Kuroshitsuji Safe to Sea

**Content notes:** This story contains major character death and references previous non-con (not between Sebastian and Ciel). Spoilers for the end of the first anime series.

* * *

_Finis._

Bare fingers caressed his cheek, more intimately than Sebastian had ever touched him while buttoning his shirts or brushing his hair. Sebastian was gazing down at him so fervently that Ciel might almost mistake his expression for tenderness, if he didn't know better. The aesthetics of leave taking, Sebastian had explained once, were as intricate and demanding as a Japanese tea ceremony, every gesture precise and deliberate. He was arranging Ciel's death as beautifully as any of the bouquets he'd fussed over back at the manor, and the concern in his eyes was simply that of an artist examining his work. Nothing more. Still, as the eyepatch drifted to the ground and the soft fringe of Sebastian's hair grazed his cheek, Ciel allowed himself to pretend.

He remembered their first night together, Sebastian bursting into the bathroom to find him on the floor, head smarting from its crack against the side of the tub. Red blood against white porcelain. The bath water nearly black from the grime he'd tried to soak away. And Sebastian kneeling over him, heedless of the murky water soaking his knees.

"Come, young master." His hands settled on Ciel's bare hips, nails dark against the dappled greens, blues, and yellows of the bruises there. His captors had liked to grip Ciel's hips as they'd . . .

"Don't!" Ciel yelled, fist colliding with Sebastian's nose. Strong fingers closed around his wrist, and the demon's other hand came up sharply. Ciel cowered back, positive the demon was going to strike him. But Sebastian only held his hand up, displaying the seal of their covenant seared into his pale skin.

"You have forbidden me to lie," he reminded Ciel. "So believe me when I say that I shall not harm you."

"Until you eat my soul."

One corner of Sebastian's lips quirked. "Until then," he allowed. "But until that day, young master, my hands are but extension of your own. I promise, I will never touch you in that way unless you ask it of me. So come now, let me wash and tend your wounds. After all, if I let an infection take hold of you, what kind of Phantomhive butler would I be?"

Milk and honey.

A guardian shadow at the foot of his bed.

And Sebastian's lips catching his own, bringing him firmly back to the present as his hands tilted Ciel's face to a better angle. Ciel couldn't help the gasp that escaped him. He'd imagined his death a hundred times. Wicked claws flaying open his skin. Cruel hands cracking his bones one by one. A forked tongue lapping the soul from his broken body. But this?

One hand cupped Ciel's cheek, the other spread wide against the small of his back, gathering him closer. By now, it was instinctive to press into the solid heat of Sebastian's body, to let Sebastian arrange his limbs the way he liked, even though Sebastian had never touched him like this. He kissed as he danced, as he fought, as he cooked, exquisitely. Ciel couldn't breathe for the press of Sebastian's lips against his. Trees and vines spun around them, even the rough-hewn stone of the bench beneath Ciel's thighs blurring into the background. Sebastian may as well be pressing him down to his own mattress. If he concentrated, he could almost feel the downy give of feathers spread beneath him.

"Sebastian," Ciel groaned. His hands had tangled in Sebastian's hair without him even realizing it, and Sebastian's lips were kissing down the line of his throat. Ciel shook his head to clear the black spots clouding his vision, realized they weren't spots at all, but ashy feathers drifting down from the wings that had unfolded from Sebastian's shoulders. Bare hands were working open the buttons of Ciel's shirt now, radiating heat like a furnace. Dizzy, Ciel stared down at the red mark glowing against Sebastian's skin.

He couldn't think like this. He was shaken from the kiss, from this sudden, suffusing want that left his mind and body reeling. Sebastian's hands were rebuilding him, fashioning him into something new and better. Ciel never wanted it to end. _ I promise_, Sebastian's voice rang through his memory. _I will never touch you in that way unless you ask it of me._ Three years with Sebastian, and he'd never thought to ask. Not once. So many orders, and Ciel had wasted them all on sweets, on power, on revenge. Even in their last moment together, all he'd thought to say was . . .

"I said to make it hurt!" Ciel said, voice sharp with the sudden memory. He drew back to glare, finding the scraps of himself and holding on tight. "That was an order, Sebastian!"

