Trapped Wizard (Yaoi)

Trapped Wizard

Yamila Abraham

Cover by Himitsu Studio

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* * *

King Percival walked through a portion of the

castle that had crumbled to ruins. He hadn’t seen the
area since childhood (not terribly long ago). He stepped
over a toppled pillar through blades of sunlight streaming
from decomposing stone. Then he reached an imposing
wooden door curved to fit a massive tower.

The voice of Lord Archiebund boomed through the

dark passageway when he entered.

“You better be the king, and this better be

important.”

Percival winced. The tower stairs stank of some

pungent herbal smoke. One breath of it sent his head
reeling. He retreated into the clearer air of the ruins.

“Damn.”
Percival pulled out his handkerchief to cover his

nose. With all the perils he had to endure to reach this
wizard he didn’t need an intoxicating stench. He plowed
through the haze until he ascended circular steps.

“You better be the king, and this better be…”
He climbed high enough for the magical warning

to grow muddled. His head felt the same way. The smoke
only grew denser the further he rose. His eyes began to
sting. He closed them to feel his way along a banister that
had some manner of slimy vine growing on it.

The air got breathable for a moment. Percival

opened his eyes to see he now stood upside down. The
magical  stairs  wound  onto  the  ceiling.  He  remembered
this trick from when his father brought him to meet the
wizard ages ago. He closed his eyes again and hurried
on.  A  wave  of  vertigo  indicated  he’d  climbed  through
another  loop  that  righted  him.  Percival  faced  a  smooth

door with a constant tidal wave of smoke pouring from the
gap beneath. He gathered enough of his wits to pound on
it.

“It’s open,” said the same voice as the one that

had warned him.

Percival pressed open the door to a wall of

smoke.

“Lord Archiebund!” He gagged when he drew

breath to speak.

“Get rid of this smoke,” a female voice said.

“You’re going to suffocate him.”

The smoke suddenly cleared. Percival drew long

breaths of sweet air until his senses returned. Then he
looked  around  him.  He  stood  in  a  dingy,  albeit
comfortable,  alcove  of  oddities  mingled  with  the
necessities found in a living quarters. Archiebund sat at
smoking vessel so enormous it served as the center post
holding  up  the  ceiling.  The  only  remnant  of  the  smoke

swirled inside the clouded glass. The wizard reclined on a
massive cushion before it holding a slender hookah hose.
A snake with batwings and what looked like a doll’s long
silken wig on its head rested on his lap.

Besides his bloodshot eyes and pale skin

Archiebund looked like a youthful dark-haired man. This
surprised Percival. He should have been at least 100
years old.

“You’re not the king,” Archiebund said while

staring at him.

“I am, actually. My father retired last month and

gave me the throne.”

“Oh!” the snake said while tilting her head with

affection. “You know who this is.”

Archiebund looked at him more carefully.

“Percival? Little Prince Percival?”

He lifted his nose. “King Percival. Your king, now.

You should show me a little—”

Archiebund rose and strode toward him fast

enough for Percival to feel a wave of panic. The wizard
lifted him off the ground with a hug. Percival realized his
frightening height.

“Little prince Percival all grown up!” He swung

him in a circle. “What a pleasure! Ha, ha!”

Percival felt disarmed. Then the hug went on long

enough to be awkward. He realized Archiebund still
suffered from the effects of the smoke. He struggled out
of his arms.

The winged snake with a woman’s voice fluttered

down to land on his shoulder. Percival looked at her. She
had cute sparkly eyes and a big reptile smile. The hair he
thought to be a doll’s wig was actually rooted to her scaly
scalp.

“Do you remember me?” the snake said. “Fluta?”
“Vaguely,” Percival said. “I don’t remember you

flying…or talking.”

“I didn’t want to scare you. You were such an

adorable little boy.”

“Indeed!” Archiebund said.
Percival crossed the room to look at a black

globe (one of the oddities). He didn’t mind the snake
remaining on his shoulder. He always kept lots of pets.

