Gankutsuou Fan Fiction ❯ The Favor ❯ 1 ( Chapter 1 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Kiya Sama 
Takes place after Albert has been kidnapped and Franz goes to the Count as a last resort.
Anime/Manga: Gankutsuou Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Classic / Drama / Hentai | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 08.14.2005 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.3K | Visits: 888 | Status: Completed
Takes place after Albert has been kidnapped and Franz goes to the Count as a last resort.
Anime/Manga: Gankutsuou Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Classic / Drama / Hentai | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 08.14.2005 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.3K | Visits: 888 | Status: Completed
Title: The Favor
Pairing: Count/Franz
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Gratuitous oral pleasure, the molesting of Franz and mild angst ^^
Notes: Takes place after Albert has been kidnapped and Franz goes to the Count as a last resort.
Enjoy!
_
He sat in thoughtful silence, his entire being a picture of stifled agitation and frustration as the taxi drove him down the empty streets of Luna. Remnants of sin and decadence were left in the form of discarded party masks, colorful streamers and confetti. Dark shadows drifted between buildings from faint artificial lights in the inky blackness of space above - as if mocking the very existence of light itself.
His hands still ached from the furious pounding upon the wrought iron gates of the Marchioness, now a dull red as he was blatantly ignored by the woman who had all but seduced him into her bed earlier this evening. He figured he deserved it, since he had refused her advances. He had been worried about his friend - the one he loved more than anything else in the world - and had taken his leave from her presence.
How ironic that concerns over his friend's welfare would turn out to be this way.
Five million…five million francs before the dawn breaks…or Albert would be killed.
The bank had been unable to help, so where else could he go? Who could he turn to in this city of frauds and fair-weather nobility?
The Count! The Count of Monte Cristo!
He shook his head, blond locks whipping his cheeks as if angry at the errant thought and name that had come to his mind. No! There was no way he was going to ask that…that man for any help! How could he forget that pale blue skin? Those odd-colored eyes that seemed to mock any that stared into them for too long?
But he was willing to be friends with you and Albert. I'm sure he would do anything for…Albert.
“No!” he whispered vehemently. “I won't! I won't ask him! I can't!”
He gritted his teeth at the image of the Count on the balcony at the day's public execution. How could he go to a man who had considered the lives of others as nothing more than a game? How could he bear to stand before the man who had convinced his friend to indirectly commit such a hideous crime? He hated to admit that it had bothered him greatly at just how charming the Count was and just how infatuated Albert had become with the older man in such a short period.
Damn it! It had taken almost ten years for him to finally come to terms with his feelings for Albert and now this Count from seemingly nowhere had come to ruin and turn their whole lives upside down!
The taxi came to a screeching halt beside the hotel and he stepped out quickly, mind racing a mile-a-minute with thoughts of how he could at least try to talk that criminal into letting him have a few more hours…
“It will be morning soon. Do you have the money?”
He gasped and spun around quickly, his palms now sweaty with anxiety, desperation and frustration. He tried to glare at the man hidden in the shadows, but yet found himself pleading helplessly.
“Please wait…I'll get the money from Paris in the morning!”
However, Peppino, for that was the pardoned criminal's name, would have none of it. “Mr. Luigi is very strict about time. No money by morning, no guarantee of your friend's life in the morning.”
That mocking look, that sneer of derision! It was enough to make him boil with rage. “Why you…!”
“No one wants to see your friend's gruesome death,” Peppino continued ruthlessly.
“Damn it!” He reached for the shorter man, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt as if hoping to choke the life out of him. However, the glint of something steely had him gasping in shock. A knife - pointed squarely at his stomach. If he were to make a false move, Peppino would not hesitate to kill him in an instant. It was clear who had the upper hand here.
“Now, now, no violence here, Baron,” Peppino drawled lazily and with a frustrated growl, he was thrown to the ground. “Yes, yes. A gentleman must have patience.”
Time…he was running out of time! He lifted his head to the heavens, staring at the looming beauty that was Earth hovering in the inky depths above. His gaze flew to the lighted windows in the very place he loathed to go, but he knew that he had no other choice. He would have to swallow his pride and any disgust he had for the Count and seek his help.