The demon drew back to look at him. Despite the magenta glow and slit pupils, the eyes that met Ciel's were recognizably Sebastian's, _his_ Sebastian, not the creature who'd first approached him in the cage. A black-nailed thumb tapped Ciel's bottom lip.

"My young master," Sebastian said, his voice soft with regret. "Don't you understand? _This_ is the worst pain of all." He cupped Ciel's face in his hands, gazing down at him so tenderly that something in Ciel cracked. To his horror, he sniffled, tears welling up in his eyes.

"You . . ." Ciel choked, pressing his face into Sebastian's neck. "Sebastian, I . . ." He couldn't say the words, though every atom of his being ached with them, with the sharp pain ripping a straight line down through his heart.

"Shhh," Sebastian soothed, cradling him close. "You've been so strong. So good, Ciel. But it's over now. I have you."

And Ciel sobbed, clinging to Sebastian as the demon slowly, tenderly, unhooked the soul from the hidden places deep within his body.

* * *

Afterwards, the demon rose, dabbing the corners of his mouth. Gathering Ciel's body close, he laid him to rest in the gondola, arms neatly folded across his chest. With gentle fingers, he smoothed the boy's eyelids closed. No need for pennies, he thought. No soul would be bartering passage from the boatman. Smoothing Ciel's hair one final time, Sebastian stepped back to study his former master. He made a lovely picture, skin nearly as pale as the blossoms cushioning him, face calm and reposed, as if in sleep, with no hint of the sorrows that had plagued Ciel in life.

Sebastian drew a white handkerchief from his sleeve, transformed it into a calla lily with a flourish. A red handkerchief followed, became a rose. Sebastian tucked them both into one of Ciel's hands, admiring the contrast of red and white with the boy's blue suit.

Beautiful, he thought, but not quite right. He stared down at the boy's closed eyelids, remembering with fondness the way the covenant seal had glowed with each order the boy issued. It would never glow again. But still, it seemed a shame to send the boy off without some visible mark of their contract. Thoughtful, Sebastian glanced down at his own still-smoking mark.

Digging a black nail into the back of his hand, he traced the circle of the pentacle, relishing the brief pain as he lifted the bloody scrap of skin. With a thought, the scrap grew colder, heavy. Sebastian tucked the pentacle beneath Ciel's fingers, over his heart. It gleamed there, golden.

"After all," Sebastian started, touching the boy's cold cheek. "If I couldn't do this much for my master . . . "

He trailed off, swallowing.

The joke was getting old.

Letting the human visage fall away, the demon rose in his true form. He'd grown soft masquerading as a butler, he decided. Best that Sebastian die with his master. Setting a clawed hand to the gondola, he gave a firm shove. The gondola floated easily away from the bank, and soon the river's current caught it. Boots as heavy and cold as iron made their way up the hill, away from the river, but the demon left no footsteps in his wake.

At the top of the hill, he couldn't resist pausing to glance back at the gondola, perfectly framed by the setting sun as the river carried it safely out to sea. A pang seized him at the memory of how Ciel had clung to him there, at the end. The boy's soul had been everything he could have hoped for. Beautiful and delicious. A perfect last meal. But now that it was over, the demon felt heavy. Funny how finally having a thing was never quite as pleasing as _wanting_ it. He might spend a thousand years trying to find another soul as brilliant as Ciel's.

The demon touched his fingers to his lips as the half-formed flicker of an idea took him, devilish and impulsive, and exactly like something that would have Ciel shaking his head. Smiling at his own cleverness, the demon pursed his lips into a kiss and blew. Chuckling to himself, he turned, striding away from the river without a backwards glance.

On the wind, a single, black feather drifted behind him, gliding onto the water without so much as a ripple to mark its landing.

_Principio._

* * *

From too much love of living,  
From hope and fear set free,  
We thank with brief thanksgiving  
Whatever gods may be  
That no life lives for ever;  
That dead men rise up never;  
That even the weariest river  
Winds somewhere safe to sea

\- Algernon Charles Swinburne, from "The Garden of Proserpine"


End file.

Kuroshitsuji, Romance, Tragedy