De Morte ad Vitam
An Undertaker/Vincent RP (Co-writer: Stickiebun)
Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) and all characters therein belong to Yana Toboso. We make no profit from the writing of this fanfiction, and it is strictly for entertainment purposes only.
Author's note: Warning: This chapter contains violent sexual content.
Sebastian’s mouth hungrily sought out Grell’s as soon as they made it into the hotel room. Mating was the only thing as good as supping on a worthy soul, and he was desperate for some relief from his craving. He shoved the redhead against the wall the moment the door clicked shut, cutting his lips on his teeth and not giving a care about it. He felt the change coming on and he didn’t fight it. Let the reaper see his horns, his fangs and his wings; he was beyond caring now. The already torn material of the back of his tux ripped further as the wings came out, and black feathers drifted to the floor. His blood-coated tongue thrust against Grell’s as he pinned him there, a primal growl rising in his throat.
If Grell noticed the change, he didn’t react to it, wrapping his legs up around the demon’s waist, moving his lips against Sebastian’s, lavishing his tongue against his own. He dropped his arms to his sides to let his red coat fall to the floor. Of all the clothes he was wearing, that was the one thing he didn’t want to get ruined. Once it was safe on the floor, he pulled Sebastian closer, making him pin him tighter against the wall.
Sebastian’s outfit was already ripped out the back from the wings, so Grell gave no second thought about ripping the black tailcoat further to remove it from him. The sound of tearing fabric was drowned out by the moans they shared into each other’s mouths.
Sebastian slammed him up against the wall, panting. A crack formed in the plaster and etched its way up to the ceiling, and a chip of it fell loose. Neither of them paid it any mind. He tore at the reaper’s clothing in return with clawed hands, scratching pale flesh in the process. Grell’s vest and shirt ended up shredded, and his striped tie fluttered to the floor soon after, in two pieces, still tied in a bow.
Grell tore and ripped at the former butler’s uniform, tossing the thin black tie to the side to get caught on the doorknob, a sleeve ended up caught on a lamp shade near the bed in the small room. A scrap of purple waistcoat ended on the windowsill. His silver pocket watch dropped to the floor with a thud.
“Oh…Sebby-darling!” He gasped, breaking the kiss to nip down along his neck, licking up the beads of blood as they formed.
The demon’s wings spread, the blue-black feathers ruffling briefly with his mating urges. It mattered not to him anymore that Grell was a reaper…a rival to his kind for a food source. He was certainly just as fierce a partner as any demon he might have chosen, and Sebastian could get rough with him without breaking him. That was the problem with the few human conquests he’d enjoyed since becoming Ciel’s butler; he always had to hold back with them. He bit down on Grell’s throat, his fangs piercing the skin to draw more blood. He held the bite firmly; not to drink from him but to establish dominance.
He pushed the redhead off of his waist so that he could remove his trousers; or at least get them pulled down. Once he did this, he released his biting hold on his throat, and he spun him around to pin him against the wall from behind. There was one problem, though; male reapers did not self-lubricate, as far as he knew. Demons could make small but helpful alterations within their own bodies to assist with such things when two males wanted to mate, but mortals and reapers most likely required some slippery substance from elsewhere.
Not even Sebastian was cold enough to take him dry. He’d been on the receiving end of that once when he’d failed to prepare his body properly, and there was no joy to be had from a union under such circumstances.
"Have you anything for preparation, Grell?" he murmured against his ear.
"Oh~ How kind of you." Grell giggled, wiggling his hips, "And yes, actually, I do. If you would allow me space to move long enough for me to bend over to get it, darling?" He looked over his shoulder at the demon, "Never know when opportunity would come knocking, after all~ Though it has been an awfully long time."
Sebastian obligingly backed off to allow Grell the chance to procure whatever it was he had on him to make this an easier encounter. He ran his tongue over bloody lips as he watched him, faintly surprised by how badly he wanted this. At first he’d thought it would just be a means to an end…a way to ease his frustration on a willing body. Perhaps Mr. Sutcliff was more attractive to him than he’d initially thought. Then again, he no longer had something else to focus on and either way, he was more than ready for this to happen.
Grell bent over, his rear pressing against the demon as he searched for the pocket in the inner lining of his coat, finally locating it and the bottle of rose-scented oil. Standing back up, he held it out. “Do you want to prepare, or have me do so?” he asked, wiping up the blood on the demon’s shoulder that had dripped down from the teeth marks on his neck, and licking it off his fingers.
He’d been with men who liked to do it themselves, and he’d been with men who liked to watch him. He didn’t care which. He already knew he’d be bottoming, if this were ever to happen between them. It was easy to read on Sebastian, particularly…especially with how he’d sunk his teeth into his neck and held him there.
Sebastian considered his claws. He was too excited right now to change his form, and it wouldn’t do to tear Grell up inside with them. He smirked and ran said claws down the reaper’s bare, pale back. “I should like to watch you do it. I fear I would only do you harm that would spoil the experience.”
"As if you haven’t already ripped into me~" The redhead giggled, opening the bottle and pouring a small amount onto his fingers and coating them, before reaching back behind himself as he leaned against the cracked wall. He spread his legs wide as he slipped the first finger into himself with a moan. Immediately, he began to work himself loose with practiced skill, able to add a second finger in no time, and then a third.
