Fic: Agnus Dei
Title: Agnus Dei
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Kuroshitsuji
Warnings: spoilers for end of the anime, plotholes, first-time lemon, man sex, gore, religious references, possible OOC
Summary: A young boy, only twelve, knows nothing of the other kind of consummation.
A/N:Overall, inspired by the AMVs on moon_maiden36. One bit is also inspired by the fic "Amat victoria curam" by kookiety. Agnus Dei means Lamb of God. Unfortunately, everytime I see this title, no matter how fitting I think it is, it reminds me of a choir from Turlock,California that had the worst song selection ever and the screechiest sopranos on earth. One of their songs went like this: "Agnus Dei....lamb of God...." X.x Somehow, Ciel is always laughing like a nut in my fic. -_-
This is a first-time lemon, so please give me some constructive criticism so I can improve. XDD
X
He is so quiet here on this island of nothing; the cold of mist and the stone underneath him only chills his skin further, skin he no longer feels. He is dead whether he knows it or not, his heart pierced by numerous bullets and his breath muffled in the waters of Lethe. All the emotion in his life and body have been drained away, even the rise and fall of his chest is just a sham-his lungs are stone, his breath crystal in the air, his heart still and silent. And yet the contract is blazing, searing in its holder’s eye, and a fierce fire jumps between the muscles of the contract’s twin blue iris.
Ciel, the sky, the smog and smoke of London fires and factories, Phantomhive, the shadow in its cradle sinking deeper and deeper into the manor from whence it came. He is calm and almost trusting, apathetic but at the same time full of emotions. He is going to die, he is going to be released, and he will be taken as he had been at ten, but this time, with his consent. He is allowed a last wish as all bad things come in threes-his first was revenge, his second was to have the demon listen to his every order, and the third is for the demon to remind him what it is, what it was, to live.
The demon will give him that. He will make Ciel remember the pain, the futility, the endless frustration and desperation; he will grant his former master one last boon before snatching it back. A demon he may be, human Ciel may be, but even a demon such as he knows when to admire and respect strength when it comes from such a weak class of creatures such as Homo sapiens sapiens. He traces the contours of that face still of a child, round pale cheeks, a set of full eyelashes, pouty lips, regal chin, gaze slipping to the alabaster throat that no longer holds a pulse. Brushing his hand against full sweeping eyelashes as he flicks the eyepatch off, he thinks Ciel would have been a beauty had he lived to the right age.
He leans in for the taking, sinking his teeth into his former master’s bottom lip. It is plush, cultivated with fine upbringing, and for the first time since his coming here Ciel jolts in surprise. He knows pain, he knows harshness, but he does not know tenderness, and that it is what demon will show him before consuming him.
“Seba-“
A young boy, only twelve, knows nothing of the other kind of consummation. And his heart is electrified back to life, his lungs cast off their gray shell and bloom wetly, pumping in time to his heartbeat as Ciel lets out a shaky sigh into the demon’s mouth. Hands, clawed, tear away his funeral shroud, slide down his back, down to his backside, leaving trails of sparking pain, the blood rushing through his body dripping eagerly down the scored trail. The demon cups nubile flesh in his hands, and the soul is tantalizing, rising to the surface like the finest of baked breads, and his master is exquisite like this, pink in his cheeks, lips bleeding by way of the sharp fangs that tore into them, swollen and red. His body glistens with moonlit sweat, and a tongue laps at his swift-fluttering pulsepoint, fingers locating and pinching a rosy bud, softening the sting with a hungry tongue.
Biting, touching, squeezing, Ciel gasps and opens under his fingers and the boy laughs breathlessly, as the shape above him morphs, leather and chains, black feathers and knee-high boots, and flings his arms carelessly about his demon. The seal burns brighter than the fire of two years past, sears into Ciel’s soul, beckons him and calls his name as a demon desecrates his body. And he takes it all in, his saving grace and his damnation, because they are one and the same in this unholy vessel. The boy grasps the demon by the sides of his face, still human in guise, for demons are made to resemble flaws and on Earth, no creature can err and mischance as much as a human.
The demon is surprised when the Ciel grabs him of his own volition, dragged down to his former master’s seeking maw. For a twelve year old boy he is fierce, trapping the hand that had been making its way down his torso between their bodies, slender legs wrapping about the belt studded waist and thrusting suggestively against him in invitation. There is nothing to lose.
