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Six Thirteen

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The pencil scratched against the paper as it filled in the circles of the Scantron sheet, competing with the ticking of the clock at the front of the class. Ciel could feel his eyes on him, crawling along his exposed skin, mentally peeling off the layers of his flimsy uniform. He didn’t have to glance up to confirm his suspicion. The pervert would be looking down his white cotton tank top, gnawing his bottom lip, slightly elongated canines biting into the plushy flesh as he stood much too close to his seated pupil.

The alpha teachers had no scruples. Come to think of it, neither did their student counterparts. And why should they? Omegas had only been allowed to attend school due to the one hundred and ninth Amendment to the Constitution in an attempt to equalize the caste system; but everything that came from it was a contradiction: they were allowed to attend school, but not do anything with their education, they had to wear provocative uniforms to entice the alphas to attend school, but were blamed when they were deemed too distracting.

Ciel sighed, a sound of obvious exasperation when he felt the stubby, rough finger graze along his sun-kissed shoulder and drag the spaghetti strap off the gentle slope. The shirt fell lower, revealing his delicate, rosy nipple and he had to focus on controlling his scent rather than the physics problem before him about altitude and the weight of gold.

The pleased, faint rumbling that reverberated within the teacher’s chest became louder as he bent over, pretending to answer a question Ciel had not asked so he could inhale him deeply. The surrounding alphas shifted in their seats uncomfortably as the wine-like aroma of pomegranate permeated the vicinity. Ciel squirmed, and the rickety wooden chair creaked loudly in the otherwise silent room. His legs crossed and uncrossed, and the scent took on a sharpness as distress spilled into it.

His teacher shuddered, then straightened up again, snatching his unfinished test from his small hands, paper cutting into his fingers in the process, then marched to the front of the class. It had caused enough of a commotion to halt the others in their test taking, not that it mattered as the bell rang a handful of moments after.

“Phantomhive, stay behind so we can discuss this... cheating,” Mister Druitt told the whole class.

Ciel’s mouth went dry. He tried to make eye contact with his peers, hoping that one of them would see his desperation, that one of them would catch the potent scent of anguish and desolation rolling off him. If they did, they ignored it; as per usual. They all knew he hadn’t been cheating; he certainly hadn’t sneaked a peek on Bard’s test or Ronald’s test. Just because they were alphas didn't mean they were particularly booksmart. More often than not, they were lazy, getting by on their status and natural abilities rather than hard work.

He hated them.

And Druitt too.

Once the last pupil had fled from the room, his teacher took the stack of tests that had been piled unceremoniously onto his desk and stuffed them into his bag. Then, he strode across the room and sank the little nail attached to a chain into the slot at the very top of the door where Ciel could not reach.

Ciel could hear the man whisper something to himself as the cloying odor of jasmine filled his nose. He wrinkled it, knowing it would upset the older man to see such distaste on his student’s face.

“Ciel, come here,” the teacher commanded, setting his feet upon the desk as he reclined in his chair.

The omega shook his head, no, the motion was so quick and minute that it must have looked like a blur to the alpha before him. Ciel was quaking, knees knocking so that his long socks slid down his legs and pooled mid-calf.

“Look at you,” the teacher purred, “you’re scared. I won’t hurt you this time, Ciel; not if you listen.” From his blazer pocket he withdrew a keyring and selected the tiniest key to unlock the drawer on his right side. A long silver wig was deposited on the desk between them along with a short, pleated cheerleader skirt. “The first time I saw you was Halloween, and you wore this...”

Ciel tuned him out. He’d heard this speech dozens of times. Each time, Druitt didn’t care that Ciel had been ten when he’d worn the wig. Did not care that he was twelve when he’d started making visits to his home, threatening to tell his guardians he was misbehaving at school when it clearly wasn’t the case. For the man’s silence, all Ciel had to do was wear the fake hair and skirt and sit on the teacher’s lap, bare-bottomed, let the deviant rub himself against his plump omega rear until the material separating them was wet and sticky.

