sounds pathetic.

@ciel2ffaced

okay

@ciel2ffaced

my mum is calling me i’ll go

@refl3ctlesss

Enjoy your meal.

VIII.

@femb0y_power

@ciel2ffaced, who is this mysterious hottie, confess

<image>

Fucking Arthur told Alois everything and even managed to take a photo of them from behind in that mall. Fuck. Ciel doesn’t want to reply to this tweet.

Why are there such idiots around him?

Notification!

It’s not Sebastian who texts to him in dm, but Alois. Is Mercury in some phase today?

@femb0y_power

hi hiw ar u

Ciel doesn’t enter their chat yet, thinking. He doesn’t want to talk to Alois. It hasn’t even been a week since they broke up — and he’s already running to Ciel as fast as he can, like a beaten puppy. It doesn’t work like that. They broke up — that’s the final, irrefutable decision. That’s it, that’s the end of their relationship. They didn’t want to try to stay friends.

Notification!

@femb0y_power

i hearf u habe a new boyfriens :-)))

Well, Alois is true to himself: he writes everything like a moron, and asks tactless questions. And puts this mocking: -)

Notification!

@femb0y_power

hos did u like suckinf thr new dick

Ciel doesn’t know yet. He hasn’t given Sebastian a blowjob yet and he’s a little worried about it. He has exclusively vomit-inducing associations with blowjobs.

Ciel logs offline. He’d rather go eat than rack his brains over what cool thing to write to Alois. He’ll think of something later. He can also just ignore him. What’s the difference? They are not lovers or even friends anymore.

IX.

@refl3ctlesss

This soup is terrible.

@refl3ctlesss

I kept it on the fire for too long, and the lentils all boiled over.

@refl3ctlesss

<image>

@ciel2ffaced

no big deal this is also delicious

@ciel2ffaced

don’t forget to add soy sauce

@refl3ctlesss

I already have it.

@refl3ctlesss

When would be convenient for you to come?

@ciel2ffaced

any day before three or after five. i’m free on weekends

@refl3ctlesss

I’ll pick you up at six o'clock tomorrow. You’ll have dinner at my place.

@ciel2ffaced

<3

@refl3ctlesss

<3

@refl3ctlesss

This still looks weird.

@ciel2ffaced

you’re a disgrace bas 😭

@refl3ctlesss

Why?

@ciel2ffaced

you’re ruining the vibe

@ciel2ffaced

don’t ruin the vibe

@refl3ctlesss

Yes, my lord.

@ciel2ffaced

what the hell was that just now

@ciel2ffaced

?

@refl3ctlesss

I expressed my submission and consent.

@ciel2ffaced

i thought you were dominant

@refl3ctlesss

Looks like I’ll have to demonstrate my dominance once again.

This message gives off a desire to fuck. However, Ciel doesn’t mind. He likes sex with Sebastian.

Sex is nice — especially sad sex. Ciel is slowly recovering.

@ciel2ffaced

i’ll wait then

@ciel2ffaced

💋💋💋

Sebastian doesn’t complain about emojis. Ciel puts his phone down and sighs, closing his eyes.

He wants to sleep.

16.08.25 — 20.08.25

Chapter Text

I.

Sebastian, as promised, picks up Ciel almost next to the bank at four. Almost next to it because Ciel is afraid that his mother will see her son climbing into an unfamiliar car.

Sebastian doesn’t really look like the type to lure children inside with candy or kittens, but his mother won’t care.

Ciel hasn’t eaten anything since morning, and his stomach aches, quietly begging: my friend, feed me at least something other than cereal and pathetic chips… Ciel doesn’t listen to the voice of hunger yet. There’s no point. Sebastian will feed him himself now.

“How are things at work?” Sebastian asks, not taking his eyes off the road.

“As usually. It’s hot in the vestibule because there is no air conditioning, and it’s cold on the first floor. Ah, also some man came, he got the whole chair dirty.”

Ciel explains: every day they have to wipe down the employees' desks on the client side and the backs of the chairs. Many of the bank’s clients are farmers, who come almost straight from the fields. That’s why their hands are dirty, the chairs get dirty. And their shoes are dirty, the floor has to be washed again. Ciel despises everyone who has dirty shoes, and respects all the old ladies who come to pay for utilities: their shoes are always clean.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“Bas, it’s thirty degrees outside. I can’t get cold.”

“Hah, that’s right.”

Sometimes Ciel feels like he’s talking to someone his own age. Sometimes Ciel feels like he’s talking to an old man.

Ciel is wearing short, slutty black denim shorts. Sebastian’s big hand casually falls on his thigh and gently squeezes it. Something is going to happen.

Ciel wonders if it’s safe to drive while rubbing the lover’s clit through thick denim. Does that seem a bit off?

“Are you dripping?” Sebastian asks smugly.

“A little. Watch the road, not my cunt.”

“Have you been to the gynecologist?”

“What do you mean?”

If Sebastian were to say he had HIV or syphilis or something, Ciel would simply strangle him. And then slit his own throat. Better to die than suffer such humiliations.

“I’m worried that you might have some kind of problem because of our sexual relations, you know?”

“Have you been to the doctor yourself?”

“I was there today.”

Oh well. Ciel didn’t find anything strange about himself. There’s nothing to worry about.

They leave Lewisham and cross Blackheath.

It turns out that Sebastian has neighbors. His house is semi-detached, which are houses that are connected to their neighbors by only one common wall. On the right side of the cottage live two Chinese: a tall man and a tiny girl with huge boobs. The man speaks English well, but with a clear accent and strange constructions. The girl doesn’t speak at all. It seems that she is unsociable.

“Hello, friend black hair,” the man says to Sebastian when he gallantly opens the car door for Ciel, letting him out. “How your health?”

“Everything is fine, don’t worry,” Sebastian smiles at him. Somehow absentmindedly and a little forced.

The Chinese man looks at Ciel attentively with narrow black eyes and smiles again.

“Hello, friend of friend black hair. I live in this house through your wall. My name Lau.”

“Uh, nice to meet you,” Ciel doesn’t know if it’s really nice to meet him. “I’m Ciel.”

“We’ll go,” Sebastian says, throwing his warm, heavy arm over Ciel’s fragile shoulders. Leading him away.

The Chinese man doesn’t seem to understand why they’re leaving, and continues to water the arborvitae planted next to his door with a hose. The girl, who doesn’t speak English, catches a sparrow in mid-flight and squeezes the poor bird in her fist. The sparrow squeaks pitifully and goes limp.

Ciel feels ashamed. If the Chinese were home, they might have heard Sebastian fucking Ciel’s little pussy. Fuck.

“Don’t worry, they don’t care,” Sebastian reassures him, rushing between the refrigerator and the cupboard with dishes. “They won’t complain about the noise because I have something to complain about too. I’ll get a small fine, and they could go to jail for a few years.”

“Why?”

“They sell heroin.”

“Oh…”

So Sebastian has drug dealers on the other side of the wall. What a nice neighborhood!

Sebastian puts a bowl of soup in the microwave. Ciel swings his legs. A sleepy Lumi comes from some room and jumps on Ciel’s lap.

“I won’t be able to hang out at your place for long,” Ciel says, petting the cat. “I can lie to Mum that I was out for a walk, but that only works until seven in the evening.”

“We have two and a half hours anyway.”

Two hours to fuck. Perfect. Ciel eats soup from a beautiful plate with gusto — white, with some geometric patterns, red and blue. Sebastian’s soup turned out delicious, maybe a little tastier than Mum’s. Just a little. A little bit.

“Do you like it?” Sebastian asks almost hopefully. Ciel laughs. It’s hilarious: a grown man worried about whether the soup was tasty enough.

“I kissed the cook’s hands,” Ciel says. “I want to eat this stuff every day, but then there won’t be any variety of nutrients.”

Fun fact: you can live for a month on strawberries alone.

“I’m glad,” Sebastian smiles.

Ciel finishes his soup. Says thank you. You’re welcome, Ciel. You know, Ciel smiles wickedly, I kissed more than just the cook.

Ciel kneels down in front of Sebastian. Here is his place — between his invitingly spread legs.

Sebastian is hard. In his trousers, a rock-hard, blood-filled cock. Ciel buries his nose in his crotch.

“I can suck you off… Do you want me to?” he whispers hotly, teasingly touching his trousers with his lips.

A dumb slut. Mey dresses like a slut. Ciel doesn’t know Mey, but he thinks they’re similar.

“I do.”

Ciel unbuttons Sebastian’s trousers with his deft fingers — he knocks out the button and pulls down the zipper — and pushes the underwear aside. The erection jumps out like a jack-in-the-box: POP!

He squeezes the hot, hard flesh several times, smearing the leaking pre-cum along the entire length.

“Mmm, you’re already so big and hard,” Ciel coos stupidly, runs his tongue along the underside of Sebastian’s penis, and gently kisses the head. Pre-cum, of course, is not soda, not a milk kiss. Ciel doesn’t like such tastes, but he tolerates it. Well, for the sake of his partner’s pleasure, you can tolerate it. Especially considering that Sebastian recently performed cunnilingus on him.

Perhaps he is grateful to Alois, because it was Alois who taught him how to give a blowjob.

Opening his mouth wide, Ciel swallows Sebastian’s cock, relaxes his muscles, suppresses his gag reflex. Imagine it’s a milkshake.

He moves his head, sucking and smacking hard and loudly, sliding up and down the shaft. Like the head of a victim with a maniac’s machete.

Usually victims are dumb sluts.

Ciel tries to moan, but all that comes out is a disconnected mfff, mmm! — and the vibrations spread throughout Sebastian’s cock. Sebastian breathes heavily. He puts his hand on the back of Ciel’s head, but does not press or push away. He lets the boy do everything on his own.

Ciel grabs Sebastian’s balls with his gentle hands, massaging them. Remember that you need to use more than just your mouth when giving a blowjob. Use your hands too! Stimulate the testicles and those parts of the penis that don’t fit in your mouth.

Suddenly, Sebastian pushes in sharply and with a few movements plunges his cock deep into Ciel’s throat and lingers there.

Ciel winces — not very tasty — but obediently swallows the ejaculate. There are many useful substances in sperm: some things that make teeth and hair stronger. Not everything that is healthy is tasty — that’s true.

“You’re so tasty,” he breathes out, licking his lips coquettishly. “I’d suck you from dusk till dawn.”

“Tarantino has a movie with that name,” Sebastian says for some reason. Perhaps he’s trying to show that he’s erudite.

Ciel gently nuzzles his nose into Sebastian’s inner thigh. Sebastian ruffles his hair. Pat-pat, good boy.

II.

They take a picture of Ciel’s mouth wide open with the remains of cum inside. Because of the lighting, it looks black.

Ciel shamelessly sends this picture to Alois. He wanted to know if he liked sucking the new cock.

He liked it.

III.

At half past five, Ciel decides that he needs to stop indulging in debauchery and that it’s time to go home. Sebastian sighs and gives him a chocolate bar to take home, which he actually bought for him.

Ciel kisses him on the cheek in gratitude. He’s not ready to suck again yet.

The Chinese have disappeared somewhere. On the other side of the street, a couple is peacefully strolling past the cottages: a punk (the edge lord of the school smoking room) hung with a heavy black oversize suit and a cute, shy blonde cutie, a sugar doll. Ciel recognizes Joanne Harcourt in the sugar doll — one of his classmates. He lives in Blackheath, but goes to school in Lewisham. Not a bad guy, despite the fact that he has a rather girlish name and generally looks more like a girl than a boy. They were never particularly close, but it’s okay to communicate with him. Ciel doesn’t know the punk.

Joanne notices him, smiles and waves his hand in greeting. Ciel nods absentmindedly and somewhat puzzledly. For some reason, he’s been meeting too many of his acquaintances in the last two days. Usually in the summer, he doesn’t see or hear about anyone, as if these people don’t exist at all.

It’s a bit hot in the car. Sebastian turns on the air conditioner.

“Who was that?” he asks. His voice is even, there’s no bitter jealousy. Just curiosity. As if Ciel were to meet with a representative from some publishing house and ask Sebastian who it was.

“A classmate. A cool guy, but we don’t really talk. He likes k-pop, and I don’t like that kind of music.”

To be honest, Ciel despises all the wild fans of BTS, Stray Kids and all that. Like, he wants to write “stray dog”, but the autocorrect immediately kindly suggests the option 💙S͓̽t͓̽r͓̽a͓̽y͓̽K͓̽i͓̽d͓̽s͓̽💙. The world is cruel. And idol culture is not very clear to him. A person simply turns into a product and at the slightest provocation — immediately falls from the status of a celestial to the status of a mere mortal. This is not a reference to the novel “Heaven Official’s Blessing”. Ciel does not like stupid Chinese BL novels either. Not to his taste.

“Do I need to tell you that I don’t listen to such things either?”

“You do. It will give you plus one point.”

“Thank you.”

Houses, cars and people rush past. Ciel sits, leaning back completely in the seat, and closes his eyes. He likes to ride in the car. Comfortable and fast. Mum also has a car — an old beaten Ford. Not like Sebastian’s.

Sebastian drops him off at the beginning of the street and they kiss while half of Ciel’s body is outside and the other half is still in the car. They are such idiots.

IV.

@femb0y_power

wha thar (*_*)

Alois is in shock. He received some shock content. I wonder what this photo is?

@ciel2ffaced

guess

Ciel doesn’t want to engage in this idiotic conversation that will take away at least fifty IQ points from him. In addition, he starts reading Dostoevsky’s “Poor Folk”, he has no time for Alois.

Let Alois be in shock. Emotional shocks are good for him. Maybe his brain will fall into place. If he has any, of course.

@femb0y_power

you’re such a slut

For the first time, Alois types something without mistakes. Ciel is more surprised by this than by the message itself.

@femb0y_power

it hasn’t even been a week since we broke up

@femb0y_power

you’re a dumb slutty cunt

That’s true to some extent.

@ciel2ffaced

be jealous asshole 😘

@ciel2ffaced

my juicy pussy is now being fucked by a normal dick

@ciel2ffaced

and not some stub 😊

Well, Ciel just decides to embellish reality (about his juicy pussy). Just so Alois knows what he’s lost.

Alois doesn’t text anything else. He logs offline, and Ciel smiles smugly. It’s so great to be an evil bitch.

V.

The whole evening passes in pleasant idleness. Ciel watches a movie with Sirius (“What We Do in the Shadows” is really good) and eats popcorn. Caramel. Ciel likes caramel popcorn. It’s better than salted.

Alois doesn’t text anymore. Sebastian is silent too. Ciel doesn’t particularly care that both his boyfriends, the former and the current one, aren’t paying much attention to him at the moment. He sits, covered with a blanket, his head on Sirius' shoulder, and he eats all sorts of tasty things. He’s fine without them.

While the dandy vampire on the screen bites through the victim’s carotid artery, and fake blood spurts in all directions, Ciel sleepily yawns and buries his nose in Sirius’s neck. Warmed up, he dozes off to the dandy vampire’s moans.

Ciel was also bitten by a vampire — and his name is Sebastian. He kisses Ciel, he licks him, he fucks him, holding him by his skinny hips or his thin waist.

Perhaps they should try having sex on the table.

VI.

@refl3ctlesss

Aren’t you sleeping?

@ciel2ffaced

i’m not

The pale glow of the phone screen pulls Ciel’s face out of the darkness. Sirius is asleep. Mum is asleep too.

Something is moving under Ciel’s blanket. Every now and then, a soft squelching sound is heard. Ciel’s breathing is ragged.

@refl3ctlesss

I can’t finish reading this stupid manuscript. I decided to text to you.

@ciel2ffaced

i think about you

@ciel2ffaced

and jerking off ❤️

Ciel bites his lip, pushing his fingers deeper, trying to rub some sweet spot, but his index and middle fingers together can’t find the coveted G-spot.

Fingers are not a cock, and especially not Sebastian’s cock. It feels good, but not that bad. Ciel only torments himself with his fingers to cum. He should probably just lie there and rub himself against his wrist or the tail of his old IKEA stuffed shark. Don’t tell Ciel is too old to sleep with stuffed animals.

@refl3ctlesss

<image>

What do you think Sebastian threw Ciel?

a) Lumi sleeping on him;

b) his cock;

c) a hedgehog craft made of chestnuts and pine cones;

d) the manuscript he was reading.

The correct answer is b.

To be honest, this is the first dick pic sent to Ciel. Alois has never done that, and Ciel doesn’t hang out on anonymous imageboards full of pedophiles and scammers.

The proud manhood stands no less proud. It seems that Sebastian is very turned on by Ciel jerking off.

In the background, there are sheets of manuscript and Lumi, curled up in a ball.

@refl3ctlesss

I want to join in.

Ciel doesn’t think for long. The room is not very dark due to the light from the street lamp frozen on the floor. If he throws off the blanket and adjusts the phone more comfortably, everything will be visible. Ciel takes off his pajama shorts and panties and spreads his flexible, thin legs, exposing his pussy to an invisible viewer in all its glory — wet and messy.

If Ciel was a character in a porn movie or a fucked up hentai manga, this would be one of the spiciest scenes, except for the moments when Ciel gets fucked.

@ciel2ffaced

<image>

Two perverts met and started sending each other dick & pussy pics.

@refl3ctlesss

How sweet. I could fuck you like that <3

@ciel2ffaced

hehe

@ciel2ffaced

you know i feel so bad and empty 💔

@refl3ctlesss

Don’t tease me.

Perhaps communicating with Ciel is good for Sebastian. He stops texting boringly and starts using “<3” in his messages.

