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(Contains: nudity, sexual themes and strong language)
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.

Chapter 15

William sighed as he returned to his office, with Ronald following closely behind. “Please lock that,” he said with a gesture at the door. “I really don’t feel like dealing with any interruptions while I finalize this paperwork and send it off for processing.”

"Then why lock me in with you? I’ve proven quite a fun distraction to you." Ronald teased with a smirk as he turned around and flicked the lock on the door. He then leaned against the wooden door seductively, "Or is that your true intention?" he hummed, lowering his voice and he ran a gloved hand up his leg and lower torso.

William glanced up from the documentation he’d retrieved from his suit’s inner pocket, and his eyes helplessly followed the blond’s motions. He swallowed, but his expression remained neutral. “Not at this moment, Knox. Please allow me to process this before…doing what you normally do when we’re alone.”

"I’m only teasing you." Ron smirked, pushing himself off the door and walking over to the bookshelves lining the wall behind William’s desk. He picked up a glass paperweight that was sitting in an empty space, holding it up to look at the swirls of green, yellow, and blues within the orb. "I know how to behave myself, after all."

William smirked. “Do you? I’ve seen precious little evidence of that.”

He didn’t truly mind Ronald’s sultry little advances. It didn’t take much for the blond to seduce him into a frenzy when he was in a frisky mood, but he did need to at least complete this task before acting on the lust he inspired in him. Something wicked took hold of him as he sat down in his chair behind the desk, and he patted his lap expectantly.

"Come and sit with me while I organize these documents and file them."

"Now you are just asking for me to misbehave," Ron accused, setting the paperweight back down in its place and walking over to William, but not sitting down, "There are temptations hidden in that lap."

"I believe the temptations are rather obvious," purred William as his trousers began to bulge tellingly at the crotch, "but I believe I can restrain myself until I finish this last bit of filing."

He was in a good mood for once, now that he no longer had to hunt down his reaper idol and a peaceful solution had been found. He could not engage in too much play while he finished up, but that didn’t mean he could not warm Ronald up for the reward he felt they both deserved. He patted his lap again, lifting an eyebrow in silent demand. “Must I give you overtime, Ronald?”

William T. Spears…teasing. It was a rare occurrence.

"Maybe you can, But I can’t! If I sit down I can’t promise I’ll continue to be a good boy!" Ronald warned.

William smirked again. “Perhaps I should cuff you, then…at least until I finish organizing these files.” He opened his drawer to point out the Shinigami manufactured cuffs—a little surprise he’d purchased just the other day upon inspiration. He watched his lover’s face carefully as Ronald’s eyes fell upon them, and he hoped he wasn’t making a mistake and presuming too much when it came to what he was and was not willing to do.

Ronald’s face flushed, and the confident, flirty reaper seemed to get flustered for once as his gaze fell onto the object laying in wait. His mind instantly went to the possibilities the cuffs offered, and his slacks grew tighter. They wouldn’t solve the problem at all, no, it’d only make him more desperate to be ‘bad’.

Yet, he found himself removing his black gloves and his blazer, tossing them to the floor. He unbuttoned the cuffs on his sleeves and rolled them up to his elbow before holding his bare wrists out to William.

Quietly relieved that he hadn’t spooked or offended the blond, William kept his eyes on Ronald’s as he lifted the cuffs and motioned for Ronald to turn around. “Behind your back, I think.”

The sound Ronald made as he turned around, placing his hands behind his back, was almost that of a whimper. Yes, definitely wouldn’t help him behave. He already wanted to rub and buck himself in need against William’s body as he felt the cold metal clicking tighter around his wrists to hold his arms in place, and successfully giving the blond a sense of helplessness.

Just how long would William leave him like that without being touched as he finished up paperwork? It sent a thrill through him.

"Very good," approved William.

He gave Ronald’s bottom a brief, possessive pat and then he guided him to sit down in his lap, facing away from him with his legs straddling William’s thighs. The brunet’s hardened groin pressed intimately against Ronald’s backside as he reached around from behind him, his breath stirring the black hair at the nape of Ronald’s neck as he began to organize the documents on his desk. His arms brushed against the younger reaper’s as he worked, and while it was a bit awkward handling the paperwork this way, he was able to do so with only slightly lesser efficiency than usual.

He refused to allow his desire for his subordinate to make him rush and make a mistake, so he tested himself as much as the youthful blond in his lap, working meticulously so as not to do a sloppy job. He rubbed his chin against Ronald’s shoulder as he organized and stacked the documents, smirking at the soft whimpers that the boy couldn’t seem to help but issue.

He should have considered trying this sooner.

The short chain linking the cuffs together clinked as Ronald shifted and bit his lip. But soon, he discovered his fingers were being held in a most convenient spot. With some difficulty, he managed to twist his hands enough to pinch the pull on William’s pants zipper, tugging it down half-way before he couldn’t get it to go any further. His questing fingertips then slipped into the opening he’d created, teasingly brushing against William’s hardened tip through the fabric of his underpants.

William tensed involuntarily as the mischievous blond began to tickle his sensitive flesh through the thin layer of his underwear. He nearly admonished him, but it felt good and he was nearly finished organizing his paperwork. Instead of telling him to be still, he nibbled his ear and allowed it. He could see the blush of arousal spreading over the boy’s cheek from his vantage point and his pulse quickened, his groin throbbing in his pants.

With a groan, Ronald let his head roll back and rest on William’s shoulder, wishing he could grind his arousal up against something, wishing he could free it from his tightly stretched black slacks.

“Will…this isn’t fair…” he complained.