When Ciel finally noticed the sermon had come to an end, he stepped up to the desk, pinned the wig to his head with the clips adhered to the false hairline and began to unbutton his shorts, turning around to remain somewhat modest.

“Tut tut… Robin, your undergarments too. For having to be told, why don’t you climb up onto the desk and face me to put on your skirt,” his teacher teased.

“Sick bastard,” Ciel spat under his breath, crawling onto the desk and getting up to his feet. At this height, Druitt came up to him just over mid-thigh, and he made it known, breathing heatedly onto Ciel’s skin.

“What’s that my spoiled little princess?” Druitt asked, carefully licking his way from kneecap to Ciel’s inner thigh.

“I said, ‘One day I’ll get this mastered,’ Sir,” he lied, gently pushing the teacher’s face aside so that he could hitch the skirt up. All he wanted to do was jab him in eyes-- he fantasized about it, of seeing the blonde on the floor in fetal position, howling in agony, clutching his face… He was just so damned tired of watching his teacher mentally undress him every single day.

Ciel thought about it long enough so that when he came out of his reverie, the skirt was in place. As was customary, Druitt had to pull it up, examine his pretty, pink omega cock and comment on how much lovelier it would be if it weren't so… flaccid. A real omega, he told Ciel, was always ready for their mate. As if Ciel wanted a mate when this was what he’d have to look forward to.

He was offered a manicured hand and descended, only to be turned around and pushed chest first against the desk. “Stay there,” the teacher instructed, then pulled out pumpkin-spiced and cinnamon candles from another drawer and lit them. It was a shame really, they would mask the smell of Druitt’s arousal, and maybe a bit of Ciel’s degradation, but more than that, they would turn him off all the pastries and coffees offered this time of year -- not like he could afford any.

Once the candles had burned for a solid minute, he felt Druitt’s clad hardness push against his cheeks, hips rolling and snapping as the alpha teacher grunted. The skirt hiked itself up higher with the constant friction, and he was forced to pull it down, to keep it down. The dampness that resulted on Druitt’s end from these sessions disgusted him and he wanted no evidence left on his body afterwards.

“Make noises,” the teacher ordered.

And Ciel panted, pushing air forcibly from his lungs. He whined a little too, not for effect, but because his hips were being slammed repeatedly into the desk’s edge with every hard thrust and rub from behind. Once again, he'd be left bruised and would have to resort to sponge baths to hide it from the other omegas during communal shower times.

But he took the marks and discolorations with as much dignity as he could with his eyes closed and face pressed against the grainy wood surface; if he didn't, if he told, Druitt would go to Mother Superior, would tell her that Ciel had been coming onto him like the unpure omega Whore of Babylon that he was. She would believe him. Alphas always stuck together. Then he would be expelled. One chance; that’s all you had if you were born to breed. He needed his education. Needed to be able to get a job (no matter how meager) and move away from New Beginnings, the orphanage where his parents had dumped him once... well, it was sufficient to say that they had abandoned him.

“One day this’ll trigger your heat, Robin,” Druitt growled, aggressively fingering Ciel’s hips as he forced them back. More bruises. “And… and…” Finally, he was close, the stuttering asshole. He kicked Ciel’s feet apart and bent his knees a bit so he could drive his clothed cock between Ciel’s legs, causing him to bounce involuntarily on his toes. “And… once you’re in heat… you’ll beg for me to fill you with my seed... Mmmn... fuckkkk.”

Ciel swallowed the bile that rose into his mouth and squeezed his eyes tight, letting the teacher ride out his orgasm, before he pulled away, walked around the desk and located his shorts. He slipped them on under the skirt, and once securely fastened, shucked out of the costume, leaving it a crumpled heap on the floor. Druitt stumbled around the furniture, picked up the skirt and smelled it immediately, body still trembling from his post-orgasmic chill.