@ciel2ffaced

run to me wanna your huge cockヾ(❀╹◡╹)ﾉﾞ

@ciel2ffaced

💋💋💋

@refl3ctlesss

Ciel, you know that’s not going to happen. I can’t come to you at night.

@ciel2ffaced

why the fuck did you say that 😭😭😭

Ciel is seriously ready to cry. What do you mean he won’t get fucked? A dumb slut needs to be fucked — preferably deeper and more.

Sex doll. A beautiful cock sleeve.

@refl3ctlesss

Sorry.

@ciel2ffaced

if you fuck me i’ll forgive you

@refl3ctlesss

Tomorrow.

@ciel2ffaced

promise

@refl3ctlesss

I swear.

@ciel2ffaced

<3

Ciel continues to finger himself, deeper, deeper, to the knuckles. His juices are running down the inside of his thighs onto the sheets. Will the stains dry before morning? Ciel doesn’t know. He pulls his fingers out and slaps his pussy a couple times, little sparks of pleasure. God, why isn’t that Sebastian’s cock?

Ciel almost moans as he comes, but remembers in time that he’s not alone in the room. His entire palm is wet. He needs to wash it.

VII.

Ciel wakes up early by his standards, at eight o’clock.

The morning is so quiet and cool. The patch of blue sky between the thick curtains looks so perfect, smooth and delicious that he wants to lick it.

Ciel slides out of bed and goes to the toilet. Sirius is still asleep. His mother has already left for work and left them breakfast on the stove. After doing his business, Ciel eats his portion of omelette, first picking out all the tomatoes. Tomatoes in an omelette are disgusting. How Ciel would like to rid the world of this misunderstanding.

Ciel logs onto Twitter. Sebastian is online.

@ciel2ffaced

おはようございます〜！

@refl3ctlesss

What?

@ciel2ffaced

good morning in japanese

@refl3ctlesss

Stop texting me in Japanese, please.

@ciel2ffaced

😠😠😠

@refl3ctlesss

Don’t be mad. I’ll cook you something tasty.

@ciel2ffaced

i’m kind again

@ciel2ffaced

💋💋💋

@refl3ctlesss

You’re so fond of food.

@ciel2ffaced

i’m fond of sweets

@ciel2ffaced

i’ll have some tea and run to you

@ciel2ffaced

send me the address pls

@ciel2ffaced

i’ll take the train

@refl3ctlesss

I’ll send it, of course.

@refl3ctlesss

Should I pay for the ride?

@ciel2ffaced

eh no

@ciel2ffaced

no need

@refl3ctlesss

Let me pay.

@ciel2ffaced

no needdddddddd

@refl3ctlesss

Ciel. Don’t hurt me.

@ciel2ffaced

╥﹏╥

@ciel2ffaced

okay, you’ll pay me in cash

@ciel2ffaced

otherwise mum will see suspicious transactions on my card

@ciel2ffaced

i’ll go get ready xp

Ciel is not lying, he really is getting ready: he washes and dries his hair (actually, it is high time to wash his hair, it is not the meeting with Sebastian that prompts him to do this, but an elementary necessity), dresses more attractively (shorts, a T-shirt; he cannot be a Victorian nymph all the time), wakes up Sirius (“Brother, I’m leaving”; “…Oh, what?”; “Bye, I said. Don’t be bored”) and, having packed his bag, his charming black leatherette bag, flutters out into the half-asleep street.

An old postman rides past the house on a bicycle, ringing his bicycle bell. Gray, nondescript birds settle on the wires. One of them lies below, electrocuted. Humming under his breath, Ciel walks to the nearest station.

To be honest, Ciel doesn’t really like riding the subway and trains. Yes, it’s convenient and fast enough, but the carriages are noisy and often crowded. Well, and usually he doesn’t have such a need. Everything he needs is close enough to his house.

Ciel buys a ticket, takes a receipt. Well, so that Sebastian doesn’t give more money, but also doesn’t give less. Ciel has a conscience.

Joanne is sitting on a bench, shivery, hugging his shoulders. Some portly mustachioed man in a bowler hat is standing nearby and impatiently looking at his wristwatch. Ciel thinks he’s seen him somewhere.

(some kind of deja vu)

Ciel sits down not far from Joanne. He doesn’t want to stand, but he doesn’t want to sit close either. They’re not particularly close friends.

“Hi, Ciel,” Joanne smiles sleepily, not quite awake.

“Hello.”

The conversation is not going well. Ciel is not sure he wants to talk to Joanne. Well. He doesn’t know what to talk about. He doesn’t want to pester him with questions.

“How are you?” Joanne asks.

“Uh, fine. My stomach doesn’t ache, life is great.”

“Good thing it doesn’t ache. Are you going to see Mr. Michaelis?”

…

Perhaps it was worth pestering him with questions. To put Joanne in an awkward position first. Ciel mentally tramples Joanne’s doll-like angelic face into the dirty asphalt.

“Is it that important?”

“Sorry,” Joanne suddenly hesitates and lowers his gaze. His eyelashes are shorter than Ciel’s, and Ciel, of course, gloats a little. “That was a tactless question… I just didn’t get enough sleep, and my head is not working, ha-ha…”

“Me too, that’s why I’m angry. And no better.”

Can we say that they’re even?

Joanne smiles sadly and doesn’t answer.

“I can ask an awkward question too,” Ciel says. “Who’s that dude in black?”

Joanne blushes. He’s not as pale as Ciel, but the flush on his face is very noticeable.

“Uh… Ciel, that was also t-tactless…”

“Well, you also asked me if I was going to Sebastian. You have to pay for your sins.”

Mr. Michaelis = Sebastian, right? Or did Ciel make a mistake in his calculations? Okay, whatever. Ciel has always had some problems with math. He can’t count, no way.

“This is my boyfriend…” Joanne mumbles barely intelligibly and touches each other of his index fingers, looking away, like, look: I’m cute, I’m shy, have you already imagined him choking me in missionary position?

Have imagined it.

“Hm,” it comes out somehow emotionless and indifferent, but Ciel likes it. “I didn’t expect you to get together with someone. Especially with an emogoth. I don’t know anything about subcultures.”

“He’s a punk. It’s different…”

“It doesn’t matter. That’s not the point.”

There’s Joanne — Ciel can’t imagine him kissing or fucking with anyone. Joanne is a caramel boy, more like a girl, living with two older sisters and a father who is always on the move and dumps the household on the children. He also listens to k-pop and is embarrassed to talk about sex. The stupid bleating of sheep immediately begins instead of human words.

However, they are a bit similar: Joanne has no mum, she died, and Ciel has no dad, he left. That’s where the similarities end. Mommy and daddy issues are different kinds of problems.

Ciel also has a sugar daddy. Joanne doesn’t.

“Cheslok is cool,” Joanne mutters. “I like him…”

Ciel doesn’t have much to say. He doesn’t know Cheslok. The whole point of the question was not to find out about Cheslok, but simply to tease Joanne. Ciel is a very vindictive bitch.

The train finally arrives. Before Ciel can strike a second blow and ask what Joanne is doing in Lewisham at eight in the morning if he lives in Blackheath.

Apparently running home after spending the night at his boyfriend’s. However, Ciel didn’t notice the strange punks in heavy oversized clothes on the streets of Lewisham.

They travel in silence and sit in different parts of the carriage, although they are at the same stop and the same street. Joanne lives next door to Sebastian. The world is so small.

Sebastian hospitably leads him into the house and pounces on him almost immediately, like a hungry pack of dogs on a piece of meat, greedily tormenting Ciel’s tender lips with kisses. Ciel responds with the world of his powers and feels something hard pressing against his stomach. He clings to the mysterious object with his hands.

“You’ve become completely dissolute,” Sebastian clicks his tongue disapprovingly, sticking his hand into Ciel’s shorts, getting closer to the cherished place. Would you like to bury your face in Ciel’s crotch? “You secretly touch your aching pussy at night…”

Ciel laughs breathlessly, but his laughter suddenly turns into a moan: ah… dumb slut. He’s already so fucking wet. Sebastian barely pushes his finger into his dripping hole — and these velvety walls tremble and greedily squeeze around him.

Sebastian bites his ear, whispers hoarsely, blowing hot breath into his ear:

“Every night you lie in bed, spreading your legs and plunging your fingers up to the knuckles in this wet pussy…”

It’s true. And — between you and me — Ciel jerks off not only at night.

Dirty talk excites Ciel even more, and he desperately and therefore shamelessly moves his hips to meet Sebastian’s skillful fingers. Ciel sees: Sebastian’s cock is erected, striving for the promised land, which is only a few inches away from it.

“And who am I to refuse such an indecent request?” Sebastian smirks, pulling his fingers out with an obscene sound. “On your knees, my love.”

Before Ciel can react, Sebastian effortlessly lifts him and throws him over the arm of the couch (some new room; he hasn’t been here before, but he doesn’t pay much attention to the decor). Ciel goes limp, allowing Sebastian to do whatever he wants. Like ripping off his shorts and underwear, revealing his glistening folds.

“Truly, a beautiful sight,” Sebastian purrs, spanking Ciel’s ass hard before burying two fingers knuckle-deep into his eager hole again. He sets a relentless pace until Ciel begins to squirm and moan in pleasure. Only then does Sebastian pull away, leaving Ciel spent and breathing heavily.

With a wicked grin, Sebastian unzips his trousers, freeing his hard cock from its fabric prison.

It springs out, thick and hard, pearlescent beads of pre-cum dripping onto the plush couch beneath them. Sebastian runs his hand over it a few times, enjoying the electrifying pulses of pleasure running down his back. Teasingly, he rubs the swollen head of his cock against Ciel’s slippery slit, and Ciel whines pitifully, kicking his legs helplessly.

Wanna start a cult with me?~

Sebastian puts a condom on his cock — extra safe. Ciel tries to impale himself on the cock, but it doesn’t work without looking. Ciel sighs in frustration, scratching the leather upholstery of the sofa somewhere below with his nails — and throws his head back, gasps, arches when Sebastian finally shows mercy and pushes inside.

Full and pleasant: Ciel feels the pulsation of Sebastian’s cock, and Sebastian himself hums under his breath, because Ciel’s warm walls squeeze him very tightly and tremble tenderly. Ciel’s pussy is like paradise.

Cunt — like Eden. Perhaps Adam and Eve were cast down to earth for lust.

Fused into one, they are motionless. Sebastian kisses the back of his head, neck and shoulders, dotting his soft skin with lip prints. One of his hands reaches for Ciel’s soft small breasts and the other lies on his buttock.

“That’s it,” Sebastian croaks, burning Ciel’s shoulder blades with kisses. “Isn’t that better than your clumsy fingers, huh?”

Better. Definitely better. Ciel’s slender fingers are no substitute for Sebastian’s rather thick cock. Ciel whines, letting Sebastian fuck him the way he wants: not only in doggy style, but Ciel also goes limp, giving up control.

Perhaps he’s just used to being a passive slut who gets fucked in all his holes, but Ciel doesn’t think about it much: Sebastian pinches his nipples so pleasantly that all thoughts simply evaporate before they even begin to form. A spring twists in his lower abdomen, and Sebastian’s thrusts, deep and strong, become more erratic.

“Mine,” Sebastian growls possessively in his ear, thrusting his hips forward. The hand on his chest slides down to his throat, throwing his head back. Ciel gasps for air, though Sebastian isn’t even choking him, just holding him gently. “All mine…”

Sebastian has a ring on his ring finger. Sebastian is married. Ciel wonders if he tells his wife (or husband) that she (or he) is his? Ciel can’t be sure that this applies only to him.

“You’re so tight,” Sebastian bites his earlobe, pulls lightly with his teeth, caresses his star earring with his tongue.

Ciel doesn’t answer. He can only meow incoherently, like Lumi, and moan.

This is nymphomania. Ciel, like the heroine of that Korean novel that Sebastian was talking about: he is also addicted to a penis, but not Baron Francois', but Sebastian’s. A dumb slut.

Sebastian seizes a wave of ecstasy and cums, burying his face in the back of Ciel’s head and pressing him to the couch with his body. Ciel lies limply, slumped over the armrest, trying to figure out if he’s still conscious or not.

Sebastian doesn’t stay in him for long, slipping out of his yielding hole. Ciel gropes for an inhaler from his bag. The bitter medicine flows into his compressed lungs.

Sebastian throws the used condom into the trash in the kitchen and brings Ciel a glass of water.

“Is everything okay?” he asks. Ciel nods, taking the glass with trembling, limp hands, greedily gulping down the water.

Scientists recently conducted a study: water reduces stress.

“Uh-huh… Everything is just fine,” Ciel smiles tiredly. “But I won’t have the strength for more for now.”

“I’m not insisting,” Sebastian grins. “Everything to the best of your ability, nothing else.”

Alois never said or did anything like that.

Let’s not talk about Alois.

Ciel looks around curiously.

This is the living room, spacious and quite bright. A sideboard with dishes, a huge bookcase, a new plasma TV. He is sitting on a black leather sofa, a floor lamp stands to the side. There is also an armchair, also upholstered in black leather, and a soft art deco carpet. Beautiful, but the colors are boring: black, gray and white.

“I think I’ll go to the bathroom… No, take me to the bathroom. I can’t get up.”

Sebastian obediently lifts him up in his arms: one hand under his knees, the other under his shoulder blades. Like a princess, like a bride. Ciel hugs him around the neck.

VIII.

@femb0y_power

ciel is a slut

@monsterenergyl0ve > @femb0y_power

Agree

@joanne_swe3t

Why are you attacking Ciel? Guys, come on

@femb0y_power > @joanne_swe3t

he senss me pics of gim suckin' that guy 😭😭😭

@monsterenergyl0ve > @femb0y_power

Show me

@femb0y_power > @monsterenergyl0ve

np u’ll jerk off on ciel

@joanne_swe3t > @femb0y_power

😰

@monsterenergyl0ve

As you can see there are two types of people

@monsterenergyl0ve > @monsterenergyl0ve

Some ask for nudes and others are afraid to see them

@joanne_swe3t > @monsterenergyl0ve

I don’t want to look at it. My eyes don’t need it

@monsterenergyl0ve > @femb0y_power

What kind of guy is he?

@femb0y_power > @monsterenergyl0ve

the one he’s hangng out with noe

@femb0y_power 

u sebt me a photp

@monsterenergyl0ve > @femb0y_power

That jerk

@monsterenergyl0ve

Idk he looks like a moron

@joanne_swe3t > @monsterenergyl0ve

He lives on the same street as me. Mr. Michaelis isn’t a bad guy. But he’s married

@femb0y_power > @joanne_swe3t

WHA DO U MEAN MARRUED

@monsterenergyl0ve > @joanne_swe3t

F

@femb0y_power > @femb0y_power

my slut us now hangin our with marrird men

@joanne_swe3t > @femb0y_power

Ciel is not a slut. It’s normal for him to move on after a breakup and not dwell on what happened

@femb0y_power > @joanne_swe3t

he myst dwell om it

@femb0y_power > @femb0y_power

his bulimiv dumb cunt id minr and bo one has tge right to fuck ir except me

@joanne_swe3t

Ehh…

@femb0y_power > @joanne_swe3t

he won’t build anyrhind with a msrried man

@femb0y_power > @femb0y_power

someone will fing out and it will all eng

@femb0y_power > @femb0y_power

and we rill be togethtr agaim <3

@monsterenergyl0ve

I’m leaving this chat there’s some kind of shit going on here

@monsterenergyl0ve

I recommend a new hentai Chaotic Fried Rice

@monsterenergyl0ve > @monsterenergyl0ve

They really turned the chick’s uterus inside out but who cares

@joanne_swe3t > @monsterenergyl0ve

😭😭😭

@joanne_swe3t

I won’t read this

@femb0y_power

i eill

@femb0y_power

i don’t wsnt to jerk off to ciel suckin sime dude

@joanne_swe3t

Ugh

@joanne_swe3t

I’m going to throw up

@monsterenergyl0ve

Puke on your phone bro

@joanne_swe3t

Thanks for the advice 😊

@femb0y_power

btw check it out

@femb0y_power

<image>

@femb0y_power

moutg full of cum and not min

@joanne_swe3t

Remove me from this chat please

@monsterenergyl0ve

The chat is going so fast that no one will know that I like it when hairy men cover themselves in oil…

IX.

Ciel pours warm tea over his slightly torn vocal cords. Sebastian reads the manuscript and strokes Lumi. Family idyll, except for the fact that they are not legally in a relationship and are just lovers. Fuck buddies. Sugar daddy and his adorable doll.

“Bas,” Ciel says, looking at the wall above the sink and at the same time into nowhere, “tell me: do you like me?”

The rustling of sheets — Sebastian puts the manuscript aside.

“What is this question for?”

“I want to understand how you perceive me,” Ciel slowly turns his gaze to him. Some slight madness — such is the price for the hellish flame of lust. “What am I to you if you already have a partner?”

Sebastian is silent.

There is that point of no return, when nothing can remain the same. Now this point is Sebastian’s further words, Ciel understands this. Sebastian can tell him that he loves him more than his legal wife (or husband), or he can break his fragile, barely glued back together glass heart completely.

There are hundreds of thousands of roads. When you step on one of them, all the others disappear. Sebastian silently gets up from his chair, comes closer, sits down in front of him and, clasping his hands on his face, kisses him.

Without heat, without pressure, simply and tenderly, almost innocently and even timidly. There is something chaste in this, although their whole essence is debauchery and ejaculate flowing down the thighs.

Ciel does not understand what Sebastian is trying to convey, and he himself moves away in bewilderment.

