A Postman's Fate (35k+)
--- currently a work in progress. a non-fantasy sebaciel AU with victorian-style prose. ciel, the sickly son of lord phantomhive, stalks and kidnaps the local postman.
Swear to Me, My Love (7.7k) / Flesh and Form (3.5k)
--- ciel self-harm centric. eventual sebaciel pain kink.
(written for sebaciel week 2026. you can view the fic on ao3 here.)
in short: Ciel gets pissed inside. Read at your own risk! 🔞
“Fine. I want you to piss inside me, for God’s sake.”
To this confession Sebastian reacted with some air of scandal. Alone the sentiment was not shocking – from the mouths of humans a demon had consumed far more wretched, far more grotesque aspirations in all manner of ways. Rather, it was the lips from which the confession was spoken that made for astonishment. This part of his master Sebastian had not known.
Ciel squirmed on the bed in his silence; very rarely he rendered Sebastian speechless, and on this occasion in particular he could not long linger in the wake of his own ruddy-cheeked demand. Cautiously he peered back over his angular shoulder, and scowled when his gaze met Sebastian’s wide-eyed awe.
An impish heel struck the back of Sebastian’s thigh hard. “What now? Have I made a fool of you because you cannot do it? You drink nothing and therefore lack the ability to produce urine? As supernatural as you are, I would think that pathetic.”
“No,” relented Sebastian quickly, nearing his cheek to Ciel’s and breathing hot in his ear. “No, I am able. You merely surprise me, my lord. I had assessed your sexual preferences as somewhat less…vulgar.”
No sooner than he finished speaking did another kick strike his false flesh. “You talk now of being vulgar?” barked Ciel. “We have known one another in blood and saliva and all other substances of bile and rot – I shall hear nothing of what is vulgar from you.”
Of this Sebastian had no complaints; he had so painstakingly pried the confession from his lord, and he should much rather revel in it than mock it. He was tuned to Ciel finely indeed, and so conscious he had become of the boy’s copious flushing and stuttering in the days leading up to this moment. Ciel flustered during sex especially, and in his hesitant open-and-close mouth motions Sebastian discerned a desire that he could not quite bring himself to voice. Only with Sebastian’s fingers mercilessly teasing his inner thighs and a thick cock refusing to kiss his entrance did Ciel yield to Sebastian’s purred solicitations to confess the fetish that had so tormented him.
“Never would I deny you what you need,” now promised Sebastian, drawing backward. At this Ciel finally relaxed, collapsing his head on his forearms and presenting his posterior with no more than a wilful harrumph.
Sebastian took what was offered and made handfuls of Ciel’s bottom, each small cheek pouching between large fingers as Sebastian hooked his thumbs into the crevice down the middle. In spreading the hole that gaped in such terrible want of him, there opened a scene beautiful enough to paint: his master so tiny and easily plied in the palms of his hands, coltish thighs trembling as if either Sebastian’s pressure or the weight of anticipation were too heavy on bruised knees. If not for the visible pulsing of his hole, Sebastian might have considered penetration too cruel on this weak, over-malleable creature.
But the physical form was oh-so deceiving, for when eagerly Sebastian directed the head of his cock into the space that demanded it, he was met with very little resistance or difficulty. They had done this part so many times, after all. Equally familiar were the murmured huffs of exertion on Ciel’s breath, each timed to the roll of Sebastian’s hips so perfectly that the demon fancied it the most exquisite piece in all of human music. He longed to hear it even in absence of attending to his master’s carnal appetite, given the pleasure that it awarded his own.
The glistening rim of Ciel’s entrance delighted in pretty pink as it stretched with each thrust of Sebastian’s cock, his insides radiating hotter than their usual embrace – presumably flustered both with Ciel’s confession and the shimmering promise of its fulfilment. How Sebastian adored this element of their copulating; he felt palpably the thrum of his master’s soul stowed within, as tantalising as it was riveting.
Quickening, Sebastian skated his fingers up Ciel’s spine and anchored him instead at his ribcage, otherworldly thumbs clamping in the dips of his scapulae. The reach of Sebastian’s hands was such that when wrapped around his torso, his middle fingers pressed each tiny, hard nipple on every thrust. His master was the perfect size to please.
“Sebastian,” Ciel keened, muffled from below. Sebastian knew this shivering tone, too: his master was nigh at climax, and he needed his butler to fill him lest he missed the pleasure of having it while aroused.
