So, young master.

Here we are at long last.

You close your mismatched eyes of amethyst and sapphire, ready for the pain that will be inflicted when I rip that delicious soul of yours from that frightfully fragile body.

Your breathing hitches.

I know you are scared, I know you fear this but this is what we agreed.

I have punished those that had humiliated you, murdered your parents and tormented you. You have had your revenge.

I lean forward and brush my lips against your cheek as you shiver from my touch. My mouth reaches yours and you tremble. An odd feeling overwhelms me, over powers me and I realize. . .

I cannot do it.

I move away, pacing before laughing humourlessly at myself. I return to you. You have not opened your eyes but you are frowning. Then I press my lips to yours.

You gasp in surprise, unknowingly allowing my tongue to enter your mouth.

You make a noise that sounds just like my name before responding; softly moving your hand to the back of my head, intertwining your delicate fingers in my hair.

Had you wanted this all along? Bocchan?

You press your tongue to mine and I taste a sweetness that I have never tasted before.

I cannot do it.

I cannot take your soul.

I pull back and meet your confused gaze.

"You haven't taken it." You say but I hear the silent question, a question I won't answer. "Why?" you demand when I only jerk my head in a short nod.

Is it not obvious, my young Lord?

To answer your question, I kiss you again. Nipping, teasing, sucking on your tongue until you gather your courage and press your breakable body to mine.

I cannot do it.

Not to you.

I cannot take that deliciously tempting soul of yours, my Lord.

You pull away. "Why won't you take it? Why won't you take my soul?" you demand like the Earl you are. Then your eyes, those beautiful mismatched eyes soften and fill with sudden tears that shock me. I have never once seen you cry before. "Please, Sebastian. Take it. It's all I have left to offer you."

I stroke your cheek tenderly. "I cannot." I admit.

You frown, trying to understand. "Why?" you repeat, your voice nothing more than a whisper. "Don't you want me?"

I laugh softly. "I do want you." I assure you. "I want your soul so bad it hurts."

"Take it, then."

"No. I cannot, you see, I . . ." the words get caught in my throat.

"Sebastian?"

"I. . ."

You seem to understand and you pull me close, blushing slightly as your start the kiss with hungry, eager lips. "Say it." you whisper. You spread your legs and pull me closer. "Say it." you order but your voice shakes.

"I. . ." I begin again.

"Please." You beg.

"I love you." I confess and I look away, dreading your reaction.

You only pull me closer, kissing my mouth, my cheek and my face before gently nipping my earlobe. "If you won't take my soul. . ." you whisper and pull back so you can see my face. "Take me."