And the boy laughs again as the demon scratches and soothes his way down his chest, shivers as claws etch patterns out on the sensitive insides of pale thighs. A pleasured groan slips out as a hand wraps around the boy’s length, swiping a thumb across the head and sliding slowly up and down.
“Well, demon?” Ciel cries out delightedly as he launches a counterattack, sweeping up against the demon so swiftly that caught unawares, the former butler becomes splayed on his back. The former master smirks down at the demon’s face as a gentle hand runs along the demon’s jaw, thanks for allowing Ciel to play one last game. And the boy is fast for one who has never taken off his own clothes, nimble fingers moving through belts and buckles in a flash, tearing his pants down, and seeking fingers eagerly latch onto what they find inside.
“Do you feel pleasure?” the boy murmurs curiously as he strokes unfamiliar skin in his hand, and the limp organ begins to stiffen. Never reaching puberty, he studies the grown body so unlike his own, weighs the scrotum below the penis lightly with his hands, and smiles mischievously as his cups the length between his hands and takes a long swiping lick up to suckle on the head. He treats the demon like one of his company’s lollipops, tries to take all of him in. The demon below him smirks through grunts of pleasure, does not mind the boy licking up his precum like a cat with cream. Suddenly, he bucks his hips up and the boy chokes, tries to move back, but caught by the hair, masters his body’s inclinations, tries to wrap a small tongue about the cock fucking his mouth. Fluid explodes into his mouth, and on instinct he swallows, and it goes down thickly, creamy white ropes trickling out the side of his mouth, dripping onto his chest.
Flipped onto his back, Ciel’s hands are gathered above his head while a finger traces delicate circles around his anus. Breath hitches as a suddenly de-clawed finger probes in, a small shriek when the demon roughly pushes his way in past the first ring of muscle.
“This is living, Ciel,” the demon hisses into the boy’s ear, seduction and dark velvet, claiming his former master’s name and body as the second finger joins the first and the boy gives a small cry of pain. The third finger stretches him open, wide, and the boy grits his teeth and hides away his pain. The fingers seem to tunnel into him, unrelenting, until they brush against some special place inside of him, and Ciel screams.
“A-ah!”
“Do you understand, boy? Do you understand what you have given up?” The boy is a tight fit, unbreached, but ripe for the picking. Another thrust of the fingers.
“Ah, ah!”
“You’re only twelve, boy. You could have had children, could have carried on your line, could’ve been married to your cousin Elizabeth and carried on with you comfortable life.” Removing his fingers and letting the boy’s hands go, the demon straddles the boy, strokes himself, eyes glinting. “You could have had it all, Earl Phantomhive. This is life. This is losing.”
And the boy, flushed with the apple of sin, eyes flashing and contract winding its string faster and faster about his neck, does a sit up and pushes the demon down again, bats away the hand in the way, letting out a shout of pain as he throws a leg over the demon’s waist and forces himself down the demon’s cock in one go. He leans on his elbows against the demon’s chest for several moment, speaking through the tears coming down his cheeks, against his hitching breath.
“This-this-ah, this, this is humanaaah!” He is jolted as the demon thrusts up roughly, sitting himself up with his hands on his demon’s chest. “Ah! Ahn! Ah-ah-aaaaah…! You..you-gah, you, you…”
“Me,” the demon whispers, broken by his own pleasured pants and moans. Quiet though his voice is, it seems to echo in the air of the island, full of silent question and curiosity. And Ciel laughs again, his blood lubricant, his desire tangible in the beads that slip down his neglected cock.
“You-ah!-you…living with me…ngh…for such a long time…you still can’t tell, can you?” the boy says between gasps of air, pleasure roiling thick and full in his stomach, grinding himself down harder, clenching deeper, snapping his hips down to meet the demon claiming his body. “If you hadn’t come for me, I…ahn!….I wouldn’t have had any of that at all! I-I-!” And the boy bares his neck, a sign of submission, splaying a hand against his own neck, and smirks.
“Don’t you get it? You can have me. You can have all of me.”
