Chapter Text
„Harke you that list to heare what sainte I serve:”, the boy started reciting mechanically,
“Her yellow lockes exceede the beaten goulde;”, his back straight but his face wearing a frown,
“Her sparkeling eies in heav'n a place deserve;”, forming words like he forms his lips; mere phonemes to him, no meaning in his disconcerted voice.
“her forehead high and faire of co-“
„No, no, no.”, His butler sighed. Sitting in a chair in front of him, he had been listening to this horrible, horrible performance (if it was even worth being called a 'performance') and couldn't help but interrupt. “Young master, not only are you torturing my ears with your horrid intonation, which is by itself already rather unpleasant, but still endurable. No, you are taking classic English poetry, a piece of your own cultural heritage, and throw it into a back alley where it is robbed of all its pride and glory. That is something that I, the butler of the Phantomhive household, cannot tolerate.”
Standing opposite of his seated butler, Ciel stared in irritation and disbelief as Sebastian disrupted his recital of the sonnet Hecatompathia 7 by Thomas Watson, a poem they had been working on all morning. In anger, but more so in frustration, he clenched his fists and lifted his chin, opening his lips only a small bit, as to counter the other's statement, but withdrew before any sound could pass the slit, loosening his fists a bit. His frown worsened. The boy understood the tropes, he could analyse the rhythmic structure of the sonnet and he could explain the choice of words in a poem on their lexical and morphological level. He absolutely could not, however, understand what he was working on analysing so thoroughly and that was clearly noticeable in the rather uninvolved way he recited the renaissance poem.
Sebastian had to think of a different way to approach the literary piece. A different way of familiarizing his ward with the substance of the poem. It was obvious that a boy of his master's age could hardly grasp the subtext, the emotional involvement the author put into his words. That very boy, standing in front him, hardly more than one and a half metres tall, face defined by soft cheeks and round lips, eyebrows arching but not yet hardening his face; An adolescent boy, not a child anymore, though nobody would dare call him a man, either. His young master was just that: Young. So young and inexperienced. Life had scarred him in measures most people would not be scarred in an entire lifetime, the boy of thirteen years had learned to know emotions nobody would want to learn. However, some of the simplest, most human emotions, were yet for him to fully grasp. Good education simply couldn't make up for a lack of personal life experience.
Little Lord Phantomhive, clenching his fists tightly again, finally brought himself to protest his butler's academical choices. “This is pointless, what purpose does it even serve to recite this stupid poem in front of you? Not like I'll ever burst into a business meeting lamenting about the oh-so-golden hair some oblivious, starving poet once fell in love with sooo madly,” he lifted his hands in rage, “On top of that, of all the people I can possibly imagine, my demon butler would've been the last one of whom I had expected to torture me with cheesy love poems.”
Sebastian let a deep sigh at the young master's ignorant statement and combed back the pitch black hair that framed the left half of his face with his contrasting, white-gloved fingers. “My lord, the misconception you just put into words so wonderfully bluntly is the exact reason why I am insisting on you mastering this lyrical piece.”, he demanded with a hard expression, the latter unintentionally setting half a step back in reaction to the rather unexpected answer he received. The tall man sitting in front of him went on, “As the Earl of Phantomhive and head of Funtom Company, it is mandatory for you to sharpen your conception and understanding of the people you interact with on a daily basis. -”
“So what's that have to do with-”
“If you would be so kind as to let me finish my explanation, I'd gladly explain this in further detail.”
Now it was Ciel who sighed.
“Young master, I will not deny that observing people's intentions is one of your more refined abilities. However, when it comes to matters you personally have little to no experience with, you are imperceptive. This is why I am asking you now, what is this sonnet about?”
“Love, obviously.”
“No. Think again.”
“Are you trying to make a fool of me?”
“The way this is going at the moment, I do not even need to try to.”
“Wha- mind your words!”
The two males, the standing one's height not that much above the momentary height of the sitting one, exchanged unamused stares, their body language mirroring each other's discontent towards the other: Arms crossed, torsos slightly leaned away from each other. As this form of communication got old, the teacher brought himself to further explain his dissatisfaction.