Sebastian has a serious look and deep dark brown eyes. Ciel is drowning in cocoa sediment, limply, with his arms outstretched. He gives in too easily. Perhaps this is his vice.

“Smart boy,” Sebastian says, whispers. Ciel doesn’t understand. “However, if you had eyes and at least a little attention to detail, you could have seen it.”

The ring on his finger. The house is too big for one person.

“I’m not blind,” Ciel replies. “And I have a great attention span. I don’t watch stupid TikTok videos.”

“Smart boy.”

Sebastian’s hands stroke his shoulders. Ciel doesn’t resist.

“Tell me, Ciel. If you had a good wife, a big house, a stable income, and a nice job, would you look for an affair on the side?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have a wife or a job, and I live with my mother.”

Ciel hasn’t yet understood that. Sebastian kisses his temple.

“But if you imagine for a moment… Would you?”

“Well… I don’t know.” In my opinion, people cheat if they are bored in an established relationship. Or if their partner is boring. Something like that.

“I’m telling you, you’re very smart,” Sebastian’s nimble tongue circles his ear, and Ciel pushes him back into place. Ugh, fuck. It’s like a centipede is crawling into your ear. “You just can’t imagine how much she pisses me off.”

Huh?

“Who?”

“The one I stupidly took as my wife,” in a moment, Sebastian turns from a devilish seducer into a man who regrets his past decisions. “I was stupid, you know? It was profitable, so I agreed. And what to do with her now, I don’t know.”

Ciel is at a loss. Well. He didn’t think that Sebastian would tell him about how he got married because of his own stupidity. His wife, Melissa Morris, is the daughter of the owner of some major publishing house. Through her, Sebastian made his way to being a cool literary agent, but… he doesn’t need her anymore, and he can’t divorce her according to the agreement with her father. A disadvantageous situation.

Ciel is confused.

“You don’t love her at all?”

“I don’t love anyone.”

…

“Maybe Lumi, I guess. But it’s more affection than love. I’m used to her and I like that she needs me… It’s something similar with you. It’s nice to walk with you, you’re a good sex partner and I like talking to you. But it’s hardly love… I don’t know. I don’t understand this very well.”

Love, Ciel says, is when you’re ready to put everything on the line for another person, and when you’re ready to be there and do something for them just like that, for nothing. Sebastian sits thoughtfully at Ciel’s feet for a while, looking at the wall behind him.

“…I need to think about this carefully.”

Ciel doesn’t answer. He thinks he’s a hypocrite. A nasty, crawling bastard.

He didn’t put anything on the line. He just lay down and spread his legs.

Sebastian slides down, flows onto the floor, hugs his knees.

“You’re not offended, are you?” looks into his eyes, as if he is ready to kiss Ciel’s feet, but he himself said that he loves no one.

However, you can kiss feet even when you do not love. When you are not afraid of nail fungus and do not disdain. And when you simply adore a person, but this is not love. This is adoration. Different things.

“There is nothing to be offended about,” Ciel sighs. “When you get tired of me, you will leave me. It is inevitable. If there are no feelings, it will be easier.”

Like Sebastian would leave his wife if he could. Like a broken toy.

“In any case, I will try to arrange a softer breakup,” Sebastian smiles weakly. “You’re very fragile… And for now I do not plan to run away. Melissa will return from a business trip only in three weeks. We still have time. And then we will think.”

“Are you suggesting we leave things as they are?”

“For now, yes. I prefer to live in the present.”

“Why?”

Sebastian frowns, not understanding.

“What “why”?”

“Why the present? There is also the past and the future.”

We must remember the past, think about the future and live in the present. It is not good to dwell on one time.

“The past and the future are too similar. I don’t care about them.”

Ciel doesn’t understand either, but doesn’t really want to understand. It’s all so stupid.

He wants love. Sebastian doesn’t love him. It’s simple.

He is warmed only by the knowledge that Sebastian doesn’t love his wife. That Ciel is not the only one. But at the same time it makes him so angry that he is not special, that he is no different from other people, that he is in a gray crowd.

However, Ciel is no better. He doesn’t love Sebastian either. He just enjoys his company and everything that comes with it. There’s no point in complaining that Sebastian is so bad. He’s no better.

“Do you want ice cream?”

“I do.”

…Of course, Sebastian wants to eat ice cream straight from Ciel’s pussy. Ciel just groans, arches his back and doesn’t think about anything. To hell with it. He’s not a philosopher. Honestly, that’s why he doesn’t like Tolstoy’s books. The writer tries to seem smart, but in reality he’s a complete fool. You say Tolstoy is great, but in reality he’s mediocre. Don’t let it cloud your judgment.

Sebastian kisses his temple, and his lips are covered in ice cream and Ciel’s love juices.

The ice cream melts, a cold and sticky stream. As if they were tears. Ciel closes his eyes.

It’s good for him that he doesn’t notice that the portly man in a bowler hat is standing outside the window and peering closely into the house.

20.08.25 — 24.08.25

Chapter Text

I.

“Do you feel better? After our conversation?”

Ciel is silent.

They are standing a block away from the bank, sitting in a car. Sebastian looks at him, and this look is too heavy, too serious. It presses on Ciel’s fragile shoulders. Ciel does not find the strength to look back.

He is like an ant crushed by a stone — he doesn’t have enough strength to fight the stone.

Ciel doesn’t like ants. They are stupid and disgusting.

“I don’t know,” Ciel says.

He just wants a normal relationship — like everyone else. To be loved, to be cared for selflessly and cherished. Why then do only fucked up men fall for him? Or is Ciel himself fucked up? But he just wants a normal, healthy relationship. Is it daddy issues' fault?

Then Ciel hates the man who gave birth to him even more.

“The truth is often unpleasant, though. That’s normal,” Ciel continues after a minute. “So, yeah. It’s unpleasant, but I know it’s the truth, and that’s better than comforting myself with a lie.”

A heavy hand wraps around his shoulders. Ciel closes his eyes and lets Sebastian pull him closer. Closer. Closer.

Hugging in car seats isn’t very comfortable, but they both endure it.

“I’m actually glad I met you,” Sebastian says suddenly. “It may not sound very sincere after what we’ve said to each other… But I think I’m speaking from the heart now.”

…Huh?

“What do you mean?”

Ciel doesn’t understand, he really doesn’t understand.

“Don’t think that you’re just a momentary distraction for me. I’d like to count on a long-term relationship.”

“You’re married,” Ciel says, unexpectedly dryly for himself.

“Did that stop us?”

“It didn’t, but I don’t want to live knowing that I’m a homewrecker.”

“Oh, Ciel,” Sebastian grins, stroking his knuckles. “Trust me, you’re not destroying my family: we can’t really be called a family. We’re just a beautiful couple who live together because of an agreement. We sleep in separate rooms, each of us cooks our own food and cleans our own half of the house.”

Normal people in marriage live like that. People who love each other. Sebastian doesn’t like Melissa. Melissa, it seems, doesn’t either.

“Well, you’ve convinced me,” Ciel pulls away and unbuckles his seatbelt. “But if you lied to me…”

“I have no desire to,” Sebastian shrugs. “Of course, I’m a manipulator and a bastard, but I don’t want to lie to you.”

Ciel looks at him silently, his darkest expression on his face. If they were characters in a manga, it would be a comical scene that would relieve the tension. Alas, this is not a manga.

(Ciel doesn’t read that kind of crap, though)

“…That sounds even more implausible. You claim to be a bastard, but you don’t want to lie to me. What?”

Sebastian looks into his eyes and sees an entire ocean or sky. Ciel looks into his eyes and sees freshly dug earth or tea. Each sees something different, but unmistakably.

“Because lying is too easy,” Sebastian finally says, and his voice loses its usual mocking note, sounding almost tired. Almost. “Lies require energy to maintain a legend and constantly pretend. It’s hard enough. You, in turn, see right through me. Why lie to someone who already knows the truth? It’s a waste of energy. It’ll be easier if you see the bottom and decide for yourself what to do. It’s more honest. Well, in my opinion.”

All honesty is selfishness. People tell the truth to ease their own conscience, not someone else’s. Here it is, in its most unappetizing form. Don’t scold the chef. It’s not his fault.

“With you, I can be who I am. Without embellishment. It’s a rare luxury.”

On the street, absolutely normal people are rushing about their business. In a Renault Logan, two strange people are sitting. One of them suffers from daddy issues and a recently healed broken heart, and the other is bored, and for now they are connected only by mutual lust.

“Mm, I see,” Ciel exhales, and his warm breath settles on Sebastian’s lips. “You just like that I let you play with me.”

“I’m not playing. I really find you attractive.”

Feeling attraction and loving are two different things. Ciel seems to feel the difference, like he feels Sebastian’s erection when he rests his hand on his thigh.

Fuck, they’re having a serious conversation, why the hell is Ciel putting his hand on Sebastian’s groin, pressing his palm on his hidden penis several times?

“How many? From one to ten?” Ciel looks out from under his eyelashes, languidly, as if drugged by opium.

“Eleven.”

Ciel grins, sighs, can’t stand it anymore. He kisses. Sebastian responds to him as willingly as usual. They quickly lose decency: they bump chins and teeth, Sebastian bites his lower lip, Ciel sticks his tongue into his mouth, and the result is a slobbering mess. Actually, Ciel likes it.

When they separate, Ciel mutters:

“Next time, fuck me in your car.”

“I must admit, I’ve never had sex in a car before,” Sebastian smiles, a little shyly.

Ciel is astounded. It’s unthinkable. Sebastian, the god of sex and fertility (if it weren’t for condoms), has never had sex in a car! This needs to be corrected immediately (because Ciel has never had sex in a car either).

“Read the forums, you have the internet,” Ciel shrugs, takes his hand off Sebastian’s erection. He opens the door. “Bye.”

Sebastian looks almost offended. Either because Ciel doesn’t touch him anymore, or because Ciel looks so indifferent. In fact, Ciel just doesn’t know how to react. Well. Right now, his thoughts are occupied with the fact that he’s late.

“And the farewell kiss?”

“That kiss isn’t considered farewell?”

“That kiss was a reconciliation one.”

“…Okay.”

A soft, innocent touch of lips on lips, pillow on pillow. It’s almost chastity, but Ciel knows that Sebastian is hard, and his own panties are all wet. Even Alois didn’t cause such physiological reactions in him.

Let’s not talk about Alois.

II.

The work day is boring. The flower pots have leaked, and the twins have to frantically search the basement for old plates to put the tubs on. While Sirius rummages through boxes, Ciel rolls around on office chairs, looks at old furniture and printers, and finds a door that is not locked. Behind it is a black hole. They do not dare go there.

III.

By evening, the sky hides, becomes covered with clouds, heavy, leaden, the sun disappears. There is a feeling that there will be no more sunny days.

Sebastian catches himself staring at the street for ten minutes instead of reading the manuscript. Miss Carter is really looking forward to her magnum opus being appreciated, but from the first pages it is clear that this is not a masterpiece, but another erotic novel with cloying vanilla bed scenes, a dominant alpha male and a sweet, gentle omega female. Sebastian is not interested. He wants to rack his brains and think, experience a thrill of nerves, and not be bored.

Lumi comes to him and climbs into his lap. Sebastian presses the cat to his chest and buries his face in her fur. Warm and heavy, soft and cozy, she always comes to him, purrs affectionately and simply asks to pet her a little or let her sleep on his lap. Sebastian remembers the time when she was a tiny kitten, fitting in his palm, how she squealed, comically waddling after him, and lapped up milk. A small helpless lump grew into a huge stately cat.

It starts to rain. The downpour torments the world with a thousand water blades, beats on the windows, beats on the roof, beats on the walls. The downpour wants to go into some house, but uninvited guests are not allowed inside. Ciel seems to be home already and should not get wet.

Lumi pokes her cool nose into his cheek. Sebastian kisses her head. Lumi smells deliciously of soup and warmth.

Lightning cuts the sky. Thunder shakes the earth. Sebastian remembers making himself coffee with milk, but it has already lost its warmth. He has to drink it cold — not very tasty, but not bad with sugar.

Lightning cuts the sky. Thunder shakes the earth.

Lightning is an electric discharge that tears space. There can be no emptiness in nature, and two heated masses of air collapse under pressure. This is where thunder comes from.

People once believed in paganism, Sebastian remembers, they believed that thunderstorms were the wrath of the gods. How long ago that was. During this time, he changed so many houses, women and cats. Okay, that’s a small lie. He only had eight cats. After the death of each, he cannot come to terms with the loss for some time and it takes him time to steel his heart and decide to get a new one. It’s not a lie about women and houses. Sebastian has lived in many places and lived with many people.

He likes this house. They don’t bother him, and everything here looks the way he wants. A woman… He had already told Ciel that his wife was not the right companion for him in life, that his wife was his mistake. That was not a lie either. A stupid mistake, humiliating for his pride. He had been tempted by the easy way out and the illusion of control and had driven himself into a corner. This was an almost irreparable blow to his pride, because he, who considered himself smarter and more cunning than humans, turned out to be just a bug in someone’s plan, and not an elephant who was in charge of everything. And his sharp mind, which he was so proud of, had become dull over the years, exchanged for reading book garbage and maintaining a beautiful facade.

Lightning cuts the sky. Lightning cuts the sky — and Sebastian sees his reflection in the glass: pale, tired, somehow waxy. The glass cannot catch the slight imperfections of his face — a scattering of moles. Sebastian knows: people do not like ideal people, but strive for the ideal. Contradictory and therefore stupid. He is pleased that he is found attractive, that is why the moles are still there.

Thunder shakes the earth.

Lumi is dozing on his lap. Sebastian absentmindedly scratches her behind the ear and thinks. His thoughts are not cheerful. In his head, the black sea is coming in like a tide. He remembers Ciel’s clear gaze, elusive, lustful, filled with tears — of pleasure or anger, sly, tender. Eyes can have a variety of expressions, subtle, barely perceptible.

Ciel sees right through him — he is forced to look deeper and look for red flags, alarm bells, because he was already wounded half to death once. Ciel demands his honesty — he is forced to look for solid ground under his feet, because he was already entangled in lies once and tasted its bitter fruits.

Rose-colored glasses fly off his face — and the sweet candy glass breaks into thousands of pieces.

Sebastian saw the scars on his thin thighs and even kissed them and would not mind doing it again. Sebastian, in principle, is not averse to being close, closer, closer, even closer. Ciel is complex. There is depth in him, under the tip of the iceberg of a sweet nymphet there is a giant piece of ice — this is a metaphor, but maybe Ciel really has a cool temperament. There are many facets — he is a passionate lover, he is la femme fatale, he is a lustful slut. Thirty-two-sided.

All people are like a novel. They have a past, they have a present, they have a future. Ciel is a rather complex text for an unprepared reader. Heavy style, florid language, deep thematics. Melissa has no depth. She is not the Mariana Trench, she is a silly naive girl who thinks that her daddy (her own) will buy her everything. She is not interesting to read. Sebastian has already studied his wife completely and did not find anything surprising or inspiring curiosity.

To see the true beauty of an ordinary cobblestone, you can try to split it. One day, Sebastian cut Melissa apart, got under the skin into the bones — and saw only love for handbags and late-night TV series. A typical stereotyped woman. Ciel is not like that. Ciel has zinc cynicism, and tender vulnerability, and scorching lust; half-hearted feelings are not for him. He needs full dedication.

They are similar in this.

Lightning cuts the sky. Thunder shakes the earth.

A problem with no solution. It’s more interesting than reading porn thrillers about aliens, monsters and penises. Sebastian digs his fingers into Lumi’s soft fur. He would call Ciel, but he doesn’t have his number. It would be nice to hear his voice cut through the monotonous sound of the rain.

@refl3ctlesss

Not busy?

@ciel2ffaced

all yours <3

Ciel seems to be in a chatty mood. To be honest, Sebastian was starting to think he had said too much.

Behind the wall, at the neighbors', something falls loudly and a deafeningly loud shot rings out, louder than a thunderstorm.

Lightning cuts the sky. Thunder shakes the earth.

IV.

@ciel2ffaced

i’m eating fucking sour candies right now

@ciel2ffaced

my tongue is already numb and my jaw is clenching

@ciel2ffaced

want me to bring you some too

@ciel2ffaced

?

@refl3ctlesss

No, thanks. I’m not a fan of gastronomic sadomazo.

@ciel2ffaced

eh i I like to terrorize my taste buds

@ciel2ffaced

i don’t eat spicy but sour is my love

@ciel2ffaced

and salty. i love chips <3

@ciel2ffaced

wanna eat ramen on the weekend?

@refl3ctlesss

If you know where, I’ll agree.

@ciel2ffaced

i do

@ciel2ffaced

it will be delicious

@ciel2ffaced

they also sell ramune there i want to taste it

@refl3ctlesss

What is ramune?

@ciel2ffaced

fuck you know what ramen is but you don’t know what ramune is?

@refl3ctlesss

I have an idea. About ramen, I mean.

@ciel2ffaced

wheat noodles in broth and there’s also meat and vegetables

@ciel2ffaced

and ramune is a soda

@ciel2ffaced

from the word lemonade

@ciel2ffaced

it’s expensive but i want it

@refl3ctlesss

Is that a hint?

@ciel2ffaced

yup

@refl3ctlesss

I get it.

@ciel2ffaced

<3

V.

On Saturday, they actually go out for ramen. Ciel tells his mother he’s going out for a bit with Joanne, a necessary little ruse. Like he wants to be friends with him. His mother says it’s good that Ciel wants to make social connections, so he can go. Sebastian doesn’t tell anyone.