And the contract burns and burns, violet fire that cannot be quenched as the demon lurches up like a cobra, lifting the boy up and crashing him back into the stone, forcing the short legs to his shoulders and taking and taking, growling and sinking his fangs into the pale neck offered to him.
“AH! AH-AH-AH-!“
And Ciel screams his release, clenches down, and the demon’s face twists in his own pleasure, his barren seed shooting deep into his former master’s body. He lays the boy’s legs back down, licks up the blood trickling down Ciel’s neck, the boy shivers in the aftershocks. And the boy, that glimmering blue eye, that careless smile, body spent and energy gone, but still strong and tall, the boy picks up the demons hand and brings it to his chest.
“Take it.” Fearless, as always.
The demon says nothing, searching Ciel’s face with his eyes. Ciel Phantomhive, the boy who was human, the boy who was his master, the boy who was strong enough to summon a demon and use him and not regret. A boy and his demon. A demon and his boy, and the contract that still binds them together. And the demon smiles, his face softening, still the face of that precious butler, still the gentle smile of Sebastian Michaelis, the only companion of a lonely, young Phantomhive.
“Yes, my Lord.”
And he digs, his hand once again clawed with black nails, and the boy screams a scream of a different kind as the demon takes his heart away. For a second time, his heart begins to revert to stillness, his lungs back to stone, his body back to marble and chipped paint. His body pushes down, tries to push out the intruder out.
“Shhh, sh, young master,” the butler Sebastian murmurs into Ciel’s ear as the boy begins to lose consciousness, soul hovering to the surface. “Just open yourself to me. Open your body to me.”
And the dying boy has the gall to smirk through his tears and wisping breath as he always has and say, “Yes, my Lord….all of it. Take all of it. Feast yourself, Lord Michaelis, the checkmate is yours.”
And the demon rips the boy’s heart and soul away, drinking up the fleeing ambrosia that is life, smiles. The Phantomhive goes with a peaceful expression on his face, hole through his chest, blood spreading out beneath him and streaked in streams down his inner thighs, the semen still emptying itself out of his body.
“Well then, my most deserving young master,” Sebastian Michealis says coolly to the corpse lying in his arms. “What shall I do with you?”
The dark crow smiles.
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Kuroshitsuji
Warnings: spoilers for end of the anime, plotholes, first-time lemon, man sex, gore, religious references, possible OOC
Summary: A young boy, only twelve, knows nothing of the other kind of consummation.
A/N:Overall, inspired by the AMVs on moon_maiden36. One bit is also inspired by the fic "Amat victoria curam" by kookiety. Agnus Dei means Lamb of God. Unfortunately, everytime I see this title, no matter how fitting I think it is, it reminds me of a choir from Turlock,California that had the worst song selection ever and the screechiest sopranos on earth. One of their songs went like this: "Agnus Dei....lamb of God...." X.x Somehow, Ciel is always laughing like a nut in my fic. -_-
This is a first-time lemon, so please give me some constructive criticism so I can improve. XDD
X
He is so quiet here on this island of nothing; the cold of mist and the stone underneath him only chills his skin further, skin he no longer feels. He is dead whether he knows it or not, his heart pierced by numerous bullets and his breath muffled in the waters of Lethe. All the emotion in his life and body have been drained away, even the rise and fall of his chest is just a sham-his lungs are stone, his breath crystal in the air, his heart still and silent. And yet the contract is blazing, searing in its holder’s eye, and a fierce fire jumps between the muscles of the contract’s twin blue iris.
Ciel, the sky, the smog and smoke of London fires and factories, Phantomhive, the shadow in its cradle sinking deeper and deeper into the manor from whence it came. He is calm and almost trusting, apathetic but at the same time full of emotions. He is going to die, he is going to be released, and he will be taken as he had been at ten, but this time, with his consent. He is allowed a last wish as all bad things come in threes-his first was revenge, his second was to have the demon listen to his every order, and the third is for the demon to remind him what it is, what it was, to live.
The demon will give him that. He will make Ciel remember the pain, the futility, the endless frustration and desperation; he will grant his former master one last boon before snatching it back. A demon he may be, human Ciel may be, but even a demon such as he knows when to admire and respect strength when it comes from such a weak class of creatures such as Homo sapiens sapiens. He traces the contours of that face still of a child, round pale cheeks, a set of full eyelashes, pouty lips, regal chin, gaze slipping to the alabaster throat that no longer holds a pulse. Brushing his hand against full sweeping eyelashes as he flicks the eyepatch off, he thinks Ciel would have been a beauty had he lived to the right age.