“You fell for the common misconception that these kinds of texts are an attempt at expressing the human concept of 'love'. Well, I shall not blame you for that. I suppose some rather dense authors themselves, for their entire lifespans, might have never realized what exactly themselves were ever writing about.”
Ciel couldn't grasp at all what Sebastian was hinting at.
“I do not want to discuss 'love' with you. It is a vague human idea that has been the topic of discussions of poets and philosophers likewise for as long as I can remember. Yet, most people would agree that the foundation of this idea is always some sort of emotional attachment, a strong, if maybe often one-tracked bond felt towards somebody, or so I have observed. Young master, do you think there is such thing as love at first sight?”
Ciel narrowed his eyebrows, staring in disbelief, “What kind of question is that?”
“Answer, please.”
Ciel fidgeted. “No... no, I do not, of course. It is a silly lie people tell in fairytales and children's stories.”
“So, what makes you believe it a lie? Explain further.”
The boy had long since started to feel uncomfortable with this conversation. Love, or any kind of unnecessary emotion for that matter, was not a topic he liked to chatter about, much less so with his demon butler, especially because Ciel could hardly believe that a demon could ever take any feelings of 'love' seriously. He had loved his parents more than anything, until they were taken from him, so Ciel didn't doubt the existence of this emotion, however fragile and weak it may be. Sebastian, though, seemed to be the type to ridicule others for acknowledging that 'love' may have any influence on their lives at all. Despite that, the butler asked for his views on 'love at first sight'. It just seemed sketchy. Yet, or maybe because of that, Ciel carefully proceeded to answer, not giving in to the challenge that moron of a butler had confronted him with. “It is... ridiculous to believe that anybody could be able to develop such a strong kind of affection towards someone else in just an instant. There is no bond of any form felt towards the first impression of the appearance of a stranger.”
Sebastian nodded slightly. “Then, what is it that people do feel towards each other, that can spark within the blink of an eye? Think of the observations described in the sonnet we are discussing right now. What kind of bond does a man have to the hair, the lips, the chest of a woman?”
He let that question sink in a little and watched the young master's slight change of expression: eyebrows lifting, expression easing but merely changing, leaving a fair share of tension within the facial muscles of the adolescent boy, who slowly started to realize where the tutoring butler's explanation was going.
Sebastian leaned forward, fingers crossed in his lap, staring at the younger one intently. “The vast majority of love lyric is devoted to women who are out of touch. Distant women whose purity is so tempting to be corrupted, but impossible for the poet to reach out to. Hardly ever do you find a piece of literature devoted to a loving wife, or a beloved son or daughter. 'Love' is not interesting to the poet. To mankind, I dare say. Those qualities, praised in uncountable lyrical pieces: in different context, most people wouldn't hesitate to call them out as superficial qualities; qualities one could easily observe when meeting somebody for the first time. Think about their appeal. What draws the author into them, makes him believe he's lost his heart to that person when it is really a different kind of fascination he has taken on? I ask you again, what is this sonnet about? If not power, what is it that mankind has always craved for?”
The dark man stared at Ciel piercingly, demanding an answer, and Ciel felt like his next guess could grant him luck. “It's... desire... fulfilment of carnal desire, isn't it?” The words tasted sour in the boy's mouth. He felt uncomfortable at this conclusion.
Sebastian's stare eased up a bit, taking on an approving tone, and he leaned back into his chair. “Good, young master.” This young master exhaled, in relief of having made it through this ordeal of an analysis. Then, a moment of silence.
“So, can we put this lesson to rest, now that I managed to look behind the surface?” The sourness still remained in his mouth. It was completely irrational but social conventions seemed to have had their share of influence on the Earl's morality. He certainly knew better, he really did, still he just couldn't help but feel uneasy about this subject. Sexuality, that is. It had been fine just looking at it from a biological point of view before, it was undoubtedly a crucial part of education. The boy knew that it was good for him to know what it was and how it worked. However, being confronted with it in a subject as emotionally involving as lyricism, needing to spend more than a thought or two on a stranger's sexual motivations, let alone talk about them, was so terribly uncomfortable. It was one thing to know about the human body's natural needs; an entirely different thing to debate an individual's personal carnal yearning on a personal level.