Eyeing the awaiting cock of the lustful demon, Grell was sure that he needed to go up to at least four fingers before letting Sebastian fill him. Demons, after all, never tended to disappoint in such matters…and Sebastian was no exception.
“Mhh-haah!” With another erotic moan, he slipped his fourth finger in, readying himself for the demon’s full size, but teasingly holding it longer than needed, watching the look of sexual frustration deepen on Sebastian’s handsome features. He wondered how far he could push until the crow snapped back and simply took what he wanted.
“Ahh, Oh, Sebby~”
The demon stared at the spectacle of Grell’s slender fingers fucking his own pale ass, and his jaw clenched on a growl. It was very difficult to maintain dignity when his mating urges were this enflamed—and when it had been so long since he’d been able to truly cut lose with a partner. His breathing picked up but he managed to control himself as he reached out to trace Grell’s smooth, flexing bottom with his claws.
"Harder," he commanded, eyes flashing with lust.
With a pleasant, excited shiver, the reaper sped his fingers’ thrusting into his prepped entrance, his curved palm slapping against his ass cheek with dull smacking sounds. He made a show of it, moaning louder as he twisted his wrist to get a better angle. His gaze trained on the demon’s face out the corner of his hooded eyes.
Sebastian’s chest rose and fell with agitation, and the feathers of his wings ruffled reflexively. Had he a tail like some other species of demons, it would be lashing in agitation now. His breath shuddered in his lungs as his stomach clenched, his erection throbbing with anticipation as he imagined sinking it into that taut little bottom.
"Enough," announced the demon, out of patience. He grabbed Grell’s wrist, then his other one, and he pinned both up against the wall. Encircling them with one long hand, he wrapped his midnight wings around him and positioned himself with his free hand, again biting down on the spot where his neck met his shoulder. His eyes drifted shut with pleasure as he drove himself into him slowly, feeding him the length of his engorged sex until he was fully seated inside of him.
"Much better," he purred as the reaper’s slick warmth squeezed his sex delightfully.
"Oh! O-Ohhh..!" The reaper gasped in surprise, and then relaxed, resting his cheek against the cool, cracked plaster wall, his fingers curling and red nails scratching paint from the walls. His body shivered, knees going weak, and a light buzzing starting up as his mind became clouded with only lustful thoughts.
“Mmmh…Sebby… More…” he hummed, quickly adjusting to his size. Not completely, though. He enjoyed the pain as much as the pleasure, so he often said he was ready early when he actually got the chance. That was what made a demon partner so perfect. They liked to cause pain. Not that he’d been with one before—but he’d heard plenty of gossip.
Sebastian released Grell’s bleeding flesh from his mouth, lifting his head to smirk with lazy satisfaction as the crimson liquid dribbled from the corners of his mouth. “You really are a glutton for punishment, Grell.”
He withdrew slowly, almost to the tip, and then he rammed back into him, grunting with pleasure at the hot draw of tensing muscles on his sex. Panting softly, he did it again, and yet again. His wings closed tighter around the reaper and he gripped a creamy pale hip with one clawed hand, drawing more red marks on his skin. Reapers healed at a rate on par with demons, and he knew that he could not break Grell this way even if he wished to. That made him even more excited, and a primal growl resonated in his throat as he began to take him with sharp, hard thrusts.
The red reaper held back nothing, treating and rewarding the demon with every sharp gasp and noise that was forced from him. His hips smacked against the wall with each hard thrust, his hipbones bruising as they dented the plaster just above where Sebastian’s clawed hand gripped him to hold him steady and making him unable to push back against each thrust. Upon one of the thrusts, he had cried out, feeling himself rip slightly, prolonging the hint of pain he felt. The blood trickled down his white thighs in confirmation. All of these things, he’d experienced one way of another. New, however, was the soft, tickling caresses of dark feathers across his skin as Sebastian shifted his wings around them. It lent a gentleness mixing with the passionate lust tearing into him. It made his legs go weak and tremble.
Sebastian smelled the tang of blood, and he eased up on the force of his thrusts. The violence of his lust was fading to a more bearable level, now that he was joined with Grell. He released his neck and he licked the blood away like a cat licking a wound. His pumps slowed but did not stop, and he purred in his throat happily. His breath was hot against Grell’s ear, his wings caressing his body as a reward for his submission. Feeling like he’d properly subdued him, he decided it was time for a bit of aftercare while he mated with him. Such was the behavior typical in demons once they’d secured their mating choice…should they wish to encourage another encounter later on.
He certainly did wish to do this again with the reaper, and thus he chose to demonstrate that he could be as attentive and generous as he was savage. Sebastian released Grell’s wrists, and he trailed his claws gently down his arms, his steady pumping deep but slow…leisurely. He continued to lick at the wounds on his neck until they healed, and then he brushed his lips against the spot in a lover’s caress. He released his hip and he ran his palm over his ribs in a sensual glide.
"You please me," he admitted in a husky murmur, his lips moving against the pale, bruised skin.
