Shop Mobile More Submit  Join Login

Mature Content

This content is intended for mature audiences.


or, enter your birth date.*


Month

Day

Year*
Please enter a valid date format (mm-dd-yyyy)
Please confirm you have reviewed DeviantArt's Terms of Service below.
* We do not retain your date-of-birth information.
There was no care or ceremony in the way Arlen threw Rufus into the creaking mattress of his bed. Rufus groaned, the bandages on his body barely cushioning the various cuts and scrapes on his body. He barely had time to sit up, before – with Rufus emitting another incredibly feminine scream – Zachary had thrown himself on top of Rufus' body, pinning him to the mattress. Rufus squeezed him eyes closed, waiting for the pain to begin.
A couple moments passed. Still nothing. Only Zachary's warm, heavy breathing tickling the side of him neck. With timid hesitancy, Rufus peeked through the eyelashes of his left eye. Zachary's twin-swords were resting by his drawers on the other side of the room, and his collection of throwing knives was left untouched on top his dresser…
As of yet, no threat detected.
Rufus shifted under Zachary's compressing weight, but was forced still by the abrupt movement of Arlen's hand, squeezing Rufus' arms and pinning them also to the bed with punishing strength. "Don't try to escape me." Zachary growled. Rufus gulped. Threat detected. Threat detected! Threat detected!!!
Rufus forced his heart to stop beating so damn erratically. This is Zachary we're talking about, not some slasher Vanguard member with a chainsaw. Zachary seemed to subconsciously know that Rufus was panicking, because he did not speak until Rufus' heartbeat against his chest had slowed to a steady beat. Taking a deep breath, Zachary sat up – his strong, calloused hands still pinning Rufus' to the mattress beneath them. In the dim light, his viridian eyes burnt into Rufus like a raging effigy. "No matter how many times I ask, beg or plead; no matter how I try to protect you and stop you hurting, death seems to follow you like a bloodhound. Rufus, if there is any love for me in your heart; Swear to me, on the lives of those we love, that you will not put me through this again."  
Rufus gave Zachary a meek look in return for the man's fiery glare, a glare that said 'agree, or I will eat you.' Rufus gulped. "It's impractical for me to promise that." He replied coolly.
Zachary growled. "What's impractical is your careless disregard for your own life! Rufus, you are aware of how important you are to the team? To me?"
Rufus smiled. "If I die, another Rupert Merrell will replace me."
Zachary shook him. "You aren't Rupert Merrell! He's not you! No-one can replace you, Merle. Do you understand me? You are precious!!"
Rufus remained conspicuously quiet, his own star-bright eyes avoiding Arlen's gaze. Zachary could see the disbelief already. It was in the way Rufus held himself; the tautness of his muscles beneath Zachary's hands, the way he gnawed at his lip, worrying the sensitive flesh. Words would fall on deaf ears, Zachary mused, and with that he dipped his neck again, this time capturing Rufus' lips with his, soothing and laving Rufus' bitten lip with his own careful but commanding tongue. Rufus responded, helpless to his lover's ministrations. The movements of their lips were soft and gentle, like a quiet caress.
It was different this time – Arlen had punished Rufus before, pounding the message 'Don't. Die. On. Me.' Repeatedly into Rufus for an entire night. Maybe it had been an attempt at brain-washing. However, no amount of sex and mantras were going to stop Rufus, that Zachary was fully aware of. So now, there was no commandment, no punishment, no general fuckery. Every movement, every touch to Rufus' alabaster skin, cried out in the barest whisper: "Don't die. Don't leave me." Actions spoke more than words ever could, and these were words that Zachary would never say.  
Breathless, their lips parted. Rufus felt a little light-headed from the lack of oxygen, his head lolling to one side, in what seemed to Zachary as an open invitation. Lasciviously greedy, Zachary dipped yet again, nibbling at the tender skin under Rufus' jaw line. It was blissful seduction of the highest form.