“We are still far from reaching the point where this lesson results in any educational value for you. Apart from that... I observe that it troubles you to discuss this topic.”
Damn him, he noticed. Of course he would.
Sebastian grinned, “It scares you, doesn't it, young master?”
“Wh-why would it scare me?” The young one's voice's pitch went up high. He actually didn't really want to hear Sebastian's explanation to that.
“You are afraid of yourself. Afraid that if you have to discuss somebody else's sexuality, it will confront you with your own.”
“Mind your own business, Sebastian.”
“I do not see the problem in simply sharing my observations. Or did I misinterpret you?”
Ciel hesitated. Shocked a little with the bluntness of the statement, he thought about his butler's conclusion for a moment. Was it true? Did all of this unsettle him because it got closer to him than he ever wished? The Earl had reached adolescence, of course he had noticed so much. Awkward awakenings, the butler must have had noticed as well, if not on Ciel, then on the sheets but so far he had never said a single word and the former had hoped it would stay like that. But no, it couldn't go on like that. The unspeakable was being addressed now.
Under other circumstances, he would have denied it with all he had got but at this point the boy felt that denying would only worsen his situation. He sighed.
“Sebastian, let us not make this about me. I will not go into further detail about this.”
“It wasn't my intention to further explore any more personal aspects on this matter. I apologize for making the young master uncomfortable but this was necessary to continue my explanation on how to interpret our sonnet.” Ciel had almost forgotten about that sonnet, already. Just how could a literary studies lesson escalate into something like this?
As if to answer this question, Sebastian continued, “You need to develop Empathy for and abandon your fear of sexuality. Whether you want it or not, it is a central aspect of society and in your world of adults, which you are so eagerly keeping up with, you need to be able to handle this aspect. And interpreting and reciting related texts poses as an alternative to first-hand experience, isn't that a very comfortable alternative?” The dark man smirked at the boy and the latter hated it. He detested it when the two were having an argument and Sebastian emphasized his comments with that smug smile on his face. Punching him in the face would feel so good, Ciel thought, though the demon would easily escape his punch and his dignity would fly away just like the fist that missed. For now, a detesting glare would be everything he threw at his terrible teacher. And as much as he hated to admit it to himself, Sebastian did have a point. It is a crucial topic in this world; people could reign with and be reigned by sexual desires. And discussing strangers' sexualities would undoubtedly be a lot less uncomfortable than analysing his own. However, he wouldn't just give in like that. “Let's make a deal, Sebastian.”
“A deal, young master?” This proposal came as a surprise.
“Yes, a deal. Prove to me that you are capable of empathetically reciting this sonnet and I will do so myself.” The moment Ciel had finished making the proposal, he regretted it. That surely was a bad idea, it sounded so much better in his head but as soon as the last syllable made its way out of the Earl's lips, he bit on them in regret. He couldn't take them back anymore, either. Something had made Ciel think that it would be uncomfortable for Sebastian to mimic emotional involvement in a human matter, comparable to his own discomfort with what had been said but thinking of it, the thought itself just sounded ridiculous.
The failure of the Earl's poor plan made itself clear very quickly, as the demon butler, surprised by the potentially fatal opening his master had provided in what had developed into one of their games, didn't hold back a subtle grin.
“...so?”, a hesitant voice aspirated.
“Yes, my lord, why not, although I am not quite sure what benefit you hope to gain from this proposal.”
The boy just crossed his arms. Oh dear, this time he might have messed up big time.
The tall man slowly rose from his chair and with a quick gesture towards the seat, he suggested, “May I recommend you take a seat to listen to my performance?” Watching Sebastian cautiously, Ciel followed the suggestion and changed position with the taller one, awaiting his performance. The boy crossed his legs, straightened his back and rested his hands on the upper knee. He would listen to this performance and maybe grasp a thing or two to copy in his own latter interpretation. Gaining profit from this situation was the utmost priority now. With an intent stare, the Earl nodded, to signal the servant that he could start.