/There is nothing more interesting than people's deaths. Yes, you feel like a god…/
So…does this make you my god for the night, Count of Monte Cristo? he thought with a rueful smile as he found his feet beginning to lead him to the very place his heart pleaded not to. Then if you are going to be my god…deliver me from this sin I am about to commit.
__
He swallowed tightly as he heard his name introduced. Already he could feel his palms slick with sweat, his heartbeat quickening at a rather alarming rate and words he had so carefully formed in his mind, quickly disappearing as he stepped into the ornately furnished quarters.
The Count was seated at the dining table, reading what seemed to be a book but the blond couldn't be sure. All he could see, smell, feel was the very essence and presence of this man. There was small wonder that Albert had been infatuated. There was something so potent about being in the Count's presence - something so…exotic and out-of-this world. He could feel his cheeks rise with heat and he knew he would have to literally sell his soul to the devil if he wanted the older man's help.
“I'm sorry for bothering you this late in the evening,” he began, kicking himself inwardly at how much his voice seemed to tremble with emotion. It's all for Albert, he chanted inwardly. All for Albert…
“What brought you here? You don't look well,” came the concerned question from the Count as he glanced over his shoulder at the trembling young man.
Franz d'Epinay stared into those odd-colored eyes and felt his resolve breaking into a million tiny pieces like shattering glass. With the deepest of bows, he finally caved in, almost shouting in his helpless.
“Count, please! I beg of you! It's…It's Albert!”
He failed to notice the small smirk of victory on the older man's face as he launched into a hasty tirade of what had happened to his best friend. But the Count would have none of that. He rose to his feet, a smooth graceful movement that betrayed the tension within his being.
“Come now, Franz,” he cajoled softly as he placed a gentle hand upon the younger man's shoulders. “Come sit over here and tell me all that has happened. Perhaps…a little drink will help to soothe your anguish.”
Too agitated to care much, although inwardly glad that the Count wasn't turning him away, Franz allowed himself to be led to the comfortable and rather expensive looking lounge chair. He sat down heavily, watching with slightly shimmering depths as the Count made his way towards a small mini-bar filled with drinks of the likes Franz had never seen. He sat up with a small but grateful smile as he was given the small glass cup filled with pale brown liquid.
“Now drink,” the Count said softly as he sat across his blond companion. “And tell me…everything…”
He lifted his own glass to his lips, hiding the small smirk that formed as he watched Franz down his beverage thirstily. His eyes lit with wicked delight, knowing full well the effects of the small white pill he had dissolved into the younger man's drink. It was only a mild sedative - nothing too drastic - for like a curious scientist, he wanted to see what lay beneath the young man's `tough' façade. If he had been fascinated with Albert Morcerf, then Franz d'Epinay was a picture of intrigue.
He had watched the young man's vehement pleas for his friend to think rationally. One tiny slip in his quest to conquer Albert and young Franz would have won this round. But as the Fates had deemed fit, Albert was falling into the very trap he had set and everything else was falling into place. He watched in fascination as the cup slipped from the young man's hands and raised a brow as Franz tried to get to his feet.
“Coun…Count?” the man asked weakly as he staggered a little. “What's…what's happening to me?”
The world was swimming before his eyes. Franz knew that the day had been an exciting one but it wasn't bad enough to make him lose all bodily functions for no reason. He took another tentative step towards the blue-skinned man trying desperately to find the right words to explain this sluggish, lethargic feeling he was going through.
Was the Count calling out to him? He couldn't tell, but what he did know was that he was falling…falling into a deep abyss with no help in sight….until strong but very cold hands caught and rescued him.
__
He moaned thickly at the ticklish sensation. Someone was whispering his name and mumbling words that he had never heard before. He shivered in delight as something sharp but cool scraped upon his naked flesh. His skin broke out in a million and one goosebumps and he gave another soft whimper of need.
“Al…Albert…” he croaked weakly, hoping and praying that this really was happening and not just another unfulfilled dream - one of many thousands unfortunately. However, soft but deep rumbling laughter had him opening up his eyes slowly. He could feel his cheeks burn with an embarrassment so deep, Franz could swear that even his toes were red at this point. He met the amused green and red eyes and turned away quickly.
