My cheeks turned bright red — no, crimson. I wanted the floor to split open and swallow me whole.
Ciel held the book in his hands like it was some sacred text, his silver brows lifted in amused curiosity. "The Arts of Seduction, hmm?" he said, flipping the cover open like he was inspecting a war strategy. "Trying to seduce me now, my love?"
"No—it's not what you think!" I blurted out, mortified. My hands flew up to my burning face, hiding behind my fingers. "It's not— I wasn't—!"
But he ignored my flustered stammering and casually leaned against the edge of the bed, thumbing through the first few pages. His eyes danced across the text, and then—oh no—the diagrams.
I lunged forward, desperate. "Give it back!"
He smoothly turned his body, effortlessly keeping the book out of my reach like he was toying with a kitten. "Chapter one: The power of eye contact," he read aloud, then glanced up and locked eyes with me deliberately.
"Ciel!" I gasped.
He chuckled — a low, wicked sound that made my stomach flutter and my dignity shrivel.
"I wasn't trying to seduce you!" I protested. "Lila gave it to me! I didn't even— I just—!"
He ignored me again, flipping another page.
"Oh, this one has illustrations," he said, his voice thick with amusement. "Quite detailed ones."
"Ciel, I swear—!"
"Breathing techniques...touch sensitivity...pressure points... Hm. Educational." He turned to face me with a devious smile. "Very practical."
I grabbed a pillow and launched it at his head. "You're impossible!"
He caught it with ease, then dropped the book to the bed beside him. He slowly approached, the teasing grin never leaving his lips.
"Relax, Clara," he murmured, stopping right in front of me. "I'm not angry. I'm... intrigued."
I narrowed my eyes, backing up a step. "You're enjoying this way too much."
He leaned down until his lips brushed my ear. "And here I thought you were too innocent to even think of something like this."
I shoved him lightly, face blazing. "I wasn't planning anything! I didn't even finish reading it—!"
"Mmm," he said, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "Then maybe we should finish reading it... together."
"Absolutely not!"
He laughed and finally relented, stepping away. "Fine, fine. I'll behave."
I crossed my arms and glared at him. "You're a menace."
"You're adorable when you're flustered," Ciel whispered, voice low and velvety as he leaned closer.
I wanted to punch him. Or melt into the bed. Or both.
But before I could react, he pinned me gently beneath him. My breath hitched.
"Ciel…" I whispered.
His eyes darkened, pupils dilating as he looked at me like I was his favorite sin.
"So…" he murmured, his hand slowly trailing up my thigh, parting my robe ever so slightly, "you've been reading The Arts of Seduction to tempt me?"
I squeaked. "N-no! That's not—"
He silenced me with a kiss — not soft, but hungry. His mouth moved against mine like he'd been waiting forever, and now that he had me, he wasn't letting go.
His tongue slid in, exploring me, tasting me, drawing out a gasp I couldn't stop. I felt the heat roll through my body like a wave crashing at the shore.
He pressed deeper into me, his body warm and firm, pinning me just right. My hands tangled in his hair as I arched into him.
"You taste like honey," he whispered against my lips, his breath hot as he trailed kisses down my neck. I moaned softly, trembling as his mouth moved lower.
His hands found my waist, slipping beneath the robe and dragging it aside. I shivered as his fingertips skimmed my bare skin, moving up, up—until he cupped my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my sensitive peaks.
I gasped. My back arched instinctively into his touch. He smirked.
"I haven't even started, my love," he whispered.
Then he leaned down and took one into his mouth, warm and teasing, making me moan louder as my fingers clutched at his shoulders.
His touch was addictive, each movement building a fire inside me I couldn't contain. One hand slid down, between my thighs — slow, careful — until I felt his fingers brush against where I needed him most.
I cried out softly, hips bucking, a wave of pleasure flooding through me.
He didn't stop.