"Patience," hummed William—though he was starting to get a spot of dampness on his underwear from Ronald’s teasing stimulation. Gracious, he’d had no time to enjoy a full encore of their first encounter. Flirtation, stolen kisses, a bit of fondling here and there…but no intercourse thanks to busy schedules.

Patience was a bloody difficult thing to come by.

"Will…touch me, please!" Ronald begged, ignoring William’s suggestion. His legs were spread, knees pressed against the side panels under the desk. "You work too slow…are you punishing me for what I said earlier?"

William smirked, and though he was indeed finished with his work, he chose to torture Ronald a little longer. He reached up to loosen the blond’s tie, and he began to slowly unbutton his shirt. The only contact he made with his skin was the backs of his fingers brushing against his torso as he worked the buttons free, and the soft, seductive kisses he began to favor the side of his neck with.

"You seem quite eager," he murmured, licking and sucking at the spot where the neck met the shoulder. He parted the material of Ronald’s shirt, leaving the tie in place loose around his neck. He skimmed his fingertips over the smooth chest. "I rather like touching you at my leisure, Knox."

The blond’s breath hitched and took pause, his eyes fluttering closed, “I lack patience.” he groaned, “You’ve already tested them to their limits, and you have me trapped where I can’t do anything about it. Mmmh…” he curled his finger around Will’s member, stroking it best he could manage.

William grunted a little, finding Ronald’s actions painfully arousing as usual. It hardly took any effort from the blond to put him in a rampant state of arousal. The possibility that he was doing this partially as a means of revenge occurred to him, but he shrugged it off. He couldn’t keep this up much longer anyhow. Even a reaper as stoic as himself had limitations, and he had no intention of torturing himself through denial of what he wanted.

He ran his hand up Ronald’s ribcage and he pinched a nipple, just hard enough to give him a jolt of sensation with a hint of pain. The other hand he placed over the swell of Ronald’s package, rubbing it slowly through his trousers. “Perhaps this lesson in patience can end prematurely,” he whispered.


The morning was so early, the sun had barely peeked over the horizon when Vincent felt the bed dip in movement and the warm body he had been curled up against slipped away and off the mattress. He gave a moan of protest and reached out, his fingers barely brushing against Undertaker’s exposed rear, “…’ereyougoing?” he groaned, his sleepy words drawing together.

"I’ve got to get ready for work, love," explained the reaper. "Two thousand souls aren’t going to collect themselves, you know."

He tossed a wink at his lover as he got out of bed and went to the armoire to fetch his clothes. He dressed amidst yawns and muttered complaints. It was far too early for the likes of him. He hadn’t started a workday this early in decades.

"You hate mornings…" Vincent muttered, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, "I would have thought you’d leave at a more decent hour." Hugging his blanket-covered knees to his chest, he watched as the reaper clothed himself, a yawn making itself known. "But I suppose death doesn’t wait," he sighed. "Want me to make you breakfast while you get ready? I can at least make eggs now."

"Hmm, that might be nice," agreed the mortician with a nod. "It’s healthier than a quick breakfast of cookies, anyway. Mind you, I’ll still bring along some for snacking while I’m on the job. Reaping is tiring work."

Now dressed in his form-hugging pants, Undertaker walked over to the bed, bent over and kissed Vincent softly on the lips. “Thanks, love. I’ll just go and wash my face before I put on the rest. I think I’ll save the shower for when I get home later. No point getting squeaky clean when I’m going to be out dealing with the dead and dying all day, after all. First rule of thumb for both the professions I’ve been in, you know.”

"I’ll get started, then." Yawning again, and intending to return to bed once Undertaker left for work, Vincent got up and slipped into the first shirt he found on the floor—Undertaker’s by the size of it—and padded his way to the kitchen, taking a moment to light a lamp before getting to work on cooking up some quick eggs.

In the bathroom, Undertaker pinned his bangs back with the clip Vincent had given him, and he tied the rest back into a ponytail with a black ribbon—minus the single braid he wore. He ran some cool water in the basin and he splashed his face a couple of times with it to refresh himself and wake up. As he patted his skin dry with the towel, he gazed into his reflection in the cracked mirror and he smirked. He almost looked like he had in the days before his defection from the organization, except for the scars and the length of his bangs.

"No thank you," he muttered aloud. He had no desire to go back to that life. He was the Undertaker now. The persona of Khronos and Death were both behind him. He finished dressing and for his lover’s sake, he left his bangs pinned back as he went into the main part of the house to sit down for breakfast.

"Didn’t burn them." Vincent announced in an almost child-like pride as he plated the eggs and slid them across the table to his lover. He felt like he was finally starting to get the hang of doing such things for himself. Even if cooking eggs paled in compassion to what he’d been served as an Earl.

He sat down across from Undertaker and smiled, “You look very distinguished.”

Undertaker glanced up in the process of tucking his napkin into his shirt, and he grinned and winked at him through the lenses of the glasses he wore. “I can at least wear it ‘round the house, since you gave it to me. Afraid I won’t be heading out the door with it on, though. People might laugh themselves to death before I can collect their records, if they see me like this.”

Vincent flashed his lover a pouting look, “But you enjoy laughter…and isn’t your job to be collecting the souls of the dead?” He chuckled then, “But I was commenting on your outfit, not the hair clip.”

The reaper looked down at himself, and he adjusted his tie uncomfortably. “I’m not even sure why I’m bothering to wear my old uniform…or why I’ve held onto it and taken such care with it over the years. I s’pose it has some slight sentimental value. I did have my good times with the organization.”