“I…” What could he say? And why did he still feel so sluggish? He tried to move, but gasped in shock and unwanted delight as he felt the Count's knees press gently against the growing bulge within his pants. He realized with dismay that he was lying upon the lounge chair and that the Count had already unbuttoned his shirt - that would, of course, explain the cold he had felt earlier.
“Why bother to run away, my dear Franz?” the Count whispered huskily into the blond's ear. He gave a feral grin at the shiver it elicited, watching as the pale skin flushed with excitement beneath his touch. “You assumed it was your friend, Albert, did you not? So you do carry a torch for your childhood friend. How…sweet.” He traced the outline of the younger man's ear, relishing in the choked sob he got in response.
“Ple…please…” Franz begged weakly, lifting his hands to try to push the older man away from him. “Albert…needs…”
“Our help, yes…” The Count drawled lazily as his tongue continued to make its way down the smooth neck that was so beautifully arched for him. Dear gods, but this man was simply a delight to taste!
“We…must…hurry…aaaah…CounR 30;Count…please…stop…” Thinking - the Count was making the very act of thinking extremely difficult for the flustered young man. The rough, yet warm and wet sensation of the older man's tongue upon his flesh and now his sensitive - oh so sensitive nipples - was enough to make him want to scream.
“No…” he pleaded desperately. “Albert….”
“Will be rescued only after you do a little favor for me, Franz,” the man said with a wicked smirk as he traced the outline of the tightened pink nubs with a long fingernail. “Don't worry, we have plenty of time.”
He rose to his feet suddenly, pulling the younger man to press him tightly against his body. He stared into the wide blue eyes, enjoying the mingled expressions of confusion, fear and awe within them. “Pleasure me, Franz,” he whispered thickly.
“Wha…what?!” came the breathless squeak of disbelief. He tried to see if the Count was joking but there was no hint of amusement in those eyes. “Plea…pleasure…”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
“But…”
“You want Albert rescued, correct?”
Franz could feel his hopes dashing faster than a wild horse let loose on the streets of Paris. He licked his lips slowly, knowing that there was no way he could talk his way out of this. The Count was his only hope and if it meant having to lower his pride and subject himself to the older man's demands, then who was he to refuse?
“Ye…yes,” he finally muttered in resignation. He fell to his knees willingly, trembling hands reaching for the drawstring of the Count's velvet dark pants. He closed his eyes and swallowed tightly, wincing as he felt the strong hand sink into his hair.
Just…for Albert…just remember…it's all for Albert…
With trembling hands, he pulled the cloth down, reluctantly opening his eyes to see just what he had to deal with. As the Count's erection was set free from its constraints, Franz had to gasp in awe at how impressive it was. He wrapped a trembling hand around it's base, lifting his gaze to watch the Count's reaction. He was rather pleased to see a relaxed look on the older man's countenance and a small smile of encouragement on those pale lips.
Deciding that he had wasted enough time admiring the Count's endowment, Franz closed his eyes again and took a deep breath. If Albert had considered the Count's hands cold, there was definitely nothing cold about the warm, throbbing flesh in his hand at the moment. He inhaled the thick, musky scent of the Count's pre-cum and with a low moan, opened up his mouth to take as much of it as he could. He barely heard the Count's strangled cry of pleasure, neither did he feel the tightening of the fingers in his hair. He had expected the Count to taste…well…anything but this. It wasn't bitter, neither was it sweet but it was a taste that Franz knew he could enjoy having for a long time.
He sucked - up and down, faster and faster with the urging of the Count, whose features were now contorted into one of near painful pleasure. His tongue danced around the swollen tip, a little trick that a Baroness had once done to him in his sixteenth year. Franz could remember how incredible that sensation had felt and with the Count's soft cry, he knew he had achieved the very same thing. He teased the deep slit with the tip of his tongue, back and forth, smiling softly to himself as he felt the Count's legs tremble before him.
He was obviously doing a good job for as he took the entire length within his mouth again, the Count all but cried out his name in delight. Franz could feel the growing swell of the thick flesh in his mouth and knew that it wouldn't take too long for the Count to explode. He, however, did not want to swallow the other man's cum, but it was clear that the Count had no plans to release him.