He paused his thrusts to rotate his hips in little circles, massaging Grell inside as the damage he’d caused healed up. “I do hope you have stamina, Grell. We’ll be joined like this for quite some time, before I’ve had my fill of you.”
His eyes fluttered shut and he licked his lips, grunting as his first orgasm made his balls clench and his stomach tighten. He pulsed inside of Grell, his seed filling him until some of it trickled out, stained pink with the remaining blood inside of him. Sebastian smiled with satisfaction and he held still for a moment, before resuming his thrusts.
Now that was a surprise. The last thing Grell expected from Sebastian was a sudden show of gentleness and genuine interest in anything but meaningless, lust-driven sex. It made him blush. And though Sebastian had slowed down, the reaper himself was still panting and gasping for breath, though he didn’t need the air.
Once he found his voice, and not simply in the way of gasps and moans, he finally answered. “I do…but it’s been a long, long time since I have last shared my body with anyone.” he admitted, “My stamina may be lacking slightly…Ohh…” he closed his eyes and tilted his head back, pressing back against the demon and wiggling his hips. He was close—he could feel it.
Sebastian felt the tension increasing within him, and he reached around to stroke Grell off. He bit his ear lightly, then licked it soothingly, his breath huffing against it with bliss. “I wonder how tightly you’ll squeeze me when you reach that precipice, Grell.”
"You’ll find out…soon, if you keep going." The redhead moaned, "Very soon…" He sped up the motions of his hips, pushing back onto the demon’s length a little faster again, wanting to come to that first round of completion.
The demon did indeed keep going, taking his companion’s cue to speed up his thrusts. He smiled and closed his eyes as he felt Grell tightening around his pumping length. How delightful. He honestly hadn’t been quite sure that the reaper would be able to keep up with his lusty appetite, and he was more than pleased to have that concern proven wrong. Even though it must surely pain him a bit, Grell drove himself back against him eagerly, his body begging for more and his hoarse moans vibrating in the air. Sebastian stroked him off faster, panting with pleasure.
"Come for me," he demanded in a growl, wanting to feel the flushed cock buck in his fondling hand…wanting to feel the tight ass clench around him.
"Ahh-ah~!" Grell threw his head back against the demon’s shoulder and cried out, his hand desperately grabbing for Sebastian’s, bringing it up from his hip and to his mouth, biting down on it as he came, spilling his seed all over the wall he was pinned against.
"Perfect," approved the demon with a smile.
If he even noticed his hand being bitten, he didn’t show it. He was too caught up in the moment, enjoying the feel of Grell’s body clenching tightly around his length. He held still within him until it eased up, and then he resumed his thrusts, his feathers tickling the reaper’s skin as he did so. It went on well into the night, until Grell’s strength gave out and Sebastian had to carry him to the bed. Still, he continued, his lust not yet completely satisfied. The violence of it abated however, and he took him at a more leisurely pace, until he finally had nothing left to give and collapsed on top of him, panting and drained.
It was a most satisfying encounter, and the butler decided that he would seek out future encounters with him. He spooned up behind the exhausted redhead and closed his eyes, slowly shifting back into his human form as he drifted off into slumber. It wasn’t a requirement for his kind, of course, but a nap after mating was one of the simple pleasures he enjoyed. Tomorrow he would hunt; even if it meant settling for a less appetizing soul than the one he’d had his hopes set on. He’d starved himself for long enough.
Undertaker walked the halls of the Phantomhive estate, waiting for Vincent to finish his visit with his son. They’d put Ciel to bed and applied an herbal soak to his eye, bandaging it carefully so that it would heal over time. The house servants fussed and fretted, and he got the distinct impression that Mey-Rin wasn’t quite happy to have lost Sebastian as the butler. Tanaka rose to the task, however, and he brewed up some tea to bring to the young Earl as his father watched over him.
It was rather chaotic. The old man was the only one to remember Vincent, seeing as the others came under Phantomhive employment after Ciel returned with Sebastian. Finny couldn’t seem to wrap his head around the idea that the former master of the house was back, but was not returning to lord over it. Bardroy busied himself in the kitchen and Undertaker dearly hoped that he wouldn’t end up burning it down. The man had never quite mastered the art of cooking. As for the shy young footman named Snake, he stayed quietly outside Ciel’s bedroom, waiting with two of his pets coiled around his neck in case his lord needed him.
Eventually, Undertaker went back upstairs and he smiled in greeting at Snake, before tapping on the master bedroom door and poking his head in. “How is he, love?” he asked Vincent; who was sitting in the chair by the bedside, watching over his sleeping child.
"Exhausted…and still somewhat confused over how everything turned out. I hadn’t told him of our plans to free him of the contract. I hadn’t wanted the demon to find out about our plans, after all. He could have become a problem. I’m guessing this was suddenly all too fast for him. Getting his father and his life back within the same month." He sighed and looked up at his lover with a gentle smile, "But with that done with, I can finally leave my black gloves forgotten. I can be the father and the lover to the two people that mean the most to me."
Undertaker approached him and he reached out to stroke his hair, looking down at him with a smile. “It makes me happy to be included on that list, my love.”
