“Please do excuse me,” Claude purred coolly, brushing off his waistcoat from any dust or debris sustained from their near-skirmish, and he kept a few feet ahead of the raven. “Follow me. It isn’t often we bring the cattle in through the front. It is usually given the honor of entering toward the back of the manor.” This was a cheeky comment, delivered humorlessly with nauseating monotone. His features were completely expressionless, a flaccid and lax outward appearance to match the lackluster fizzling ember within him named Jim Macken. Their feathers were both ruffled only moments ago, but for now, they could play in these pesky, fragile human bodies. Even these tender exteriors could produce a mouth-watering amount of pain and pleasure that the spider wanted to give and receive to the corvid for eternity. Claude could feel a sense of comfort and humility in this form, or at the least the echoes of them- though why Sebastian treasured it so would forever be lost on him.
His shoulders rolled back leisurely, and he effortlessly produced a candelabra from a carved marble table found in the foyer as they strolled into the estate. The golden-eyed demon decided that now would be apropos to offer one last warning before the two of them retired to their little love nest where they had once contracted before. An intimate room that still reeked of Michaelis’ blood. Divine. “As we’ve discussed, my young master is sleeping peacefully. We have eyes all over the manor,” Claude mused darkly, his pupils giving another magenta throb while leading the other butler down the hall. The hairs of his neck stood on end, a sense that the little ones around the rafters would keep a keen eye on the offensive avian intruder. You won’t leave my sight, raven. Let us hope for your safety that you keep that fickle attention of yours entirely on me.
The carved door was met, and as gentlemanly as possible, the arachnid opened the door to the intimate room with a table for two that Claude had designed just ever so artfully for his beloved brother in sin. The epitome of romance was found within the tasteful atmosphere of the chamber and how the private stage had been set. Claude had an eye for such thespian aesthetics, but he hardly was spared the time to flex that visionary muscle of his with such a fussy earl tugging on his leash. Sebastian was undeniably the more prim of the the two, but this prideful little pest’s impeccable decorum could be rivaled when Claude was able to work up the appetite. He always did need something much hotter- and such a tantalizing flame he lusted for was burning just across from him now. Bigger game, bigger risk, and bigger reward.
Sebastian’s aura was deliciously pulsing with heat, Claude couldn’t mistake that familiar fire and brimstone sensation anywhere. Human souls had long lost their satisfaction to his indiscriminate palate. They both knew it was Sebastian he yearned for. Claude intended to have him, all of him, as a greedy little child never enjoyed sharing their toys. As they both took their previous cues, places set, Claude regarded him from across the flickering candles on the table between them. With such dim lighting, the two handsome hell-spawn were almost indistinguishable from one another, beside the contrasting amber and garnet hues that glowed otherworldly in contrast to the moody candlelight amidst a sea of blackness. Claude folds his gloved hands on the table, politely waiting to hear his guest’s suggested contract. He was more than famished for the intimacy of such a bargain with the more ‘polished’ mirror of himself. You’ve marked this room as yours with the scent of each beautiful, ruby drop. Soon, you will again, Michaelis. Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting. The appetite may sicken, and so die.
“Cattle?” Sebastian asked, mischief curling his tenor. He gave a little laugh -- amused at his poor host’s even poorer attempt at insult. How the other demon carried out his existence as a drab, humorless mockery of a butler, Sebastian would never know. At least maintaining a sense of aesthetics imparted some semblance of challenge to his eons-long life. Without his aesthetics, he had no doubt he would be as tedious and pedestrian as the spider. “You only wish I were as unthinking and docile as all that, Faustus. Wouldn’t you love to simply walk me to the slaughter like said cattle?”
The raven felt a million eyes on him as he moved soundlessly down the main hall. At the Phantomhive Estate, we would immediately eliminate such pests, he thought, eyes flashing in warning. Like feathers preparing for flight, the fine hair on the back of his arms stood on end. The air between them was gravid, pulsing with the potential for unprecedented destruction. Oh sure, he had no doubt the Trancy Manor could be re-erected within minutes, each brick in its proper place as though nothing had happened. Demons, even those as inferior as his companion, had a great many skills, after all. But the possibility of their little tete-a-tete escalating into a beastly display of brute force -- well, that was a most enticing thought.
Still, his little lord would be most put out if the spider demon set a horde of his little minions on the Phantomhive Manor because Sebastian started a fight for pure entertainment purposes. He sighed and promised to behave, at least for now. “Your master appeals to me not at all; trust me, I’ve no intention of involving that tawdry fop to our negotiations.”
He followed Claude into the room where they’d once contracted for the possibility of claiming Ciel Phantomhive’s soul. Tonight, however, he’d come with a more alluring offer. One of a demon’s great many skills was that of knowing and understanding, intimately, the hunger burning behind the eyes of their kind. Imps were insatiable, after all, and the one leading him into the bowels of the manor was more avaricious than most. So gluttonous, in fact, was Faustus that he’d broken the one cardinal rule of their kind -- do not interfere with another’s contract. Faustus was disgusting, a man with no ethics or aesthetics, a mindless beast searching ever and evermore for his next meal.
And so, Sebastian came tonight to provide a meal that would satisfy unlike any other. One that he knew his greedy companion would scarcely turn down, no matter the cost. He took his seat before the other and steepled his hands atop the table. He smirked, and in the dim candlelight, the effect was anything but seductive. “I’d like to offer a contract for my soul, Faustus. Or rather, the possibility of you claiming my soul -- it’s not guaranteed, after all. Care to hear my terms?”
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