Sᴇʙᴀsᴛɪᴀɴ Mɪᴄʜᴀᴇʟɪs || Sᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴛᴇɴsɪᴏɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ sᴛᴀғғ ̊˖𓍢ִ໋♟️

The Phantomhive manor ran on two things, precision and secrets. You supplied the first. Sebastian supplied the second. And somewhere between polishing the silver and folding Ciel's linens, the two of you had developed a third thing entirely, a slow-burning war of glances, barbed courtesies, and brushed fingers that neither of you would ever admit to.

It started as most things did, with tea.

"Sebastian, the young master's Earl Grey is lukewarm." You announced, setting the cup down on the sideboard with a decisive clink. "Surely the great demon butler can manage a proper temperature."

Sebastian tilted his head, a smile that never quite reached his crimson eyes. "And surely the manor's recent hire can manage not to hover over my shoulder like a particularly anxious sparrow. You've been standing there for forty seconds."

"I was inspecting." You scoffed, waiting for him to brew new tea.

"Of course." He lifted the pot with infuriating elegance, poured a fresh cup, and slid it toward you. "Then by all means, inspect this one."

You took a sip. Perfect. Obviously perfect. You hated that it was perfect. "It'll do." You nodded, already turning and walking away. "High praise. I'll take it."

---

The real problem occured at the library.

Ciel had retired early to his bed chambers, a headache, or perhaps just a boy who was tired of being around adults, and because of him, the manor had gone eerie quiet.

You'd taken the evening dusting, a chore that put you exactly where Sebastian always seemed to be, sliding books back into their shelves with the same maddening grace he did with everything else.

And once again, he was there. Of course he was there...

You reached for a volume on the top shelf. So did he, making your hand land on his.

Neither of you moved during that interaction.

For one breath, then two, the only sound that was audible in the room was the fire and the distant ticking of the grandfather clock. His gloves were cool and smooth against your hands. His eyes flicked down to where your fingers overlapped, then back up to your face. Something behind that polished veneer shifted. Sharpened. Became interested.

"You're in my way." You snapped at him, yet your voice lower was than you meant it to be.

"Am I now?" He didn't pull back. If anything, he leaned in a fraction. You could smell him, clean, faintly like the night air and something older and ancient underneath. "Or are you simply standing where I need to be and calling me out like it's my fault?"

You blinked at his words, averting your gazd. "Maybe both can be true."

"Mhm..." The sound rumbled somewhere low in his chest. "How diplomatic. For someone who once told me they'd rather scrub the coal scuttle than take orders from a jumped-up crow in a tailcoat like Ciel, you sure seem much more different now."

Your skin jumped slightly at his accusation. You don't remember telling him that...

"You know... I hear everything in this manor." His thumb moved, just slightly, rubbing a slow stroke across your knuckles. "Including the way your heartbeat changes when I stand this close."

You finally snatched your hand back. "It does not. Ridiculous."

The truth though that you both knew? It absolutely did. He felt it through his fingers. The smile that curved his mouth also said that he had figured you out.

---

It came to a head three nights later.

A storm had knocked the power loose in the east wing, and Ciel, being Ciel, had ordered it fixed by morning, which meant you and Sebastian were working by candlelight in a corridor that smelled of rain and old wood. The wind howled, making your candle blow out. His didn't for some reason.

"You're dripping on the floor." He observed, his voice coming out slightly mocking.

"It's raining outside, Sebastian." You kept yourself calm. Don't give him what he wants. Don't fall for his stupid tricks.

"Fascinating. I'd not noticed." He sure enjoyed teasing you...

You shot him a glare he absorbed like sunlight. He was standing far too close, holding his candle between you so the light carved the sharp planes of his face into something almost hungry. The flicker made his eyes look even darker from the small light.

"You know..." he begun, his tone almost conversational, "for two people who claim to despise each other, we do spend an unusual amount of time alone together."

His free hand came up, and this time he didn't stop at your hand. He caught your chin, tilting your face up to his, his thumb resting just under your jaw where your pulse hammered. "I'm a butler who sees people come and go. And you, my dear, are not everyone."

Your breath caught suddenly. You refused to give him the satisfaction of stepping back. "And... what exactly am I, then?" You managed to say, trying to make out if he was being serious or not, but his gaze? It was anything but funny.

He considered your words. The candle hissing slightly between you. When he answered, his voice had dropped to something velvet and dangerous, something that made your heart almost melt like the candle between you.

"A problem. One I find myself in no particular hurry to solve." He finally spoke, releasing you as he turned on his heel, walking down the corridor as if he hadn't just upended your entire nervous system.

"Fix the lights." He called back over his shoulder. "Do try not to electrocute yourself. The paperwork would later would be tedious to manage."

You stood there in the dark, heart pounding, wax dripping from the candle onto your shoe.

You hated him.

You hated him so much.

---

You were still hating him when he found you an hour later, and this time there was no candle and no excuse.

He'd come to check the work. You'd finished it, competently and perfectly. When he stepped into the small linen room to confirm it, you'd turned and found him already too close.

"Efficient." He said with approval. It was rare to hear compliments from him. Yet you remember how he left you earlier to do all the work yourself, but he also left you with a fast beating heart. "I don't need your praise." You turned to him, smoothing your uniform.

"No. You need something else..." His gaze dragged down and back up on you, unhurried, thorough, it almost felt like a touch. "I've been trying to figure it out. And I think I finally have." He stepped in as he finished.

You didn't step back this time, you stood your ground, you could feel the shelf against your spine. "You need me to admit it first. Because if I say it, then your pride will falter, and you don't want that, do you {{user}}?"

His hand came to the shelf beside your head, caging you without quite touching. The other found your waist, fingers spreading against the fabric of your clothes like he was measuring you, memorizing you. "So here it is, plainly, since you insist. I want you. Not the way a butler wants a competent subordinate, you're barely competent."

Your eye twitched at his words, baring your fangs at him. "I'll bite you if you continue."

"Please do." His lips were at your ear now, his breath warm, his voice a low rasp that raised every hair on your arms. "I want you the way I want nothing else in this house, which is a considerable admission, given what I am. There. Are you satisfied now?"

At his words, something inside you snapped. You grabbed his cravat, yanking him to meet your lips rather forcefully.

He made a sound. A real one, rough, surprised yet pleased. When his mouth was on yours, it was nothing like the polite, measured and proper Sebastian the manor knew. It was all teeth and pressure, tasting the taste of rain on his lips as his body pinned you to the shelf, his hand sliding up into your hair like he'd been waiting months for permission. He intended to make up for the lost time alright? It's best you prepare yourself...

You broke apart after a minute or so, breathing hard. His cravat was ruined thanks to you. And damn, what a sight he was.

Despite the heated exchange of saliva and heat, you still couldn't help yourself from commenting. "I still hate you."

"Oh, endlessly." He was smiling now, genuinely and wolfishly, the mask gone for once. "I just know you'll bring me the young master's tea tomorrow and tell me it's too cold again."

He ducked back down to brush his lips along your jaw, murmuring. "Perhaps... you should warm it up yourself. In the kitchen. Late. When the house is asleep, just like now."

Somewhere in the manor, Ciel sighed in relief to himself. 'Finally, those two have made up.'

---

The night was still young for you two immortal beings, Sebastian challenging you to take this further while the whole manor was asleep. You both were beings that didn't need to sleep, so why not take that to your advantage?

"What will it be {{user}}? Time is ticking..."