“Just so you know, I hate you,” Ciel told him, throwing his book bag over his shoulder and making his way towards the door, foot tapping as he waited for Druitt to get his shit together so that he could unlatch it. A minute later he did, and as he walked over to him, the noticeable dark splotch at his crotch on his tanned pants revived Ciel’s nausea.

“Just so you know, I don’t care,” the teacher told him, opening the door and pushing him out of the classroom before locking it again.

He was glad Druitt’s class was last one for the day; that way, when he’d emerge late from room 121, the hallway was pretty much deserted. He made his way to his locker, feet shuffling, eyes trained on the floor. He passed two individuals, whom by their smell were definitely bonded mates. Poor omega, he thought, might as well quit school so you can focus on cooking, cleaning and making babies. He wanted none of it. Wanted someone to cook for him, clean for him. He didn’t want babies. Didn’t like them one bit and resented the fact that he was expected to just because he had lost playing the genetic lottery.

He wasn’t at all surprised by the tag that greeted him upon reaching his locker. He took out a tissue from his back pocket and wiped the smeared substance that had left slut scrawled diagonally across it. He sighed, needing a few more to scrub the metal surface, occasionally spitting into the tissue to help remove it. If the sisters saw it… expulsion.

Seven minutes and a sore wrist later, he threw on his jacket, not because it was cold, but more so to cover up for the walk home. He was lucky he did. A group of alphas, led by Baldroy followed him most of the way, catcalling him, one threatening to knot him on the sidewalk, another saying that he could make it so that Ciel couldn’t walk the rest of the way to his Whore House. He ignored them, taking the opportunity to cut through an alleyway when they started fighting over who would claim the lovely little thing first.

He was a thing.

He sighed, pushing the flimsy screen door open, letting it bang the adjacent wall and took the steps two at a time, reaching his bedroom on the second floor without having seen any of his housemates.

They had very little freedom at the orphanage. Absolutely no privacy. Sure, they each had their rooms, but no doors; everyone got to listen while someone was getting their heats relieved by hired help when the time came. He would kill for someone to create that kind of distraction now so that he wouldn't be bothered for the evening.

He sank to the floor and pulled out a large, Latin leather-bound tome from under his bed. He’d found it in the school library just the other day when he’d managed to skive off prayer time at the chapel.

“What’cha doin’?” a blonde head poked inside just as Ciel was about to open the book.

“Finny!” Ciel exclaimed, hand on his heart as it thumped hard beneath his ribs. He sat upon the book, trying to hide it; he was sure he wasn’t allowed to remove it from the library much less the school. “N-not much. What’s up?”

“Oh nothing, I just heard you run up the stairs. I was worried about you. Are you alright?” the kind-faced boy inquired.

Ciel nodded, though he wasn’t. Still, the way Finny carded his fingers through his matted hair, blunt nails raking his scalp in an effort to soothe him was appreciated. He closed his eyes and felt nothing but their pressure.

“Suitors coming tonight,” Finny informed Ciel, his hands drifting lower down his neck until they found his shoulders and massaged them gently. “They were the ones here last week that showed an interest in Johanne and Doll. They might fetch a nice administrative fee if they’re adopted; we might actually be able to make repairs to this dump.”

Ciel made a sound to indicate he was listening to Finny, but his mind was making contingency plans. If those two alphas were coming back, they might be bringing more. They would be asked to dress nicely, sit on their beds like good, docile omegas with coy smiles plastered to their faces. He despised it, felt like he was a puppy in a pet store, waiting for someone to take him home, except he didn’t want to be selected. The devil he knew at the orphanage was better than whatever nightmares might be waiting for him out there.

Even if he wanted to leave, he couldn’t put himself through what the others did. Sprawling barely clad on the bed, displaying himself wantonly, rear and shoulders pressed into the hard mattress, back arching, hands fisting sheets, faced flushed to give them a preview. Mewling sounds would filter out of each room, along with the sweet scents of desire, mixed with desperation. By the end of it, they were all exhausted and the sting of rejection weighed heavily on most of them, causing their home to take on a distinct bouquet of sadness. No suitors would come around for a week following a showing.