Zachary's lips burnt a scorching trail down Rufus' neck, revelling in the other man's scent. Rufus was an incubus by his own right; his body was awkward in its unearthly beauty, and he smelt of dark secrets and lust...in Zachary's mind anyway. Regardless – Rufus was delicious. With ease, Zachary's own nimble fingers made short work of Rufus' ruined and scorched clothes; painful reminders that he'd once again nearly lost Rufus. Rufus watched dazedly as his clothes (which were quickly dwindling in number, for this exact reason) were literally torn from his body, and for not the first time Rufus wondered why Zachary even bothered with swords. The thought was quickly blown far from Rufus' mind as Zachary's crafty fingers began to caress that place. Rufus gasped out, but that gasp was swallowed by his fiancé, who quickly hushed him with a passionate, spine-tingling kiss. Rufus shuddered at the lazy strokes Arlen administered, almost studiously. The touch was cool, and far more languid than Rufus thought possible, as Zachary, with a small but obviously possessive smile, ran the pad of his thumb from the tip to the shaft of Rufus' cock. Rufus gulped, unable to respond due to the equally languid kisses to his mouth. His eyes glazed with the touch, and Rufus began to feel that familiar heated tingle in his groin; the one that oh yes, feels so good.
Aware that his hand was now free, Rufus began to work furiously at removing Zachary's own clothes. Zachary had already shed his duster coat, propped on a rickety hook that protruded from the bedroom wall. It was only the thin, blood red shirt and worn black jeans that remained, and soon after Rufus' relentless tugging, Zachary growled in annoyance and finally removed the offending garment before flinging them to the floor.
It was just them now, as it was supposed to be. Skin on flushed and pleasured skin that spoke of an alluring sheen of sweat. When had they started sweating? The games had only just begun!
Rufus pulled his second hand from Zachary's grasp, but he didn't seem to mind; far too interested in Rufus' cock that was coming to life in his hands as he began to pump in long and hard strokes. Rufus needed something to cling to, to concentrate on before he got lost in that glorious friction. Panting, Rufus clutched Zachary's head, his finger's entwining with his fiancé's chestnut hair. He pulled himself flush against Zachary, his straining erection knocking into- Oh. Well, hello Arlen.
Rufus bit away a sickeningly pleased grin as he gasped breathily in Zachary's ear "Arlen, I need you..."
"Anything you want, Merle." Came the equally husky reply. And ask he spoke, Rufus could feel that whilst the first of Zachary's hand remained resolute in its task of pleasuring Rufus senseless, the other slowly began to rub at his sphincter muscle – that tight ring that Zachary always seemed rather pleased with, due to it 'elasticity'. Rufus moaned belatedly, his fingernails biting into Zachary's skin. Must. Find. Distraction.
Rufus, for the life of him, latched his lips to the closest piece of Zachary's skin, nibbling it gently as he made a path down his lover's neck, to where a pulse throbbed in sync with his heart. Rufus loved watching it – whilst Arlen's face told one very calm, cool and collected story, his heartbeat told a completely different one. Smiling, Rufus nipped the pulse where it jumped, and instantly Zachary groaned in pure ecstasy. Rufus congratulated himself on finding that one particular pleasure spot a few months back. So pleased he was that he forgot about Zachary's own little projects, which Zachary was not going to allow. With one deft movement, Arlen slipped his first digit into Rufus, and instantly the second man turned to goo. "Arlen, oh gods..."
"You said something, Merle?" Zachary asked softly, his finger still stoking the fire inside Rufus, in-out-in-out. Rufus sucked in a lungful of oxygen, gods did he need it.
"B-B-Bugger thaaat..." Rufus moaned, his eyes rolling as Zachary started to speed up, adding a second digit.
"Actually, Merle, I'd rather be buggering something else." Zachary replied lightly, his words airy and yet laced with a lecherous undertone. His fingers scissored inside Rufus, stretching  and teasing him, and Rufus had to consciously not cry out too loudly, aware that Maggie could probably hear every breath they took. Zachary didn't seem to care as his fingers deepened even further, probing...seeking...
"Arle-ah...ah!..."  Rufus whimpered as Zachary succeeded in brushing over Rufus' prostate. Victorious, Arlen revisited that sweet spot again. And again. And again. And Oh good Aramathea if he keeps this up I'm not gooooing to laaaaaast...
Rufus' thoughts were starting to become feverish; incoherent and uncollected. This is what Zachary did to Rufus. He destroyed him, dragged him through chaos, and then slowly undid him like an unravelling thread. And Rufus would never admit it, but the self-indulgent falling apart was bliss. Maybe that was why Arlen indulged him?