He reached across the table and he patted Vincent’s hand. “But I’ll never go back, even if they ask me. I’m really only dressed like this because it puts a sour taste in my mouth to go out reaping as the Undertaker, for this purpose. I’ve done it before to help out now and then, but…well, they’re holding my friend hostage. They don’t deserve ol’ Undertaker, love. Let them have Death. I can shed the ‘Shinigami’ when I come home to your arms and put it out of sight and mind each night, and I can go back to being the mortician…and your lover.”

"I did mean it as a complement, Love.” Vincent said, standing up and walking around to sit in Undertaker’s lap and cupped his cheek, “I’m not worried about you leaving me for your old job you had once done long before I was even born.”

Undertaker nodded, his eyes downcast. “Guess I’m a smidgen touchy about it, is all. They truly came up with a fitting punishment for me, forcing me to do this.”

He put one arm around Vincent and he started to eat his eggs with his free hand, offering him a bite as well with a little smile.

Vincent accepted the bite, leaning against Undertaker, “Well, it’s not like it’s forever.” he encouraged, “And it doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the view of you in such tight-fitting clothes.”

The mortician chuckled. “Enjoy the view, eh? Then I should have some other tight-fitting clothes tailored just to wear around the home for you.” He took a bite himself and washed it down with some juice. “You know, you could possibly go and visit your son a few days a week while I’m out reaping. I’m sure you two have a lot of catching up to do and the danger of going there is gone now, except when you need to avoid being seen by people you don’t want knowing you’re alive.”

"I was considering paying him a visit today." Vincent nodded, "It would give me something to do as well as spend time with my son uninterrupted by Reapers or demons. Make sure Ciel is settling back into a normal life well enough."

Undertaker fed him another bite of egg. “Good. Now that things are on there way to settling in, I wanted to ask you how you felt about moving in to my old shop. It’s all boarded up and it’ll take a bit of cleanup, but as you recall there’s more room in the housing out back than in this little shack…and I could go back into my old funeral director trade once this soul collecting is through with.”

He took another bite for himself and he considered the problem of income. After all, one couldn’t live on laughs alone. “Business will have to be a bit slow at first if I’m to fit in time to complete my quota and have any personal time at all, but I imagine even with half the usual amount of business I can make the coin to pay for our needs.”

Vincent could probably find work doing something as well, but he wasn’t about to pressure him. He still had some funds left over to tide them over for a bit.

"I could help you once your business gets back up and running." Vincent suggested, "Maybe not with the…preparing bodies part of things, but the book keeping and paperwork side of things." He took a sip of Undertaker’s juice, "You’d be able to focus on the part of the job you enjoy, then."

"What a lovely idea!" Undertaker grinned with delight at the thought. He himself despised paperwork, and he knew that Vincent was accustomed to it. Bookkeeping was part of his everyday affairs when he was lord of the manor, after all. "I believe I’ll take you up on that, love."

He finished off his eggs and he had another swallow of juice. Sighing, he gave Vincent an affectionate squeeze and a little kiss on the cheek. “Well, I’d best be off. There’s no rest for the wicked.”

"In that case, there won’t be any rest for you when you get home tonight." Vincent teased, allowing Undertaker to stand back up, "Try to make the most of this, love. Try making it fun, and I’ll see you when you get home."

Undertaker removed the hairclip from his bangs and put it safely in his pocket, letting the silver fringe fall down over his eyes before combing them to one side with his fingernails. “Oh, I always manage to have fun one way or the other,” he said lightly, and he pressed one last kiss to Vincent’s lips before heading for the door. He considered taking his top-hat with him, but he changed his mind. With a wave at his lover, he opened the door and stepped out onto the rickety porch.

The smell of rain was in the air. He could avoid getting damp if he wished, but perhaps a nice English shower could cleanse away the last vestiges of his troubled thoughts concerning the task before him. As he walked away from the shack, a light drizzle began to fall and he found himself smiling as the fine droplets coated his skin, suit and hair.

Yes, it would take time to finish his task and free Anderson, but he knew the old fellow would be given the best accommodations possible in captivity and every reaper in Dispatch would rebel if he was mistreated. “Pops” was very much revered by most all Shinigami. In addition to that, he no longer needed to worry about Vincent being taken from him by the slow decay of time. They had countless years together ahead of them, provided neither of them got killed through other means.

He now had a future to look forward to, and he didn’t need to put aside the Undertaker to obtain it.


-The End
De Morte ad Vitam - Ending
Co-written with :iconstickiebun13:, my roleplay partner.  Takes place after our story "Beyond Death".  Maddened and desperate with grief after the deaths of Vincent and Rachel, the Undertaker embarks on a project to bring the former back to life.  Having preserved Vincent's body and cinematic records, he strives to resurrect him.  His experimental "Bizarre Dolls" attract the attention of Dispatch and his progress is in danger of being delayed as his former associates seek to put a stop to his work.  Yaoi.

Previous chapter:…
Mature Content Filter is On. The Artist has chosen to restrict viewing to deviants 18 and older.
(Contains: nudity, sexual themes, violence/gore and strong language)
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.

Chapter 14


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
De Morte ad Vitam - Ch. 14
Co-written with :iconstickiebun13:, my roleplay partner.  Takes place after our story "Beyond Death".  Maddened and desperate with grief after the deaths of Vincent and Rachel, the Undertaker embarks on a project to bring the former back to life.  Having preserved Vincent's body and cinematic records, he strives to resurrect him.  His experimental "Bizarre Dolls" attract the attention of Dispatch and his progress is in danger of being delayed as his former associates seek to put a stop to his work.  Yaoi.

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(Contains: nudity, sexual themes, violence/gore and strong language)
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.