Franz lifted his gaze in a silent plea, feeling the tears well in his eyes as he met the smirking visage of the older man. He tried to pull away but his head was forced forward and to his dismay he found that his mouth was being abused this time around.
Oh, god…Albert…you owe me big time for this. I swear it!
He squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the first thick spurts of the Count's semen in his mouth. He wanted to gag…feeling the creamy liquid tease the corners of his lips…but the Count was merciless and would not give the younger man the option of refusing. Franz was unable to stop the tears from spilling down his cheeks as he felt the hot fluid bathe his tongue and slide down his throat. He swallowed helplessly, allowing the slightly bitter semen to settle somewhere in the pit of his stomach.
“Ah, that feels so much better,” the Count said with a grin of approval as he released his captive with a soft grunt. He watched the blond cough helplessly on all fours, while getting dressed. He reached into his pocket to remove a small bottle of vial and falling to a knee, he placed a gloved hand beneath the flushed man's chin forcing their gazes to meet.
“Here you go. This should get your senses alert again.”
Franz tried to turn his face away but the Count was fast and the sharp and almost pungent scent from the small vial had him coughing again. Despite his trepidations, he was pleased to find that his lethargic state was now completely gone. He didn't feel like he was being weighed down by a ton of bricks anymore.
“Bertuccio will take you to the bathroom where you can clean yourself up,” the Count said with a friendly smile that made Franz cringe inwardly at the sight. “You did a very good job, Franz and I will help you rescue your friend. Just pray he doesn't get kidnapped again or I might have you do something much better than just pleasing me.”
Franz had heard enough. He tried to find the right words to say…anything to tell the Count of just how disgusting and humiliating this experience had been. But to his chagrin and dismay the words just wouldn't come. It was as if the Count, himself, was daring him to say something to that effect. He gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into tight fists by his side. He could still taste the Count in his mouth and had a feeling that for as long as he lived, that taste would never go away.
With a polite bow of respect, Franz d' Epinay found himself saying the eternal words of gratitude. After all, it was the right thing to do in these circumstances.
“Thank you…Count.”
And as he began to walk away, he was sure he could hear the older man laughing softly to himself. But whatever the case may be, one Albert Morcerf owed him a lot for this and Franz already had an idea of just what sort of a payment he wanted in return.
-The End-
Pairing: Count/Franz
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Gratuitous oral pleasure, the molesting of Franz and mild angst ^^
Notes: Takes place after Albert has been kidnapped and Franz goes to the Count as a last resort.
Enjoy!
_
He sat in thoughtful silence, his entire being a picture of stifled agitation and frustration as the taxi drove him down the empty streets of Luna. Remnants of sin and decadence were left in the form of discarded party masks, colorful streamers and confetti. Dark shadows drifted between buildings from faint artificial lights in the inky blackness of space above - as if mocking the very existence of light itself.
His hands still ached from the furious pounding upon the wrought iron gates of the Marchioness, now a dull red as he was blatantly ignored by the woman who had all but seduced him into her bed earlier this evening. He figured he deserved it, since he had refused her advances. He had been worried about his friend - the one he loved more than anything else in the world - and had taken his leave from her presence.
How ironic that concerns over his friend's welfare would turn out to be this way.
Five million…five million francs before the dawn breaks…or Albert would be killed.
The bank had been unable to help, so where else could he go? Who could he turn to in this city of frauds and fair-weather nobility?
The Count! The Count of Monte Cristo!
He shook his head, blond locks whipping his cheeks as if angry at the errant thought and name that had come to his mind. No! There was no way he was going to ask that…that man for any help! How could he forget that pale blue skin? Those odd-colored eyes that seemed to mock any that stared into them for too long?
But he was willing to be friends with you and Albert. I'm sure he would do anything for…Albert.
“No!” he whispered vehemently. “I won't! I won't ask him! I can't!”
He gritted his teeth at the image of the Count on the balcony at the day's public execution. How could he go to a man who had considered the lives of others as nothing more than a game? How could he bear to stand before the man who had convinced his friend to indirectly commit such a hideous crime? He hated to admit that it had bothered him greatly at just how charming the Count was and just how infatuated Albert had become with the older man in such a short period.