Rufus' own primal need was starting to overwhelm him; without even realising, he had been thrusting into Zachary's hand impatiently. His palms were just so wet and-
"Wait a second!" Rufus spluttered, again noticing the sweaty sheen on both their bodies. "How the hell are you doing that?! There is no magic!"
As if only just noticing, Arlen glanced at his soaking body and lubricated hand. He shrugged. "Guess Neptune is at its strongest point."
Rufus shook his head wildly. "We have no magic! How're you-"
"I don't know and neither do I care." Zachary purred softly, lowering Rufus back onto the mattress and pulling his legs over his own shoulders. Rufus trembled at the surprisingly tender touch as Zachary ran his hands over the insides of Rufus' thighs and calves. "You have no idea how precious you are." He muttered, anger hinting in his tone.
Rufus' cheeks flushed furiously. "That's because I am not even worth-"
"Shut up before I gag you." Zachary growled.  
"With what?" Rufus toyed cheekily. Arlen, raising an eyebrow at the challenge, smiled sweetly.  "If there is nothing immediately at hand, I'll just have to screw you senseless." Zachary replied. There was no warning given, but Rufus was used to this. The only clue he had was the slightest pressure on his asshole, and suddenly with a spine-tingling thrust, Arlen's own cock was sheathed to the balls in Rufus' arse. Both men groaned at the sheer sensation. "Knew you'd always be a tight ass, Merle." Arlen chuckled.
"Shut up, Zachary." Rufus grumbled, but another thrust and he was silenced, all for groaning. Zachary had achieved the same non-existent magic on his dick too; the invading flesh was cool and soothing, as well as being as slippery as an eel. And the feel of it was delicious. Slowly, Zachary started to moved, circling his hips experimentally, only to hear that wonderful moan he treasured escape from Rufus' lips. Thrust. Thrust.
Rufus could feel his resolve slipping with every pound he took. The gentleness was slipping – Zachary was never a gentleman in bed, after all.
"Ah-ah-ah-Arrrlen...." Rufus squirmed, the movement ricocheting through Zachary like fireworks. Zachary threw his head back and let himself drown in the sensory overload, simply pushing harder and faster in retaliation.
"Harder, Arlen. Faster." Rufus panted, his back sliding against the sheets with every stroke. The sheets were damp with perspiration, giving Rufus the feeling of aquaplaning. It was always Zachary that anchored him. With one hand, he travelled down to his own waist, gripping and pumping his own cock in desperate need. The fire was building within him, like a bonfire souped up with copious gunpowder. His other hand was once again trapped by Zachary's – only this time their palms touched and fingers interlocked; a symbol of pure intimacy in their race to the finish.
Rufus arched from the bed, and Zachary hit his prostate like a bull's-eye, earning a sharp cry of his name. Any courtesy towards the girl in the room next door had by now been completely forgotten. Zachary firmly aimed and struck at that one spot, the friction driving Rufus over the edge, whilst the sheer tightness of Rufus, and the sounds and words that spilled from Rufus' lips pulling Zachary closer and closer. The fire was in a frenzy, just like the two magi.
"Rufus." Gasped Zachary. "Please. Can't hold out much longer."
Rufus nodded frantically, his eyes closed with the deep sensation. Zachary leant forward, still driving into Rufus like a sledgehammer, his chest now flush against Rufus' again. He inhaled the scent of ecstasy that poured from Rufus' skin, and groaned breathily in Rufus' ear.
"Rufus. Come for me."
The sinful words were too much, and suddenly the burning effigy within Rufus rip-roared throughout his entire body, sending quakes and tremors through his limbs as he cried out Zachary's name.
Zachary watched with sadistic pleasure as his fiancé fell apart beneath him, the sight alone driving Zachary over the edge.
The two magi rode out the sweet waves of euphoria together, collapsing in a heap on the rickety bed, gasping for air. Without a word, Zachary withdrew and lay beside Rufus on the bed. The two sought each other out, and Zachary pulled Rufus into his arms, curling himself around the slighter man protectively. They entwined their fingers yet again.
"Put it this way, Merle. If you die, I die too."
Rufus paused. "...Best I not die then."
"Now you get it."