Chapter 13

Vincent stepped out of the warm bath and toweled himself dry, fluffing the water droplets from his hair so it wouldn’t drip onto his shirt once he got dressed. He then wrapped his towel about his waist and padded across the hall to his bedroom where Undertaker was sleeping soundly in the early morning light.

Smiling, the former earl detoured from his path to the chest where his clothes were all kept and he slid up onto the reaper, kissing his cheek, “Today’s the day.” he purred into his ear, “Don’t tell me you plan to sleep through it all.”

"Mmph…eh?" Undertaker was sleeping on his stomach, with his cheek pillowed in his arms. He lifted his head and peeked at the former Earl through his bangs, smiling goofily in his sleepy disorientation. "What time is it, love?"

"Eight in the morning." Vincent hummed, pulling silver hair out of his face, "I let you sleep in a little."

The mortician grumbled, not entirely thrilled about getting up at this hour. He was a night owl, after all, but word had gotten to him that the Queen intended to unveil her inhuman army to her peers at court by noon. They had planned it all out. Undertaker would use his abilities to disguise both him and Vincent from mortal sight, Vincent would slip in with the army of dolls, and Undertaker would wait by the Queen’s throne and keep watch over everything as it unfolded.

"I’d best get my bony arse out of bed, then," sighed Undertaker. He rolled over and yanked the covers off of himself, unconcerned with his nudity. Glancing at Vincent’s towel-clad waist, he couldn’t resist the temptation to put his lover in a similar state of undress, and he snatched the towel hiding his endowments right off of him. Dancing away with it with a giggle, he twirled it and popped Vincent’s bare bottom while the man instinctively covered his groin.

Vincent gasped, turning and rubbing his rear, “We’ll, I was going to say something nice about your rear, but now I’m not! That’s already a little tender!” he protested. He walked over to get dressed, “…should smack his arse red for that…”

"I heard that," announced Undertaker from the hallway. He poked his head in and grinned. "And should you ever decide to act on that desire, my dear, I’m quite willing to accommodate it."

He winked at him, then vanished again to have a quick shower to get ready himself. He was practically bouncing with excitement. He’d been waiting for this chance for years, and now it had finally presented itself to him.


"Just remember to keep your wits about you," cautioned the Undertaker as he and Vincent slipped unseen, unheard and un-noticed past the royal guard. He could have ended the bitch long ago, but he wanted this special revenge—not just for himself, but for Vincent, Rachel and Ciel, too. Reaping Her Majesty would not bring the satisfaction and closure they needed, and as he’d explained to Vincent before; Ciel’s life was as safe as it could be whilst under the protection of his demon, since Sebastian did not yet know who his target was.

"Of course." Vincent nodded, keeping his head low so that no passing stranger had a good chance of identifying him. He was sure Undertaker was masking them somehow, but he didn’t want to take chances at ruining their plan quite yet. "Are the dolls already here? I need to hide myself among them." Undertaker had applied makeup to Vincent’s face to make him look more like one of the general bizarre dolls, and he’d dressed more simply like a random corpse that had been sent to the Undertaker. The plan was set… and with luck, it would go accordingly.

"Yes, they’re already here and being lined up for inspection," answered the mortician with a smirk. He could sense his children in their currently dormant sleep. Ironically enough, if he weren’t there to wake them, the Queen would have been left with a bunch of standing corpses in her war chamber. He could almost have foregone this event just to snicker at the look on her face when her bogus device failed to activate them, but this was too important.

They passed through the halls of the palace, quiet as death. Undertaker only knew where he was heading because he could sense his army waiting for him. “Just pass right through with me,” he advised his companion when they came to a pair of guarded iron doors. “We aren’t corporeal right now, love. No barriers nor mortal flesh will hinder our passage.”

"How?" Vincent frowned, looking up at his lover. If death gods could act like ghosts, then he could believe it after everything he had seen Undertaker do. but to make it so that others could do the same? "I’m a hu—doll, not a ghost."

"It’s an innate ability, love," explained the reaper as he guided Vincent through the expansive halls of the palace. "It’s how we gather soul records without being seen by the populace. Every reaper has this talent. Not all of us can expand it to include others, though."

They made their way to the throne room, where an assembly had gathered. Undertaker leaned toward his companion and spoke into his ear. “See the coffins? That’s where you need to be. For Styx sake, be careful, my dear.” He planted a soft kiss on Vincent’s temple, trusting him not to be reckless. Her Majesty would soon make her appearance, and he needed to be behind her throne. The death mask would fade as he moved away from Vincent, but by then, the coffins would be opened and his little army would come out.

Vincent nodded, “I’ll try not to be spotted too soon… You’ll come for me if something goes awry, right?” he showed just a second of nervousness. His swirled eyes searched his lover’s with complete trust. In his pocket was a lace blindfold—which he had to put on—and he took it out before Undertaker could respond. Across the room, guards were opening the coffins and he had to hurry, tying it in place as he hurried off around the back of the room to the coffins, slipping into a group of dolls starting to group together in formations.

Undertaker took a deep breath, and he tore his attention away from his lover to the throne. The heralds had just announced the Queen’s arrival with the trumpet of horns. He had to trust his love to practice caution and wait for the right moment. Feeling a bit giddy and sick to his stomach at once, the reaper slipped easily through the ranks of the Royal Guard and he came up behind the throne just as the Queen came out and took her seat. He couldn’t stop the cold grin from stretching his lips.

~Now, your Majesty. You’ll get your just desserts for slaying your own subjects.~

As each and every coffin was opened, the ranks of Dolls grew before the Queen’s gaze. moving slowly like mechanical toys or the gears of a clock. Dozens soon turned into hundreds, lining up in perfect lines and columns. Among them; Vincent Phantomhive stood directly in front of the queen a few rows back, putting him far enough away to blend in among the other faces of the dead, but close enough to get to her when the time came for him to make his move.