Damn it! It had taken almost ten years for him to finally come to terms with his feelings for Albert and now this Count from seemingly nowhere had come to ruin and turn their whole lives upside down!
The taxi came to a screeching halt beside the hotel and he stepped out quickly, mind racing a mile-a-minute with thoughts of how he could at least try to talk that criminal into letting him have a few more hours…
“It will be morning soon. Do you have the money?”
He gasped and spun around quickly, his palms now sweaty with anxiety, desperation and frustration. He tried to glare at the man hidden in the shadows, but yet found himself pleading helplessly.
“Please wait…I'll get the money from Paris in the morning!”
However, Peppino, for that was the pardoned criminal's name, would have none of it. “Mr. Luigi is very strict about time. No money by morning, no guarantee of your friend's life in the morning.”
That mocking look, that sneer of derision! It was enough to make him boil with rage. “Why you…!”
“No one wants to see your friend's gruesome death,” Peppino continued ruthlessly.
“Damn it!” He reached for the shorter man, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt as if hoping to choke the life out of him. However, the glint of something steely had him gasping in shock. A knife - pointed squarely at his stomach. If he were to make a false move, Peppino would not hesitate to kill him in an instant. It was clear who had the upper hand here.
“Now, now, no violence here, Baron,” Peppino drawled lazily and with a frustrated growl, he was thrown to the ground. “Yes, yes. A gentleman must have patience.”
Time…he was running out of time! He lifted his head to the heavens, staring at the looming beauty that was Earth hovering in the inky depths above. His gaze flew to the lighted windows in the very place he loathed to go, but he knew that he had no other choice. He would have to swallow his pride and any disgust he had for the Count and seek his help.
/There is nothing more interesting than people's deaths. Yes, you feel like a god…/
So…does this make you my god for the night, Count of Monte Cristo? he thought with a rueful smile as he found his feet beginning to lead him to the very place his heart pleaded not to. Then if you are going to be my god…deliver me from this sin I am about to commit.
__
He swallowed tightly as he heard his name introduced. Already he could feel his palms slick with sweat, his heartbeat quickening at a rather alarming rate and words he had so carefully formed in his mind, quickly disappearing as he stepped into the ornately furnished quarters.
The Count was seated at the dining table, reading what seemed to be a book but the blond couldn't be sure. All he could see, smell, feel was the very essence and presence of this man. There was small wonder that Albert had been infatuated. There was something so potent about being in the Count's presence - something so…exotic and out-of-this world. He could feel his cheeks rise with heat and he knew he would have to literally sell his soul to the devil if he wanted the older man's help.
“I'm sorry for bothering you this late in the evening,” he began, kicking himself inwardly at how much his voice seemed to tremble with emotion. It's all for Albert, he chanted inwardly. All for Albert…
“What brought you here? You don't look well,” came the concerned question from the Count as he glanced over his shoulder at the trembling young man.
Franz d'Epinay stared into those odd-colored eyes and felt his resolve breaking into a million tiny pieces like shattering glass. With the deepest of bows, he finally caved in, almost shouting in his helpless.
“Count, please! I beg of you! It's…It's Albert!”
He failed to notice the small smirk of victory on the older man's face as he launched into a hasty tirade of what had happened to his best friend. But the Count would have none of that. He rose to his feet, a smooth graceful movement that betrayed the tension within his being.
“Come now, Franz,” he cajoled softly as he placed a gentle hand upon the younger man's shoulders. “Come sit over here and tell me all that has happened. Perhaps…a little drink will help to soothe your anguish.”
Too agitated to care much, although inwardly glad that the Count wasn't turning him away, Franz allowed himself to be led to the comfortable and rather expensive looking lounge chair. He sat down heavily, watching with slightly shimmering depths as the Count made his way towards a small mini-bar filled with drinks of the likes Franz had never seen. He sat up with a small but grateful smile as he was given the small glass cup filled with pale brown liquid.