He glanced at Ciel to be sure he was indeed asleep, before bending over to plant a soft, brief kiss on his lover’s mouth. “And I’ll do my best to do my part, too. I think some of the house help could use a few lessons. Old Tanaka can’t be expected to take care of all of that by himself.”
"I believe I can manage for a while, sir," said a familiar voice from the doorway as Tanaka came in. The old man’s mustache moved with his smile, his faded eyes going to Vincent. "Earl Gray, my lord. I still recall how you liked your tea."
He carried the tea tray in and he set it down on the table at the foot of the bed, before pouring and preparing a cup of the aromatic beverage for Vincent. He brought it over to him and he gave a little bow as he offered the tea and saucer to him. “Thank God for yours and the Undertaker’s intervention, Sir. Our young lord is now safe, thanks to you. It is a pleasure to have you back again, however briefly.”
Tanaka’s heartfelt statement left little doubt that even if the rest of the household weren’t aware of the true nature of Ciel’s mysterious, former butler, he’d figured it out some time ago.
Vincent smiled at the elderly butler, standing up to greet him properly now that Ciel had been tended to properly and was peacefully in bed. “It is good to be back, my old friend. And it means more than you know to me, knowing you stayed here with my son after Rachel and I were taken from him.” He glanced over at the sleeping boy, “I have missed so much…I’m glad the man who was more a father to me than my own had been was there for him.”
"It has always been my pleasure to serve this house, sir," replied Tanaka with an elegant nod. "I may not have the energy I once had, but I shall always be here. Master Undertaker, would you like a cup of tea as well?"
"Please," agreed the mortician with a smile.
"Four lumps," said the old butler after relinquishing Vincent’s cup and saucer to him. He returned to the tray to pour a cup for the reaper, as well. "You always did have a bit of a sweet tooth, as I recall."
Undertaker chuckled and nodded, taking the tea from him after Tanaka finished preparing it. “It’s always been my bane, friend. Thanks kindly for the refreshment.”
Tanaka glanced at Ciel. “Well sirs, if that will be all for now, I shall check on Bardroy…before he sets fire to the kitchen.”
He gave another formal bow, before leaving the room again.
"Good man, he is," complimented the Undertaker before sipping his tea. "Pity he had to age, but the old gent’s still got his flair."
"I’m quite fond of him." Vincent agreed, sipping his tea, "He’s one of the greatest men I know."
He sighed and leaned back in his chair, “We should get cleaned up after we finish our tea and then retire to bed, ourselves. Whether or not we should do so here or back home, I do not know. I don’t wish to leave Ciel yet, but the reapers are still looking for you.”
"Right," agreed the mortician with a little frown. "We shouldn’t linger for much longer, I’m afraid. Shouldn’t leave out the front door, either. Once we finish our tea, I’ll teleport us straight out of here to our place."
He sipped his beverage again and he looked at the other man contemplatively. “Are you happy enough in that shack for now, love? I know it’s terribly small and drafty.”
"I’m perfectly fine there with you." Vincent reassured him, taking his hand, "I don’t believe I ever made a complaint about it."
"No complaints," agreed the mortician, squeezing the hand in his, "and I appreciate that. It can’t have been easy for you, adjusting to life in such a hovel after living as a lord in this fine manor. You really are a resilient, adaptable fellow. I’m very proud of you for that…and proud of you for not letting your heart rule your head in our recent endeavors. I don’t mind saying I was a bit worried you might get rash on me and act before it was time."
"It helps that I woke up without my memories." Vincent smiled, "I got used to it while working on regaining my memories."
Undertaker nodded and finished up his tea. He glanced at Ciel’s fragile, sleeping form. “He’ll be all right. He just needs to rest and recover, and you can arrange for another visit soon. Ready to go, love?”
"One moment…" Vincent set down his cup on the tea tray and walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge to tuck Ciel in. He then leaned over, kissing his son’s cheek and running his fingers through his hair, "I’ll come back soon, son. I promise."
With his vow made, he stood up again, “Alright, I’m ready.”
Undertaker created the portal, and he waited for the former earl to go through first, before following him.
"Officers monitoring the Phantomhive estate have reported that there has been portal activity somewhere inside the structure," William said to Eric and Alan, after calling them into his office. "I would like for the two of you to investigate and confirm this, before I send a team on another wild goose chase. I would do so myself, but I must prepare for Father Anderson’s trial."
Eric grimaced a bit at that. “Yer sure yeh want tae represent him, boss? Might be hard tae stay objective…even fer you.”
William adjusted his glasses and looked down at his paperwork. “I hardly think there exists a reaper in this division who could possibly be objective at all, in this case. However, I’ve made up my mind. I will defend him at court, regardless of his own confession and the odds against him. Ronald Knox will assist me in preparing the defense.”
"Ronald?" Alan tilted his head in interest, "Don’t you think he’s still a little too green to be helping with a trial? Junior reapers normally watch and learn unless testifying as a witness. Do you think he’s ready to actually help? I’m sure Eric or I could help you and Ronald could help investigate this supposed portal activity."
"I need someone on site that won’t act rashly." William tidied up the paperwork into a neat stack. "You both know that Knox is prone to compulsion. All that I require him to do with this court case is to organize paperwork. I think I’m better off with him doing that while the two of you investigate the Phantomhive manor. Should you find anything and require backup, I will of course send Knox with a group of more seasoned agents to assist you."
