Sebastian was a demon, which became obvious when you really looked at some of his features. His canines were ridiculously sharp, his eyes were literally red and tended to glow pink when he was tempted, and he was unnaturally pale.

It wasn’t a surprise when you found out Sebastian was a demon, and that the only reason he was serving the Earl Phantomhive was to inevitably consume his soul. He actually bragged about it, albeit rarely, that Ciel was going to be one of the best meals he’s had in hundreds of years.

Though, when Sebastian was a few hundred years younger, he didn’t care as much for the taste as he does now, being less picky and precise. In fact, he used to consume more of the body than just the soul.

Sebastian, in what one could consider his teenage years or even early twenties, had a fine taste for blood. It wasn’t uncommon, but still was on the rare side. Sort of like wine tasting, some demons found the older the blood, the finer.

Ever since you found out about Sebastian’s past of dabbling in vampiric tendencies, you had teased him about it. He remained professional throughout all your jokes, but did secretly roll his eyes once in a while. It was hundreds of years ago, and he reminded you of this several times. One day, after finishing up some garden work, he bumped your shoulder with his own on the way back into the manor.

“I no longer do any of the sorts. Besides, if I did, I would have much more refined tastes than to have a lick of yours.”