Ciel looks like a blueberry tartlet with custard in his lace, a cute little cake you want to eat. Sebastian looks like he was ripped from a glossy fashion magazine. Because classic is always in style.

“Could you dress less pompously? We’re on a date!” Ciel pouts.

Sebastian rolls his eyes.

“My dear, look at yourself.”

“I’ve seen myself in the window of a mobile phone store before. I’m pretty.”

“I meant that you dressed up more pompously than me.”

“But I’m pretty.”

“And what about me?”

“You’re not bad either.”

“Thank you.”

Ciel sticks his tongue out at Sebastian. Sebastian slaps Ciel’s ass because grown men don’t stick their tongues out: it’s rude.

It’s not really a ramen place, it’s just a Japanese restaurant. They take a table in the corner with the word C0CK scrawled on it. While they wait for the inattentive waiter, Ciel nervously drums his fingers on his purse, and Sebastian looks around the place. A skinny guy who looks Greek, not Japanese, eventually comes up and hands them two copies of the menu. Ciel wants to incinerate him.

“Nothing catches my eye,” Sebastian says, frowning. Well, I can understand him. He apparently doesn’t know much about Japanese cuisine.

“Well, you can order different kinds of ramen. Or tempura shrimp, they’re fried in breadcrumbs. There are all kinds of desserts. Sushi. But you can eat sushi at any sushi bar, it’s boring,"Ciel shrugs. “We can get onigiri. Rice with filling in a nori sheet.”

“…The last thing you said.”

Order: two onigiri, one with shrimp, one with tuna, and a bottle of ramune. Today’s dish from the chef — Ciel’s cunt — will be a little later. Ciel doesn’t want to defile this toilet with their love, but another place.

A foggy bottle with a yellow liquid — yuzu lemon — inside and two glasses are brought. Sebastian, like a true gentleman, takes the bottle, tears off the film and looks at it in confusion. Ciel giggles.

“It seems the Japanese don’t know about regular caps,” Sebastian grumbles, removing the plastic cap and bumping into a glass ball sealing the neck of the bottle. “What’s the point of this whole construction?”

“Well, I don’t know. But it looks cool.”

“I agree with that, but how do I open it?”

Ciel takes the bottle from him, squeezes the bottom out of the cap, from which a tube sticks out, the diameter of which corresponds to the neck of the bottle, and presses it into the neck. The ball slides inside with a ringing sound, but does not fall down. The bottle narrows by one third and expands again, and the ball gets stuck in this place. Sebastian seems impressed.

Sebastian, like a true gentleman, takes the bottle. It’s not really possible to pour it into glasses: the ball rolls, covering the hole. Sebastian asks Ciel for a knife and after a few seconds he takes out the ball. Ciel, of course, wants to keep it and puts it in his bag.

“Only two hundred milliliters? It’s somehow not enough for that price,” Sebastian looks at the label with distrust. He paid almost two pounds for the bottle.

Ciel just smiles guiltily and takes his glass. It’s delicious, actually. Ramune is not as carbonated as the sodas that Ciel usually buys, but it’s still tasty, sweet. The aftertaste is bitter. After the sweetness comes bitterness.

Like bitter joy. Like salted caramel.

Their onigiri are brought.

“There’s no catch here?” Sebastian clarifies just in case, looking incredulously at the rectangle in the nori sheet as if a jack-in-the-box should jump out of it, although the jack is currently in his ironed trousers. If Ciel lifts his foot in a tiny shoe, he will be able to bury his toe in Sebastian’s groin.

“No, it will be tasty,” Ciel shakes his head. “Just take it and bite.”

With these words, he takes his onigiri and bites into it with a crunch — not very elegantly, actually, but it can’t be any other way: the nori is fresh. He manages to catch a bit of shrimp, but in fact he chews only seaweed and rice. Sebastian watches for a while. Ciel is not sure whether he eats juicy and tasty or with exalted artistry, as if he were tasting the flesh of Christ, but he hopes that Sebastian wants to partake. At least at the level of physiological reactions.

“Well?” Sebastian asks.

“It tastes like rolls. I would say it’s the same as rolls, only not cut into circles, but molded into a triangle.”

“I see,” Sebastian slides his gaze to the plate on which his portion lies, untouched by his gentle mouth. He takes it. He bites it. Not so furiously, his enthusiasm is less. There are sparks, but not an insatiable flame.

Ciel leans slightly over the table and bites into Sebastian’s onigiri. Sebastian looks at him, a little confused. Ciel laughs, but his mouth is busy chewing, not laughing.

“Mm, delicious. But mine is more creamy than salty.”

“…not bad.”

“You don’t like it?” Ciel asks.

“I don’t know. It tastes okay,” Sebastian shrugs.

“…hm.”

Ciel feels like he’s made a mistake somewhere. It seems like dates like this aren’t what they’re good at. Still, Sebastian eats his onigiri. His verdict: interesting, but I wouldn’t buy it outside of a date: I don’t really like trying new things. Damn, you’re such a conservative, Ciel says. Sebastian shrugs. It can’t be helped, Ciel, I try not to go beyond the usual.

“But you’ve gone beyond now,” Ciel slowly finishes his ramune, not taking his eyes off Sebastian.

“I feel sorry to refuse such a cutie,” Sebastian grins.

Silence. The customers are eating. Ciel notices Joanne and Cheslok at one of the tables. The former is dressed in all airy, creamy clothes, as if a parody of Ciel. Cheslok seems to be wearing the same hoodie and worn-out jeans as a few days ago.

Cheslok generously treats Joan to his bright orange ramen, poured with amber sauce. Joanne eats just a little bit: he immediately pulls away, blushing, and tears picturesquely appear in his eyes.

“I told you it was spicy,” Cheslock mutters discontentedly, shoving a piece of meat into his mouth with chopsticks and chewing calmly.

“I didn’t think it was that spicy!” Joanne squeaks from behind his hand.

At one table, the portly man in a 1950s bowler hat is drinking matcha.

The walls hum. The building fills with customers.

VI.

They drive out somewhere closer to the suburbs. At other times, Ciel would have thought: this is it. Now Sebastian will beat him with a hammer, like cattle for slaughter, leave his doll-like body to rot in last year’s fallen leaves, throw him to be torn apart by worms and other creatures of the earth, but Ciel knows that there will be something more interesting than an act of inhuman maniacism.

The car stops. Sebastian turns off the engine. Ciel smiles slyly and sits on his lap. Sebastian’s hands happily migrate from the steering wheel to his hips, and Ciel experimentally rubs himself and feels his bloodshot cock, there it is, pulsating, he can even put his hand on it and touch it.

At the foot of the empty passenger seat lies a bottle of classic ramune. Sebastian bought another one.

“You’re already so hard,” Ciel coos.

Sebastian grins.

“How else, when you rub your lustful wet pussy against me?”

Sebastian’s hands slide down, squeeze Ciel’s buttocks through his shorts, pressing himself even harder against him.

“He-he.”

Ciel rubs his nose against his. Sebastian bites the shell of his ear, unfastening the belt, button and zipper on his shorts by touch. Without the belt, they barely hold on to Ciel’s thin hips.

The shorts fall onto the passenger seat along with his underwear. Ciel leans back slightly, onto the steering wheel, coquettishly spreads the shiny pink folds of his pussy with his middle and index fingers, revealing a very pleasant view to Sebastian.

“How lovely… you’re already all wet,” Sebastian grins approvingly, teasingly running his finger over Ciel’s clit. Ciel moans softly, lazily watching as Sebastian takes a condom package out of the glove compartment and tears it with his teeth.

Ciel unbuttons his trousers. Sebastian rolls the latex along the entire length, and Ciel himself sits down on his cock, resting his hands on his shoulders. Dumb slut.

“Wow, how bold we’ve become!” Sebastian snorts and tugs Ciel’s ass towards himself. Ciel squirms.

“Well, I want to, um, dominate too,” Ciel squeezes out a semblance of a flirtatious smile — in fact, just a slightly crooked grin. It’s hard to make a more thoughtful expression when he’s fidgeting at the very base of Sebastian’s cock. The protruding head can even be felt in Ciel’s lower abdomen. “Now don’t bother me while I ride my favorite horse.”

Sebastian tightens his grip on his hips, possibly leaving marks with his fingers. Ciel rides him hard and at times harshly, and Sebastian gives in with his hips, vigorously bouncing him up on his lap, and the wet slaps of flesh on flesh fill the car, interspersed with their lustful moans. They’re so depraved — they desecrate even a car dealership with lust.

Although, given the nature of their relationship, there’s nothing surprising about that.

Sebastian reaches out, somewhat roughly caressing and pinching Ciel’s nipples through the lace of his shirt, increasing the already mind-boggling stimulation. Ciel whines pitifully, and the thrusts become more violent and erratic, and the orgasm approaches quickly, and the velvety walls of Ciel’s pussy clench deliciously and pulsate around Sebastian.

“Damn it…” Sebastian is breathing heavily, if not heavier than Ciel, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. One hand reaches down and begins to rub furiously at Ciel’s swollen clit. Ciel arches forward slightly, as much as he can with the cock inside him.

As if it were an offering.

Sebastian lets out a low, guttural, deep moan as Ciel’s cunt tightens almost painfully around his throbbing cock. That tight grip is driving him over the edge.

White cum drips into the condom. Clear one squirts around his cock. Sebastian holds Ciel close as they both recover from their orgasm, sweaty and tired.

Ciel shoves the inhaler into his mouth. Sebastian zips up his trousers, picks up the bottle of ramune, opens it, and takes a thoughtful sip.

“I liked the yellow one better,” he hands it to Ciel. Ciel happily responds to the contactless kiss and exchange of germs: the bitterness settles in his throat, and the magical sweet Japanese potion will help wash it away.

“This one’s not bad either,” Ciel mutters, pulling his pants up with his weak, disobedient hands. They’re done, right? “Delicious.”

Sebastian kisses him for real, insatiably and passionately. Ciel responds tiredly, tasting the soft ramune. He wants to wash up and go to bed.

VII.

Ciel brings Sirius a slightly dented bag of shrimp onigiri. He bought his brother something to eat with his own money. Sebastian paid for the rest.

“Did you have a good time?” Sirius asks, biting into his delicious Japanese dish, while Ciel fiddles with the kettle, mugs and tea bags.

“Uh, fine. We ate and went for a drive out of town. It was fun… I also saw Joanne. With a boyfriend.”

“I never thought Joanne was dating anyone,” Sirius frowns, chewing. “Who?”

“Some kind of nutcase. I don’t know. He looks like a typical geek who likes metal rock and violent games.

“I don’t know him.”

Ciel makes them some tea. Screams are heard from the hall. Mom is watching some series about criminals again and a charming big-ass brunette who catches big-dicked femboy killers by hypnotically swaying her hips. Ciel can do that too. The effect on Sebastian is immediate.

Alois taught him. Basically, Alois taught him almost everything related to sex.

Let’s not talk about Alois.

A shootout begins — all its horrors, its destruction and mortality do not reach life outside the film, only the sounds of gunshots, there is not even a smell of gunpowder. Slava Skripka is playing in the street. Bronislav, a Pole who lives on the same street with them and claims to hate everything Russian, turns on a Russian song in Russian (logically) at full volume. Ciel likes the melody, it is so energetic and simple, but he does not understand what it is singing about. There are some Polish words in the text, but Ciel doesn’t know them either. However, it’s not that important. He wants to drink his tea and probably eat an apple. His wishes are simple. Then they will have dinner with the whole family and maybe play board games.

VIII.

@femb0y_power

this is gothic when there are pharmaceutical drug$ in the stomach

Ciel looks at this tweet (which got to his feed because it was retweeted by Arthur, who Ciel still follows for some reason) for just a couple of minutes and logs out of Twitter.

It seems that Alois has become interested in using all sorts of caduceus substances.

IX.

@ciel2ffaced

tell me honestly

@ciel2ffaced

did you like it?

@ciel2ffaced

i mean at that restaurant

@ciel2ffaced

i just thought like you didn’t look particularly impressed tell me i’m winding myself up

@refl3ctlesss

I liked it. The food there is good.

@refl3ctlesss

I would go there again with you. I don’t think I’d figure out what’s what by myself.

@ciel2ffaced

phew

@ciel2ffaced

i was getting worried that you now think i’m an idiot ╥﹏╥

@refl3ctlesss

You don’t have any obvious signs of idiocy. Your concentration and thought processes seem to be fine.

@ciel2ffaced

that’s not what i’m talking about but never mind

@ciel2ffaced

when are you going to suggest a place for a date?

@ciel2ffaced

for some reason i’m just the initiator

@refl3ctlesss

Ciel, if I’m choosing a place, nine times out of ten I’ll take you to some pompous elite restaurant where just a glass of ice water costs five pounds.

@ciel2ffaced

oh

@ciel2ffaced

i can’t afford that

@refl3ctlesss

Wait, I’m paying for you.

@ciel2ffaced

: (´◦ω◦｀):

@ciel2ffaced

go on i like eating at your expense <3

@ciel2ffaced

and the last case?

@refl3ctlesss

Theater.

@ciel2ffaced

oh i love that

@ciel2ffaced

but not shakespeare

@ciel2ffaced

it’s boring for my taste

@ciel2ffaced

i love chekhov kiss kiss kiss

@refl3ctlesss

I’ll look for tickets to Chekhov if you want.

@ciel2ffaced

i do

@ciel2ffaced

thanks

@ciel2ffaced

<3

@refl3ctlesss

To be honest, I didn’t expect such enthusiasm. Okay, you like books, but theater is very unexpected.

@ciel2ffaced

why

@ciel2ffaced

it’s cool in the theater

@ciel2ffaced

it smells delicious the costumes are beautiful the scenery is also not bad

@ciel2ffaced

and if the play is also good then it’s just gorgeous

@ciel2ffaced

when we went to the theater with my class i really liked it

@refl3ctlesss

I’ll tell you what date the tickets are for. I’ll try to grab them on the weekend, not earlier. I have a meeting on Friday.

@ciel2ffaced

go go arrange for a woman to be published

@refl3ctlesss

It would be better if they didn’t publish her. The book is disgusting. I apologize for the expression, but while reading I want to throw up, and even more so — scratch my eyes out.

@ciel2ffaced

(･ω･*)ｰ

@ciel2ffaced

let’s not

@ciel2ffaced

if it’s that bad

@refl3ctlesss

I think the same. I’ll try to prevent it.

@ciel2ffaced

you’re my protector <3

@refl3ctlesss

It’s just that heroes don’t wear capes.

@ciel2ffaced

haha

Silence. The conversation has reached a dead end. Ciel puts his phone down. While he laughs in messages, in real life he doesn’t even want to smile. For some reason, his moral state, despite the release of endorphin into the blood, has worsened.

Sebastian. This figure occupies a special place in his rotting heart, and Ciel thinks that it is mutual, even if it is not love, but still he feels that the lightness is gone. As if the meringue has frozen. There is a dam or an abyss between them — this is about communication. There are no problems with physical touch. They just fucked today.

This was not the case with Alois, reading their correspondence there is a chance to irreversibly degrade. Is this normal?

He thinks not.

Or Ciel is simply eaten away by his own anxiety: scared, very scared. He does not want Sebastian to leave him too. It will be like a sentence, a cross on all future relationships. He thinks this is called youthful maximalism. Ciel exaggerates the reality and consequences that no one knows when will come.

His inner demons. They lead him by the nose with madness and drip sweet poison into his ears. Ciel is already afraid of the future.

Maybe tomorrow he will not wake up at all.

Maybe tomorrow will not come at all.

A nuclear catastrophe. Ciel is afraid that it will overtake humanity at some point: either a massive explosion of power plants or a nuclear war. He does not want to live in the catacombs and burn out his best years there. He wants, as usual, as now.

The past and the future are very similar. Is Sebastian right? We really repeat the history of our people if we do not learn from the mistakes of our ancestors, and their fate befalls us. We can adopt their experience and prevent the overthrow of power, revolution, mass genocide and wars. It depends on how we act. Ciel has a similar experience with Alois, and he should probably rely on it and not let the current relationship slide beyond the line of unhealthy, when Alois gently extinguished cigarettes on his thighs (that’s how he smokes when he doesn’t have any weed) and just as gently fucked him, like the last slut.

Ciel doesn’t want something like that with Sebastian. Sebastian doesn’t seem to have that brain rot in his eyes. They are cold, reasonable and dark, there is some kind of secret. They are like tea, cocoa, chocolate — all the delicious things that Ciel loves. It’s not a sin to drown in them and you don’t have to pretend that you want it.

It’s wonderful — not to pretend that you want it, but to really want it.

Ciel wants love. Does Sebastian want to love him?

Thoughts flow. It’s a stream of consciousness.

Ciel sighs and gets up from the made bed he’s been lying on this whole time. He likes lying on the bed, to be honest, and he likes soaking in the bath just as much: sitting on the bottom of it in hot water, warming himself up. Ciel gets cold easily. Maybe it’s his cool temperament.

@refl3ctlesss

Bought tickets. Saturday night at the Albert Hall.

@refl3ctlesss

Not Chekhov, unfortunately, but I think you’ll find it interesting.

@refl3ctlesss

<3

24.08.25 — 31.08.25

Chapter Text

I.

Ciel has a lot of time before Saturday. In a few days, he: quarrels and makes peace with his mother, goes to the store and to work, cleans the house, and even goes for a walk with Sebastian once. They go to the park in a civilized manner, but without wild petting or passionate sex in the bosom of nature. Ciel is afraid that during intercourse some bug will crawl into him and they will not be able to get it out later.

On Saturday evening, Sebastian picks him up by car (a block from Ciel’s house), like a true gentleman.