Eric looked at his partner and shrugged. “Guess he’s go’ it all figured out.” He turned his gaze to the supervisor again. “Jus’ try no’ tae stack yer plate too high, boss.”
William nodded. “I shall keep that in mind.”
"Very well." Alan nodded, taking Eric’s hand, "Come on, lets get over to do our job." He smirked, glancing back at William, feeling a little on the playful side all of a sudden. Teasing wasn’t something he normally did, but he couldn’t resist calling the stoic man out, "If you wanted to spend some time alone with Knox, you could have just said so." he winked.
William pointed at the door. “Remove yourselves from my office.”
Eric burst into laughter and nudged his partner, squeezing his hand. “Think ya touched a nerve there, Al. We’d best do as he says.”
As the partnered couple did as advised and left, William sighed and nudged his glasses impulsively. “Honestly. I cannot even garnish respect from the best of them, these days.”
Alan sighed as he looked up at the Phantomhive manor. Not a trace of a demon upon the grounds—for once—meaning that they would have no real trouble getting in and investigating. The other Phantomhive servants were all talented in their own ways, apart from their cleaning, cooking, and gardening duties. But they were still human with human weapons. Should they choose to attack, then neither reaper would suffer any real damage.
“Shall we knock to see if they will allow us to do our job, or should we skip that and hide our presence as we let ourselves in through an open window?” The brunet asked.
Eric scratched his head. “Seein’ as we’ve ne’er busted in on this place before, maybe we ought tae try and keep it civil? Odd thing fer me tae say, I know, but considering tha circumstances, I think it might be best tae keep peace, if we can.”
Alan nodded, “That would be what I would normally suggest, but seeing as Vincent Phantomhive is back, young Ciel may not want us to find Undertaker if he knows. Both options have risks.”
Eric sighed and looked at the manor. “Aye.” A calculating look sparked in his eyes and he smirked at his smaller partner. “How ‘bout we try both? Yer tha diplomat o’ tha two of us. Yeh can knock on tha door while I try tae slink around an’ see if there’s anythin’ tae be reported?”
"Keep yourself cloaked from human detection," Alan agreed with a sigh, "And keep your guard up. I don’t sense the demon here, but he’s a stronger one. I don’t trust that he’s gone, fully."
With that said, the brunet started up to the front door, pulling the cord to ring the bell and wait for someone to answer the door.
Tanaka came to the door a few moments later, looking stately and dignified as he greeted the Shinigami agent. “Good afternoon, Mr. Humphries,” he said politely. “How can I help you today?”
"Good afternoon," Alan greeted with a gentle smile, "I’m afraid I have come on business. There have been reports of portal activity within this property, and given our current investigation, I’m afraid I need to take a look at the site of the portal in hopes of finding any clue as to who created it and where it took it’s user. Might I come in to do so?"
He didn’t bother to pretend he was human. He knew this man knew better. The old butler seemed more than aware of Sebastian being a demon, and hadn’t been shocked at all when a group of reapers had shown up to trap Undertaker; especially after Ronald had used his scythe. The brunet felt it’d be more respectful to be truthful rather than pretend that he was a simple human ignorant to the real way the world works.
Tanaka hesitated for a bare moment, before giving a little bow. “Of course, sir. Just please do be quiet and try not to disturb the young master. He has been through quite an ordeal and requires plenty of undisturbed rest.”
"I will mask myself, then. Any noise I make will not be detectable to human ears." Alan agreed, "Thank you." he bowed his head in thanks as the elderly butler showed him in and closed the door behind him.
Once he was left alone, Alan did as he promised before making his way up to the second floor, searching for where he could sense the portal fingerprint the strongest, soon being lead to the master bedroom.
Eric was already in there, having concealed himself the same way and scaled the walls to sneak into the bedroom. He turned as his partner came into the room and he nodded at the corner near the fireplace. “Tha energy residue seems tae be centered ‘round there. I also picked up some traces o’ reaper aura in other parts of tha place, but I cannae tell if it’s from Undertaker or our own spies. Feels pretty recent though, and tha’ demon would have sensed them if any agents tried tae sneak in here while he was around.”
Alan nodded, “It’s likely a reaper portal, then. Let’s see if the reaper was able to make it untraceable or not.”
He walked over to the fireplace and took out a special device designed to take readings on portal activity. He waved it over the area, gathering the readings of what was left of the portal before it faded completely. It took a few minutes, but finally, the device showed its results on a small screen.
“Reaper-made…” Alan muttered before smiling, “And traceable. I have a location.”
"I’ll be damned," said the Scotsman with a smile of admiration. "Yer sae much more patient than I am, love. Wha’ d’ya think; should we report back first or go an’ investigate ourselves tae see where it leads?"
He was a good, strong fighter and a fast worker when it came to collecting souls, but Eric’s judgment wasn’t always as fit as his lover’s. It was probably a good thing that Spears hadn’t chosen to put Alan on the trial case and send Ronald with Eric, else they might have gotten into some trouble together.