Sebastian was served a grand opportunity. He hadn't predicted this lesson would take a dramatic twist like this but he wouldn't turn such an opportunity down. He quickly inhaled, preparing himself to start,
„Harke you that list to heare what sainte I serve:”, beginning slowly and with a sonorous timbre;
“Her yellow lockes exceede the beaten goulde;”, the dark man locked his eyes on Ciel;
“Her sparkeling eies in heav'n a place deserve;”, in his posture an alluring grace, resembling a lord more so than a servant;
“Her forehead high and faire of comely moulde;” he watched as Ciel started to feel the intentions within the spoken words, subtly mingled with their literal value. Lifting his chin slightly and tightening the grip around his knee, he tried to fend off any trace of captivation.;
“Her wordes are …”, the demon was stared at by the boy, who wet his dry lips unconsiously, as if to serve as early proof that Sebastian was on the best way. The listener tried hard to keep the upper hand over this situation, a situation he had already lost control of at the very beginning;
“...musicke all of silver sounde;”, Sebastian's words were directed towards him, he knew. He heard. The words he spoke said one thing; his voice, however, strong, slightly forceful but in no way harsh, his face, perfect white teeth showing between controlled lip movements, every word triggering slightly different movements of his slim jaw, his little gestures, hands dancing through the air, as if to conduct the corresponding sounds, for god's sake, the terribly luring look in his finely shaped eyes: all of these told of intentions the young Earl would rather not have understood;
“Her wit so sharpe as like as can scarce be found;”, would rather not have found so menacingly enchanting;
“Each eyebrowe hanges like Iris in the sky;” oh god, that ungodly man's voice resonated in his very bones;
“His Eagles nose is straight of stately frame;”, did he just say, 'his'?
“On either cheeke a Rose and Lillie lies;”, although he hadn't really moved, the Earl's posture looked nothing like in the beginning anymore: deeper breath finding its way out through slightly parted, still wet lips, a blush flushing his cheeks, fingers clawed around his patella, unconsciously pressing his legs together and his upper arms tightly towards the torso; it was an attempt to keep his head held high but all it did was illustrate the effect the tutor's performance had on the tutee;
“Her breath is sweete perfume, or hollie flame;”, a slight smile emerged on the demon's face, hinting at the affirmation he felt from watching the boy melt,
“Her lips more red than any Corall stone;”, he sung in the moment Ciel bit his lower lip, almost as if he had waited for this very moment to speak the line;
“Her neck more white, than aged Swans that mone;”, as the man's eyes wandered over the boy's pale cervical skin, the latter slightly lowered his chin to block the sight;
“Her brest transparent is, like Christall rocke;”, it didn't matter, though, as his gaze wandered lower. There was no point in trying to hide anything in the first place; the demon had seen all of him already, everyday, during dressing, undressing and washing, every detail, every flaw defining his young skin, his frail bone structure tracing through, every little mole decorating his forms;
“Her fingers long, fit for Apolloes Lute;”, the young Earl had already grown to know the feeling that creeped through every cell of his still growing body, at this very moment, spreading from torso to fingertips and every single hair on his body;
“Her slipper such as Momus dare not mocke;”, but he felt a kind of helplessness, not being able to inhibit what the full-grown man in front of him had managed to spark within him with mere words;
“Her vertues all so great as make me mute:”, Ciel knew he had lost this round, yet still he wasn't quite sure what about these spoken words made him lose;
“What other partes she hath I neede not say,”, it was only now that Ciel noticed that Sebastian had come closer to him over the course of the sonnet. He had approached uncomfortably close, never lifting the gaze from his protégé;
“Whose face alone is cause of my decaye.”, bent down, he stopped just a little too far away to feel on his face the boy's heavy breathing that came out of unconsciously rolled lips. The demon's seemingly all-knowing eyes interlaced with the azure and perplexed single orb of his very human master. For a moment, neither said a single word.