“What’s on at the theater?” Ciel asks, decorously placing his purse on his lap. His heart is failing. He is so excited! Silly boy.

“Surprise,” Sebastian grins, turning onto the road.

“It sucks,” Ciel whines dramatically. “Tell me!”

“Then it will no longer be a surprise.”

Ciel pouts. Sebastian gently pinches his thigh.

Albert Hall is an impressive building. Sebastian gallantly lets Ciel out of the car and offers him his hand. Ciel laughs, but indulges. He feels like a nineteenth-century aristocrat — all in lace and accompanied by a handsome suitor.

The theater is bright, crowded, smells sweet of some kind of fabric conditioner or something like that, but Ciel likes this smell, especially with an admixture of good women’s perfume. Dressed up people — everyone is chatting, someone is laughing, and Ciel feels so cheerful and light. Sebastian gently hugs him around the waist.

The first bell. People are getting ready.

The second bell. The doors to the hall open, everyone takes their seats according to their ticket. Sebastian, by the way, doesn’t show it to Ciel. Their seats are in the curtain. Ciel had never sat so luxuriously. When they went to the theater with their class, they were seated anyhow, and Ciel was lucky to sit in a corner box, where he couldn’t see half the stage behind a fat, enormous woman. Next to him sits the portly, mustachioed man in a bowler hat.

The third bell. Darkness and silence fall, the voices fall silent. The orchestra begins to play.

The stage hums, the stage thunders, the stage breathes. The stage is alive, so many vital processes take place in it, and they are not easy to see, but once you see them, you will not be able to ignore them anymore.

The music swells, and the curtain slowly creeps up. This is not Chekhov, this is Andersen. “The Snow Queen.” Ciel, frankly, thought that it would be something else, but he doesn’t mind.

Ciel immerses himself in the world of illusion.

He inhales a familiar smell — a mixture of perfume, parquet wax and old velvet. The smell of art and history. Ciel doesn’t just watch the play. He soaks it up with every cell, turning this evening into a precious memory.

The surprise wasn’t in the choice of play, but in this moment — in the opportunity to feel part of something beautiful and eternal, sitting next to a person who seems to understand him.

Perhaps.

Ciel leans back in the velvet back of the chair, stealing glances at Sebastian. He looks at the stage, so serious. His hand is still on the armrest, just an inch from Ciel’s.

Petite tragedy: Kai’s eye and heart are hit by shards of the cursed mirror. The actor screams loudly in fake pain, falls to the floor, writhes in imaginary convulsions, and Sebastian touches Ciel’s little finger with his little finger. Lightly, almost weightlessly.

Ciel freezes, his heart doing another somersault, this time completely unrelated to the action on stage. He doesn’t move, afraid to scare this moment away. A second later, Sebastian’s fingers gently entangle his, and their hands intertwine in the dark space. No one really looks at it.

Ciel will most likely sit with his teeth clenched throughout the entire performance, trying to concentrate on the play and at the same time completely surrendering to the feeling of Sebastian’s warm, hard palm in his own. It’s something intimate, probably more intimate than sex, more intimate than a blowjob and cunnilingus.

Ciel remembers the performance after some time: Kai is already sitting in the icy palace of the Snow Queen, alone and insensitive, frozen to the bottom of his stomach.

Is this an allegory? Is this a hint?

Sebastian draws parallels?

Ciel suddenly feels uneasy. Sebastian’s warm palm, which just seemed so welcome and warm, now feels unpleasantly hot, almost disgusting. Does he think Ciel is Kai? A frozen bastard with a shard of ice instead of a heart? Ciel feels almost insulted and tries to free his palm, but Sebastian’s fingers gently but inexorably squeeze.

At that moment, Gerda appears on the scene. Small, in worn-out shoes, sad and dejected, she sobs ugly, delivering a monologue about her loss, and her sincerity cuts to the quick with a rusty scalpel. Tears the skin.

And Ciel understands. Everything is exactly the opposite. He is not Kai. He is Gerda. Stubborn, stupid, going to the ends of the earth for someone who, perhaps, no longer wants to be saved. And Sebastian… Sebastian is his Snow Queen. Beautiful and cold. Who doesn’t love him, but wants him. Ciel thinks that he needs to deprive himself of illusions and force himself to see the light. The concepts of love and attraction are blurred.

He looks at their intertwined fingers again. This is no longer an embrace. This is a clutch.

Is this an allegory? Is this a hint?

Their eyes meet in the dim light. Ciel doesn’t catch their expression: it’s too dark.

Suddenly Sebastian leans in.

His lips are warm.

II.

After the show, as befits ordinary spectators, and not stalkers (whether they are old men over seventy or strange schoolchildren in black hoodies and a hood on their heads), they leave the Albert Hall.

Sebastian’s hand lies heavily and quite comfortably on Ciel’s lower back. Ciel does not object. Let it be.

“Should I take you home?” Sebastian asks. Ciel nods. It’s late. Mum will worry.

Sebastian kisses Ciel again, but not tenderly, but greedily, hungrily, in front of everyone. However, many do not care that the strange couple of a man in black and a tiny (compared to him) boy who looks like a cake are hugging right in the middle of a crowded street. Ciel feels how someone else’s erection insistently presses against his thigh. Ciel feels how his underwear is starting to leak.

It looks like it will be passionate sex on the concrete floor. Sebastian will take him right on the street. Joke. They are not that perverted! ★wink-wink★

If the theater, a decent establishment, begins with the cloakroom, then a fast food tavern ends with the toilet.

They are making out in a toilet stall: it seems that this is becoming a tradition. Ciel eats his juicy big tasty with appetite, drooling on it, because it’s fucking delicious. Sebastian sits him on the cold sink and buries his face between his legs, licks his crotch, sucks his clit, like Ciel sucked his cock, and looks from under his eyelashes so languidly and slyly. Temptation in the flesh. Ciel clutches his head with his hands, moans, curling his toes. Sebastian gently pushes the sharp tip of his tongue into the entrance of his vagina and strokes his lower abdomen with the fingertips of his free hand.

He feels so good.

III.

Sebastian orders tea for himself and a chocolate milkshake for Ciel, and Ciel kisses him so tenderly on the corner of his lips in gratitude. They may look like such a cute, comfortable couple from the outside, but these exhausted clerks, housewives, acne-covered teenagers, confused students and schoolgirls in too-short skirts (so short that the edge of their buttocks is visible) don’t know that Sebastian just fucked Ciel in a toilet stall, furiously clinging to his modest chest with his big hands and touching his neck with his teeth, because he’s not allowed to bite, but he wants to.

Ciel drinks his milkshake, which is a bit like vomit, and swings his legs. Sebastian looks at him, resting his chin on his fist.

“Why aren’t you drinking your tea?” Ciel asks, unsticking himself from the straw. The emphasis is on his soft pink lips, which you just want to bite into, gently bite, lick, kiss, and you can also rip sweet moans, whines, or make them bend — cheerfully or sarcastically.

“I like watching humans eat,” Sebastian says. It seems that little imps are jumping in his eyes. The devil looks at Ciel with curiosity from the bottom of the abyss. “You are very funny creatures.”

“Hmm…” Ciel takes another sip from the straw and thoughtfully pulls the cold mass of ice cream, milk, and syrup whipped in a blender into his mouth. “And you don’t consider yourself a human? Is there something I don’t know?”

“I guess you could say that. That’s the answer to both questions.”

Ciel looks back into the abyss. The sly little imps grin at him with their razor-sharp teeth, but those teeth will be gentle. They won’t rip his throat out, just gently nip at his fingertips or nipples.

“Well, I can’t consider the previous statement a lie. It was just an understatement.”

“That’s right,” Sebastian agrees. “It was an understatement. I didn’t say it because you didn’t ask.”

Ciel sighs and looks away.

“…To be honest, I’m sick of this.”

He can’t see Sebastian’s expression (well, obviously he’s looking out the window now), but he can see his reflection. Sebastian raises his eyebrows, frowns slightly, maybe even looks nervous for a second. An unusual expression.

“What exactly?” the voice is even, not fallen, but Ciel thinks that the phrase sounds a little tense.

He’s afraid of something. Maybe that Ciel will want to break up? But there’s nothing to be afraid of: Ciel wouldn’t have the courage to run away. He’s invested in this relationship as if he had very little time left in this world. It’s not exactly love, but Ciel has still become a little attached.

And Sebastian has no reason to be afraid. He doesn’t love Ciel.

“Lies and omissions. I’m too easy to fool.”

“Please note, I’ve never lied to you.”

Ciel doesn’t answer. Sebastian’s hand ingratiatingly rests on his palm.

“Alois lied to me a lot,” Ciel says after a ten-second pause. “That we’ll soon move in together, that he’ll try to fuck me more tenderly next time, that he loves me. He didn’t do any of that.”

“I would gladly arrange for you to live with me, but alas,” Sebastian sighs, stroking his thumb over his knuckles.

The ring on his finger. Of course.

Ciel feels like a dumb slut. He’s so easy to fool, because he devotes himself to his partner. Is it normal — his overly strong feelings and extreme devotion?

“I don’t need it. I don’t suffer from the fact that my living space is small.”

Ciel suffers from something else — something that gnaws at him. His bones want gentle kisses.

Sebastian grabs his face with his palms, turns him towards himself — not by force — and tries to press his lips to Ciel’s, but Ciel turns away.

The vibe is gone. There is no longer any desire to slobber, cuddle and paw each other.

Sebastian seems confused and does not quite understand this change. Like, twenty minutes ago, when they fucked, everything was fine, and now Ciel is so untouchable and does not even let himself be kissed. On the one hand, it arouses curiosity, on the other, it infuriates.

Sebastian’s hands slide down from his cheeks, almost ashamed.

“Ciel…”

“What?” Ciel asks colorlessly.

“Is something wrong?”

Obviously, yes.

“Obviously, yes,” Ciel says. “I’ve already spoken out. If you listened to me, of course.”

Unlike some. Alois never listened to him.

Let’s not talk about Alois.

“If we’re talking about lies and omissions, I’ve already expressed my position: I’m not lying to you. Omissions are mutual.”

…He’s right to some extent, Ciel must admit. Sebastian doesn’t retell his biography to him, because Ciel doesn’t either.

“Well, yes, that’s all true, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“What then?”

“Do you love me?”

Silence.

Well, that’s progress, perhaps. Last time Sebastian said he didn’t love anyone, including Ciel. Now Sebastian is silent.

Ciel waits, his legs twitching nervously, occasionally brushing against the hem of Sebastian’s pants. Neuropathic flirting.

“I’m still thinking about what you told me.”

“And when will I get an answer?” Ciel feels his anger creeping up on him, his bottled-up poison and bile. Usually, when that happens, he destroys everything, leaving not even the foundation.

They’ll probably be strangers tomorrow.

Maybe Ciel is rushing things too much, but he’s head over heels in love with Sebastian, he wants him to do the same. Very selfish desires.

Sebastian is silent. He sighs.

“To be honest, I usually put people in such unpleasant situations. To experience it first-hand… not nice.”

Ciel doesn’t understand, and his seething anger subsides for a second, cools down, and his fragile hand, clenched into a fist (he was already thinking about hitting Sebastian and running away before punishment overtakes him, because Sebastian is many times taller and stronger), unclenches.

“What?”

“Usually I ask this question, and people start to get nervous, stutter and come up with an excuse. Now I’m in their place, and my head is empty. Not a single rational thought.”

…Unexpectedly. Ciel blinks. Sebastian finally takes his cup of tea and thoughtfully sips.

“Counter question: do you love me?”

Yes.

Yes?

“Well…” Ciel cringes in embarrassment, tensing his shoulders and clutching his shorts with his fingers. “It’s more like infatuation than love itself.”

“There you go. And from me you demand eros, “romantic love,” Sebastian shrugs. “It’s kind of unfair, don’t you think?”

Indeed.

Ciel looks down, ashamed.

“I, um… Oh, fuck,” he breathes out in irritation. “I really don’t have a single rational thought.”

There’s no excuse for him.

Sebastian grins. Ciel sighs.

“…I want to go home.”

“Finish your drink, and I’ll take you,” Sebastian’s hand settles comfortably in Ciel’s palm again, as if it belongs there.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t take me anywhere. I’m acting like some kind of stupid degenerate bitch.”

“Well, first of all, I can’t send you wandering around in the dark, since I’m temporarily responsible for you. Secondly, you’re not a bitch. Self-flagellation usually doesn’t lead to anything good.”

Ciel exhales through his nose and wants to press his forehead to Sebastian’s hand, because holding that stupid head on his shoulders is so hard, but instead he sips his milkshake through a straw. Sebastian kisses the back of his hand, as if it were a greeting from a lady of the Renaissance or some other era close to it. Well, back in the days when they wore powdered wigs and puffy dresses on huge crinolines.

“Can you dance the waltz?” Ciel asks.

“I don’t want to brag, but I dance it very well,” Sebastian smiles slyly. “Do you want to waltz?”

“We can try sometime. But I’m not very good at it. Like, we were taught to dance for the graduation ceremony at school, but somehow things don’t work out.”

If only because their teacher, Mrs. Green, who looks a lot like a pig, squeals like a pig when someone stumbles or turns a couple in the wrong direction. And Ciel doesn’t have a partner anymore: Margo couldn’t stand it and transferred to another school. They have a shortage of girls in their class.

“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”

Perhaps the waltz would be a wonderful prelude to sex.

Ciel, inspired, allows Sebastian to press his lips to his cheek. Sebastian’s hand rests playfully on his thigh, fingertips touching his crotch. Round two? Ciel carefully, almost imperceptibly, moves his hips forward to rub.

Sebastian gently bites his ear and whispers, breathing hotly on him:

“Slut.”

His slut.

Ciel grins and boldly squeezes the growing bulge in his trousers.

“Pervert.”

His pervert.

It’s a good thing they’re sitting in the corner and few people can see this petting session. Sebastian rubs Ciel’s clit through his shorts, while Ciel tries to jerk off his cock not very skillfully.

Honestly, he wants to fuck again, but it’s late, time to go home. Sebastian stops the car about half a block from Ciel’s house and stands there until Ciel texts him that he’s already inside and everything is fine.

The taste of chocolate milkshake still lingers on his lips.

IV.

He’s like in a daze, like he’s high. He’s never tried drugs and doesn’t know what it’s really like to be high, but his state is very similar to euphoria. It seems like he’s been there before.

Ciel is so in love and light. Like the first day, like the day they met. It seems like an eternity has passed.

This is cyclical. After this takeoff, Ciel will fall again, break his already barely healed wings, crawl, tearing up the ground with his nose like some nasty crawling creature. Then the bones will grow together, the plumage will grow, and as soon as the cute fluff comes off, Ciel will take off again and fall.

This is the fate of those who fly — to know the bitterness of falling.

V.

Rachel doesn’t cook dinner very often, but today she felt a pang in her chest, a bad feeling, and she decided that it was high time to be a mother full-time. She had told the twins that morning to come home for dinner if they went out, but it was already nine, Ciel’s cold plate of stew was covered in a greasy film, and she, like an idiot, was sitting at the table and waiting for her unbearable son. It was not customary to talk about one’s own children like that, but the only word that came to mind was “whore”.

Finally, the door slammed, footsteps are heard, the sounds of shoes being thrown onto the floor.

Rachel walks out into the hallway.

Ciel greets her with a beaming smile and said:

“Hi, Mum.”

There is something wrong with him. There is some difference between Ciel in the evening and in the morning, something barely perceptible.

Rachel doesn’t like it.

“Where have you been?”

“Walking!” Ciel answers affectionately.

“Who gave you permission? I told you to come home for dinner.”

“Mum, I wasn’t hungry. Sebastian took me to a cafe.”

Sebastian?

“Who is Sebastian?”

“He’s very good! We went to the theater and drank all sorts of tasty things,” the impudent boy smiles, sparkles — just a child, an innocent child, as if he’s about to burst out laughing.

Of course, then Ciel bursts into tears and snot, and their screams shake the house to such an extent that there is a risk that the foundation will crack, because hysteria in their family is almost hereditary.

Probably, the calm Sirius took after their non-existent father.

Words are like a shard of a cursed mirror — sharp and poisonous. One such shard, thrown in passing, can hurt his mother. Another is to strike Ciel himself, once and for all.

Words are our enemies, as is their creator — ourselves. They will destroy them both with a crooked mirror.

Ciel returns to his room after a thorough brainwashing and lobotomization only at eleven o’clock in the evening. Sirius is not sleeping. He is sitting on his bed, waiting for him.

He looks at him sympathetically.

Ciel kisses him on the nose. Sirius raises his eyebrows, and then frowns.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” Ciel mumbles. “I just love you.”

Sirius will not yell at him, will not wail, will not threaten him with punishment. Ciel clings to him, wants to snuggle closer and warmer.

“…Can I sleep with you?” Ciel mumbles.

Would Sirius be disgusted by lying in bed with one person, who is being fucked by a married man and who still smells a little musky?

“Of course.”

Ciel smiles sadly at him.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Sirius yawns into the crook of his elbow. Ciel slides off his brother and, slightly swaying, goes to the bathroom. His nose is clogged with mucus.

He needs to wash himself.

VI.

It’s so warm with Sirius, so good. Ciel can almost touch his carefree childhood: lollipops, their mother’s scented candles, the bottomless blue sky, the trembling shimmering soap bubbles, the bed he shares with his brother — but he can’t cling to him: too far away to touch, but Sirius’s chest is pleasant to be near, almost like Sebastian’s, but there is still a difference. Sebastian’s is harder and wider, and Sirius’s is much narrower. And he smells different, not like expensive cologne with notes of liqueur, but something sweeter and softer, almost milky.