"We’ll need back-up if it was, in fact, the Undertaker who made this portal." Alan said, standing up and taking out his phone to report to William.
“Come on, chores can wait for tomorrow, I want to celebrate a little.” Vincent smirked, pushing his lover back onto the closed lid of his coffin in their small sitting room. The former Earl straddled Undertaker, leaning in to kiss along his neck, “We fell asleep before we could do so last night after bathing…” he whispered.
"No complaints from me, darlin’," said the mortician with a chuckle. He slid his hands over Vincent’s bottom, giving the firm mounds of them a squeeze as his body responded quickly to the doll’s suggestion. "Ah, I do love the feel of your lips on my throat, Vincent. Doesn’t take much for you to get this old spook worked up into a frenzy."
"I’d say that’s a good thing." Vincent cooed, nibbling up his neck as his fingers pinched open buttons down his chest, "Mmmh…you taste good…" Nuzzling under his lover’s jaw, he ran his fingers over his pale, smooth chest.
Undertaker’s pulse quickened and he began to unbutton his lover’s shirt, wanting to see a little chest himself. “You should taste yourself sometime, if you think I taste good,” he teased. He parted the material of the garment to reveal Vincent’s toned pecs, and then he lightly skimmed his nails over his torso, making his way down to his pants.
"I never tire of looking at you, my love," he sighed in appreciation. He began to fumble with the other man’s pants, eager to feast his eyes—and hands—on other parts of him as well.
William started to order a team to the location that Alan had reported finding, when he was interrupted by a call from his superiors. “William T. Spears speaking. Oh, good afternoon, sir. How can I…oh. Oh, I see.”
He looked at Ronald, who was busily organizing William’s defense plan for Anderson. “Yes sir. Absolutely…right away. I shall report in as soon as it is confirmed. Good day, sir.”
He hung up the phone and he stood up. “Ronald, forget all that for now. I’ve just gotten word from the board that the plan has changed. Father Anderson’s trial is being postponed. We can continue this preparation another time. For now, we are to proceed with Humphries and Slingby ourselves to investigate and should their lead prove fruitful, we are to offer up a negotiation with the fugitive in exchange for Anderson’s pardon and a peaceful end to this situation.”
"You had me at ‘forget all the paperwork for now’." Ronald grinned, hopping up, "Where to?"
Every scrap of clothing had been quickly shed from the reaper and his Doll’s forms, littering the wooden floors around the coffin—which they had opened and slipped into it’s silk-lined bed. Their lips locked together as their hands roamed over each other’s bodies to heat each other up, their legs tangled together. Undertaker was just reaching for the lubricant when he sensed the activation of a portal, right inside his home.
"Oh, bugger," he gasped, jumping right off of his lover and manifesting his scythe. Having no time for explanations or clothing, he left his befuddled lover where he was and he burst out of the bedroom, with nothing save his long hair cloaking his nudity. Cursing himself for failing to mask the trajectory of his teleportation thoroughly enough to throw them off the scent, he charged into the parlor with his formidable death scythe ready.
"All right, you meddling lapdogs," he announced, "Let’s end this rabbit hunt, yeah?"
William Spears, Ronald Knox, Grell Sutcliff, Eric Slingby and Alan Humphries all stared at him with their jaws dropped as he came before them with more than his scythe swinging in the air.
"Wh—Did we interrupt something, Darling?" Grell giggled, "By all means, please do continue~ I wouldn’t mind a show~"
“Grell, that’s vulgar.” Alan scolded, “Do remember why we are here and not to—I don’t even know.” he gave up trying to scold the older reaper—who was ogling the elder reaper.
“Well, why not? The scrumptious man is standing there so tall and proud! He’s giving us quite the treat~” Grell shrugged, flipping his hair over his shoulder, “Wouldn’t you agree, Ronnie?”
“I’d rather get my treats from Will’s office.” Ronald said flatly and without stopping to think about his words.
Vincent climbed out of the coffin, frowning as he followed Undertaker out, wondering why he’d suddenly taken off. “Undertaker, this isn’t what I had in mind when I said—” Gasping when he spotted the group of reapers, he quickly covered himself, “—What’s going on?”
Eric suddenly blurted a chuckle, earning himself a glare from William. He cleared his throat contritely and he tried to formulate some kind of response. “Interrupted a party, looks like.”
William tried to gather his wits, but the sight of his reaperhood hero charging in naked had flustered him. Then Ronald just came right out with that off-color remark, and finally the deceased earl of the Phantomhive estate came out just as nude as the Undertaker. It was too much for him to absorb right away…but at least nobody was attacking one another just yet.
"P-pardon the intrusion," he managed to say, trying very hard not to stare at the Undertaker’s endowments—especially with his romantic interest standing right there. He deliberately removed his glasses and he made a show of polishing the lenses, just so he could not see the naked form of his former idol so bloody clearly. Ronald’s remark had quickly reminded him that he had a lover of his own…whom he was growing quite fond of.
With a bit of difficulty, he recovered his senses and he spoke again as if reading cue cards. He could feel his face heating and he pointedly kept his gaze downcast as he cleaned his glasses. “We have come with a proposal for you, sir. Please, everyone avoid drawing weapons on one another—at least until I have presented the Board’s desires.”