“Now drink,” the Count said softly as he sat across his blond companion. “And tell me…everything…”
He lifted his own glass to his lips, hiding the small smirk that formed as he watched Franz down his beverage thirstily. His eyes lit with wicked delight, knowing full well the effects of the small white pill he had dissolved into the younger man's drink. It was only a mild sedative - nothing too drastic - for like a curious scientist, he wanted to see what lay beneath the young man's `tough' façade. If he had been fascinated with Albert Morcerf, then Franz d'Epinay was a picture of intrigue.
He had watched the young man's vehement pleas for his friend to think rationally. One tiny slip in his quest to conquer Albert and young Franz would have won this round. But as the Fates had deemed fit, Albert was falling into the very trap he had set and everything else was falling into place. He watched in fascination as the cup slipped from the young man's hands and raised a brow as Franz tried to get to his feet.
“Coun…Count?” the man asked weakly as he staggered a little. “What's…what's happening to me?”
The world was swimming before his eyes. Franz knew that the day had been an exciting one but it wasn't bad enough to make him lose all bodily functions for no reason. He took another tentative step towards the blue-skinned man trying desperately to find the right words to explain this sluggish, lethargic feeling he was going through.
Was the Count calling out to him? He couldn't tell, but what he did know was that he was falling…falling into a deep abyss with no help in sight….until strong but very cold hands caught and rescued him.
__
He moaned thickly at the ticklish sensation. Someone was whispering his name and mumbling words that he had never heard before. He shivered in delight as something sharp but cool scraped upon his naked flesh. His skin broke out in a million and one goosebumps and he gave another soft whimper of need.
“Al…Albert…” he croaked weakly, hoping and praying that this really was happening and not just another unfulfilled dream - one of many thousands unfortunately. However, soft but deep rumbling laughter had him opening up his eyes slowly. He could feel his cheeks burn with an embarrassment so deep, Franz could swear that even his toes were red at this point. He met the amused green and red eyes and turned away quickly.
“I…” What could he say? And why did he still feel so sluggish? He tried to move, but gasped in shock and unwanted delight as he felt the Count's knees press gently against the growing bulge within his pants. He realized with dismay that he was lying upon the lounge chair and that the Count had already unbuttoned his shirt - that would, of course, explain the cold he had felt earlier.
“Why bother to run away, my dear Franz?” the Count whispered huskily into the blond's ear. He gave a feral grin at the shiver it elicited, watching as the pale skin flushed with excitement beneath his touch. “You assumed it was your friend, Albert, did you not? So you do carry a torch for your childhood friend. How…sweet.” He traced the outline of the younger man's ear, relishing in the choked sob he got in response.
“Ple…please…” Franz begged weakly, lifting his hands to try to push the older man away from him. “Albert…needs…”
“Our help, yes…” The Count drawled lazily as his tongue continued to make its way down the smooth neck that was so beautifully arched for him. Dear gods, but this man was simply a delight to taste!
“We…must…hurry…aaaah…CounR 30;Count…please…stop…” Thinking - the Count was making the very act of thinking extremely difficult for the flustered young man. The rough, yet warm and wet sensation of the older man's tongue upon his flesh and now his sensitive - oh so sensitive nipples - was enough to make him want to scream.
“No…” he pleaded desperately. “Albert….”
“Will be rescued only after you do a little favor for me, Franz,” the man said with a wicked smirk as he traced the outline of the tightened pink nubs with a long fingernail. “Don't worry, we have plenty of time.”
He rose to his feet suddenly, pulling the younger man to press him tightly against his body. He stared into the wide blue eyes, enjoying the mingled expressions of confusion, fear and awe within them. “Pleasure me, Franz,” he whispered thickly.
“Wha…what?!” came the breathless squeak of disbelief. He tried to see if the Count was joking but there was no hint of amusement in those eyes. “Plea…pleasure…”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
“But…”
“You want Albert rescued, correct?”
Franz could feel his hopes dashing faster than a wild horse let loose on the streets of Paris. He licked his lips slowly, knowing that there was no way he could talk his way out of this. The Count was his only hope and if it meant having to lower his pride and subject himself to the older man's demands, then who was he to refuse?