“You haven’t aged at all, Lord Archiebund.”
“Not a day past 30. That’s the promise of my

youth spell. I’d be 165 without it. Dead actually.”

Percival’s brow rose. He looked back at the

globe. Small islands started to appear on its crown. “And
what is this thing?” He shook his head, forcing Fluta to
right herself on his shoulder. “No. That’s not why I’m
here.” He spun towards Archiebund. “There’s an army of
goblins headed for us.”

Fluta gasped.
Archiebund went to a smoky mirror beside the

globe. “Goblins? Are you sure. Might you be misclassifying

some more benign creature?” He waved his hand before
the mirror.

“I looked up their description in my books and

they matched the picture of—“

Archiebund silenced him with his palm. His

mirror showed the goblin army teaming across a field.

“My my my. What you have here is goblins. Spikey

black hair, stumpy little bodies, hooked noses. No doubt
about it.”

Percival blinked.
“Quite a horde of them, too. Far too many for me

to handle. I can kill one, maybe, if I’m having a good day.”

Percival blanched. “What?”
“Don’t worry,” Fluta said. “He has his ways.” She

turned her adorned snake head towards Archiebund.
“Scythe almost nailed you last time. You better sober up.”

Archiebund dashed past them to the door. “No

time!”

Fluta cringed. (Percival found her range of

expression uncanny). “This isn’t going to end well.”

Percival ran to keep up with Archiebund down the

circular stairway.

“Who’s Scythe?”
“A very powerful demon,” Fluta said. “He can

destroy the goblins, but he’s pure evil. Just—ohhh!” She
shuddered. “Dastardly. Archiebund has to put a rune on
him somehow to force him to obey. He’s done it a few
times before—barely. Scythe is on his guard.”

The staircase wound upside down. Percival

swallowed. The passage turned far more harrowing
without smoke clouding his mind and vision. He pressed
onward to keep up with Archiebund.

“Where is he going?”
“To Scythe’s lair.”
“Is it far?”
“Not at all! He has him imprisoned in the

catacombs.”

Percival’s eyes widened. “There’s an evil demon

living under the castle?”

They emerged into the ruins. Archiebund led them

towards a collapsed wing. The rubble separated at some
arbitrary division and seemed to roll apart on casters.
The wizard never allowed his determined stride to falter.
Percival and Fluta followed him to a doomed causeway
that ended in dusty stone steps leading downward.

“Should I be going with you?” Percival said.
“Scythe is in an invisible cell. As long as you don’t

go into it you’ll be safe. He won’t be able to see or hear
us.”

Archiebund kept up his frenetic pace in the musty

cellar. He waved torches magically alight with his hand as
he passed them. Percival struggled to keep up.
Archiebund halted suddenly and he crashed into the
man’s back.

“Umph!”
“Stop!” He pointed in front of them. “And look.”
Percival came around him to see an illuminated

cavern. The floor turned from dirt into pristine white tile. A
two  story  living  area  sprawled  out  before  them  full  of
ornate  furniture  and  loaded  book  shelves.  A  loft  with
gilded railing hung above the room with doorways leading
to  several  chambers.  The  king  stared  with  his  jaw
dropped.

“Stay off the tile,” Archiebund said. “That’s the

boundary. If you wander into his liar he’ll kill you. And he’s
downright artistic with his violence. He draws out his
torture an abdominally long time when he’s bored.”

Percival bit his bottom lip. “Point taken. This is…

luxurious.”

“Yes, well, we don’t want him to be

uncomfortable, do we?”

Fluta met Percival’s eyes. “Archiebund has a bit

of a crush on him. If Scythe wasn’t hell-bent on
disemboweling him they might have a nice romance.”

“Nonsense! I set him up this way so he doesn’t

get angry at me.”

Fluta shook her head and mouthed, “He’s quite

smitten.”

They walked around the perimeter together.

Percival’s heart started racing. He spoke to hide his
nervousness.