"Looks like they’ve already go’ somethin’ drawn anyhow," snickered Eric. "Owch, Alan!" He rubbed his ribs where his partner had elbowed him.
Undertaker glanced down at his softening goods, and he smirked. Beyond shame, he nonetheless crossed his scythe across his groin to somewhat shield his genitals from plain view. “I’d like to hear this.”
"By order of the high council of London Dispatch, I am required to issue an alternative to you, Legendary Death, to prison time or further conflict. Will you treat with us, or must this turn into an ugly affair?"
He blushed as the word: “affair” left his mouth and he hoped to Styx Ronald didn’t notice it.
"You don’t have to do that, Darling!" Grell protested as Undertaker covered himself, "You are quite the treat to look at~"
“Excuse me?” Vincent shot the redhead a dull, flat glare.
“Oh, you’re quite nice, too, but Unnie’s got that extra little something~”
“That’s not what I meant.” Vincent snapped, and then he looked over at William, “What is it you mean to propose?”
"Yes, well," said the tall, dark-haired reaper; uncommonly clumsy with his responses. He looked at Undertaker, still avoiding replacing his glasses. Yes, he could concentrate much better with the silver legend appearing as no more than a blur before him. "As it happens, Lawrence Anderson has confessed to aiding and abetting your escape from the hospital, sir."
Undertaker’s expression instantly darkened. “And I suppose Dispatch intends to toss him under the carriage, eh?”
"Not at all," assured William, "provided you cooperate with the Board’s demands. Dispatch will be willing to pardon him with demerits for his behavior, provided you agree to accommodate demands and agree to a community service."
Undertaker glanced at his lover. “Hmm. What does this entail, exactly? And where does it leave Vincent?”
William glanced at the man in question briefly. “Considering that Lord Phantomhive is unique to the other…creations…and we cannot very well reap him now without breaking our own rules, he will be free to live out his life to its natural end…whatever ‘natural’ could mean to one such as he. In return for this and the promise of Father Anderson’s pardon, you will collect no less than two-thousand souls—without monetary or other forms of payment—in order to balance the scales again and assist the organization that your actions have blemished.”
He took a breath, having run out of air in his lungs in his rush to explain. “Is anything unclear about that, sir?”
Undertaker shrugged lightly. “Seems fairly simple to me. I get to wear their leash with no compensation until I’ve turned in the aforementioned number of records. I suppose Lawrence will remain in custody until I’ve finished this task?”
William inclined his head, his expression faintly regretful. “He will be well-treated, but I am afraid this is the a non-negotiable requirement of the contract…to ensure your cooperation.”
The mortician sighed. “I see. And Vincent? Do they intend to take him into custody too?”
"No sir," answered the supervisor evenly. "As stated; so long as he does not cause undue mischief, he will be free to live out his life with you. I…implore you to take this under heavy consideration. I for one would rather see this ended peacefully."
Undertaker stroked his chin. “Do I get visitation rights with Anderson, if I agree with this?”
William nodded. “Under supervision, of course. On the weekends.”
Undertaker looked at his lover. “Give us a chance to get into something less comfortable than our bare skins and have a chat about it, would you?”
"Of course, sir." William gave a polite bow.
Vincent turned, keeping his hands covering himself until he was out of sight, knowing Undertaker was right behind him. “I’m guessing the alternative option is something I’m not going to like?” he asked, gathering their clothes from the floor to get redressed.
"I’m afraid so, love," answered the mortician as he slid his leggings on. He turned to look at him with a slight frown. "I’m thinking I should take their deal. It’s much better than anything I’d have expected of them…but regardless, we’ve got to keep on our toes. Even if I sign a contract with them, I don’t trust Dispatch any further than I could throw their bloody library."
"I’d have to trust you on that." Vincent said, slipping on his shirt and buttoning it up, "But how long would two thousand souls take to collect?"
The mortician sighed, and he slipped his long shirt on. “For the average reaper? At least a couple of years—probably closer to three or four. For me?” He shrugged. “I’m a bit out of practice, mind, but I did spend the better part of creation ferrying souls, before I retired. Might be able to finish the job in a few months shy of that mark—possibly even a year.”
He smirked as he buttoned up his shirt. “They’re clever. London Dispatch has always been a bit short-staffed, and they can catch up on their quota by forcing me into their ranks for a bit. The good news is they haven’t given me a daily quota to fulfill, so I can take care of as many as I like in a day and make my own hours, I s’pose. On the other hand, the freedom of my good friend is put on hold for as long as it takes me to reach that final mark, so they’ve given me incentive to collect faster.”
He walked over to the former earl and he put his arms around him. “I won’t pretend to like this, Vincent, but as I said before; it’s a better arrangement than I would have expected of them. Will you support me in this decision, love?”
Sighing, the Earl nodded, “Yes, of course I’d support you in whichever you choose. And they did promise to leave me alone, so I’ll only be affected by missing you while you are collecting souls. And I’d be free to go spend time with my son during that time should I wish to.” He didn’t want to smother Ciel, after all. Visiting every day would be a bit much—unless the boy requested it.