“My lord,” Sebastian hushed – a reassurance that he would do as asked. He too felt himself able to cum, pleased indeed with the effect his master placed on his conjured flesh – as well as with the idea of laying claim on his boy in an entirely new fashion.
Leaning forward, he pressed his chest to the slim width of Ciel’s shoulders, stilling his thrusts to slowly ease deep and meet Ciel’s behind with his hipbones flush. Then, embracing protruding ribs and pulling Ciel as close as the laws of physics allowed, Sebastian let free the flood of warm liquid prepared entirely for his master’s sake.
To an extent the sensation was equally novel for Sebastian; he had urinated only a handful of times where for one circumstance or another it was required. Doing so inside another was new entirely, however, and he had not expected the shudder that racked through him – a jolt that Ciel echoed in turn.
A few seconds and Ciel began to whimper. A quivering hand escaped his folded forearms, then squirmed neath his own torso to nurse his elevated stomach, tiny palm pressed flat. Rubbing, he seemed to feel for the gradual trickle that passed from Sebastian’s insides into his own, filling and warming him in the most intimate capacity. Sebastian joined him, tenderly covering the curious hand with his own to feel for the slight distension.
“You are taking it so wonderfully,” he murmured, thumb caressing the back of Ciel’s hand in praise.
Warm and enveloped by his lover, the boy could but give a hitched moan in response, breaths coming hot and heavy and taut with stifled cries. With his other hand Sebastian checked further below – and, yes, it found what it had anticipated. Ciel’s cock, small though it was, stood hard and was leaking incessantly. This once Sebastian thought not of the laundry – only of how mindless the “haughty” Ciel became in the process of being filled and hushed and tenderly rubbed.
With a minute, Sebastian had given all he could offer. The act struck him as strangely vulnerable; he had pleasured his contractors in a thousand ways, but never this. It surprised him to find he felt equally held, with Ciel acting as a receptacle for what was, in a way, part of him. They stayed flush and holding one another for some while, testes taut where they brushed below Ciel’s entrance. Each passing second saw that Ciel shook harder, whimpers coming more frequently now. Sensing that but another touch or two would send Ciel over the edge, Sebastian hushed him once more, then pulled out ever so slightly.
Shallowly he thrust, pushing a gush of hot urine out and dribbling down the backs of Ciel’s trembling thighs. Again it gushed with each pulse, though Sebastian urged deep and gentle so as to keep his cock sheathed for the most part and, consequently, the urine safe inside his master.
Lo and behold, Sebastian needed only pinch Ciel’s cock to have it spurt. Ciel was desperate when he gasped, nose buried in the crook of his elbow as he kept his other palm to his tummy. A splash of something sticky joined the puddle seeping into the sheets under his knees.
Sebastian, on the other hand, was taken surprised by his own climax. He thought it impossible to coax such a full-body sensation through a few shallow thrusts alone, but evidently his master had suitably aroused him to overcome impossibility. His seed came in hot bursts that painted the liquid yet nestled inside him, cock quite happy indeed to stay there in the inferno of a boy carnally sated.
Alas, their parting was imminent, and Sebastian thought it such a shame when he withdrew to attend to the cleaning process. He pressed the pads of his thumbs over Ciel’s hole when vacating, but the loss was too much; his master gaped too wide, which was only natural given that he had taken a cock that was, by all accounts, without training, too big for him. Without Sebastian’s anchorage his hips immediately collapsed into the mess beneath them, piss and thick cum oozing from his slight behind.
“Ah,” sighed Sebastian, both forlorn and enthralled. “We shall need something to plug you with next time. Look at it all going to waste.”
A shudder wracked through Ciel from head to toe. He at first said nothing, but so bright his contract eye seared as he stared up at Sebastian, lips parted and breathlessly willing that this filthy suggestion be implemented.
“…You disgust me,” Ciel hoarsely berated, as if meant for himself although spoken at Sebastian.
All of this while I felt lifted by a strange new medium, a strange element—I now tell you that I was newly buoyant in a brighter life. In the midst of a hymn, God had disappeared. It was like waking from a nightmare in which I'd been paralyzed. Like discovering that gravity itself had been only a bad dream.
I am the angel who dwells in the point where lines fork. Whoever retraces the way of divided things encounters me, whoever descends to the bottom of contradictions runs into me, whoever mingles again what was separated feels my membraned wing brush his cheek!
Italo Calvino, The Castle of Crossed Destinies; from 'The Waverer's Tale', tr. William Weaver
