|Ficlets for Kurohedonism (Kuroshitsuji), Prompts 1 & 2||[Sep. 19th, 2010|08:56 pm]|
So I've pretty much been enslaved to Kuroshitsuji II for the past three months, and during that time I wrote some ficlets for the contest group kurohedonism. I'll crosspost the ones on which the posting restrictions have ended, for those who might be interested in a little smut even if the fandom isn't familiar. Smut's always good, right? (Even when new canon josses you.) I'll put together the shorter ones so that I don't make too many posts to comb through. Some got awards, too!|
kurohedonism Prompt #1,"Kiss"
Title: Like a Hair From Milk
Words/Rating: 392, PG
Characters: Sebastian, Ciel, some historical and fictional figures
Spoilers: The end of anime season 1
Summary: Sebastian has had many illustrious masters.
Extras: The title is a Talmud reference and can be explained here. Thanks to fabularasa for beta duty.
Cats are sacred in Egypt, so of course none have ever questioned the presence of the Queen's small constant companion.
"You promised...!" she breathes. "Until the day the thing I loved best in all the world was beyond your power to restore to me."
"You thought, quite naturally," the demon purrs, "that that would mean the throne."
Tears mark the Queen's dark cheeks. "And now my Antony is dead. You should have protected him!"
A gleam of sharp white teeth. "You, mistress, should have been more specific." The demon bares his true form, and then his nails bare the Queen's breast.
Upon her dead body, the bite looks remarkably like that of an asp.
The reek of rot fills the Sultan's chamber as it fills all the land. Not even the nobilty are spared from the plague.
Grey had only begun to pepper the Sultan's hair this past year. He might have looked forward to half his life again if not for this. He parts cracked lips and summons all his breath to speak to the demon beside his bed.
"Our bargain..." He coughs and continues: "That I would surrender my soul to you upon my deathbed."
The demon's shrug is one-shouldered, elegant. "And that time is upon you, my master."
A laugh that is nearly a death rattle. "I thought I would be an old man. Thought I would have more time."
"They all do, master."
A bloody puddle is all they find of the Sultan, and all whisper that they knew one day that genie would betray him.
"Take what's yours by our contract," says the small English nobleman, sitting calmly upon the stone bench. "And...make my last moments mean something, Sebastian. Etch the pain, the pain of living, onto my soul." He leans back, waiting.
It is the first time in the demon's very long memory that a master has not fought him at this moment. Does not whine. It fits everything he has come to know about this stubborn, proud child.
And so it is the demon's impulse to be gentle. Not to bite, not to rend.
He does not shift form. He leans in with his human hand to touch, his human mouth to caress. Soul and self--those delicious anticipated mouthfuls--are drawn forth from his very small master in one long, loving kiss.
kurohedonism Prompt #2, "Trembling"
Title: Barefaced On the Bier
Words/Rating: 500, PG
Spoilers: Through Series 2, episode 1
Summary: Claude is the stopgap, but not the cure.
Extras: Death, madness, hurt/comfort. The title is spoken by Ophelia in Hamlet. Beta thanks to fabularasa.
"Make it stop, Claude."
His master's hands cling to him like claws, smearing him. Claude lays him atop the bedclothes, which immediately become smeared as well.
"I didn't mean to. It was such a little thing. So sweet. Oh, Claude, make it stop."
"Hush, your highness." Alois will not let go of Claude's lapels, but that doesn't matter. His own hands are free and can easily make an end of Alois's cravat, his buttons. Silk and linen are opened, pulled aside. After this Claude will simply burn it all.
"Why?" Alois wails. "Why do I do these things, Claude? I only wanted to play. She was so small and soft." His shaking continues unabated as Claude draws the last of his master's garments off, and Claude stretches his full length over him to cover him, drape him in the heat of a body fueled at its core by the intimate familiarity of seven concentric hells. It will still his master. It always does.
"If she'd scratched me she would have deserved it." Alois's wet face is buried in the crook of Claude's neck. "But she didn't. She only wanted to play, too. And I--oh, Claude..." cries his master, voice scaling up into another wail.
"Hush," he repeats, gathering this trembling thing in the circle of his arms. He thinks his master wants some platitude such as it was an accident or it was over too quickly for her to have felt pain, but it is not in a demon's nature to lie to its master.
"It was my uncle's fault," hisses Alois, suddenly waspish, sly. "He should have known better than to send a kitten as a gift. All his fault!" He nuzzles into Claude's neck, an aggressive press of lips that wants to be a bite. "He should know better," he snarls. "Am I the sort of person to be trusted with a kitten?"
"No, your highness," answers Claude in perfect honesty.
"I'll tell him so, when I see him," Alois says with venom, beginning to squirm in earnest against Claude's weight. "I'll keep her little corpse and show him the bones. And then I'll tell him I want another, since the one he gave me was spoiled!" A peal of obscene laughter. "Oh, Claude, imagine his face when he sees...when he sees..." Alois's voice trails away; the mad glitter in his eyes recedes as he blinks at the fresh flood of tears: "...what I...did."
Because he can make no other answer, because he knows his duty to this broken creature, Claude turns his head and kisses his master gently on the mouth. Alois's bloody hands clutch him all the tighter.
When he lifts his mouth away at last, a thread of saliva, fine and glistening like spidersilk, lingers between their tongues before breaking.
"I don't want to be like this, Claude," whispers his master in that one lucid moment.
"I know," Claude is able to say.
In his arms, his master's trembling ceases. Until the next time.