“I don’t care if you fancy him or not. If he’s this

dangerous you shouldn’t keep him under my—“

Archiebund thrust his arm out in front of his face.
“Shh!”
Percival followed his eyes. Just past one of the

large bookshelves a figure slept at a table. His face
rested in an open book. Percival came as close to the
edge as he dared. He first noticed the two small horns.
The demon had long white hair that spilled over a slender

back. He wore something like a loin clothe with ornate
chains looping over his hips. Most of his pale flesh was
bare. Percival searched for demonic features. He saw
sharpened fingernails painted with gold. Then he realized
the man had small golden hooves rather than feet. He lay
still enough to be mistaken for dead.

“Excellent!”
Percival looked at Archiebund. The wizard had a

manic gleam in his bloodshot eyes.

“He’s asleep.”
He lifted a hand. An orange glowing disk with an

unfamiliar character appeared before it.

“Wait a minute, Archiebund,” Fluta said, “Don’t you

think this is a little too good to be true?”

“Nonsense. Even demons have to rest.”
He strode onto the tile. Percival’s hand went to

his heart. A wall of light flickered as Archiebund crossed
the invisible boundary. He went to Scythe and slapped the

rune onto his forearm.

Except he didn’t connect with the arm. He hit

wood. The illusion of Scythe sleeping vanished. The real
demon appeared on the other side of the table. The rune
slid over the wood into his waiting hand. It changed from
orange to blue, the symbol on it transformed, and then it
flew out of Scythe’s hand to vanish into Archiebund’s
forehead. The wizard tottered back and caught himself on
a chair.

Percival blinked and shook his head. “What—what

just happened?”

“I knew it was a trap!”
The pain in Fluta’s voice made Percival’s heart

beat ever faster. She fluttered up from his shoulder while
tugging his shirt with her tail.

“We’ve got to get out of here. Scythe just enslaved

Archiebund!”

Percival stood frozen. The demon wore a cunning

smile. His face had a strange beauty—pale and doll-like.

Archiebund smiled back at Scythe (giving Percival

hope). He wagged his finger at him.

“You’ve learned some new tricks.”
“I’m so pleased you noticed.”
The hissing demonic voice gave Percival a shiver.
“Illusions?”
“Lord Morecook’s book of spells.”
“Morecook? Fabulous. I’m quite a fan. But how did

you manifest a rune? I thought the magic was too pure for
demons.”

“I didn’t manifest one, I simply manipulated yours.

You described how to do it in that exemplary book of
runes you wrote.”

“I’m flattered you read my work. Still…you’ve

always had such natural destructive power. I never
thought you’d take an interest in spell casting. It seems
too modest for you.”

Scythe strode for him with a clop of his hooves.

“My obsession is a spell caster. Hence, I endeavored to
learn.”

Archiebund’s throat bobbed in a gulp when

Scythe came in front of him. Percival became aware of his
terror. Tears started to build at the back of his eyes. What
about the kingdom? What about the goblins?

Scythe put his hands on Archiebund’s shoulders.

The demon stood several inches shorter than him. He
stared up into Archiebund’s eyes. Archiebund turned
slightly away, as if something unpalatable were before his
nose.

“Your obsession?”
“You, Archie dear.”
Scythe leant forward to kiss him. Archiebund’s

head tilted back. As the demon pursued something
seemed to give inside Archiebund. He closed his eyes and
let their lips meet. Scythe slanted his head while bringing

their bodies close. They lingered together for long
moments. When Scythe broke away Archiebund didn’t
open his eyes.

“I always tried to make sure you were

comfortable.”

Percival could barely make out his whisper.
“Can’t you repay the favor…by killing me quickly?”
Scythe whispered against his lips. “I’m not going

to kill you, Archie. This is a rape.”

“Ah.” Archiebund opened his eyes and gave an

enlightened nod.

“Oh thank goodness,” Fluta said. She expelled a

deep breath from her tiny snake lungs.

Scythe thrust Archiebund against the table. He

stepped back a few paces and crossed his arms.

“Strip.”
Archiebund unbuttoned his collar. “Funny. I don’t

want to obey you, but I have no control over it.”