His arms were at his sides and his black-clad hands clenched in anticipation, though he kept his face void of emotion.

It was almost time.


"Shit-shit-shit! Let me through!" Ronald’s youthful voice called out as he ran as fast as his feet would carry him up the stairs and down the hall towards William’s office, skidding to a halt and smacking his leg hard against the door as he did so. "Fuck!"

Swearing, he barged in through the door, not caring that William was in a meeting with representatives from the academy and blatantly ignoring the protests of William’s secretary.

“Will!” he gasped before Will or his former teachers could respond to his rude interruption, “I know, I’m rude and you can lecture me later! This is important! I was a little late for work—again, later, Will! No lecture or yelling! Just listen! Anyway, I was late so I was just down getting my collections list for today when an emergency addition name was suddenly added to today’s list! Top priority! They sent me to bring it to you.” He shoved the thick file into William’s face, “It’s the ruddy Queen of England, it is! No details on the actual death—but that’s her!”

He gasped, bending over and resting over Will’s death, trying to catch his breath as a stitch of a cramp formed in his side, “Bloody hell…too many stairs in this building…”

William took the list and looked over it. “Gentlemen, I am afraid I must excuse myself from this meeting. Knox, contact Sutcliff while I call Slingby. The Queen’s name is not the only one to suddenly come up on this list. It appears something dire is occurring at the Royal Palace, and we are going to need additional officers to help handle such a mass collection of souls.”

He frowned at the death list, trying to determine what could be the cause of so many sudden deaths. More names continued to appear before his eyes, but nothing was listed as the cause. “How very strange,” he murmured.


"I present to you all an army that cannot be defeated through death!" Called out the Queen, and she was completely unaware of the grinning death god standing right behind her. Onlookers gasped in a mixture of horror and amazement as the undead shuffled into position.

"Now," whispered the Undertaker, and he sent out the mental command for his children to begin their attack.

The dolls immediately turned on the living, going for the guards first and ignoring Vincent altogether. Screams erupted as one of the guards went down with a chunk bitten from his throat, and nobles began to swarm for the doors while the Queen’s guard closed ranks around her protectively.

"Stop this," she yelled shrilly as her precious army continued to massacre every living thing in its path. "Obey me!"

Undertaker hid a snicker behind his hand. Oh, this was turning out even lovelier than he’d expected.

The chamber was full of mostly men, but the handful of women—Ladies, Duchesses, a single young serving girl—ran for the doors, screaming as they tried to yank and push the heavy doors open all at the same time, causing the unlocked barrier to stay fast in it’s closed state. Even a few men joined the women in attempt of escape while others drew swords, stabbing and slashing at the attacking army of the undead.

“They don’t feel pain!” One cried as he cut the arm off one petite female Doll, only to have her continue her attack as if nothing happened, her teeth soon sinking into his arm.

“Pain? They don’t die!” Another guard screamed, stabbing a rather plump Doll repeatedly in the chest. “What is this witchcraft? AHHHGH!!” Three more dolls advanced on him, taking him down. A forth, who’d been cut in half, drug it’s remaining upper body across the blood-splattered floor, grabbed his leg and sank her teeth into it like a drumstick at a holiday celebration.

Amongst the chaos, Vincent waited patiently, only moving when he saw a large enough group head towards the guards protecting her Majesty. He joined them, taking up the back of the group and letting his fellow dolls take down the guards one by one, blood splattering the Queen’s regal gown and face. He took satisfaction in the horrified look on her face.

Once The guards were all no longer a threat, Vincent moved up through the group of dolls trying to get their hands on the fallen guards, and stepping over the bodies. He squared his shoulders and came up before her.

“Your Highness,” he said in a low, haunting tone to grab her attention. She turned her head, wide eyes growing even wider as they fell upon his image. He was blindfolded, but she could not mistake that handsome, youthful face that she had thought she had seen the last of.

“You should have been more careful about who you have assassinated. You never know what may come back to haunt you,” warned the former ‘Queen’s Guard-dog’, reaching up and loosening the blindfold to let it fall from his face. His hat had been knocked from his head as well by his fingers. Identity reviled, Vincent Phantomhive gave her one of his charming smiles, “My friends are more powerful than yours, my Queen.”

The queen moved fast—but not quickly enough for the Doll’s new reflexes. As she pulled a hidden dagger from her skirts, Vincent grabbed her wrist and stepped closer, pressing up against her and forcing her back against Undertaker.

“Death…is more than just my friend, Highness.” He smirked.

Undertaker dropped his concealment and he waved down at the Queen. “Hi, hi. Not sure if you remember me, Your Highness, but I’m the one who created these lovely weapons you were so eager to get your hooks on.”

He looked at Vincent. “And my many talents belong to this man alone. You’ve been a very naughty monarch, and it’s long past time for you to choke on the fruits of your labor.”

"G-guards," she cried, "To me!"

But there were none left to come to her rescue.

"You see, I can’t trust you not to have my son killed. I was loyal to you, after all, and still you killed me." Vincent slid his hand up along her slender arm to the dagger she still gripped with white knuckles. With ease, he took it from her and held it up to look at.

"You sealed your fate upon my death. You orphaned my son, and you angered my lover—who happens to also be a god of death. I assure you, my Queen, that had Undertaker here not been able to bring me back, then it would have been my son to exact revenge once he finally learned that you were responsible for taking his mother and I from him. For what happened to him after we had been killed."