He leans in for the taking, sinking his teeth into his former master’s bottom lip. It is plush, cultivated with fine upbringing, and for the first time since his coming here Ciel jolts in surprise. He knows pain, he knows harshness, but he does not know tenderness, and that it is what demon will show him before consuming him.
“Seba-“
A young boy, only twelve, knows nothing of the other kind of consummation. And his heart is electrified back to life, his lungs cast off their gray shell and bloom wetly, pumping in time to his heartbeat as Ciel lets out a shaky sigh into the demon’s mouth. Hands, clawed, tear away his funeral shroud, slide down his back, down to his backside, leaving trails of sparking pain, the blood rushing through his body dripping eagerly down the scored trail. The demon cups nubile flesh in his hands, and the soul is tantalizing, rising to the surface like the finest of baked breads, and his master is exquisite like this, pink in his cheeks, lips bleeding by way of the sharp fangs that tore into them, swollen and red. His body glistens with moonlit sweat, and a tongue laps at his swift-fluttering pulsepoint, fingers locating and pinching a rosy bud, softening the sting with a hungry tongue.
Biting, touching, squeezing, Ciel gasps and opens under his fingers and the boy laughs breathlessly, as the shape above him morphs, leather and chains, black feathers and knee-high boots, and flings his arms carelessly about his demon. The seal burns brighter than the fire of two years past, sears into Ciel’s soul, beckons him and calls his name as a demon desecrates his body. And he takes it all in, his saving grace and his damnation, because they are one and the same in this unholy vessel. The boy grasps the demon by the sides of his face, still human in guise, for demons are made to resemble flaws and on Earth, no creature can err and mischance as much as a human.
The demon is surprised when the Ciel grabs him of his own volition, dragged down to his former master’s seeking maw. For a twelve year old boy he is fierce, trapping the hand that had been making its way down his torso between their bodies, slender legs wrapping about the belt studded waist and thrusting suggestively against him in invitation. There is nothing to lose.
And the boy laughs again as the demon scratches and soothes his way down his chest, shivers as claws etch patterns out on the sensitive insides of pale thighs. A pleasured groan slips out as a hand wraps around the boy’s length, swiping a thumb across the head and sliding slowly up and down.
“Well, demon?” Ciel cries out delightedly as he launches a counterattack, sweeping up against the demon so swiftly that caught unawares, the former butler becomes splayed on his back. The former master smirks down at the demon’s face as a gentle hand runs along the demon’s jaw, thanks for allowing Ciel to play one last game. And the boy is fast for one who has never taken off his own clothes, nimble fingers moving through belts and buckles in a flash, tearing his pants down, and seeking fingers eagerly latch onto what they find inside.
“Do you feel pleasure?” the boy murmurs curiously as he strokes unfamiliar skin in his hand, and the limp organ begins to stiffen. Never reaching puberty, he studies the grown body so unlike his own, weighs the scrotum below the penis lightly with his hands, and smiles mischievously as his cups the length between his hands and takes a long swiping lick up to suckle on the head. He treats the demon like one of his company’s lollipops, tries to take all of him in. The demon below him smirks through grunts of pleasure, does not mind the boy licking up his precum like a cat with cream. Suddenly, he bucks his hips up and the boy chokes, tries to move back, but caught by the hair, masters his body’s inclinations, tries to wrap a small tongue about the cock fucking his mouth. Fluid explodes into his mouth, and on instinct he swallows, and it goes down thickly, creamy white ropes trickling out the side of his mouth, dripping onto his chest.
Flipped onto his back, Ciel’s hands are gathered above his head while a finger traces delicate circles around his anus. Breath hitches as a suddenly de-clawed finger probes in, a small shriek when the demon roughly pushes his way in past the first ring of muscle.
“This is living, Ciel,” the demon hisses into the boy’s ear, seduction and dark velvet, claiming his former master’s name and body as the second finger joins the first and the boy gives a small cry of pain. The third finger stretches him open, wide, and the boy grits his teeth and hides away his pain. The fingers seem to tunnel into him, unrelenting, until they brush against some special place inside of him, and Ciel screams.