“Ye…yes,” he finally muttered in resignation. He fell to his knees willingly, trembling hands reaching for the drawstring of the Count's velvet dark pants. He closed his eyes and swallowed tightly, wincing as he felt the strong hand sink into his hair.
Just…for Albert…just remember…it's all for Albert…
With trembling hands, he pulled the cloth down, reluctantly opening his eyes to see just what he had to deal with. As the Count's erection was set free from its constraints, Franz had to gasp in awe at how impressive it was. He wrapped a trembling hand around it's base, lifting his gaze to watch the Count's reaction. He was rather pleased to see a relaxed look on the older man's countenance and a small smile of encouragement on those pale lips.
Deciding that he had wasted enough time admiring the Count's endowment, Franz closed his eyes again and took a deep breath. If Albert had considered the Count's hands cold, there was definitely nothing cold about the warm, throbbing flesh in his hand at the moment. He inhaled the thick, musky scent of the Count's pre-cum and with a low moan, opened up his mouth to take as much of it as he could. He barely heard the Count's strangled cry of pleasure, neither did he feel the tightening of the fingers in his hair. He had expected the Count to taste…well…anything but this. It wasn't bitter, neither was it sweet but it was a taste that Franz knew he could enjoy having for a long time.
He sucked - up and down, faster and faster with the urging of the Count, whose features were now contorted into one of near painful pleasure. His tongue danced around the swollen tip, a little trick that a Baroness had once done to him in his sixteenth year. Franz could remember how incredible that sensation had felt and with the Count's soft cry, he knew he had achieved the very same thing. He teased the deep slit with the tip of his tongue, back and forth, smiling softly to himself as he felt the Count's legs tremble before him.
He was obviously doing a good job for as he took the entire length within his mouth again, the Count all but cried out his name in delight. Franz could feel the growing swell of the thick flesh in his mouth and knew that it wouldn't take too long for the Count to explode. He, however, did not want to swallow the other man's cum, but it was clear that the Count had no plans to release him.
Franz lifted his gaze in a silent plea, feeling the tears well in his eyes as he met the smirking visage of the older man. He tried to pull away but his head was forced forward and to his dismay he found that his mouth was being abused this time around.
Oh, god…Albert…you owe me big time for this. I swear it!
He squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the first thick spurts of the Count's semen in his mouth. He wanted to gag…feeling the creamy liquid tease the corners of his lips…but the Count was merciless and would not give the younger man the option of refusing. Franz was unable to stop the tears from spilling down his cheeks as he felt the hot fluid bathe his tongue and slide down his throat. He swallowed helplessly, allowing the slightly bitter semen to settle somewhere in the pit of his stomach.
“Ah, that feels so much better,” the Count said with a grin of approval as he released his captive with a soft grunt. He watched the blond cough helplessly on all fours, while getting dressed. He reached into his pocket to remove a small bottle of vial and falling to a knee, he placed a gloved hand beneath the flushed man's chin forcing their gazes to meet.
“Here you go. This should get your senses alert again.”
Franz tried to turn his face away but the Count was fast and the sharp and almost pungent scent from the small vial had him coughing again. Despite his trepidations, he was pleased to find that his lethargic state was now completely gone. He didn't feel like he was being weighed down by a ton of bricks anymore.
“Bertuccio will take you to the bathroom where you can clean yourself up,” the Count said with a friendly smile that made Franz cringe inwardly at the sight. “You did a very good job, Franz and I will help you rescue your friend. Just pray he doesn't get kidnapped again or I might have you do something much better than just pleasing me.”
Franz had heard enough. He tried to find the right words to say…anything to tell the Count of just how disgusting and humiliating this experience had been. But to his chagrin and dismay the words just wouldn't come. It was as if the Count, himself, was daring him to say something to that effect. He gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into tight fists by his side. He could still taste the Count in his mouth and had a feeling that for as long as he lived, that taste would never go away.
With a polite bow of respect, Franz d' Epinay found himself saying the eternal words of gratitude. After all, it was the right thing to do in these circumstances.
“Thank you…Count.”
And as he began to walk away, he was sure he could hear the older man laughing softly to himself. But whatever the case may be, one Albert Morcerf owed him a lot for this and Franz already had an idea of just what sort of a payment he wanted in return.
-The End-