He ran the razor sharp point of the dagger down her chest, “He has a demon, you know. And luck be willing, I’ll save him from that demon by killing you before that creature does. This is a win-win…for the remaining Phantomhives, at least.” he pressed the tip directly over her heart, drawing a few droplets of her precious blue blood. The ruby pearls running down her breast and soaking into her fine silks.

"P-please, Vincent," she quavered. "Your information is wrong! I w-would never have my own guard dog killed!"

"Except when he came to know too much about your corrupt ways and became a threat to your secrecy," corrected Undertaker with a grin. "Couldn’t risk having him slip the leash and bark out the truth to anyone, could you?"

He looked at Vincent. “Finish her, my love. Time for this nightmare to finally come to an end.”

"We knew you were targeting me. but hadn’t been lucky in preventing it long enough." Vincent said in a flat voice, "I’m sorry your informants weren’t as informed as mine had been… You had no warning for this. Goodbye, Your Majesty. Consider this the official end of the Phantomhive’s loyalty to the crown."

He shoved the dagger through her heart between her ribs, then. Giving it a sharp twist.


Back at the Phantomhive manor, Sebastian’s eyes went wide as he felt the contract with his young master dissolving, suddenly. “No,” he murmured, tugging his gloves off to look at the Faustian brand. It was fading and with it, his claim on Ciel’s soul. “Impossible.”

But it was. The evidence was right before his startled eyes. His pupils elongated into slits, and his teeth sharpened into fangs. Curved horns sprouted from his head, and black wings grew from his back, ripping through his tuxedo. Someone, somehow, had found the target he’d been searching for all this time…or said target met an early demise before he could perform his sworn duty and kill it himself. He knew exactly who could have done such a thing, if this were orchestrated on purpose rather than coincidence.

He got confirmation of his suspicion when he felt dark energy gathering in the room, just behind him. He turned to see the Undertaker step out of a portal, with Vincent Phantomhive close behind. Vincent’s waistcoat was stained red with blood on the sleeve, and there were a couple of splatters elsewhere, too.

"Afternoon, chap," greeted the mortician happily. "My, you do have wings, after all. Well, I suppose your transformation means your contract’s gone to pot. I’m sure we don’t need to tell you that your services here are no longer needed.”

The demon scowled at the reaper. “You have interfered with a binding contract, Undertaker.”

"Have I?" The mortician pressed a hand against his chest. "All I did was direct my lord to the person responsible for his family’s demise. The breaking of your contract was just a lovely side result."

"I thank you for keeping my son safe for so long, but your services are no longer required, Demon." Vincent stated, hardly bothered by the demon’s demonic look. "You are dismi—"

“SEBASTIAN!!!” Ciel’s voice screamed out suddenly.

The demon’s copy of the contract had faded painlessly, but Ciel was still only human, and his contract had been placed in a sensitive place. The boy was on his hands and knees in the middle of his office, one hand over his contract eye as blood dripped from it. He’d had a sudden pain shoot through his eye and he ripped his eye patch from it, which lay on the floor under him, blood dripping from between his fingers to the carpet.

Undertaker glanced at Vincent, and then they were both running for the stairs, following the sound of that scream. His first thought was that someone had broken into the house to try and harm or kidnap the boy, but when they arrived in Ciel’s office and found him on the floor, cradling his bleeding eye, he realized what had provoked the cry.

"Of course," he reasoned. "The seal was placed on his eye."

He hoped the boy wouldn’t end up partially blind from the experience.

"Ciel!" Vincent rushed forward, dropping to his knees beside the boy, pulling him into his arms, "Come here…let me see…what happened?"

Ciel shivered, his good eyes widening, confused as to why it hadn’t been Sebastian to come to his aid. “…Father..?”

“I’m here, Ciel.” He soothed, petting the boy’s hair and rocking him like he had when the boy had been smaller and had a scare or gotten hurt, “Daddy’s here…”

"You’re no longer beholden to your demon, boy," explained the Undertaker with a smile. "He failed to fulfill his end of the bargain. He has no claim on your soul, anymore."

The mortician looked toward the doorway. “And speaking of Mr. Feathers, I’d best go check in on him…make sure he doesn’t get any ideas about pissing away his honor and going for Ciel’s soul anyway. Demons do have a code of honor, believe it or not…but hunger and frustration could make him forget that.”

Vincent nodded, “But we may need you to look at his eyes…make sure it’ll be alright. I’m unable to do so myself. This isn’t like a scraped knee…”

“What do you mean Sebastian’s failed? What about my revenge? Why are you here?”

“…You got your revenge, my beautiful boy… The one responsible for what happened has been taken care of. The Queen of England herself has paid the price for sending assassins to our home that night…and all the failed attempts on my life from before your mother and I were gifted with you.” Vincent explained, gently. “Undertaker and I took care of her ourselves only minutes ago.”

While Vincent explained everything to his son, Undertaker went back downstairs to check on Sebastian. He found no sign of the butler, save for a single long, raven feather. He did not sense his demonic aura nearby, either. It appeared that he’d held to his code and left, after all.


He was angry. He was starving. Most of all, he was disappointed. He’d seen this coming…knew it might happen when Undertaker resurrected the boy’s father from the dead. Still, he’d foolishly clung to the hope that the mortician did not know who was responsible for what happened to the Phantomhives, believing that surely if he did, he would have already taken matters into his own hands long ago.

With a sigh, the demon concentrated and he shifted back into his human appearance. It wouldn’t do for him to be spotted in London like this. He heard a news crier shouting that Queen Elizabeth had been slain along with most of her royal guard, and he paused and frowned, listening. The boy was shouting that an army of the dead had massacred the royal court and Her Majesty, less than an hour ago.