CB

Maggie, reassured that Rufus was not dead, pulled herself back to her computer where she continued her decoding. With a knowing smile, she opened the top drawer of her desk and pulled out a pair of well-worn earplugs. It was only round one, after all.

CB

"The noble hero returns." Called a svelte voice. "How's the hand?"
Giles gave the man a wan smile. "Thriving, Sir. Thank you for your concern."
The voice snorted. "I wasn't concerned."
"I was fully aware." Giles replied sweetly. "However, it's hardly a loss." He pulled back the sleeve of his sweeping jacket, revealing the monstrous obscenity now sewn onto his wrist. "Damn Magician shot my hand to pieces. There was no retrieving it."
"You did the amputation yourself, I presume?" the voice chuckled.
Giles bowed his head. "Naturally."
"Enough, Gentlemen." A new voice entered the conversation, and a streamline figure in a pinstripe suit with dark flaxen hair stepped from the shadows. His eyes were ringed with shadows of resentment and mourning, his face a cold fixture of ruthlessness and bitterness. His stared icily at Giles. "You are sure they are from that particular realm?"
"As sure as I am bloody." Giles replied, grinning from ear to ear. The pinstripe suit raised an arching eyebrow. "Then you are confident?"
Giles nodded, his face frowning a little. "It doesn't bode well, my Lord. Do they know about the device?"
"How do I know?!" spat the dark, malevolent voice. "For all I know, the Codex could have told them anything. We haven't hindered them at all! In my hand I hold not one piece of that damn Code – they could know everything!"
"Or nothing." Giles voiced, smiling. "We know there are 10 pieces, and they only have 9. The final piece could be the lynchpin, whilst the others only being meagre riddles in a game of treasure hunt."
"How optimistic of you, Giles." Sneered the suit. Giles ignored him.
"Sirs, if the rebels knew about the procedure," his eyes turned the dark shroud, separating him and his leader in its murkiness. "Surely they would have attacked by now, instead of continuously seeking out those pieces of encoded, 21st Century garbage. They are clueless, and therefore vulnerable in their naiveté."   
The suit nodded to Giles' hand. "They appear vulnerable, indeed."
Giles sneered again, smirking. "This is not a loss." He murmured, flexing the tendons of the mechanical hand. "These fibres are made of enforced titanium and welded with an aluminium alloy – my own making. They are light, for agility, but strong." He curled the fingers into a literally iron-clad fist. "This is not a loss."
"No." Agreed the shrouded figure. "However; thirty of mine and my father's men dead in a decaying tourist nest, now that is a loss…"
Giles turned his gaze to meet the hidden eyes of his master. "Will you have me pay for my actions, Sir?"
"No." was the abrupt reply. "No, dear friend, I believe we all know who is responsible." He turned to the suit, his Cheshire cat smile visible even through the black shrouds. "Send for Captain A-"

