The Funtom Company

Omake 1

A/N: This is a one-shot I wrote a while ago that inspired this fic. I just decided to make it one of the extras. Lmao. It's from March 19, 2017. (Which means it's probably awful by now). 

"I'm here to see Mr. Phantomhive," the male stood at the front desk. The clerk gave him a look of confusion. He was used to that, no one really knew who he was. No one really cared. However, it would be problematic, at the headquarters of Funtom Company, if he at least didn't give a reason for this visit, "I have an appointment."

"Who are you?" the clerk asked him. He grinned, his long fringe hid his eyes, causing the clerk to cringe in disapproval. Who knew what secrets those eyes held? He slid the familiar golden ring across the counter. The signet ring, that only the company's head could have given him. The clerk stared at it, strangely mystified. This person really did know Mr. Phantomhive? The head of the Funtom Company was shrouded with mystery, people debated whether or not he even was human...and this man, here, knew him? Met with him personally? The clerk didn't dispute it any longer, they simply allowed him to go by. No one dared mess with Mr. Phantomhive. Even if this was a lie, if this man had made a fake ring, it didn't matter now...

The man picked up the ring, walking down the halls of Funtom. He knew where he was going, he had studied the blueprints enough. It shouldn't take long to get him there, now that he had gotten by the front desk. Mr. Phantomhive's office was a small one. It had bookshelves on either side with a desk in the middle, in front of a giant window, which usually had the blinds down. The male opened the door, entered the room, closed the door, and looked forward. Mr. Phantomhive was sitting, at his desk, looking outside the window when he came in. His back was facing the intruder and yet...he must've known who it was.

"I didn't recall dying. So, why is there an undertaker here?" he said.

"Not an undertaker, The Undertaker," the male replied. That earned him a chuckle from Mr. Phantomhive, who turned around in his chair, and stood up. The male walked over to The Undertaker, wrapping his arms around him, locking the door behind him. The Undertaker was too taken aback by the hug to notice this. When Mr. Phantomhive released the hug, The Undertaker felt a bit lonely. He wanted to be in his arms longer and his body subconsciously moved towards the male in front of him. That's what he had come for, that's what he had waited all of these years for, to see Mr. Phantomhive once again. But not just to see him, to be with him, to love him, to be held by him; The Undertaker had dreamed many things about this male...and he would make certain that at least a fraction of those dreams came true today.

The head of the Funtom Company looked into The Undertaker's eyes, or at least, where those eyes would be. The Undertaker always felt that this man could look right through the fringe, and see his face, even if it was covered. He never understood why he could feel this way, it is just how things were.

"It has been such a long time since I've seen you. How have you been?" he asked, smiling. Oh yes, that smile, The Undertaker had remembered it often. It was a smile, that hid his face, just like The Undertaker's fringe hid his own. It was a mask, he put on, one The Undertaker would like to strip off. He already knew, what Mr. Phantomhive was really like, so why couldn't they just start back up where they left off?

"I've been," The Undertaker paused so that he could take another step closer. He ran his hand along Mr. Phantomhive's shoulder, touching it gently, "absolutely dreadful."

"Oh my, that's such a shame," he said. Those words, though they sounded sincere to an outsider, The Undertaker knew that it was quite the opposite. Mr. Phantomhive loved playing games, mind games specifically. Why else would he be running a toy company?

"Have you really," Mr. Phantomhive leaned down, so that his mouth could hover by The Undertaker's ear, "been missing me that much?" he asked. He hinted that he might do more, when he blew on The Undertaker's neck. It was too easy, so The Undertaker felt this had to be teasing. There was no other explanation.

"Vincent," his breathing becoming more strained, his lust making itself more known. How was it possible for one man to make him feel like this? For him to want someone so badly? Vincent moved, he was now brushing noses with The Undertaker. He looked at The Undertaker's lips, he was tempted, tempted to kiss him, but he wouldn't.

"I'm married," Vincent reminded The Undertaker, he reminded himself. His lips, barely touching the male's as he said this. The Undertaker had to hold himself back, he had to restrain himself from crashing his lips into Vincent's. If he didn't, if he did kiss Vincent, it wouldn't end well for him. The male would certainly punish him for it. Although, if he had to misbehave to get the attention he so desperately desired, perhaps he just might.

"I'm married," he said again, "I've got a child," he looked into The Undertaker's eyes. His face, still so close, "I'm sure you know what a 'one-night-stand' is. What we had, what we did, it was a one time thing. There is nothing between us. There will never be," though he said harsh words, they didn't seem true. Vincent's body language was different from anything that came out of his mouth. He wanted to kiss The Undertaker, if he didn't, then he was pretending quite well that he did.

"Your wife, can never give you what I can," The Undertaker said. He ran his hands down Vincent's body, to his belt. The Undertaker was tempted to unbuckle it, "your wife is a sickly type. You can't be rough, with her. But me? I'll let you do whatever you want. You've already consumed me this much, you made me search for you, yearn for you, at least let me have you one more time."

Vincent smiled before giving his answer, "no," he said simply, "go buy yourself a dildo," he took many steps back and turned towards the window, allowing his words to sink in. He wouldn't repeat them. He didn't have to. Though it took a few minutes, the words finally reached The Undertaker's ears. He bent over, clutching his stomach, he laughed, much longer and louder than he had done in quite some time.

How was it possible?

That he could still be so crazy in-love with a man like Vincent Phantomhive?

It didn't make an ounce of sense. It didn't hold one bit of reason. But I suppose, love is just like that, isn't it?