“Are you okay?” Sirius finally asks, muttering into his head, scorching him with his warm breath. Without judgment, just caring.

Good.

Bad.

Not really.

Ciel remembers: he is a slut for the married pervert who doesn’t love him and plays with him like a cat with a mouse… No matter.

In the darkness, he vaguely sees Sirius’s outline, identical to his own.

“So-so.”

Sirius’s hand tangles in his hair, runs through the strands. Like when they were little.

Cute little shirts from their weekend. Their huge black dog. Stacks of picture books. A sweet-smelling mess of all the shower gels that were in the bathroom.

Sirius kisses him on the forehead.

Ciel is dozing, lying there and thinking about nothing, except comparing tactile and olfactory sensations with what he remembered.

He wants to crawl into his chest and warm himself there near his heart. Ciel has reason to believe that it is warm.

He doesn’t dream of anything.

VI.

@refl3ctlesss

Ciel

@refl3ctlesss

We’re not meeting today.

@refl3ctlesss

Melissa arrived.

The message pops up on the screen. Ciel looks at it sleepily and sullenly. He doesn’t understand anything, to be honest. There’s some kind of fog in his head, although he woke up only half an hour ago.

Sirius is sleeping next to him, gently pressed against his back.

@ciel2ffaced

wha

@ciel2ffaced

she’s supposed to arrive ± in two weeks

@refl3ctlesss

Alas, she arrived today.

@refl3ctlesss

Two hours ago. I met her without a shirt. This fool decided that I was with a mistress and started searching the house. So glad that I’m alone.

Melissa. Wife. Not an abstract “ring on a finger”, but a living woman who is now searching the house, like in cringe-worthy low-budget rom-coms filmed in someone’s father’s garage, even Joanne’s, because Ciel doesn’t have one. Ciel wrinkles his forehead thoughtfully, fidgeting. He wants to go to the toilet, but he doesn’t think that his mother has cooled down after yesterday’s fight, and he deliberately doesn’t leave the room and doesn’t show signs of life.

Honestly, he thought Melissa hated Sebastian.

If only she knew how Sebastian fucked his mistress yesterday.

@refl3ctlesss

I didn’t even get a proper rest.

@ciel2ffaced

don’t worry

@ciel2ffaced

we’ll run away somewhere else <3

@ciel2ffaced

oh

@ciel2ffaced

we won’t run away

@ciel2ffaced

i’m punished

@refl3ctlesss

Why?

@ciel2ffaced

i came home late and i’m hanging out with fuck knows who 🙄

@ciel2ffaced

my mother yelled me so much i’m afraid to leave my room to pee

@refl3ctlesss

Well, the situation is not very good on both sides. Melissa is looking through the bed to see if there is any of your hair.

@ciel2ffaced

is there any or not?

@refl3ctlesss

I changed the sheets yesterday, there shouldn’t be any.

@ciel2ffaced

phew

@ciel2ffaced

then ok

@ciel2ffaced

i don’t want her to yell at you too（-""-；)

@refl3ctlesss

How sweet of you <3

@ciel2ffaced

well i care about you <3

@ciel2ffaced

text me later ok

@ciel2ffaced

i’ll try to wake up sirius

@refl3ctlesss

Good luck.

Ciel does wake Sirius up. He yawns a lot and rubs his eyes, which are sore from sleep. A frying pan is hissing in the kitchen. Mom is making breakfast. Ciel hopes that it will be a quiet morning.

The tension is so palpable and thick that you can cut it with a knife. Mum doesn’t talk to him. Sirius watches anxiously. Ciel picks at his plate. The omelette is delicious, warm, with cheese, but it doesn’t go down his throat. He feels a little sick.

His phone is lying face down. He wants Sebastian to text, but it will be better if he doesn’t for now. Ciel doesn’t want Mum to rustle their correspondence.

Sebastian is with Melissa now. Probably having breakfast. Or maybe not. He said something about everyone cooking for themselves.

Maybe Sebastian lied after all? Ciel wants to believe that there isn’t.

Ciel wants to believe, and writes first, late in the afternoon. His whole day has been so dull and empty that he needs something that makes him happy. He’s been begging Rachel for forgiveness all day, because he’s such a rude person, being rude to his own mother and not doing what she says, and then he was forced to clean the house. He’s also deprived of pocket money and is practically under house arrest.

Today is a wonderful day.

@ciel2ffaced

so wha

@ciel2ffaced

what are the results of the examination

@ciel2ffaced

?

A minute passes. Two. Five. Ciel is worried.

Maybe Melissa has already found out about everything. Maybe they’re arguing now. Maybe they’re even filing for divorce.

(he wishes. as selfish as it may be)

@refl3ctlesss

It’s okay. She’s sleeping now.

@refl3ctlesss

She didn’t check my phone, like she already knows that I have a gallery full of Lumi’s photos.

In fact, Sebastian’s gallery currently contains a lot of other interesting things: Ciel’s mouth full of his cum; Ciel’s wet pussy; the photos of Ciel that he posted on Twitter; Ciel sucking his dick…

Ahem.

@ciel2ffaced

yeah right

@ciel2ffaced

isn’t it?

@refl3ctlesss

<image>

Lumi is curled up on a chair, seemingly asleep. Ciel is smiling. Despite his dislike of cats, he thinks she’s really cute. And she’s so warm and cozy.

@ciel2ffaced

cutie

@ciel2ffaced

i’d eat her <3

@refl3ctlesss

Me too, but I can’t. I need stress relief.

@refl3ctlesss

I’ve been hugging her all day, and she doesn’t understand why.

@refl3ctlesss

I usually try not to bother her.

@ciel2ffaced

are you that nervous?

@refl3ctlesss

I am. While Melissa was going through my things, I was beside myself. Luckily, she didn’t find anything.

@refl3ctlesss

She’s very jealous, you know.

Of course, Ciel understands. Ciel is jealous in his own way, too. Honestly, he would like to be in Melissa’s place, but not in the position of an unloved wife, but a cherished husband whom Sebastian is ready to carry in his arms.

Yes, Ciel would like that.

@refl3ctlesss

In a couple of days, she will leave for her parents in Manchester. We can meet.

@refl3ctlesss

Maybe we will even dance a waltz.

Ciel imagines them dancing in the living room of Sebastian’s house. Another portion of forbidden, adrenaline high teases his consciousness, like a needle full of heroin teases an unfortunate drug addict. Anticipation of pleasure.

@ciel2ffaced

okay

@ciel2ffaced

if i can escape

@ciel2ffaced

i can’t go for a walk yet

@ciel2ffaced

only to work with Sirius and back

@ciel2ffaced

not even to the store

@ciel2ffaced

but i really want chips (TT)

@refl3ctlesss

When your mother let you out, I’ll buy you some.

@ciel2ffaced

thank you <3

Denunciation is a refusal by one of the parties to fulfill the contract. Rachel allows Ciel to hang out only after a week, but with one condition: he can’t hang out for long, he can’t hang out with someone unknown, and he must call from time to time and report where he is. Okay, mum, says Ciel, but in reality, a secret denunciation is taking place.

Ciel won’t hang out for long and will call back, but he will hang out with someone unknown.

And learn to dance the waltz.

Sebastian picks him up a block from his house and drives him to Blackheath. The car smells deliciously of Sebastian’s air freshener and cologne. Ciel brags that his salary is coming soon and he wants to buy something at the mall. Sebastian says he can take him. There are no new meetings yet anyway, books are boring, nothing to do.

They hug in the hallway right away. Ciel kisses him gently on the neck and strokes his shoulder. Sebastian looks at him as if he wants to eat him alive.

To feel those bones crunching under his teeth.

“Want some wine?” he offers, rummaging through the minibar while Ciel lies on the black leather couch and feels almost like an oligarch.

“Mm, no. I can’t have it for another six months. And I don’t like it. I have bad memories with it.”

“It should be delicious,” Sebastian says, reading the label. “Red, sweet, well-aged. Are you sure you won’t have it?”

“Okay, if it’s sweet. Do you have any juice?”

“It was somewhere… I almost forgot. I bought you milk kiss.”

Ciel gets two white cans of soda: one strawberry, one yogurt, but both are definitely milky. Damn, you’re so thoughtful, Bas, Ciel coos. Sebastian grins: I just have a habit of remembering what you like.

Sebastian pours wine into beautiful glasses: not these modern ones, all glass, no. The stem is iron, covered with skillfully carved ivy and roses, on which this glass bowl stands. Something similar to antiques or that super-expensive glassware they saw in that store in the mall.

Ciel hesitantly takes a sip of wine and winces.

It still tastes sour. Compared to the gentle, sweet milky kiss, it seems completely tasteless, but he does not want to offend Sebastian and courageously knocks back the glass almost in one gulp. Sebastian, like a true gourmet, sips the wine and eats cheese, holding it between two fingers. Aesthete.

“I don’t understand how you adults drink this,” Ciel complains and takes a swig of soda — the yogurt one with blue elements in the design. He takes a sip. He savors it. He continues. “All this crap is either sour or bitter. It’s not tasty at all!”

“Ciel, have mercy, this wine is thirty years old.”

Ciel shrugs indifferently.

“Idk, I wasn’t even in the plans thirty years ago. When are you going to teach me the waltz?”

“Soon,” Sebastian smiles slyly (in combination with his words, it looks incomprehensible to Ciel) and eats another piece of noble blue cheese. Ciel doesn’t like that either. “You’re terribly impatient.”

“I’m very sorry.”

Ciel doesn’t feel sorry at all.

Sebastian puts away the cheese, puts away the wine; washes the glasses until they squeak; dries them until they shine and there is not a single streak. He is terribly clean — however, this is evident from his home. Ciel does not know what the furnishings are in the other rooms, but Sebastian’s bedroom, living room, hallway and kitchen are very clean.

The overhead light goes out. The lower, yellowish lamp of the floor lamp turns on. An intimate atmosphere, but Ciel is not yet itching from this eroticism.

“May I invite you to dance?” Sebastian, gallantly clasping his left hand behind his back, pulls his right hand to him, smiling charmingly.

“Mmm, I don’t know,” Ciel grins slyly. He lies like he owns the place: one leg in a slutty stocking on the back of the sofa, the other hanging down.

“Ah, but I heard you dance wonderfully.”

“That’s a lie. I’m just a shrimp.”

“Please, give me just one dance.”

“You are very persistent,” Ciel sighs pretending, gives Sebastian his hand, and he is lifted off the couch. Sebastian is strong, and Ciel is impressed, because Alois couldn’t lift him off the couch with one hand, and most importantly, he couldn’t do it painfully. “Well, dance me.”

“Now seriously: what can’t you do?”

“Everything. I only know where to put my hands. I don’t understand the steps at all.”

“Well, it’s good that you know something,” Sebastian sighs. “So here’s how it is: your left hand is in your partner’s right hand, your right hand is on their waist…” Ciel’s hand lands roughly where Sebastian’s waist should be. “Yes, that’s right…” Ciel’s hand slides down, approximately to where Sebastian’s inviting ass should be, and gently squeezes his left buttock. “No! Waist, not ass,” Sebastian yanks his hand up, but Ciel is too naughty.

His hand slides down again. Sebastian speaks again, adjusting it:

“No, Ciel, the waist is not there.”

His hand slides down again. Sebastian exhales in irritation. Ciel smiles innocently:

“What are we going to do tonight?”

“Learning to dance a waltz. The waist is higher and to the right, if you don’t know.”

Ciel squeezes his buttock again, a little more predatory and passionate. Sebastian looks at him with an incomprehensible expression on his face, as if the very essence of petting has not been fully studied.

Ciel wants to enrage him. Cut him open. Tease him to tears. Make him release the beast, because Sebastian is a lustful animal.

“Ciel.”

“Yes?” Ciel throws his head back, gently touches his lips to his sharp chin. Sebastian has such an interesting face shape: narrow, not quite oval, high cheekbones, high, slightly reminiscent of a sunflower seed — and this only makes him more attractive.

“You’re an imp.”

Sebastian picks him up as if without the slightest effort (and this is quite possible, because Ciel has dystrophy, an eating disorder and, naturally, a small weight), throws him over his shoulder: Ciel’s face is back, and his butt is forward. It looks like they are going to grope him too. Ciel demonstratively wiggles his legs, like he doesn’t like it, but in fact he does.

“Wait, I don’t want to fuck without seeing your face!” Ciel whines pitifully and theatrically. “I like sex with a visual contract.”

In general, this is true. Ciel likes to see that his partner is happy with him (if he himself is happy too). Something similar was revealed at the beginning of his relationship with Alois, and then he was fucked only with his face in the pillow. Not the most pleasant memories.

Let’s not talk about Alois.

“Don’t worry, there will be no sensory play today,” Sebastian spanks him affectionately. “Quickly decide where we’ll make love.”

Make love. What an… interesting expression.

As if Sebastian loved him. As if he loved Sebastian.

Ciel’s head is too empty to think about it. He smirks, the little devil, and whispers:

“The bed, obviously.”

If this is making love, then let Sebastian love him for a long time in these clean crisp sheets and caress his thin body, mutilated by the stupid infatuation with self-harm, and kiss his lips and scars, and push deeper and more tenderly, and tangle his fingers with his own.

Perhaps this is the most sensual thing that has ever happened to Ciel, not animalistic fucking, but something more sublime. He almost feels like an angel, but angels do not lie, cooling, in the arms of a married man.

No matter, though. Ciel is an angel of a different kind.

“Is it the wine that’s got you so wild?” Ciel whispers, his eyes still closed, tired and sweaty. Sebastian is lying behind him, pressing his back to his chest.

He feels Sebastian’s soft lips at the base of his neck, on his vertebrae, on the back of his head. The pleasant sliding makes him shudder. Exposed nerves.

“I wanted it to be special,” Sebastian mutters hoarsely. “We can’t act like animals all the time.”

Ciel awkwardly, with difficulty, turns over on his other side. Facing Sebastian. Looking at him from under his eyelashes. Timidly reaches out with his lips to his lips, almost afraid: will he be pushed away or not? what if yes?

Sebastian answers willingly, but not as greedily and passionately as usual. Apparently, he is tired too.

“…I still haven’t taught you how to waltz properly.”

“Later.”

They bask together for a while, and Sebastian carries him to the bathroom and bathes him himself. Ciel pouts and demands that Sebastian wash with him. Sebastian replies that later. When Ciel learns to waltz.

And let Melissa find Ciel’s ash-blue hair in the sheets or in the drain.

Ciel thinks, closing his eyes: will Sebastian give up marriage for him? This will be the sacrifice he talks about, this will be the highest measure of love — to destroy your peace and success for the sake of the one you love.

Sebastian is in a cage of artificial marriage. Ciel wants to open it.

Ciel wraps his wet arms around his neck, leaving hot, damp spots on his shirt, and Sebastian mindlessly pulls him up despite the wetness. Perhaps there are other feelings between them, besides lust. Sympathy, for example. Ciel likes Sebastian as a person.

Sebastian seems to like Ciel too.

It’s not love — Ciel is sure of it, but he thinks it would be great to walk together, hand in hand.

Ciel sighs and lays his head on his shoulder. Sebastian holds him, holds him securely and tightly, warmly, presses his lips to his forehead, clings to his body. This is no longer carnal, but something else, tender, but Ciel does not know its definition.

Sebastian feeds him a piece of red velvet cake (he baked it himself) and gives him tea. Sebastian takes him home and stands for a long time, watching Ciel get there on his own, without the attacks of the maniac, and Ciel feels almost inspired, almost happy. Something has changed, invisible, but it has changed precisely and irrevocably, and Ciel likes this change.

(even if it’s just wine)

He feels so good.

31.08.25 — 09.09.25

Chapter Text

I.

Sebastian wakes up.

To be honest, this action can’t really be called waking up, as it wasn’t a deep sleep, more like a light drowsiness, but even that concept is far from reality.

Lumi lies nearby, on the adjacent pillow, soft and warm, asleep. Sebastian reaches out and scratches her behind the ear. The cat purrs. He loves these moments of peace and quiet, when he can simply listen to her making those wonderful, gentle sounds, and stroke her soft fur, and nuzzle her warm, dry nose like an Eskimo kiss.

He told Ciel that he felt something akin to love for Lumi. Perhaps that’s true. This beautiful creature has lived in his house for several years, asking very little — food and affection — and giving him much more in return. She greets him when he comes home after a meeting. She lets him cuddle her as much as he wants when he needs to calm down and collect his thoughts. She brings a sense of life, warmth, and comfort to the house — it’s subtle, but still there. Perhaps Lumi loves him too — for feeding her, for spending time with her, for the fact that he even exists.

Many say dogs are the most loyal creatures. Sebastian agrees; yes, these slobbering animals with stinking mouths are truly devoted to their owners, but cats also form bonds with the people who live with them in their own way.

The house is quiet. Perhaps Melissa is sleeping — perhaps Melissa has gone somewhere. Sebastian doesn’t know; after all, he can’t see through walls, but he senses her presence rather faintly.

She’s been acting strange lately. Not like usual. Having turned the entire house upside down in search of a potential lover, she clung to him so tenderly that he was dumbfounded. Sebastian was already a bit of a misreader, and at that moment he was completely at a loss, as Melissa had never, ever approached him to hug. He’d even thought Melissa disliked such affection.

(unlike Ciel)

Perhaps Melissa was trying to detect Ciel’s delicate scent on Sebastian’s skin, but she didn’t have the keen sense of smell her husband had. It wouldn’t have worked.