Undertaker relaxed and smiled, nuzzling Vincent’s hair. “Thank you, sweet love. I won’t have as much time for you as I’d like while I’m fulfilling this requirement, but knowing I have your support and understanding will make it easier to swallow.”
He finished dressing and he walked back into the parlor. “Well gents, it seems this is everyone’s lucky day. If you’ve got a contract, I s’pose I’m in a position to sign it. Just be sure to keep your end of the bargain and let it be known right now that if I feel betrayed…well…maybe there’s no need for descriptions.”
"Not at all, sir," agreed William. He produced his clipboard again and he offered it to the Undertaker. "I’m terribly sorry that it came to this, but grateful for your compliance."
"Yeah, yeah," grumbled the ancient as he looked over the documents with his lover.
"Getting off way too easy." Grell grumbled, "I got punished way more for my stunt with my lovely Madam Red. We only killed a few useless women no one would miss, but he raised a large army of corpses and set them loose on a ship full of people!”
With a sigh, the redhead circled Undertaker and Vincent, looking the former human up and down, “…Not to mention, they set a demon free without his set meal, How cruel.”
"Careful, Miss Sutcliff," warned Undertaker, subtly putting himself between the brazen crimson reaper and his lover. "The ‘meal’ you’re referring to is this man’s only son. I’m sure Michaelis can easily find sustenance elsewhere, charming as he is."
"Yes, do stop attempting to provoke a fight, Grell Sutcliff," cautioned William tiredly. "There is a vast difference between yourself and the Undertaker. Exceptions were made because he is exceptional."
Eric nearly said that William’s nose was starting to look awfully brown, but he thought better of it and he shrugged. It was the truth, after all. Undertaker—for all his current faults—was practically a religious icon to their kind. That Dispatch found a peaceful way to resolve this and get something beneficial out of it was impressive in itself.
"I was just pointing out the unfairness of it all!" Grell insisted, "Collecting is the fun part of the job. He’s hardly being punished. He even gets to keep his little Earl—and Mini-Earl. I didn’t get to keep anything but Madam’s coat."
“You killed her, Grell, collected her soul. What else was there for you to ‘keep’?” Ronald asked. “You got off pretty easy, yourself, stop complaining.”
Vincent left Undertaker’s side and walked passed Grell, looking at William, “No ‘Overtime’.” He stated simply. “I want to actually spend time with Undertaker when he comes home in the evenings.”
William brushed imaginary lint off his blazer. “How quickly or slowly he meets his quota will be entirely up to him. He will not be officially ‘on the clock’, and so any overtime hours he procures will be of his own volition.” He looked at the Undertaker. “I trust this arrangement is to your satisfaction then, sir?”
The mortician shrugged. “It’ll have to do, won’t it? Do you have some sort of contract I can look over and sign, chap?”
William nodded and reached into his blazer for a folded document. “Of course.” He offered it to the silver reaper, along with the pen in his breast pocket.
Undertaker took both of them and he went to the dining table, drawing his glasses case from his pocket before putting the eyewear on so that he could read the text clearly. He still hadn’t gotten into the habit of wearing the spectacles made for him by his friend, preferring to use them only when doing something that required good vision. He didn’t want to become dependant on them again.
He muttered under his breath as he read over the contract, nodding in satisfaction with the terms stated on it. They had covered the agreement that Vincent would be left alone and Lawrence Anderson would be released upon completion of the requirements presented in the contract. Those were really the only two things that he cared about, but he was pleased to see that in addition, Dispatch stated that he would be free to return to his trade as a mortician in London, if he so desired.
"Home," he murmured, smiling a little. He’d boarded up his shop when he left and he’d covered up all the furniture in the living quarters in the back of it. He figured it was a given that Dispatch had already broken in to investigate when they started on his case, but hopefully they’d been courteous enough not to damage anything.
He just hoped that Vincent could be happy living in London. He could discuss the possibility with him later, though. He signed the contract and he returned it and the pen to William. “Anything else you gents need to discuss with me, then?”
William glanced at the signature before folding he document once more and returning it to his pocket. “I believe that will be all, sir. Gentlemen, our work is done here.” He gave the mortician and his lover a courteous bow. “Please enjoy the rest of your day, and thank you for your cooperation.”
Eric created a portal for them all and the Dispatch agents left through it.
"I would have already been enjoying it if we hadn’t been interrupted." Vincent sighed, relaxing once they had been left alone once more. "I suppose you would want to get started on your punishment collections in the morning, seeing as your friend’s freedom is at stake?" he asked, walking over to Undertaker.
The mortician put his arms around his lover and he nodded. “I’d put it off for a few days if it weren’t for him. I owe Anderson a lot. If it weren’t for him, I mightn’t have gotten away to finish my work.” He kissed him softly on the lips. “And I wouldn’t have gotten you back. That’s worth being stuck in the rat race again for a time.”
"No overtime." Vincent repeated, now that he knew it was up to Undertaker on how long he worked each day, "That’s my condition in this."
Undertaker chuckled and nodded. “No overtime, love. I won’t neglect you while I’m undergoing this task. That’s my promise.”
He kissed him deeply then, holding him tighter. “Now, where were we?” He said with a wink.
-To be continued