“A-ah!”
“Do you understand, boy? Do you understand what you have given up?” The boy is a tight fit, unbreached, but ripe for the picking. Another thrust of the fingers.
“Ah, ah!”
“You’re only twelve, boy. You could have had children, could have carried on your line, could’ve been married to your cousin Elizabeth and carried on with you comfortable life.” Removing his fingers and letting the boy’s hands go, the demon straddles the boy, strokes himself, eyes glinting. “You could have had it all, Earl Phantomhive. This is life. This is losing.”
And the boy, flushed with the apple of sin, eyes flashing and contract winding its string faster and faster about his neck, does a sit up and pushes the demon down again, bats away the hand in the way, letting out a shout of pain as he throws a leg over the demon’s waist and forces himself down the demon’s cock in one go. He leans on his elbows against the demon’s chest for several moment, speaking through the tears coming down his cheeks, against his hitching breath.
“This-this-ah, this, this is humanaaah!” He is jolted as the demon thrusts up roughly, sitting himself up with his hands on his demon’s chest. “Ah! Ahn! Ah-ah-aaaaah…! You..you-gah, you, you…”
“Me,” the demon whispers, broken by his own pleasured pants and moans. Quiet though his voice is, it seems to echo in the air of the island, full of silent question and curiosity. And Ciel laughs again, his blood lubricant, his desire tangible in the beads that slip down his neglected cock.
“You-ah!-you…living with me…ngh…for such a long time…you still can’t tell, can you?” the boy says between gasps of air, pleasure roiling thick and full in his stomach, grinding himself down harder, clenching deeper, snapping his hips down to meet the demon claiming his body. “If you hadn’t come for me, I…ahn!….I wouldn’t have had any of that at all! I-I-!” And the boy bares his neck, a sign of submission, splaying a hand against his own neck, and smirks.
“Don’t you get it? You can have me. You can have all of me.”
And the contract burns and burns, violet fire that cannot be quenched as the demon lurches up like a cobra, lifting the boy up and crashing him back into the stone, forcing the short legs to his shoulders and taking and taking, growling and sinking his fangs into the pale neck offered to him.
“AH! AH-AH-AH-!“
And Ciel screams his release, clenches down, and the demon’s face twists in his own pleasure, his barren seed shooting deep into his former master’s body. He lays the boy’s legs back down, licks up the blood trickling down Ciel’s neck, the boy shivers in the aftershocks. And the boy, that glimmering blue eye, that careless smile, body spent and energy gone, but still strong and tall, the boy picks up the demons hand and brings it to his chest.
“Take it.” Fearless, as always.
The demon says nothing, searching Ciel’s face with his eyes. Ciel Phantomhive, the boy who was human, the boy who was his master, the boy who was strong enough to summon a demon and use him and not regret. A boy and his demon. A demon and his boy, and the contract that still binds them together. And the demon smiles, his face softening, still the face of that precious butler, still the gentle smile of Sebastian Michaelis, the only companion of a lonely, young Phantomhive.
“Yes, my Lord.”
And he digs, his hand once again clawed with black nails, and the boy screams a scream of a different kind as the demon takes his heart away. For a second time, his heart begins to revert to stillness, his lungs back to stone, his body back to marble and chipped paint. His body pushes down, tries to push out the intruder out.
“Shhh, sh, young master,” the butler Sebastian murmurs into Ciel’s ear as the boy begins to lose consciousness, soul hovering to the surface. “Just open yourself to me. Open your body to me.”
And the dying boy has the gall to smirk through his tears and wisping breath as he always has and say, “Yes, my Lord….all of it. Take all of it. Feast yourself, Lord Michaelis, the checkmate is yours.”
And the demon rips the boy’s heart and soul away, drinking up the fleeing ambrosia that is life, smiles. The Phantomhive goes with a peaceful expression on his face, hole through his chest, blood spreading out beneath him and streaked in streams down his inner thighs, the semen still emptying itself out of his body.
“Well then, my most deserving young master,” Sebastian Michealis says coolly to the corpse lying in his arms. “What shall I do with you?”
The dark crow smiles.