Into The Flames (Sebastian x Reader)

The Feeling of Flesh

"Take off your gloves."

I felt emotions flicker rapidly across my face at the words: disbelief, astonishment, and lastly, but the strongest by far, fear.

"What are you saying?" I shook my head fiercely, the pounding in my ears louder than my frightened breaths, and shrunk back against the wall behind me, away from him. "You know why I can't. You've seen it for yourself."

His crimson eyes flashed red in the candlelight and his mouth quirked up into the familiar dark smirk I knew so well. He held out a slender, gloved hand toward me. "F/N." His fingers twitched, as if beckoning me toward him, but when he spoke, his low voice was just as unwavering as ever. "I am merely one hell of a butler. And you are not wrong to distrust me. But in this case, I would very much like you to."

I watched him warily, standing there before me, not a thing out of place, his dark suit pressed to perfection, his white gloves glistening, his lips still tilted upward in that damn smirk that took my breath away and irritated me all the same.

Behind the fear still constricting my chest, I realized that another emotion was fighting to come through, and it reverbated a lot like the phrase the man in front of me had just uttered in his last statement.

Trust.

I trusted him.

Before the fear could take over again and halt my progress, I raised a trembling, sheathed hand in front of me, and never removing my own eyes from his piercing scarlet gaze, I pulled my fingers from the glove one by one, the movements agonizingly slow, even to myself.

Finally, I released the breath I had been holding, as I pulled the last finger from the satin material and let the now empty ghost of a glove flutter to the floor at my feet.

His eyes lit up slightly, their bloody depths deepening momentarily, before he took a step toward me, his perfectly polished shoes not making a sound on the floor as he shortened the gap between us.

Raising a slender, dark eyebrow at me, his mouth slid once again into that ever familiar sneer as he spoke, his voice almost a purr, his hand still outstretched toward me. "Very good, my lady. Very good indeed." With a flash of movement, so fast I almost missed it, he stripped off his own glove, letting it drop swiftly to the floor beside my own discarded cover. The red inked seal on the back of his hand, revealed now that his glove was gone, seemed to shine under the flickering candlelight and his obsidian nails disappeared into the surrounding blackness, a stark contrast to his pale skin.

I swallowed hard as I studied his hand, still extended toward me, and then glanced down at my own; bare, pale, uncovered, held closely against my body for protection-Whether mine or his, I didn't clearly know.

"It's time, F/N."

His velvet voice penetrated my thoughts and I snapped my gaze back up to his, which felt as if it were boring a hole right through my chest and into my wildly pounding heart.

I clutched my hand tighter against myself and felt fear start to boil, bitter, up into my throat again. "I can't....I can't do it.....what if I....."

He cocked his head to the side, his onyx hair falling over one eye, and the motion implied curiosity, as if he didn't understand why I still hesitated. "You took off your glove. Which implies that, even if it's not wise, you trust me in some form or the other. So there's no reason for you to pause, if that's true. You've decided to trust me, and that should be enough for you to do whatever I order without hesitation."

He was right. I had decided to trust him. I had come this far.

I unclenched my naked hand from the fabric of my dress and raised it slowly in front of my body, until our outstretched fingers were mere inches apart-his steady and unwavering, mine trembling enough that I knew without a doubt he had noticed the vibrations across my skin.