The Queen. Of course. It had been right in front of him for all this time, but he hadn’t considered it because after all, the Phantomhive men had been her personal guard dogs for at least two generations. Sebastian laughed softly without humor at the irony. He could have enjoyed his meal long ago, if he had simply investigated the Queen as a suspect.


The scene at the palace had been a complete mess. One Grell would have been proud to be a part of with the amount of blood. The redhead and his collection partners had to call for back-up to dispatch the army of walking dead, which of course told them exactly who had murdered so many people. Only one was capable of making such weapons, after all.

They collected the souls of the guards and members of the court before they moved to the queen herself where they found confirmation of Undertaker’s involvement.

Grell slipped away right after that, purposely avoiding the heavy amounts of paperwork each responding reaper would have to put up with after such a collection. He also found himself uncommonly worried about the demon who’d be affected by the Queen’s untimely murder.

The heels of his favorite red and black shoes clicked as he ran across the roofs of London, only silencing when he leapt to the next as his gaze searched below.

Finally, he spotted his handsome target shuffling down the streets, his strong shoulders slumped in defeat. Grell let himself descend to the streets below, landing lightly on the balls of his feet a few feet behind the demon.

“I…thought I might find you here, Sebastian.” he said in a gentle voice, so as not to startle the de-leashed demon into attack. “I was one of the reapers called to the queen’s murder…I saw her records…I saw who killed her and why, and I knew what it’d do to you… Sebby…are you…I mean, of course you aren’t…but…” he shifted uneasily to put all his weight on one leg which popped his hip out to the side, biting his lip.

The demon turned to face Grell, a humorless smirk adorning his lips. “Am I what, pray tell? Famished? Defeated? Frustrated. I am afraid that the answer to all three would be a resounding ‘yes’. I have decided to dine on trash for now, until I can locate and procure another contract with a more palatable soul.”

Grell had come visiting him each night, after that first evening by the koi pond. A stolen kiss here, a tantalizing caress there…Sebastian had begun to look forward to the distraction. He wondered if he should excuse himself to be alone for a while, but instead, he found Grell’s presence oddly comforting. If nothing else, this being could understand and appreciate what it was like to be denied something one craves. The one good thing to come of the breaking of his contract was that he was no longer leashed to Ciel. He could act on whatever impulses he liked, and he no longer had a master to hold him back.

He looked towards the general direction of the palace. “I presume you have seen the carnage?”

"I was going to ask if you were alright, darling…" Grell responded, slowly taking a few steps closer, "As a working reaper I suppose I should be glad his soul was saved…but…you were robbed." he reached out, brushing his fingers over the demon’s shoulder, "And yes, I saw the carnage. No one had survived." he looked up into Sebastian’s eyes, studying their distant look, "…I wish I could give you what you have lost…"

Sebastian gazed down at him, his eyes glowing with un-satisfied hunger. There were other things he’d deprived himself of as well, during the course of his servitude to Ciel. “No, you cannot give me the soul I intended to sup on,” he agreed softly.

He considered where they could go for privacy, and he wondered if Grell lived there in London or in the Shinigami realm. He caught hold of the reaper’s hands and he tugged him into the alleyway, where they could at least have some small measure of privacy. He began to lower his mouth to Grell’s, his body reminding him of the delights this reaper had promised him.

"You can, however, satisfy another hunger."

He kissed him then, delving deep into his mouth with his tongue.

Grell shivered with delight. He could sense the demon’s intention, and he knew Sebastian wouldn’t be after his soul. A Death God’s soul was poisonous to a demon. He was safe from that possibility.

The red reaper pressed up against the demon, his arms encircling the demon’s shoulders, fingers threading through raven locks. “Oh, darling…I’ll give it to you…on one condition. We find a place that at least has a bed to rest on afterwards. It doesn’t have to be all that nice…clean up would be a pain…”

"I was of a similar mind," agreed Sebastian, pulling away a bit. "I am, after all, a civilized demon."

Never mind that the last time he’d joined with someone, it had been in a circus tent. He was no longer constrained by the rules of another. It occurred to him that he’d left with some currency still on him, and he smirked with amusement. The least he could get out of this disappointing end to his contract was a decent room for the night.

"Come, Grell. I know of a hotel not terribly far from here that will suit our purpose."


-To be continued
De Morte ad Vitam - Ch. 13
Co-written with :iconstickiebun13:, my roleplay partner.  Takes place after our story "Beyond Death".  Maddened and desperate with grief after the deaths of Vincent and Rachel, the Undertaker embarks on a project to bring the former back to life.  Having preserved Vincent's body and cinematic records, he strives to resurrect him.  His experimental "Bizarre Dolls" attract the attention of Dispatch and his progress is in danger of being delayed as his former associates seek to put a stop to his work.  Yaoi.

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Pairing wars are not constructive criticism

Journal Entry: Thu Jul 17, 2014, 3:25 PM
This seems to be a problem that most artists and writers come across: petty criticism. Granted, I don't get feedback here on DA at all most of the time, but one of the things that annoys me the most is the "Pairing wars" folk that feel they simply MUST complain that their OTP is not featured. This is especially abrasive when it comes to my original fiction. They're my characters. Don't tell me it's not canon for character A to eventually hook up with character B. If you don't like the pairing, skip their romantic scenes together. Don't waste your time or mine commenting that you "can barely stand" to read their interactions, simply because they are not your pairing of choice. That irks me so much as an author, and I know it has to irk artists as well. There are many pairings in fanfiction that I do not ship, but I will still offer compliments on an art or literature piece featuring them that I think is done well. I can't stand the "Valenwind" pairing in FF7 (mostly because I think Shera deserves to be with Cid after the shit she goes through to keep him and Dirge totally turned me on to Reeve/Vincent, but anywho), but I have never thought to open a compliment with: "Well, I hate this pairing and want to vomit because you've included/featured them, but..."

