Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Absolute Power and Corruption Incarnate ❯ Part IV ( Chapter 4 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

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Disclaimer: Same as in previous...

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{Part IV}

Crawford sat in the window, his dark eyes scouting the horizon. It'd had been not quite an hour since his God had left him unsated and miserable in the confines of his own bedchamber. He contemplated his options carefully. This was something that he'd done every so often when the deity finally left him completely alone.

Running away would do no good. Schuldig could, for some reason, find him no matter where he went. Crawford hated that part of having access to all the power he'd been given. So far as he knew, the oracle gift he was in possession of was completely gifted to him by the God. Too many sides to the coin… too many things he had to think about and make decisions on.

The prophet couldn't stop being the man he was. He was in too deep and Schuldig knew him too well. The God of Lies was too ruthless and conniving to make things easy on his 'pet' mortal. Crawford hated that, as well. All the times he'd tried to make headway with the varied religions had been horrific failures. None of the priesthood heads, save for Schuldig's, had given him any respect. They were too wary of him and the damage his forked tongue could do.

It was, after all, his words that had brought low the priesthood of Balinese.

To this day, Crawford wondered why the God of Beauty and Pleasure had been the ultimate target of his deity. He had been sent in to sow dissidence and betrayal. The prophet had done miraculously well. The results had even surprised himself.

A soft knock at the door startled him out of his reverie and he looked at it curiously before answering. It opened to reveal a startlingly beautiful young man with dark locks and a lean, dancer's build. The youth held a tray laden with fresh food and wine. As his head lifted, Crawford saw a golden mesh collar around the boy's throat. Quite possibly, this was one of Takatori's slaves.

"The Master sent me to keep you sated… in all ways," the youth said with a slight grin. He looked up with beautiful emerald colored eyes and let his glance briefly touch that of the prophet's gaze. Crawford stepped back, allowing the slave into his chamber silently.

Setting the tray down on his desk, the young man turned and displayed himself for the gaze of Schuldig's conduit. Obediently, Crawford's vision roamed over the lean planes of flesh and muscle that were ill-concealed by the youth's ornate loin cloth. This one was a true beauty.

He gave a resigned sigh. "If you think you can get my body to respond, you're free to do as you will." The prophet lay back on his bed, watching the young man, waiting to see if he'd take him up on his challenge. His unsatisfied need made him bold enough to let the beautiful brunette do his worst. It wasn't as if his body was allowed to respond to any save the God of Lies' touch.

But, if this youth could bring him some relief from the pressure that consumed him, so be it. It was with amusement that he watched the boy crawl towards him from the foot of the bed. He smiled lazily before asking, "Do you have a name?"

"Yotan," came the almost purred response. The slave paused in his trek to give a light lick or nip to Crawford's flesh, drawing a soft hiss from sharply intaken air. The prophet looked at the youth again and gave a smile as Yotan's mouth descended towards his fevered, tortured cock. "I'll bet you taste wonderful," the slave whispered just a second before his mouth engulfed the tip.

Crawford arched up at the incredible feel of the beautiful boy's mouth. Indescribable pleasure swept through his body, pooling at his loins, rippling out in breathtaking waves. Unbidden, his hands flew to the dark hair, fisting in the silken tresses, holding the slave in place. Not even Schuldig had ever caused such an explosive reaction.

One long fingered hand wrapped around the base of the prophet's cock, working upwards as the slave's mouth came down the length. Each stroke created a pulse of glorifying sensation that simply compounded all the previous ones, bringing Crawford higher in a dizzying spiral. Heat seared through his blood yet his skin was alive with gooseflesh and his moans changed to cries in the still confines of his bedchamber.

"Y-Yotan… don't stop…" Crawford was starting to become a slave to his need all over again. This time, though, he didn't feel dirty or like he was being used. It was nothing save for pure, unbridled, unequaled pleasure. Schuldig had never given him something even close to this. The prophet found himself becoming addicted to it even as he started whispering the slave's name over and over.

Faster, hotter, tighter… Yotan's mouth continued to bathe him, caress him, drag him up to heights he'd never before felt. Crawford found himself drowning in the sea of what was being done to him. He knew that if the boy stopped what he was doing right then, all that would be left for the himself was a form of emptiness that he couldn't cope with.

Then, the crest was upon him and his body bowed up fully, Crawford's mouth open and an inarticulate shout erupting from him. White hot pleasure shot through him, robbing the man of speech, thought, and breath. When his body finally unlocked from it, he collapsed back onto the bed, sated and exhausted. "Yotan," he whispered softly, his eyes fluttering closed.

"Hmmm?" The slave's voice was a soft drawl of amusement.

Crawford could barely keep his tone steady, lethargy was already seeping into his completely sated frame. "If Takatori ever decides to sell you, let me know… I'll more than meet his price."

Yotan smiled gently. "I will. Sleep now, prophet…" Green eyes watched as the man did as commanded. Then, the slave rose from the bed and made his way to the door. "Your master has his plans and you need to be rested for them…"

Out in the hall, Yotan's body shifted and shimmered, until Balinese stood in his place. "I also have my plans, little prophet, and you figure quite heavily into them…" With that, the God of Beauty and Pleasure winked at a passing chamber maid before walking by her silently and rounding a corner.

As he got out of sight, he vanished into thin air. 'And… I need to take a more attentive hand in keeping my precious Ran safe… You won't be interfering with that either, Crawford…'

{End of Act II}

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Mish: Well, Act II is finished and I've already posted Act III - Part I to my ML, soooooo... Give it a couple of days and you'll be seeing it here soon! Feedback might make me post it faster you know...

The next Act is titled "Matters in Hand"...