Ink Blots

He hums. The room is silent, tense, but he doesn't mind.

So close… he is so close! Every piece has fallen just as he has predicted, just as he has wanted. Nothing will stop him now… nothing. Not even…

I will not let you touch him. The young master would be sullied if an inferior, dirty individual such as yourself were to touch him.

No, he thinks. Not even you, you piece of shit.

Tainted. Dirty. Impure. Alois Trancy knows that he is all of these things. Sullied, vile, disgusting; he has heard them all before, spat at him, tossed at him as carelessly as one would if they were saying it to nothing more than a roach. Sometimes, he thinks that in another life - perhaps another once upon a time – his soul had been pure and desirable, untarnished by the fat and yellowing hands of his beloved father. Oftentimes when he dreams, he dreams of that once upon a time where there is nothing but light and warmth and love, a golden haired prince standing beside a small boy with chestnut hair, hands clasped, and the prince's ever so loyal black knight kneeling before him, hand upon his chest, pledging his undying loyalty…

He blinks and appraises his work.

Well, no matter. There's no use for dreams on this day.

"Finished." he says, and they both stand.

Alois knows that he is nothing like Ciel Phantomhive. Earl Phantomhive… a noble, a true noble; not some play-acting street rat with a stolen crown thrust upon his head. Oh, and Alois Trancy knows well. He knows how desired Ciel is – by young ladies and cheating business associates and perverse men and women and demons. They say that royalty has blue blood, a symbol of their pure and aristocratic nature, their bodies and souls unblemished by those foolish commoners who know nothing of the complexities of their world. Alois wonders if this is true. His very own blood is crimson, dark and passionate, something he found out when he was very young and accidentally cut his hand on a shard of broken glass. But perhaps Ciel's isn't… And how Alois would simply adore taking that precious head of Ciel's, exposing his pale throat and sliding the blade of a knife ever so delicately against it, just to see if rich cobalt pours out and stains his flesh…

How he would scream and scream and scream beneath my fingers! Claw and scratch and beg for it all to end!

The thought almost makes him laugh. Another day, he promises himself. But as for now…

Oh, my darling Ciel…

"What a beautiful blue… will my soul become the same color when I die?"

Sapphire, encased by a band of white silver and wrapped about the gloved hand of Ciel Phantomhive himself. And Alois, oh, he is so lucky to finally have Ciel within his reach, within his very own hands! It is nearly enough to make him bubble over in excitement, but Alois is anything but an actor who cracks mid-show. No-no, he will see this through until the very end.

A lone, stormy eye lifts to meet Alois's. It is the same rich shade of blue as his ring and Alois can see himself in the reflection of the swirling iris. "What?"

"The same color," Alois murmurs, his words spoken delicately. Bold palms find Ciel's cheeks and cradle them, the pads of his thumb running over smooth skin. "The same color as your ring..."

The unease and irritation Ciel feels is vocalized when he questions, "What are you saying?" and he looks about ready to extract himself from Alois's hands, but Alois is not finished yet. No, it is he who shall draw the curtain, not Ciel. Alois's icy eyes become heavy lidded. As he speaks, his fingers slide further into Ciel's charcoal locks, tilting his head to the side and exposing a studded ear left completely at his mercy. He inhales. Ciel smells of Earl Grey and sweets.

"If I become one with you," he breathes, "will I be able to become the same blue as you?"

With the slightest tilt forward, Alois's tongue darts out and in a movement much too languid, trails up the shell of Ciel's ear, enjoying the subtle taste of flesh.

"Wha-?" Ciel jerks away from the touch, shock evident on his face. It's enough for Alois Trancy to giggle just the slightest, a faux-feminine sound. Alois's hands abandon Ciel's hair and curl about the tops of his shoulders, giving him an encouraging little shove backwards. Ciel stumbles away and then – ah, perfectly! – with the assistance of the girl disguised boy, is guided down firmly onto the mattress behind him. Alois expects a fight, but he thinks he would rather chew his own arm off before letting the stunned earl escape. All it takes is a smooth, practiced bend of the knee for the skirts of Alois's costume to slide up, allowing his stockinged leg to fall against Ciel's, a warm and pleasant pressure. Alois finds satisfaction in the soft noise of surprise that emits from Ciel's lips as he leans forward, half astride his lap, a hand lifting to cup his cheek once more.

Ciel reacts only as expected; prim and proper is positively appalled. "W-what are you doing?" he sputters. Alois laps up every single delicious drop of how flustered and indignant and pink he is becoming. He stills Ciel's flapping jaw with his hands, a gentle albeit firm touch. It would only take the slightest of motion to claw his nails into that face and then he would truly discover if Ciel Phantomhive's blood is really a noble blue…

"Show me," Alois whispers, his lips nearly brushing Ciel's. "Show me what it would be like, Ciel Phantomhive…"

By simply murmuring that name, Alois knows he has blown his cover. But it doesn't stop him from continuing what he has intended from the beginning, and that is to part Ciel's lips with the brush of his thumb and press his own mouth against them, muffling any half-hearted attempts Ciel might have.

Sullied if an inferior individual such as myself touches him? Then I hope you enjoy this, demon…

Alois Trancy is no fool. He does not waste a moment pushing his branded tongue past Ciel's pink lips, ensuring that his hold is tight enough to grant himself a few seconds of uninterrupted exploring. Ciel's mouth is hot and Alois can taste the slightest hint of red wine upon his soft lips. He makes sure to press his marked tongue against Ciel's, as though branding the boy himself with his own contract, his own sin, his own filth. His hand leaves Ciel's face and with a few slips of his fingers…

It is Ciel who pulls away first, realization of the moment hitting him so slowly, too slowly, thinks Alois, for the deed is already done. A good tug has ensured that Ciel's eye patch now sits in Alois's hand, revealing that amethyst orb emblazed with the pentagram of his very own deal with the devil. Another soft giggle leaves Alois's lips and he pulls away, but not without running a soothing hand down the side of Ciel's face.

"That eye is impure," he says slyly. Haven't you always been dirty just like me, Ciel? Ciel's hand cups his right eye, shielding it from Alois, but Alois has already seen it, memorized it, savored it. In the back of his mind, he vows to tarnish that mark with his own one day, some day. He slides off of Ciel's lap and with a taunting wave of the eye patch in the air, runs off, soft laughter tumbling from his mouth yet again.

Catch me, he thinks, darting out of the room and down the hall. Catch me, Ciel Phantomhive, and maybe then we can find out who is truly superior.

A/N: The idea of what this was supposed to be like came off a lot better in my head. Inspired not only by Sebastian's comment regarding Alois touching Ciel in episode one, but by this image ht tp:/tinypic. com /r/t9bq7t/7