She stayed by his side almost all day—as if she’d remembered that wives in normal, loving couples spend time with their husbands. Sebastian still doesn’t know what to make of that. Either she loves him (unlikely, as they’ve been together for five years; falling in love for that long seems unrealistic, especially given Sebastian’s devilish charm), or she’s trying to hide something. That she has a lover, for example.

The thought of Melissa’s lover doesn’t arouse jealousy or anger in him — only curiosity, vague and distant.

There’s a saying in psychology that those who fear betrayal most often cheat themselves.

Lumi twiddles her paws in her sleep. Her world is simple and clear. She’s fed — she’s content. She’s petted — she butts affectionately. Sebastian longs for the same simplicity.

Humans are far more complex than cats. Their affection can’t be bought with a couple of cans of expensive food or earned with a gentle scratch behind the ears. Their motives are complex, their actions contradictory. Melissa’s kindness yesterday was too much of an unsolicited gift. Sebastian prefers to receive than to give, but he won’t take just anything.

The coolness of the sheets seems unpleasant to him.

He sits up, but hesitates to put his feet down. He knows the parquet floor is cold.

…Sometimes Sebastian is frightened by the cold floor of his own house.

He reaches for the phone on the nightstand. The screen lights up, blinding him in the darkness. No messages, no missed calls. Only the time — quarter to five. This hour, suspended between night and morning, feels strange.

Ciel is probably asleep now. A chill moves under Sebastian’s shoulderblades.

Lumi, disturbed by his movements, stretches and jumps off the bed, busily walking out into the hallway. She returns about a minute later, pokes her head between the door and the frame, looking at him. Waiting for him to deign to get up and feed her.

Sebastian sighs and rises carefully, trying not to make a sound. The floor is cold.

The light in the kitchen is on — dim, yellowish. Melissa stands, leaning her back against the counter, her bare feet crossed at the ankles, drinking water from a glass. A long, old T-shirt and shorts cling to her slender body, outlining curves—not as seductive as Ciel’s. His is somehow more modest, and therefore more beautiful.

Sebastian, having seen Melissa’s sloping hips and C-cup breasts too often, is indifferent to the fullness. Small things seems more pleasant — put your hand on the breast and feel the heartbeat flutter.

“Are you awake?” Her voice is hoarse, smoky. Honestly, Sebastian doesn’t know if she smokes. It seems she’s long past her nymphet-gothic phase at nineteen.

“Obviously I am,” Sebastian replies. Lumi sits by the bowl, wagging her fluffy tail.

“Water?” She offers him her glass. Sebastian has no desire to exchange germs with her or discover he’s tested positive for hepatitis, so he says,

“No, thanks.”

Melissa shrugs and finishes her water. Sebastian rummages through the box of cat food. Lumi sniffs it and waits patiently. Sebastian has seen many cats, and this one is perhaps one of the few who doesn’t beg for food or meow at the top of their lungs. Lumi knows she’ll be fed, so she doesn’t bother screaming. She’s smart, you know.

Sebastian opens the can and dumps a rather unappetizing-looking brown mass into Lumi’s bowl. Judging by the name, it’s supposed to be tender beef. It doesn’t smell very good, but Lumi likes it. Melissa watches him, a little intently.

Sebastian admits: humans are a complex and unpleasant species to coexist with. This intense suspicion is a welcome addition to the game, but when it’s excessive, it’s irritating. Sebastian hates Melissa staring at him like that while he squats in front of Lumi, watching her eat, slurping lightly.

Her behavior is disconcerting.

It’s as if the rules of a long, predictable game have suddenly changed. It’s intriguing, but also irritating.

Not long ago, Melissa was searching through the closets for Sebastian’s lover, hugging his hand, and even kissing his cheek. Today… what will happen today?

Sebastian wants her to go somewhere: to work, to visit, for a walk—anywhere, so long as she doesn’t stare at him with such searching, suspicious eyes.

He wants to go to Ciel. His body fits so comfortably in Sebastian’s arms — as if it were carved specifically for him.

The thought of Ciel becomes obsessive, physical. He aches to feel him under his hands, to caress his shoulders, to count his ribs, to pinch, tease, and bite. In psychology, there’s a theory that great love makes a person want to bite the object of their affection. Sebastian isn’t quite human and isn’t sure if Ciel is the object of his affection, but he experiences this desire.

Mumbling something about coffee, he leaves, leaving Melissa alone.

In the bathroom, he turns the water hot and gets into the shower, trying to wash the feeling of her gaze from his skin. Bitch. He imagines her eyes are in the wall. Now she’ll see him jerking off, remembering Ciel’s luscious cunt and his soft breasts.

Joke.

Sebastian doesn’t jerk off in the bathroom. He doesn’t buy expensive chemicals to wash his sperm off the tiles and the chemical-ravaged bathtub.

Steam fills the space. It clings to the mirror above the sink, licking it tenderly, kissing it, settling as white condensation. Sebastian doesn’t see his reflection and even feels faceless.

Sebastian is faceless. He has no reflection. He didn’t choose his username particularly thoughtfully. They say on internet forums: a nickname should be original and reflect you. Sebastian is a rotten piece of bloody meat, crawling with squirming, poisonous worms. A reflection? nah, what?

@reflectl3sss. He’s a genius.

Sebastian is reflectless. Ciel is two-faced.

He imagines him sleeping — his tousled ash-blue hair on a white pillow, his long eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks. His mouth, parted in serenity.

Ciel is two-faced — has Sebastian seen both of his faces? Perhaps so. A lustful, roguish bitch and a gentle, fragile creature, looking at him with deep, sad eyes. Or is that not it?

An inconstant visage. If Sebastian hadn’t seen him in person, he would think Ciel was a product of alternating current and electronic light. A digital prince living in a virtual world. A composite image of social media accounts.

He longs for Ciel. To touch, to feel, to see, to feel — he’s real, not unattainable and trapped within the confines of a screen.

Water trickles down his body. It might be erotic, but Sebastian’s face is so crooked it’s repulsive, not attractive.

A shirt, trousers. Sebastian has a closet full of them — they differ only in color (white and black) and cut. His wardrobe is boring, grown-up, office-ready. Sebastian always walks as if he’s just escaped from a megacorporation office on the thirty-fourth floor of a skyscraper.

The sound of the TV drifts from the living room — some stupid quiz show for unemployed slackers and housewives. Sebastian doesn’t come in to say goodbye.

It’s cold outside. The air is fresh, sharp, burning your lungs. It’s quiet. The street is still asleep. The only sound is the trickle of water from the hose: that nasty Chinese guy Lau is constantly watering his stupid flowers, and Sebastian, meticulous by nature, can’t understand why they haven’t rotted from excess moisture yet.

Sebastian gets into the car. Sebastian starts the engine. Sebastian drives a couple of blocks from his house, parks near a 24-hour supermarket, and stares thoughtfully at his phone. The sky is drenched in red — the color of roses that mean “I love you,” the color of Santa Claus’s suit, the color of blood.

…Honestly, he doesn’t know what he’ll do in the few hours before eight in the morning, when all the adults (including Ciel’s mother) reluctantly head off to work, to their boring, routine jobs. He can read the manuscript he brought with him, or wander aimlessly through the open stores, or down the street, or stay in the warm car altogether because it’s cold outside.

Sebastian opens Twitter.

II.

@ciel2ffaced

i had such a great time yesterday really great <3

Like.

@ciel2ffaced

i drank all sorts of delicious things like milkis and then i was dragged to bed 🎀

Like.

@ciel2ffaced

that was the best sex of my life. @femb0y_power follow suit 💋

Like.

Let Ciel know Sebastian saw these tweets.

III.

Every dirty innuendo, every stupid emoji.

Retweet.

@refl3ctlesss

@ciel2ffaced, shall we do it again?

Wanna start a cult with me?~

IV.

He reads the manuscript, scrolls through Ciel’s tweets.

The manuscript is boring. Ciel’s digital traces are more interesting, much more engaging.

He’s actually thoroughly studied Ciel’s profile, he’s seen all the photos and tweets: most of them are pinned, the photos are downloaded. The raster images are securely stored in the internal memory.

Photos of cityscapes. Photos of sunsets. Photos of the moon. Photos of red velvet cakes and milkshakes. Photos of Ciel in a mirror, wearing a shirt, jeans, and a belt, arched in such an interesting way. The phone hides his face.

Almost everywhere Ciel shows his face, it’s hidden: he either hides it behind some other image (Sanrio’s animals, hearts, bows), or crops the photo to just his nose. The smart boy either cares about secrecy, or is simply being aesthetically pleasing.

@ciel2ffaced

dr. pepper didn’t spare me. i drank another can

So profound.

@ciel2ffaced

@femb0y_power i luv u 👉👈💘💋🎀✨

…

(will the time ever come when Ciel will tweet that he loves Sebastian?)

(where are these strange thoughts coming from?)

Sebastian wants a latte. With caramel syrup. The caramel provides such a rich and deep flavor, perfectly complementing the bitterness of the coffee.

Sebastian wants a latte, but all the coffee shops are closed at such an early hour. The universe didn’t plan for such needs.

Of course, he gets to the coffee shop — at eight in the morning. A sleepy girl with brown hair like thick chocolate makes him a latte in a coffee machine and pours syrup into it from a tall bottle. Sebastian also orders a red velvet cake. He wonders why Ciel loves it so much? Yes, it’s delicious and sweet, but why? is it the abundance of cream? is it the red dough?

At the next table, the portly man with a mustache and a bowler hat sits reading a newspaper. Beside him, an Americano is cooling in a takeaway glass.

At nine, aimlessly strolling down the street, window-shopping, he stops into a sex shop. Well. Why not? They have an active sex life; Sebastian thinks it might be nice to spice things up. They’ve already had sex on the bed, the couch, the car, and the toilet, but they’ve never tried toys: Sebastian simply doesn’t have them, considering them weird, but after reading a few articles online, he’s come to the conclusion that many couples enjoy them.

Dildos are eliminated immediately. Ciel’s pussy should only know one cock — Sebastian’s, made of flesh and blood, not rubber.

Sebastian didn’t understand how to use the rings.

The plugs are a bit weird. It would be great to have Ciel ready-made, but Sebastian enjoys stretching him with his fingers too much. Probably not.

Erotic costumes. Well, that requires Ciel to try them on himself and decide what he likes and what he doesn’t. Sebastian, though he’s never done it, wouldn’t buy anyone clothes (even a black lace negligee) without the person he’s buying them for. It’s impossible to predict whether it will work or not. Sebastian also doesn’t know Ciel’s size. Definitely not.

Lubricants. Sebastian gets a long lecture from the salesperson: which lubricants are best, what’s best for toys made of different materials, what won’t cause irritation — and he spends a long time choosing, which almost drives him crazy: he’s so indecisive and suspicious that he wants to howl. This isn’t serious.

Strawberry, perhaps. Ciel’s cunt already looks and smells delicious, and now it’ll be even better. The salesperson explains: flavored lubricants can cause irritation. Sebastian asks for two jars: one flavored, one unflavored. They’ll figure out which is best.

At ten o’clock, he’s driving around Lewisham, trying to find Ciel’s house with the GPS. Ciel once told him his address, but Sebastian seems a bit slow, since he can’t find it even with the GPS.

Finally, he stops at a pretty house with a hedge and checks his phone. The GPS says it’s Street N, Building XX. The sign says otherwise.

Sebastian doesn’t understand. He seems genuinely confused.

He gets out of the car and walks through a gap in the neatly trimmed bushes. There are no outbuildings on this property.

He knocks on the door.

One second. Two. Five.

The door opens.

He’s greeted by a sleepy Ciel in white pajamas — and more Sanrio’s animals (Sebastian isn’t particularly knowledgeable about Sanrio, so he doesn’t know they’re Kuromi and My Melody). He yawns charmingly into his hand and looks at him blearily. It seems Sebastian woke him up.

“Hello,” he mumbles sleepily and amiably, hanging on his neck. Sebastian eagerly hugs him back — it’s a surprisingly pleasant feeling: holding someone’s body close to his. Interesting. It excites his curiosity, his insatiable thirst for knowledge.

“Hello. Can I come in?”

“Mm…”

Ciel leads him inside. Everything is simple: inexpensive furniture, simple decorations. A chest of drawers, a mirror, various knick-knacks, shelves, books, framed photographs. Cozy. It’s immediately obvious that the house is run by a woman (Ciel’s mother, in fact).

Ciel leads him into the kitchen. Another Ciel sits there, a parody of Ciel, a copycat, born with the original from the same mother’s egg. Of course, Sebastian understands: firstly, Ciel is younger, and secondly, he knows it’s Ciel’s twin brother, Sirius, with a cup of green tea, reading a book. Sebastian peers at the cover. It looks like Chekov.

A teaspoon stands motionless, two-thirds submerged in an endless sea of ​​green. It smells distinctly of pineapple. It looks like a pina colada.

“Look who’s here,” Ciel says, somewhat smugly. Sirius looks up from his book and carefully looks Sebastian over from head to toe. Sebastian even feels a little awkward.

Sirius and Ciel have identical eyes — blue, deep, cold — but Sirius’s gaze is more intense, more intense.

For some reason, Sebastian feels like Sirius’s gaze lingers on his groin, where his filthy cock rests. Sebastian involuntarily shudders. Damn it, how he dislikes people who can burn right through him, tear his skin, and delve inside, feeling his bones and organs.

“Couldn’t you have warned us we had company?” Sirius asks, sighing.

“I didn’t know either.”

“Then your boyfriend is terribly rude.”

Well, he’s right. Showing up uninvited is bad manners.

Sirius extends his hand — as thin and fragile as Ciel’s.

“Sirius.”

Sebastian carefully takes his fingers, the same way he takes Ciel’s, and shakes them gently.

Humans are fragile; they’re so easily damaged beyond repair!

“Sebastian. Nice to meet you.”

Sirius doesn’t say the feeling is mutual. Ciel takes a plastic bag from the refrigerator, lying on the cutting board. Inside, he can see parchment, stained in places with dark, greasy spots.

“Will you have breakfast with us?” he asks.

Sebastian nods. He doesn’t particularly need food, but he wouldn’t mind eating — it’s better than sitting at the table like a statue. Ciel unwraps the package and parchment. Inside is a rectangular (baking sheet size) homemade pizza: mushrooms, sausage, tomatoes, cheese, hot dogs, and even corn, and the dough is lusciously coated with a red sauce — a mixture of ketchup and something else. Ciel cuts roughly equal slices with a bread knife with that long, serrated blade and microwaves the pizzas, one at a time, for a minute.

Sebastian eats the pizza. It’s a little dry, but overall passable. However, he smugly thinks: he could have made it better. Sebastian is very proud of his culinary skills.

Sirius steals glances at him, varying from wary to sullen to questioning. Ciel chews silently. The silence is awkward and sticky, like chewing gum, a 7-Eleven bag hanging from a tree branch by the house across the street, hanging over them.

Sebastian wraps his leg around Ciel’s skinny leg, bare to about the knee. Ciel gives him a half-smile. Sirius frowns but says nothing.

Awkward.

Sirius takes a sip of tea and sets the cup down with a soft, yet deafening thud in the silence. Sebastian shrugs and squeezes Ciel’s leg.

“Ciel told a lot about you,” he says, and Sebastian gets the feeling it’s not just about his stunning looks and sharp mind, but also about his deepest, most intimate, most precious, yet somehow dirty and vulgar.

Did Ciel ever tell him how passionately they fuck?

“I hope it’s only good things,” Sebastian smiles nervously. Bitch. How it irritates him: when someone turns up their nose at him, even though they’re a head shorter than him, and tries to prove that Sebastian is a tiny little thing compared to his superiority. Usually, Sebastian is the dominant one, not the other way around.

He loses his grip.

…Perhaps Ciel has softened him a bit. Not the most pleasant thought, frankly. Sebastian is used to being more, um, commanding.

“Various ones,” Sirius smiles at the corner of his mouth. An unpleasant smile. Like a scalpel over his throat.

Ciel glances at him uneasily. Sirius smiles tenderly at him, stands, carries his empty plate to the sink, and leaves the kitchen. It feels like a door slamming, even if the door doesn’t slam shut, but remains motionless.

Sebastian feels the muscles of his face, that funny mask of muscles, relax.

“Don’t pay attention,” Ciel says, tearing off a crust from his pizza slice. “He’s just worried. About me. And a little about you, too.”

“He has no reason to worry about me.”

To tell the truth. Sebastian sees Sirius for the first time in his life, even though he sees his face almost every day.

Twins are like a magazine — the covers are identical, but there’s still a nuance: the magazines are the same inside, too. Twins have different contents — spiritually, I mean, physically, they’re the same, too, the same organs, the same bones.

“He thinks that if your wife finds out about our relationship, she’ll forbid you from seeing me, and I’ll be very upset. Well, you know, I’m the priority, but you slip through the cracks, too,” Ciel takes the cup of tea Sirius left behind and takes a sip.

Sebastian decides to change the subject. He doesn’t want to talk about Melissa. He doesn’t want to talk about the future.

“I bought you a little gift.”

“Hmm?” Ciel looks up from his cup.

Sebastian takes out some jars of lube. Ciel takes one with interest and twirls it in his hands, looking up at him from under his eyelashes, smiling mischievously.

“With strawberry… Am I not tasty enough?”

“Why not tasty enough? It’s not for flavor, more for easier sliding.”

“Okay then. Thank you.”

Ciel kisses him on the cheek. Sebastian squeezes the soft mound of his chest, and Ciel slaps his impudent hand. Shameless! stop groping me right now!

Sebastian bows his head innocently.