After a while, Ciel exclaimed far too loudly and shrill to leave a composed impression, “Back off! You're way too close.”, a gasp for fresh air, “What do you think you're doing?”
Sebastian retreated and watched the perplexed boy. Subtly panting, he merely stared at the demon, though, not so much at the demon as through him. The Earl obviously needed a moment to recollect the fundaments of his composure, and that, Sebastian would grant him. Doing so allowed the man to awe at his personal piece of art, a ball of confusion, anger and arousal, sitting right opposite. It had been all too easy, but no less satisfactory.
Sebastian continued.
“Young master, I observe my performance was more than sufficient.”
Ciel just proceeded to stare, but now focused the stare on the demon again, instead of the invisible air behind.
Sebastian sighed.
“Young ma-”
“Sebastian, stop.”
Ciel had enough.
“Stop it. Stop screwing around. There is no way I-”
“But young master, I am merely doing my best at being a worthy tutor and following your orders, so-”
“Screw that nonsense! You can't make me believe that all of this is done out of the sincere belief that it will help me grow as a capable adult. You know exactly how...”, he hesitated. Glowing, scarlet red cheeks spoke instead.
Sebastian couldn't help but chuckle. “What do I know, young master? I am afraid I do not quite understand.”
“I...”, Ciel hated the man, “I...”, he averted his stare.
Sebastian waited.
Ciel couldn't possibly admit to having been made advantage of. He couldn't. But what else should he say? Every attempt at lying would only worsen the situation he just wanted out of. No, that wasn't it. Not exactly. Whether or not pedagogic intentions had led Sebastian to initiate this lesson in the first place, and Ciel did believe that the initial plan actually was to merely educate him on lyricism this morning, the bastard then jumped at the opportunity to take a ride on his master's recent hormonal roller coaster. The lesson's timing had Ciel wonder whether the demon had waited for this time to come. Yes, the timing was perfect because his wish wasn't to get out of this situation. He didn't want to fight it anymore. Above all, Ciel had been craving for relief.
He gulped, leaned forward and glared again.
Ciel could have Sebastian do anything, if he so wished. He had been considering this possibility. Not without self-resentment, he admitted, but he had. And Sebastian's recently increasing provocations only fuelled his considerations. It wasn't morals that held the Earl back, though. It was the humility of admitting that out of all possible triggers, it was Sebastian whom his carnal craves were directed towards. Sebastian seemed to have noticed long ago and giving in would've felt like admitting defeat. But then again, wasn't this torment what really made Sebastian win this game? Wouldn't Ciel seize the upper hand again if he went with his own will and took advantage of Sebastian's vulgarities?
“Let us end this farce.” Ciel's cheeks still burned but he had made a decision and that slowly gained him back his composure.
Sebastian merely tilted his head.
“You'd be a fool to believe me too naïve not to look through your advances and I'd be a fool to believe that you haven't observed my... well, my adolescence.”
The demon's eyes widened.
Ciel resumed, “I believe neither of us to be a fool of that kind.” He paused.
“Young master, what are you trying to suggest?”, he had an idea but couldn't yet believe it. His master had to tell him himself.
“I decided,” Ciel emphasized, “that it'd do my anthropological understanding better to do... practical research on the matter, you see. Taking into account how much more efficient that method would be than over-analysing a poem,” the boy managed to sound cool and collected and his tension eased. “Besides, let's not pretend that it wasn't merely the vulgarity of the statement that held you back from suggesting field research in the first place, instead of presenting me this terrible sonnet.” Great job, Ciel, keep it up, give him a dose of his own medicine.
Ciel did have Sebastian startled for a moment. He had in no way expected the boy to be this blunt. Sebastian would have got him to this proposal someday, he had been sure about that, but not like this and not so soon. The demon had looked forward to a period of teasing until the young master could hold back no more and this just didn't feel like the breakdown of his prey that he had wished for. But somehow, he didn't mind. “So, you are trying to say that-”
“I am trying to say that we will now stop screwing around and get to the core of the matter: finish what you have started and sleep with me. This is an order, Sebastian.”