CB

"Send for Captain Allen."
Rupert struggled from where he was restrained. The chains dug into his neck ruthlessly, and he could feel the blood dripping down his chest. "He did nothing! I promise – it was all me!"
"Insubordination!!" The guard shrieked, and with an almighty crack, the guard had punched Rupert in the side of the head. The young boy was bleeding from the ear and nose, his lip was split horribly, and there was blood soaking through all of his clothes.
The shadow chuckled. "Your captain has already stated, Merrell; If we find need to punish his men, we shall punish the man who trained them instead. I intend to follow my Captain's wishes."
Rupert continued to writhe in his constraints. The blood acted as a lubricant, and the pain was familiar. The shackles chafed, cutting deeply, but despite this Rupert was desperate to escape.
The doors flew open, and the heroic, roguishly handsome figure of Captain Zack Allen – head hitman of the SS Mafia- stepped into the room. His eyes fell on Rupert, and he closed them in futility. "What did he do?"
"That girl we caught, the one acting as a safe-house for the rebels. Remember her?" Giles smiled.
Yes, Zack did remember her. She was striking in looks, and even fiercer in personality. She'd clawed at his men, having run out of bullets, before finally being subdued with a blow to the head. Zack had delivered the blow – a succinct and precise hit to the neck, at her pressure point. It was the most humane way he could think; Zack had vowed to never hit an unarmed woman.
Zack nodded. Once. Giles smiled even further. "Well, it seems our friend Merrell here was quite neglectful when delivering her rations today, and the girl escaped."
"Escaped?" Zack repeated, his eyebrows raising. Giles chuckled with good humour.
"Hmm, yes. But don't worry, she was soon captured again. Lord Sven tells me he's looking forward to having a heart to heart conversation with her later."
The threat crawled like a black, bloodthirsty leech under Giles' words, and for the sake of his sanity, Zack ignored the implications.   
"If she has already been retrieved, then can I ask what need there is for my summoning?" Zack asked, his eyes and tones betraying nothing.
"Sloppy mistakes, Captain, are not tolerated." Giles almost sang, the glee evident in his eyes. "I leave the decision for you, with our Leader's permission."
Sven nodded his consent, equally entertained by the scene before him. Giles spun on his heel to face Zack entirely, a sick grin plastered on his face. "Either I can take Merrell and see to it he is... suitably punished...or as you suggested, Captain Allen, we punish the man responsible for him."
Zack's eyes flicked coolly over to where Merrell stood. The man was already covered in blood, the chains and shackles that bound him were still ruthlessly slicing into him with the young man's every movement. There was no reason for it, but the sight alone tugged at Zack. And sickened him. "I'll take his punishment." Zack announced calmly. Immediately, Rupert sprang into furious action.
"You can't! It's not his fault, it's mine! Punish me! Kill me if you must! Don't hurt him!"
Zack closed his eyes as Rupert was viciously gagged. They wouldn't risk punching Rupert again – Giles would want Rupert to be awake, to watch whatever they intended for Zack. Zack kept his mask firmly in place, despite how his deepest core was petrified of whatever was about to happen... and furious at Rupert for not shutting up.  Didn't he know he was only making things worse?
So what was it this time? Whipping? Zack had the criss-cross scars on his back to prove he was well used to those. Perhaps more physical, like a royal bollocking? Or a personal favourite of Giles, where you are hung upside-down from the ceiling in Sven's audience-room, for at least ten hours a day for three days. Just to set an example.
"Take a knee, sir." Giles smiled, coaxing Zack toward the floor. This was new. Slowly, Zack Allen lowered himself to his knees on the tiled floor of the audience hall. Internally he was already mentally preparing himself for the worst – whatever the worst may be. Because whatever deity out there that cared could tell you; death was the least of your worries.
Zack kept his eyes firmly shut as he felt the pressure of two men – two of his men – restraining his arms. He breathed evenly, keeping calm...then stopped short, his breath hitching. He smelt petroline. Breath whispered over Zack's left cheek, and the unblemished skin tingled at the sensation. "This, Captain, may hurt a little."
There was the click of a lighter, and heat spurned to life near his cheek. Zack squeezed his eyes tighter, subconsciously flinching back from the sudden heat so close to his face.
"Captain." Zack heard Sven call, and instantly opened his eyes to look at his leader. Immediately he regretted it. Not only could he now see the close proximity of the lit torch, but also Sven had moved Rupert, who now sat not five paces away, gagged and watching Zack with wide, fearful eyes. Those eyes screamed a silent 'I'm sorry'. Zack met them, and for just the smallest moment, his mask slipped. Silent words: 'I don't want you to get hurt either...'
Their eyes met briefly, earthy green and sky blue, equally terrified and pained. Then Zack could see no more; his world was plunged into flames.

CB

"Send for Captain Archer." Sven ordered, a reminiscent gleam catching his eye. The guards posted about the room bowed there head obediently, and it was silently agreed upon which soldier was to fetch the unlucky commanding officer.
Sven relaxed back into his chair, readying himself for a show. "Before I forget." He added lazily "double the guard around the device. Make sure the rebels have no chance at an upper hand."
The suited man nodded his head. "It will be done sir."
The guard re-entered the room, followed by a man with blonde-white hair and stormy eyes, made red with tear shed. An entire platoon of his men was dead. Giles gave him a sweet smile, his voice mockingly sympathetic. "Come, come now, Captain. Your men died honourably – fighting for their true master to rid our beautiful world of parasites."
The Captain remained silent, but his eyes betrayed his thoughts. He was also a man trapped; one who saw Sven and his followers for what they were and loathed them. Giles positively hummed in pleasure. "I think we need to re-establish your ideals, sir."
"I serve my Lord Sven." The Captain murmured in reply.
Giles nodded. "Yes, yes indeed. But your heart doesn't." He turned to Sven. "Will two weeks suffice?"
Sven, obviously disappointed, replied with a flick of his hand. "Fine. Guards; take him."
The Captain didn't struggle as his own men arrested him, their fear of Sven more potent than their loyalty to their Captain. "Where to, Lord Giles?" one asked solemnly.
Giles beamed in response. "To the box, of course."
Chapter 4... not for kiddies, but gold dust for fangirls. (I'm looking at you, Juubi.)

Zachary/Zack, Rufus/Rupert, Sven & Giles M Vaughan

Maggie & 'The suit' (Vandelle) Me
No comments have been added yet.

Add a Comment:
 
×

:iconattitudet: More from Attitudet


More from DeviantArt



Details

Submitted on
May 18, 2012
File Size
23.7 KB
Mature Content
Yes
Link
Thumb

Stats

Views
22
Favourites
0
Comments
0
×