A/N:Because some of my friends over at LiveJournal know that I want to and do not hesitate to ask. (ILU, bb, for having me write this.) Because Claude would get sick satisfaction out of seducing William, I'm sure. And because they both have glasses and oh, who cares. They're hot and let's leave it at that.
Disclaimer: Toboso Yana and all associated companies are the rightful owners of the Kuroshitsuji universe. No copyright infringement intended and no money is being made out of this. Please support the mangaka by buying her work.
Warnings: smut. Questionable consent.
"Glasses," Claude said, stepping out into the light, a thin smile on his lips, "are an essential item to finalise a serious and respectful image. Sadly, most of your," and he pretended to be searching for the right expression briefly, "colleagues lack the refinement."
"So does your kind," William replied with distaste and adjusted his glasses. Great, he thought cynically. Another one. No need to ask what he was doing here; it was too obvious already. "Where is your human?"
Claude shrugged. Somewhere around, most likely. He didn't care. What he did care about…
"I'm surprised to see someone like you working among such boors. Doesn't it get tiresome?"
Even if his subordinates were those on so many levels, William wasn't about to agree with a demon.
"A devil's compliment has no weight."
Claude smiled thinly. "I was being sincere."
"A demon's sincerity – even less," William snapped and turned a page in his book. All of the jobs for today seemed to be done. He could go back to his paperwork now. Snapping the record book shut, he turned on his heel to leave.
"There are a few things that I would like to discuss." Claude stepped in, that thin smile never disappearing from his face.
"Make it quick, demon," William partially turned back to regard him. "I'm on a tight schedule."
Good. This was a cornerstone. Claude gestured at a nearby teahouse.
"May I suggest a more civilised environment for discussion?"
William narrowed his eyes. He didn't have the time or the interest, but then – demons didn't usually approach death gods for any reason. Other than battling for souls, in any case; and it didn't seem like this one was after that.
"Make it quick," he repeated himself again, already calculating how much work he'd have to cram to make up for the time he wasted here. Yet despite that, he found himself following the demon into the teahouse.
"Idiotic subordinates?" Claude queried casually while they waited for tea to be brought to them, supplying a regretful, "I can relate," when William only stared at him coldly.
They drank the tea mostly in silence with the chatter of other customers filling the air around them and Claude sometimes dropping a remark or two. William waited for Claude to get to the point, but didn't hear from him anything other than comments on the weather, the tea, the other visitors, and when William finally prompted him to cut to the chase, Claude only smiled politely. He reminded the death god that he didn't have much time today and that the matter at hand was quite lengthy, therefore it would be best put off till another time, but if he wanted to be honest…
"I just wanted to enjoy a nice cup of tea with someone as refined as I am. There is a startling lack of this quality nowadays."
As angered William got up, he swore that there would be no other time and that the demon best crawl back to his master's side and stay there like the loyal dog that he was supposed to be from the moment of putting on the collar of servitude. He strode out of the teahouse, leaving the demon to pay the bill.
The next time they met again was purely coincidental and William was so angry at his subordinates and his own workload to which they only added more, that he accepted the demon's invitation and the promise that it wouldn't add to his workload. That it would, quite possibly, cut it down a bit because Sebastian Michaelis wouldn't live for too long. And while William made sure to let his thoughts known on the matter – that he didn't care what the demons did to each other for as long as they stayed away from humans – he didn't mind the small break. Even if the company was somewhat on the outrageously odd side. It was just a cup of tea – nothing more, nothing less.
"With a sworn enemy," William added bitingly. "You're paying."
Claude tilted his head in quiet agreement. It was, after all, his invitation.
And so it was, time after time, that they met for a cup of tea and unearthly feeling of unity when reflecting on worthless subordinates, but William never allowed himself to forget that he was a death god and that the person sitting across from him, donning a human disguise, was a natural enemy, no matter how many similarities they had managed to draw between the two of them during the time. Around what was their eight meeting, William pointed out that the tea wasn't as good as Claude had called it on their first meeting. Around the thirteenth, Claude offered to prepare some tea for them instead, saying that it would increase the quality quite incomparably. Around the seventeenth, William accepted his offer. On the twenty-third, Claude crossed the line, running his gloved fingertips down the side of William's neck as if by accident, and around the twenty-ninth, William no longer minded it even if Claude's hands were down his pants. William never touched the demon, but that didn't stop Claude touching every part of the death god. Whether William was bent over the back of a chair, leaning heavily on the seat for support, or spread out on the table under him, Claude found that all of the teahouse bills had been paid back thoroughly.
William kept refusing to touch Claude because, in his mind, that was the last line separating him from being a death god and… something else. For as long as he kept his hands to himself, he could keep pretending that he was still the very dignified, very proper death god who hated demons because they were natural enemies. But a demon's seduction, though slow, was thorough and he could not hope to resist forever. You stumbled once, and you fell once, but you did not rise cleaner from the experience.
Claude pressed William up against a wall, eager hands finding their way under his jacket, smoothing along defined chest and abs, which were still covered by a silky shirt. Refined, high class, and high expectations; and oh, so perfect to taint. Claude's breath was hot against William's ear, always there while his hands roamed and stripped them both, gloved fingers running over tightly-clenched fists. His breath was there, always just there; sometimes falling lower on William's exposed neck. Contact to bare minimum, only as much as was necessary (to keep up the pretences, maybe), but his hands were enough to make the otherwise unyielding death god want him, though he would never admit it or actively show it. His body wanted it, and his body showed it, giving itself over to the demon's touch while William remained impassive in his expression of need. William, on the other hand, could have Claude's every moan, every grunt and growl, every intake of breath, but he never responded with the same; only a low hiss every now and then when Claude was too rash or bruising. And Claude made sure that only one part of William's body would know the touch of his bare fingers, invading him, playing him, stretching him, while the other one – still gloved – worked his length. Breath hissed out of the demon through teeth clamped on his white glove.
It took longer than Claude had anticipated for William to change the arrangements with an angry shove and a low growl.
With a slow seductive smile spreading on his lips, Claude obeyed and leaned against a nearby table. Catlike yellow eyes blazed up at the death god.
"At least prepare me."
"Do it yourself," William snapped, his cheeks flush, and adjusted his glasses. He couldn't bring himself to touch the demon in that way. It was bad enough that he was finally giving in to his seduction and taking on a more active role.
Claude swallowed a handful of replies all along the lines of, "If Master insists," and removed his glove, letting it fall to the ground this time. He couldn't be shameless enough with his oily fingers slowly finding their way in, much slower than he had ever treated William, and he bared his other hand as well, much to the death god's surprise, just to help himself along. William didn't think he could ever lose his patience this fast, and that was even before the demon let out the grunts and the moans. Soon enough William found himself trembling from restraint. This was the line. This was the thin margin which he'd sworn to never cross. He took a step forward and with a low growl wrenched Claude's hands away from his ass, pinning them to the table over which the demon was leaning. Teacups danced from the sudden impact.
Claude laughed under his breath, anticipation churning in his stomach.
"Don't choke on your words," William snarled, positioning himself, and took Claude in one stroke, then added another to go in as deep as he could. Claude bucked against him.
"Don't stop now," Claude warned low, rocking back rhythmically and clenching his muscles.
With a condescending hiss William pulled back and shifted forward again. As if. As if he could stop now when there was no way back to that respectable and proper self which he had been before a demon chose to lay his paws on him. Now he could only push forward and not lose to the demon in this little game.
Claude moaned and threw his head back, asking for more, harder, and William obeyed, feeling the surge of burning need, playing into the demon's hands like a fine-tuned instrument.
They didn't take their glasses off even once.