Sadly, my first Kuro fic didn't get much love :'( (still, I want to hug everyone who's shown their support). However, I couldn't let that get me down because I am OBSESSED with Black Butler and have fallen for SebaCiel HARD (#^.^#)

English is not my native language, so there might be some mistakes.

Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji - I'm just not that cool. Yana Toboso is the queen.

Enjoy! Feedback is love xxx

Ciel is a human being. Not an ordinary human being, that is true; but still. And, like all humans do, he lies to others. For trivialities or for really important things. Because he wants to accomplish something or because the truth is just too painful to say out loud.

He also lies to himself.

He tries to convince himself that he doesn't care how his end will come to pass, whether it will be painful or not. Maybe he deserves the pain, after all. Besides, his very soul will be extracted from his tiny form. It sounds like an unpleasant process. It should hurt. Besides, why would a demon from Hell be gentle?

Still, he can't help but wonder, think, dream.

"The young master seems to be concerned," the melodious, soft voice of his demonic butler breaks him out of his reverie. "Is something the matter?"

The young boy's mismatched eyes - one sapphire blue and pure, the other violet purple with the mark that binds demon and human, servant and master - fall on the long-fingered hands that are slowly buttoning his nightshift. Those hands are warmed by gloves that hide the symbol of their contract; gloves in snow white, the colour of innocence and purity. The colour an angel (if they exist) should favour, not a demon.

"How am I going to die?"

The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, before he even knows that he is uttering them. He shouldn't have asked, but the devil has keen ears.

"I'm going to eat your soul, young master," Sebastian replies with the ghost of a smile on his handsome face.

He could back away now, act as though he hasn't voiced the question that has been tormenting him for a while now. He could just say that it's nothing and go to sleep.

And yet, he can't. Now that he has asked, he can't retreat until he has his answer.

"I know," he says with a scoff; but immediately he looks like a scared little boy. Which is what he is underneath all appearances. A little boy who has already been hurt and betrayed, humiliated and used. A 13-year-old boy who has already experienced pain and loss and seen the ugly side of humanity.

"I mean," he carries on, "how are you going to do it?"

The corners of his butler's suggestive lips turn upwards in a wider smile. Ciel is torn between slapping him and crying. Instead, he just looks at those lips, catches the words that escape them.

"Would you like me to show you, my lord?"

Ciel's gaze meets Sebastian's. The demon appear to be amused, pleased. Can he already taste the pain that he is going to inflict upon his young master if he agrees to this demonstration? Is it just because he loves having the answer that his young master has, for a time now, longed for?

Humans often do foolish things. Ciel is afraid that the experience will not be a nice one, might even give him nightmares afterwards. But he has to know. He is the Earl of Phantomhive and he must face his fears. So, like any other human being, he does something foolish.

"Yes," he says simply. "Show me."

Already on his knees as he is, with his gloved right hand over his left breast (is a heart even beating there?), Sebastian speaks words that he has already spoken so many times. "Yes, my lord."

The hand leaves the breast. The fingers curl around Ciel's chin. The butler's left hand finds the boy's waist. Ciel is too shocked to act. All he can do is watch as Sebastian's handsome, alluring face comes closer and closer to his own, red eyes burning like rubies.

And then, soft lips are on his. And Ciel is startled when he realizes that he doesn't mind.

He's even more startled when he catches himself responding with all his boyish inexperience. His hands hold on to Sebastian's coat as the demon's tongue presses against his lips and is granted access to roam free and explore his master's mouth. Ciel hears a moan. And then he hears another, a little deeper, hoarser, more animalistic. He realizes that the first one came from him, lost in the pleasure that a mere kiss (and what a kiss it is!) from his butler can offer him; the second moan was from Sebastian himself.

Ciel feels a tug, as if his everything wants to give itself to Sebastian. He pulls the demon even closer, a young Eve wanting one more bite out of the apple, greedy, seduced, falling. But Sebastian breaks the kiss, a thin line of saliva connecting them, binding them together for a moment.

"Now, do you have your answer, young master?"

All Ciel can do is nod.