Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Silk and Steel ❯ Sultan And Slave Boy ( Chapter 2 )

 

 

Bored, bored, bored. Dear gods he was bored. The business of the day was finished and now he found himself at loose ends for the evening and restless. The music played by unseen musicians that was supposed to soothe and relax him only made him more unsettled. He flopped back onto the mounds of silk pillows with a heavy sigh. He wondered if the new slave boy was trained yet.

 

As though he had been summoned the boy appeared, coming cautiously into the room. Someone had certainly dressed him well. A teal and deep green silk vest covered his chest and the loose fitting pants he wore were the same dark green trimmed in gold. The many layers of bracelets at his wrists and ankles clinked softly as he moved further into the room. The boy's amazing fire colored hair had been brushed to gleaming and left in a loose fall around his shoulders and down his back. His face had been left unpainted except for a very thin line of kohl around his eyes, making their unusual color of blue stand out all the more. It was perhaps the simplicity of it all that made him breathtaking. Or perhaps it was the mere fact that the boy was beautiful. The sultan beckoned him forward. The boy walked slowly toward him then dropped to his knees and put his forehead to the floor, arms stretched out in front of him.

 

“What is it you wish of me, my Master?” the boy asked.

 

The sultan considered the question for a moment before answering. “Dance for me. You have been trained in this, yes?”

 

“Yes, I have, my Master.”

 

“Very well. You may proceed,” the sultan said, settling back more comfortably against the pillows.

 

The boy slid backward and sat for a moment resting on his knees and the balls of his feet. He stilled and found an appropriate point in the music, raised both hands over his head, allowing the backs of his wrists to touch before standing in one fluid motion. His right shoulder rolled and that arm dropped to curve at his side, framing one hip as he circled it and swung one leg behind him.

 

There was no doubt about it the Sultan thought, the boy was truly one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. He watched through half closed eyes as the boy spun and moved in ways no man should have been capable of. He felt a familiar tightening between his legs and reached down to slowly stroke himself through the silk of his pants. He stopped the boy after he had nearly bent himself in half backward, no longer able to withstand the temptation.

 

The boy approached his master cautiously, not looking at him but keeping his eyes on his own feet. He dropped to his hands and knees a few feet away from the lush pile of silk and velvet pillows his master rested on. The Sultan leaned forward and grasped the boy by his wrists then dragged him up onto the pillows next to him. He put his hand under the boy's chin and forced his head up, the boy still didn't meet his eyes.

 

“You've been schooled in how to please me?”

 

The boy nodded as best he could with the Sultan still holding onto this chin.

 

“Then you may proceed,” the Sultan said, releasing the boy's chin and stretching out on the pillows.

 

The boy flushed to the roots of his remarkable hair. He had never dreamed he'd be this close to his Sultan much less be instructed to please him. He scrubbed the palms of his hands against the silk of his pants nervously before reaching out to run his fingers caressingly over the Sultan's face.

 

Golden eyes closed and the boy breathed a small sigh of relief that he was no longer being watched by his lord. He ran his fingers through the other man's raven hair, scratching the scalp gently with his short nails. The Sultan moaned in satisfaction and slitted his eyes ever so slightly so he could watch the boy without him panicking as he was enjoying the tentative caresses far too much to interrupt them just now. He managed to stifle a grin at the look of intense concentration on the boy's face, thinking he was being entirely too serious.

 

The boy was trying to keep himself from getting carried away and just throwing himself at his lord. He didn't think he'd ever seen anyone so gorgeous in his life. His fingertips stroked the man's skin with an almost awestruck reverence, tracing lightly across broad shoulders, a solid, well muscled chest then along the lines of the flat stomach to the edge of the silk pants. He was very proud of the fact that his hands only trembled a little as he slid the pants off of the Sultan's narrow hips and down impossibly long legs. After tugging the pants completely off, he ran his hands lightly up the Sultan's calves, thighs and hips, pausing to trace his fingertips along the pronounced V that ran from hip to groin.

 

The Sultan had finally had enough of the boy's teasing caresses and took one of his hands in his own and wrapped the boy's long, elegant fingers around his aching length. The Sultan grinned at the boy's startled gasp as he began to move he hand he was holding up and down. He released the boy's hand and folded his arms behind his head, enjoying the feel of those lovely fingers stroking him. His hands clenched one of the silk pillows when the boy bent his head and almost cautiously licked the tip of his erection.

 

The boy carefully closed his lips over the head, swirling his tongue around it experimentally a few times before sinking down as far as his gag reflex would allow.

 

The Sultan knew he wouldn't last long as he watched all that beautiful fire colored hair move across his stomach, hips and thighs. One of his hands moved from behind his head to tangle in the boy's hair as his back arched and his vision went temporarily white around the edges. The boy gasped and tried to choke down the salty, hot semen, swallowing as quickly as he could. Some still managed to escape and dribbled from the corner of his mouth.

 

The Sultan leaned forward and brushed the thin seam of white from the edge of the boy's lips. He smiled and dragged the boy up to lie beside him on the pillows.

 

“Scheisse, I wish I could swallow as fast as you do, Brad,” Schuldig complained.

 

Crawford shrugged. “I'm hardly complaining about the performance.”

 

“Care to reciprocate the performance?”

 

“Only if we're playing Capture the Maiden tomorrow night.”

 

“Done. I'm wearing the dress.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because, while you are an exceptionally good looking man, you're a damn ugly woman.”