“But they’re so soft… and beautiful…”

“Thank you, I appreciate you complimenting my breasts.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“Never mind.”

They kiss again — on the lips. Something tender, soft, innocent, almost chaste, without tongue or teeth. Sebastian has to admit: it’s an interesting experience; there’s a certain thrill in such kisses.

Perhaps Ciel has softened him a little.

Perhaps it’s for the best.

Sebastian has a hardened core, a very cold summer inside. Ciel, this viciously innocent creature, does strange things to him.

Ciel takes him to his room to sit.

Ciel’s room features muted coffee-colored wallpaper, light, almost white linoleum on the floor, and coffee-and-chocolate-toned furniture: two beds (one littered with stuffed animals), two desks (one empty, the other overflowing), two armchairs, and bookshelves. Among the mismatched manga volumes, Russian silverware writers, Victorian dandies, and American postmodernists sits a photograph in a simple wooden frame. Two boys, about ten years old, absolutely identical, stand hugging. It’s impossible to tell which is Ciel and which is Sirius.

“Did you get mixed up a lot as kids?” Sebastian asks.

“Huh? Oh, right. And now too. At school, for example. We sit together, sometimes we switch places…”

Sebastian continues looking around. Ciel, swaying his hips, goes to the cabinet, rummages around busily, and pulls out a can of Dr. Pepper. He smiles meaningfully. Let’s swap germs?~

Ciel sips from the can of cherry soda, a sweet soda with a slight chocolate-cola aftertaste. Dr. Pepper is pepper that has earned a doctorate.

“Oh, Stephen King,” Sebastian says, eyeing the bookshelf. “Do you like to tickle your nerves?”

Ciel ponders for a moment, his mouth full of soda, and only then swallows the mystical substance, crafted using secret recipes in Area 51.

Not all Stephen King is scary, though, that’s a misconception. “The Shining,” one of his first books, is truly creepy, but “Later,” steeped in lesbianism, drugs, and strange, bullet-headed beings running around somewhere in New York, pales in comparison. It doesn’t have the same vibe. “Insomnia” is more about philosophy, about life and death, “The Green Mile” is about the horrors of human brutality, but still not so much scary as touching and mildly irritating.

Human beings are disgusting, let’s be honest.

“Mm, sometimes,” Ciel shakes his head vaguely. “I’m reading “Dracula” right now, but it’s not really getting it. It’s a bit boring and confusing. Like, yeah, there’s some weird stuff going on, but the reader isn’t given any explanations, just excerpts from the characters' diaries and letters, but there’s not much valuable information about what’s going on there. In my opinion, of course.”

Sebastian shrugs thoughtfully and continues to examine the shelf, running his fingers along the spines. There are new, recent books, and editions from the last century. He pulls out a collection of Dostoevsky’s works. Well, Ciel said he likes Russian writers.

“Have you read Crime and Punishment?”

“I did. It’s interesting, I must say. But I’d like more investigation than heartbreak, but this isn’t Edgar Allan Poe; unfortunately, Dostoevsky doesn’t have that.”

“Hmm…”

Ciel takes another swig from the can. The little one is addicted to sweets; he craves candy, he craves a cake, he craves a huge can of soda with a few tablespoons of sugar.

Think about the steps these are taking toward diabetes.

A cool breeze blows through the window. Sebastian puts the book back on the shelf.

The street is empty. No one is around.

The summer morning gradually turns into a summer day.

V.

“Will you take me to the mall? I want to buy perfume.”

An innocent flutter of eyelashes. Sebastian bows obediently (a joke) and gets behind the wheel of his car.

Of course he’ll take him. How could he not?

Honestly, he enjoys shopping with Ciel. It’s quite fun and not too tiring. Sebastian doesn’t like crowds and noisy places, but he’s willing to endure it with Ciel.

They spend a long time in the perfume shop. At first, they simply wander the shelves, then call the salesperson: a short girl with peroxide-bleached white hair pulled back into a ponytail. At first, she suggests purely masculine scents: sandalwood, cedar, leather, citrus, and the like, but Ciel firmly tells her: no, I don’t like those. I prefer floral or fruity, something sweet; I don’t want to smell like car air freshener.

The girl hesitates, but leads them to the women’s fragrance section. For some reason, there’s no unisex.

Ciel sniffs the samples. He doesn’t like the apple ones; they’re kind of bitter. He doesn’t like the citrusy floral ones; they’re sour and remind him of dishwashing liquid. He’s drawn to the elegantly shaped bottle, but he doesn’t like the smell: in his opinion, the perfume smells like an old lady.

Sebastian, having sniffed so many things, loses his ability to distinguish scents, and Ciel stops giving him samples. The salesperson seems to be getting tired of Ciel’s high standards.

“These are pretty good,” Ciel says, twirling the red bottle. Cherry, Dolce & Gabbana 'Q'. Q stands for queen. Sebastian gently pats his hand, and Ciel shoves the wrist he’s sprayed under his nose. Sebastian inhales and has to admit: it’s actually quite good.

“That’s for older women,” the consultant says.

“So?”

“It’s not age-appropriate for you… You’re so young, why would you want a perfume for a woman over thirty?”

Ciel pouts.

“So what do you suggest?”

“Let’s try something from Dolce & Gabbana, since you liked it. More, um, youthful.”

Ciel literally rejected Chanel ten minutes ago, claiming it smelled like sour alcohol. Everyone was shocked. Like, fuck, Ciel, what are you saying? It’s Chanel, an iconic brand, the most beautiful scents for our sense of smell. Ciel shakes his head: Chanel is crap, they smell like his mother, and he doesn’t want to smell like his mother.

“Here, try it…” the girl hands Ciel a small vial of pink liquid. Ciel looks at it incredulously. “This is 'l’Imperatrice.' Delicate floral notes, kiwi… Try it on your skin right away. You might like it.”

Ciel sprays a little on her other wrist. He brings it to his nose.

“It smells nice.”

And they cost twice as much. Sebastian still pays, though.”

The consultant exhales.

“I’ll buy it, I guess. I like it.”

The consultant exhales.

Clearly, Ciel is her most difficult and picky customer.

They go to the checkout. Sebastian is about to take out his card, but something unimaginable happens.

Ciel pays himself.

Sebastian gently shakes his shoulder.

“You don’t have to pay yourself. I have money, too.”

“I can’t explain to Mum where I got perfume for over sixty pounds, considering there’s no charge on my card,” Ciel replies. “You can buy us something to eat.”

Sebastian, of course, buys them something to eat. Coffee for himself, nuggets, cheese sauce, and a chocolate milkshake for Ciel. Ciel dangles his legs and kisses him tenderly on the corner of his mouth.

At the next table, the portly, mustachioed man in a bowler hat is eating a fishburger.

Ciel finishes almost the entire box of nuggets. Sebastian eats a couple straight from Ciel’s hand. It really does taste better with the sauce, but it’s somehow too salty. Then they go to the bookstore. Ciel hangs out by the manga and light novel shelves, Sebastian by the bestsellers, looking for pearls. But alas! books are complete crap these days.

“Do you want anything?” Sebastian asks Ciel. Ciel shakes his head uncertainly.

“I don’t know. Probably not. I don’t read “Hanako-kun” anymore. I have all Makoto Shinkai’s novels. This one looks interesting, but I’m not sure.”

Ciel points to a thin, shrink-wrapped book. Sebastian carefully takes it out, picking it out from among the unfamiliar books.

“Three Days of Happiness” by Miaki Sugaru. A guy leaning on a railing with his back to a mirror, a girl with sadly drooping hair, a distant city below, and an endless blue sky. It’s a nice enough cover, but Sebastian doesn’t see much happiness in the characters.

Sebastian reads the blurb.

The protagonist, with a name he can’t quite wrap his head around, sells his life for three hundred thousand yen and has only three months left to live under the supervision of yet another incomprehensible name. Footnote: that’s about one thousand five hundred pounds. Not much, really.

“And what’s happiness?” Sebastian mutters. “Giving away your most precious possession for a pittance is simply stupid.”

Three hundred thousand yen is just a little more than the average monthly salary in Japan. It’s practically poverty.

“Happiness is because it leans toward romance. For me, it’s more about realism and philosophy than romance,” Ciel sighs. “The main character has to rethink all his relationships: with his former classmates, with his childhood best friend, even with himself. Well, then he falls in love with that girl who’s been watching him, and they have a romantic fling and all that. Then he sells the rest of his life to cover her debt, and she sells the rest of hers too, and for the last three days, until the very end, they hang out together, happy and in love. Those are three days of happiness.”

Yes, there’s something profound there.”

“Should I buy it for you?”

“I already read it online. And it’s better not to. I can’t explain where I got this book from.”

Sebastian sighs.

“I’ll give it back to you in cash.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Then they go to the supermarket because Ciel wants something healthy and delicious. He spends a long time choosing a soda, but doesn’t bother with the chips for long. A sour cream & onion Lay’s and a strawberry milk kiss. His graceful neck smells so deliciously of kiwi and flowers that Sebastian can’t resist nuzzling it. Ciel shudders.

“What are you doing?”

Sebastian licks him from behind his ear to the exposed base of his neck. He whispers hoarsely in his ear:

“I like your perfume.”

Ciel looks at the white and pink soda can in his hand, a little confused.

“Just don’t bite me, okay?”

I want it. I really want it. To press my teeth to that soft porcelain skin. Sebastian feels that hot, greedy, and merciless primal hunger. He wants to pull Ciel down and cuddle him a little, play with him. He curls so comfortably around him, his fingers clinging to his shoulders and whining so sweetly.

Sebastian kisses his mole, located roughly halfway down the side of his neck, and discreetly adjusts his protruding member. He gently squeezes Ciel’s right breast. It’s soft. Ciel pushes his hand away and mutters,

“Don’t embarrass yourself. We’re in a public place.”

As if he cares. Does it really matter?

Sebastian, of course, pays for the chips and soda. And the gum. Ciel really wants mint chocolate chip ice cream flavored gum. Then Sebastian drives him home.

It’s been a pleasant day. They say goodbye, kissing sloppily in the car. Ciel clings to the collar of his shirt, Sebastian digs his fingers predatorily into his sides, into his protruding ribs. This thinness is the pinnacle of aesthetics. These thin, fragile hands are like works of art.

Sebastian seems to be getting hard again. This time, Ciel notices and offers to suck him off, gently placing his hand on his thigh, but Sebastian says no, and anyway, Ciel is already late; he needs to eat lunch and run to work. Ciel sighs, resting his head on Sebastian’s shoulder and looking up from under his long, silky eyelashes, tired but satisfied.

Some words are straining to come out, but they remain silent.

Sebastian wants to say something, but he doesn’t know what. All his expressions are so crude and unpolished, unpolished. Ciel kisses the corner of his lips and mutters,

“Thank you. I had fun.”

“Not having fun now?”

“Maybe,” he whispered. “I want to sit a little longer. Here.

With you, probably. Sebastian doesn’t know if Ciel means this, either. He just presses his lips to his cheek, to his nose. Ciel hugs him tightly around the neck, and then his hand slips away, taking away the warmth and soft tenderness. It suddenly feels cold and somehow empty.

It’s time.

Ciel leaves.

Sebastian is left alone.

The day had turned out to be pleasant.

VI.

The day had turned out to be pleasant, but for some reason Sebastian was plagued by a sticky, viscous feeling of unease.

He felt as if someone was

watching him.

VII.

The all-seeing eye had opened its lids and was keenly observing everything that was happening on this mortal earth. Sebastian felt as if he were being targeted, even though bullets had never frightened him before — they were just a funny toy.

Someone was watching him and following his footsteps. Adultery in marriage doesn’t carry the death penalty, sex with a minor is consensual, yet Sebastian felt he would be punished.

He would be punished. He would be punished. He must be punished.

He knew he was rotten, not even human, and punishment awaited him, beckoning him with a short, thick finger.

The portly man with a mustache and a bowler hat. Sebastian scrolls through his gallery — a normal gallery, where they have regular photos at the mall/park/cafe (underline as appropriate), not erotic material for jerking off.

The portly man with a mustache and a bowler hat is examining a display stand. The portly man with a mustache and a bowler hat is sitting on a nearby bench. The portly man with a mustache and a bowler hat is eating a burger.

He’s in all the photos, unobtrusive, unnoticeable in the background. His face is completely indistinguishable, blending in with the gray of his formal suit. Sebastian nervously licks his dry lips. Something’s wrong.

Notification!

Ciel has a new tweet. Sebastian logs onto the trashy Twitter feed, full of empty-headed schoolgirl sluts with breasts as their profile pictures, 40-something nerds (who still live with their mums or in a rented apartment), and sullen high schoolers asking more experienced adults how to dissolve a body with bleach, make a gun out of a grill lighter (obviously for a school project, not a Columbine-style shooting), and properly slit their wrists.

@ciel2ffaced

<image>

A bottle of Dolce & Gabbana “l’Imperatrice” perfume in Ciel’s delicate hand. His wrist bone juts out so gracefully.

@ciel2ffaced

they smell so good <3

@ciel2ffaced

i’m glad i spent my salary on these. a real must-have

Like. Like. Like.

Well, Sebastian is glad that Ciel is happy with this purchase, of course he is. A pleasant feeling of satisfaction quells his anxiety. He even starts the car, he even drives home. He hopes Melissa won’t be home, that he’ll finish the manuscript and have already replied to that stupid email from the author rushing the process, that he’ll play with Lumi a little, because his poor kitty is probably bored.

VIII.

signs of a cheating husband

how does a man behave if he has an lover

the emotional connection in marriage is lost

The search engine is full of these queries and others similar in meaning. So many websites were opened that not all of them are saved in today’s browser history.

According to statistics, at least twenty percent of women are unsure of a man’s fidelity in marriage. Now think about it: is it worth it?

IX.

@joanne_swe3t >> @ciel2ffaced

cool perfume <3

@ciel2ffaced

thanks <3

@ciel2ffaced

i now smell like an empress

@joanne_swe3t

how pompous that sounds

@joanne_swe3t

want to hang out sometime?

@ciel2ffaced

what kind of offer is this

@ciel2ffaced

so sudden

@joanne_swe3t

uh-huh, well 👉👈

@joanne_swe3t

i just have no one to hang out with, and you live pretty close…

@joanne_swe3t

well, yeah, in a different borough, but still not as far as the others.

@joanne_swe3t

and i just want to talk to you

@ciel2ffaced

i’m so interesting because i smell like an empress, right

@ciel2ffaced

just kidding

@ciel2ffaced

okay

@ciel2ffaced

i’m free anytime except 3 pm to 5 pm on weekdays

@joanne_swe3t

then how about tomorrow? where would be a good time to meet?

@ciel2ffaced

and you

@ciel2ffaced

?

@joanne_swe3t

i don’t care

@ciel2ffaced

me either

@ciel2ffaced

okay we’ll decide later

@ciel2ffaced

i’ll go eat

@joanne_swe3t

bon appetit 😊

@ciel2ffaced

thanks

Go for a walk with Joanne. He has no one to go with. What about Cheslock? Ciel finds that strange. Now Joanne is going to invite Alois and Arthur, and it’ll be a super date between two exes. Ciel wants to punch Alois in the face, but his arms are too weak. Maybe he should ask Sebastian?

Ciel puts his phone aside. Mum is watching another TV series. Sirius is in the kitchen, reading a book. Ciel is alone, like a fool, checking his virtual castle on Twitter. He’d better do something useful.

Ciel gets out of bed. His stomach aches slightly, and he reaches out to his brain, gently touching it, quietly asking for food. Ciel decides to listen to the voice of hunger instead of sitting and thinking about how ridiculous his body is being hungry.

Tomorrow he’ll go for a walk with Joanne. Ciel really wants to think everything will be fine, without discussing his relationship with Sebastian, his father’s absence, and so on. You know. It’s unpleasant when your most problematic parts are dredged up, because Ciel doesn’t have a father and has nothing to say about him, and Sebastian is his sugar daddy. People usually don’t advertise that they’re kept.

The term “courtesan,” when applied to women, often means “prostitute,” but “gigolo,” as a man kept by another person, has no such connotation. What discrimination!

This world is terrible.

Thrilling music, the howling of a dog, and the cry of a raven echo through the wall. It sounds like a horror movie, not a detective story. Ciel, shuffling his bare feet, goes to the kitchen to get something healthy and nutritious, not the leftover chips he hides in the cupboard. By the way, there’s a chocolate bar in his desk drawer, and on the top shelf of the cabinet where Rachel keeps her embroidery and thread, there are several cans of soda.

Ciel walks into the kitchen. Sirius is sitting with his feet up on a chair in his favorite spot between the table and the refrigerator.

Ciel rummages through the refrigerator’s containers and pulls out a long, blue-lidded one full of cooked white rice and a large, oval glass baking dish filled with stewed beef. He’s having a delicious dinner tonight. Ciel asks Sirius if he wants to eat. Sirius says he’s not hungry yet. Ciel asks (shouts) his mother if she wants to eat. Rachel, of course, doesn’t hear, and Ciel, snorting angrily, stomps into the living room.

Mum says he doesn’t have to yell at the top of his lungs if he wants to ask something; just come up to her. Stupid adults don’t understand how lazy it is to walk a few meters. Mum also says she’s decided to lose weight and won’t eat dinner today. Ciel shrugs and leaves. Sure, it’s a little disappointing that everyone has screwed him over, but there’s nothing wrong with eating dinner yourself.

Ciel heats up his food in the microwave, and the plate spins funny. Sirius puts the kettle on.

It was a pleasant, but a little tiring day.

09.09.25 — 28.09.25