His fingers teased and pressed, coaxing whimpers from my lips as his mouth continued its torment up top. I was melting — no, unraveling — under him. Every part of me was burning.
"Ciel," I moaned, voice trembling.
"Yes, my love?" he asked, voice thick with desire.
I couldn't even speak anymore. I just clung to him, breathless and dizzy as he pushed me higher and higher, until—
My mind went white.
A flash.
The garden. Me, twirling in sunlight, laughing.
And Ciel, catching me.
I blinked. The pleasure fading, the memory burning bright.
Ciel looked at me, pausing, his expression shifting. "Did you just…?"
"I…" I couldn't finish. "I remembered something."
His eyes softened. "Then this is only the beginning."
His lips hovered just above mine, breath warm, teasing.
"I want to hear you beg for it, Clara," he whispered.
My cheeks burned, but my body was already trembling, throbbing beneath him. I hated how easily he could pull reactions from me — hated how my breath hitched at just the sound of his voice, how I was already clenching around nothing just from the promise in his words.
"I… I want you," I whispered, voice broken with need.
His eyes darkened with hunger. "That's more like it."
Then his mouth was on mine again — devouring me, tasting me like he owned me. And he did. In that moment, there was nothing else. Only Ciel and the fire he was setting inside me.
He slid down my body slowly, trailing kisses over every inch of skin he revealed — my collarbone, the soft swell of my breasts, down the flat of my stomach. I gasped as his tongue flicked and teased, as his hands roamed lower, spreading my thighs apart with sinful confidence.
I was exposed — to him, for him — and I didn't care. All I could think of was the ache building between my legs, the tension that curled inside me, begging to snap.
Then his mouth was there.
I gasped, arching off the bed.
"Ciel—!"
His tongue was wicked. Slow at first, like he wanted to savor me. Then faster, deeper, more intense. My thighs shook as he feasted on me, and I couldn't stop the sounds leaving my mouth — moans, gasps, cries.
"Ciel, please…!"
He didn't stop until I was writhing under him, hand clamped over my mouth to muffle the cry that tore from me as my body shattered. The wave hit me hard, leaving me breathless and wet and dizzy, like the world had spun out of control.
He finally pulled away, his lips glistening as he crawled back up and kissed me — letting me taste myself on his tongue.
"You're perfect when you fall apart like that," he murmured against my lips.
But he wasn't done.
I felt him press against me — hot, hard, needy.
"Can I?" he asked, forehead resting against mine.
I nodded. I wanted all of him.
Then he pushed inside.
My gasp echoed in the room — not from pain, but from how full I felt. How right it felt.
He groaned, low and guttural, and began to move — slow at first, drawing out every inch, letting me feel everything.
Then harder.
Deeper.
His name slipped from my lips over and over as he thrust into me, each movement making my legs wrap tighter around him, my nails dig into his back. He moved like he was worshipping me — like I was his salvation and he was drowning in me.
"I love you," he whispered hoarsely as he drove into me.
I didn't know if I loved him back.
But in that moment, I was his completely.
And as my body arched and pleasure consumed me again — another memory flashed.
A warm hand in mine.
A silver-haired man whispering my name like it was sacred.
Ciel.
My mind blurred as the orgasm ripped through me, my scream muffled against his shoulder as he followed seconds later, collapsing onto me, both of us breathless.
"Are you alright, my love?" he asked softly, his voice no longer teasing but warm and gentle.
I nodded weakly, still dazed. "Yes…" I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.
He pulled me closer, wrapping his arms securely around me and pressing me to his chest. I could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my cheek—strong, calming, almost hypnotic.
My body was exhausted—too weak to move, too warm to care. I could barely think, and yet part of me still clung to that lingering question: What were those memories? Why did they feel so real? So familiar?
But I couldn't hold onto the thoughts for long. My body was too heavy, my eyes too tired.
Wrapped in his embrace, I let the questions fade. I let the confusion and heat of the moment drift away. And slowly, gently… I fell asleep in his arms.