Some eight years ago, after having been dumped there, he simply sat on his bed reading a book and made no eye contact with the alphas who came to call, but he’d learned quickly that not adhering to the pathetic omegan rite meant no access to food or water - and not only to drink, but to wash himself, to brush his teeth. Soon enough, the lack of hygiene was noticeable, took away from his naturally appealing scent and the nuns who ran St-Augustine’s Secondary School would beat him harshly for his non-compliance, threatening to have him kicked out of both home and school should he not submit himself to the rules and expectations of the orphanage.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready then?” Ciel asked the other boy, turning his head to look at him, “this might be your lucky day.” Finny had come a long way from having been abandoned by the medical lab he’d been bred into for testing purposes. Now he presented well. He was lovely, bright eyes always wide with innocence, and with his body approaching its first heat, his hips had become a little more pronounced, his angles a little softer. Finny was kind. Finny could love little brats and take care of an alpha -- he always took care of Ciel. “Go on, I’m fine,” he told him. Besides, he needed to be alone.

Finny kissed the top of his head and skipped off towards the stairs that led to the main floor. As he descended, Ciel could hear him humming a pointless song about being chaste and pure and when he could hear him no more, he got on his knees before the large book and opened it where he’d marked a page with a scrap of paper onto which he’d scribbled a translation courtesy of GoogleTranslate; he was lucky some student hadn’t logged off, so there would be no chance the content of what he translated could be traced back to him.

The distinct odor of gruel wafted to the second floor and Ciel knew he had roughly twenty minutes to work before his housemates would finish dinner and come get ready.

From between his mattress and the boxspring he removed a knife he’d stashed there last week when he’d begun the failed rituals and as with previous days, he cut into the fleshy part of his palm, a quiet groan the only confirmation that it hurt. He let the blood drip onto the floor in the shape of a pentagram, then a circle around it, as pictured in the book. Once done, he dragged his fingers along the droplets, connecting them until the devil’s sign was distinct against the warped, linoleum tiles. At each point of the pentagram, an offering was laid down, a black candle, a black, dead serpent, a handful of musty soil, the masticated seeds of a pomegranate and a serving of chocolate. An odd list to be sure, but one that was easy enough to obtain given his home back onto a wooden area that was often frequented by cats and snakes alike.

In his head, he read the Latin words, cradling his still bleeding hand, now wrapped up with a towel he’d pilfered from the washroom this morning. When he was confident he was pronouncing it well, he cleared his throat and whispered them into the stale air.

In that moment, clouds rolled over the house, blocking out the sun and made everything go pitch black. Commotion could be heard from downstairs; the omegas screamed, bumped into one another looking for a lightsource or ran outside to see what the problem was. At the very least, he wouldn’t be disturbed.

The candle went from laying on its side to floating vertically mid-air, sparked once, twice then illuminated the room.

“What’s this?” a guttural voice purred from his bed behind him. Ciel went rigid, held his breath as he felt, rather than saw the tiny hairs lining the nape of his neck stand on end. There, stretched out and looking quite at ease was a dark figure. Ciel couldn’t tell if it was a person or not-- there was something somewhat human to it, but it seemed to take on a variety of animal forms as well.

“Are… are you…”

“Yesss,” it hissed as it stretched then stood before him.

Ciel got to his feet too, not at all enjoying the oppressive height difference -- it made no difference, the figure still loomed over him.

“What a small master,” it teased, “What a weak little master. Is it strength you desire? Would you like to grow a few feet? Fill out a bit more?”

“No,” Ciel protested, taking a step back. From downstairs he heard their guardian’s booming voice. Think...Think… he willed his brain. He knew what he wanted, he just hadn’t been expecting this to work; not after his other four failed attempts this week.