Come on, now. That's just petty. If you know it's a fic or art piece centering on your NTP (Not True Pairing, for those who aren't familiar), then either do not read/view it, or suck it up and accept that the author/writer has chosen this pairing for a reason. It's really very simple. If you want to support a friend that ships said pairing, then keep your dislike of them to yourself and focus on the story or art itself, and the good points or what you think could be improved.

One of the worst things about fandoms is people's inability or outright refusal to accept--or at least tolerate--pairings other than those they particularly ship. If you like a story or piece of art, just say so. There's no need to add the "I hate this paring but..."

  • Mood: Wow!
  • Listening to: Sonne
  • Reading: editing my own writing
  • Watching: My temper
  • Playing: with myself (KIDDING)
  • Eating: nothing
  • Drinking: nothing


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I am a fanfiction writer, and I also write original fiction. My favorite fandoms to write for include: Final Fantasy 7, James Cameron's Avatar, Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) and Gackt's Moonchild. I will only be posting fanfiction works on this site. To read my original work, visit my home site. Be aware that it contains homosexual relationships and M-preg fiction.

On the subject of uncensored fanfiction that may be too mature to share here on Deviant Art, you can find my Yaoi work at Ygallery, here:…

Both het and yaoi fanfiction can be found at…

And Archive of Our Own:…

Pairing wars are not constructive criticism

Journal Entry: Thu Jul 17, 2014, 3:25 PM
This seems to be a problem that most artists and writers come across: petty criticism. Granted, I don't get feedback here on DA at all most of the time, but one of the things that annoys me the most is the "Pairing wars" folk that feel they simply MUST complain that their OTP is not featured. This is especially abrasive when it comes to my original fiction. They're my characters. Don't tell me it's not canon for character A to eventually hook up with character B. If you don't like the pairing, skip their romantic scenes together. Don't waste your time or mine commenting that you "can barely stand" to read their interactions, simply because they are not your pairing of choice. That irks me so much as an author, and I know it has to irk artists as well. There are many pairings in fanfiction that I do not ship, but I will still offer compliments on an art or literature piece featuring them that I think is done well. I can't stand the "Valenwind" pairing in FF7 (mostly because I think Shera deserves to be with Cid after the shit she goes through to keep him and Dirge totally turned me on to Reeve/Vincent, but anywho), but I have never thought to open a compliment with: "Well, I hate this pairing and want to vomit because you've included/featured them, but..."

Come on, now. That's just petty. If you know it's a fic or art piece centering on your NTP (Not True Pairing, for those who aren't familiar), then either do not read/view it, or suck it up and accept that the author/writer has chosen this pairing for a reason. It's really very simple. If you want to support a friend that ships said pairing, then keep your dislike of them to yourself and focus on the story or art itself, and the good points or what you think could be improved.

One of the worst things about fandoms is people's inability or outright refusal to accept--or at least tolerate--pairings other than those they particularly ship. If you like a story or piece of art, just say so. There's no need to add the "I hate this paring but..."

  • Mood: Wow!
  • Listening to: Sonne
  • Reading: editing my own writing
  • Watching: My temper
  • Playing: with myself (KIDDING)
  • Eating: nothing
  • Drinking: nothing

I'm about to start a new Undertaker/Vincent roleplay with my partner, and I need a title for when I start publishing it as a story. It will be the usual blend of drama, humor and romance, with some action and tragedy. 

4 deviants said I love you to Death
4 deviants said Beyond the Grave
4 deviants said Cherished Lunacy
3 deviants said Stroke of Midnight
3 deviants said A Mortician's Fancy
1 deviant said Something else (leave a suggestion)
No deviants said Kisses from Death



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Hellsinger-Evil13 Featured By Owner Jul 30, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you for the fave~ :hug:
Shinkan-Seto Featured By Owner Jul 14, 2014  Hobbyist Artisan Crafter
Thanks for faving this, too! ^o^

CIEL PHANTOMHIVE - Cosplay - Garden by Shinkan-Seto  
TheUndertakersKitty Featured By Owner Jul 11, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Hello! I must say, I've been following your Undertaker stories for quite some time now and they are by FAR the best I've read~! Llama Emoji-02 (Blush) [V1] Llama Emoji-03 (Sparkles) [V1] Llama Emoji-10 (Shy) [V1] thank you for being an awesome Undertaker!
Xenobiacat Featured By Owner Jul 12, 2014
Well, color me flattered! Thank you kindly!
TheUndertakersKitty Featured By Owner Jul 15, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
noo problem~!
Shinkan-Seto Featured By Owner Jul 9, 2014  Hobbyist Artisan Crafter
Thank you so much for faving my CIEL PHANTOMHIVE COSPLAY!!!

:squee::squee: CIEL PHANTOMHIVE - Cosplay - Old Butler Tanaka by Shinkan-Seto :squee::squee:

Much appreciated!! ^o^
Make sure to check out my next uploads too, if you don't already watch me ;)
for W.I.P follow

fanpage :facebook: :facebook:

SweetLittleVampire Featured By Owner Jul 8, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thanks for the watch. :3
Xenobiacat Featured By Owner Jul 8, 2014
You're welcome! I should have been watching you a long time ago, but I had the derp.
SweetLittleVampire Featured By Owner Jul 8, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
XD That happens to me all the time.
Camy3 Featured By Owner Jul 3, 2014  Student Traditional Artist
thanks for the fav ^W^ :tighthug:
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