The demon looked around the space and though he had no human facial features, Ciel could tell he was less than impressed with his surroundings.

“A new home, then? Would you like to live in luxury?” Whatever distance Ciel had put between them, the demon closed the gap. Ciel heard a wet sound emanating from what would likely be its face, like a smacking of lips. It was followed by a low rumble where its chest might be.

“Not that either,” Ciel responded, braver this time. More confident.

“Then what?” the demon urged as inky tendrils broke from its form and slithered along his bedroom floor, taking hold of him and pushing him forward until he all but fell into the starless, midnight figure. “Tell me… what is your soul’s desire?” One of the filaments climbed along his slightly trembling body and tilted his head so that he was looking up at the demon.

A fanged mouth materialized amidst dozens of inhuman eyes appraising him. He whimpered without wanting to, and the devil chuckled at the expense of his mortal fear. A forked tongue swiped the periphery of the orifice containing all those teeth, then unexpectedly whipped itself against Ciel’s exposed collarbones.

“Mmm… delicious,” the demon groaned as a slippery appendage lapped at the tears of blood weeping from the small gash it had caused. “Anything you want, little master. You’re positively intoxicating.”

Ciel felt the tendrils squeeze him, almost suffocating in their strength as they pressed him into the unfamiliar form. “I… I want you to keep the alphas away from me.”

“All of them? That’s quite a few...”

Ciel felt his recently acquired gouge mend itself, along with the one on his hand. “The ones that mean to harm me. To own me.”

“Such a request might require quite a bit of labour on my behalf,” the demon declared casually, his bottom half assuming a more human form, legs long and dressed in crisp black trousers, feet clad in patent, shiny leather Oxfords. Ciel followed the progression of fabric knitting itself over new flesh.

“Are you not capable? Have I summoned a weak demon?” the omega threw the word back in the devil’s face. His reaction was what he was expecting. A growl filled the room, the air from it, making the candle flicker and blowing Ciel’s hair back as if by a strong gust of wind. He blinked and when he opened his eyes, gave a start as a handsome face was leering into his own. They were nearly nose to nose and the devil’s long fringe and lashes tickled Ciel’s face.

“Of course I’m capable,” the demon snarled. He smoothed nonexistent wrinkles from the suit jacket he now wore, and peered over Ciel’s shoulder to examine his reflection in the window. He licked his top teeth, brushed traces of soot from his angular jawline with his long, slender fingers and winked at himself. “So, how long am I to play the role of bodyguard?”

“Until I am adequately self-sufficient. I refuse to rely on an alpha to do that.”

“Oh-ho… you prefer to rely on a hellspawn? What a curious little thing you are,” the demon cooed derisively as he tucked the boy’s slate hair behind his ear.

“Don’t call me a thing,” Ciel warned, irritated both by the words and the familiarity with which he was touched. The demon’s nostrils flared, and he perked up, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips.

“As you wish, but ahhh... you smell like pomegranates young master… food of the dead, how fortuitous,” the summoned moaned, rubbing his taut belly, “you’ll make a nice little morsel won’t you? Speaking of which, we need to talk about payment. The cost of such a contract will be… substantial.”

“You want my soul,” Ciel muttered. Of course he knew it would come to this. Dealing with evil incarnate would not be a frugal matter, but he was resigned to this course; it was much better than the life he’d led so far and he didn’t care much for heaven anyhow.

The demon laughed, and it filled the whole of the house. It shook the walls, shattered windows, made the omegas scream again. The candle in Ciel’s room snuffed itself out and he was left in darkness. He gasped when hot breath made contact with his neck, lips mouthing greedily up the side, clawed hands groping the thin fabric at his chest as the demon found his ear. Ciel shuddered, not disgusted, not afraid, but not a feeling he could identify either.

“Goodness no, I’m not that kind of demon. You summoned an incubus, child.”