“Yes, I’m familiar with the rune’s powers.”
Percival squinted at the scene. “I don’t

understand this. They’re both homosexual?”

“Well…” Fluta said. “Archiebund’s not really gay.

Scythe’s as pretty as a woman, and he’s at an age where
he’s just not that particular. Scythe seemed gay to me—if
he’s anything at all. He’s flirted with Archiebund—quite a
lot—but we assumed that was evil banter. You know,
forming an attachment to a victim so the cruelty can be
more personal later? I suggested that maybe Scythe
actually did have feelings for him. It seemed like wishful
thinking.”

Archiebund discarded the last of his clothes.

Percival flushed red.

“Is he really going to rape him?”
Scythe smiled at Archiebund’s burgeoning

erection. “Well, well, well.”

“Ah. That. I smoked a bit of an aphrodisiac

earlier.”

Scythe walked to him while laughing through his

nostrils. He wrapped his arms around Archiebund’s bare
back. The wizard angled his face away.

“You’re not really going to…I mean, honestly now.”
“I’m really going to rape you, Archie.” He touched

his fingers to Archiebund’s chin and turned his face
toward him. “Honestly.”

He gulped again.
“Don’t move.”
“Wouldn’t you know it?” Archiebund said. “I can’t

seem to move. What a marvelous…

marvelous

rune.”

Scythe laughed again. He attached his mouth to

Archiebund’s nape.

Percival watched with his lips parted. Scythe

kissed  too  sensually  for  this  to  be  a  rape.  As  his  lips
trailed  downward  Archiebund  gave  an  ecstatic  shiver.
Percival’s  view  of  their  profiles  allowed  him  to  see  how

the wizard’s arousal grew. Scythe caressed his flanks
with both hands and pinched his nipples until they were
hard. Then he knelt before him. One hand cupped
Archiebund beneath the balls, the other clenched the root
of his shaft. Scythe tickled his slit with a rapid tongue.

Archiebund met his eyes. “Hum…”
Scythe engulfed him in his mouth. He proceeded

with what seemed to Percival, a whorish and enticing
blowjob. He could hear the hard sucking noises as his
head rocked back and forth.

Percival’s cheeks grew hot. “What—what is this?”
The little snake on his shoulder stared with wide

unblinking eyes.

Archiebund blushed crimson. His chest rose and

fell with staggered gasps. He tipped back his head and
closed his eyes.

“You know,

mmm

, for a rape…this is incredibly—

pleasurable.”

“So this is what Scythe was after,” Fluta said.

“This is the passion that was behind all those lingering
stares. We thought he just wanted to kill him.”

Percival forced his eyes away from the scene.

“Then this is—a kind of love?”

“I’m not sure. Scythe could just be toying with him

—though this seems awfully far to go for that. I guess we
should wait until their done and see what Scythe does.”

His brow furrowed. “How long does this sort of

stuff normally take?”

Fluta giggled. “It’s sweet that you’re so innocent.

The time varies. Probably an hour at most.”

“An hour!” He looked back at them.
Archiebund’s eyes had rolled back in his head.

His thighs quivered and he moaned softly. Scythe kept a
continuous rhythm on his cock. (Percival would have loved
to know what it felt like). Archiebund’s sounds grew
desperate.

“Uhh! Scythe—that’s exquisite. But why would you

—?”

Scythe popped his mouth off. “I fantasized about

doing this to you.” He pumped his shaft with his hand. “It’s
a new form of torture. And you’re the only one I was
interested in trying it with.”

“If you want to draw out my torment I suggest you

stop that. I’m about to…”

The floor shook. Percival gasped and looked up.
“What was that?” Fluta said.
“The goblins are here!” He clenched both his

fists. “I’m going through the barrier!”

“Don’t you dare! Scythe will rip your arms off! I’ve

seen him do it before!”

Percival gasped.
Scythe masturbated Archiebund while staring up

into his eyes. “Trouble outside?”

“Goblins,” Archiebund said with difficulty.

“Is that why you came to get me?”
“Y-yes. Oh mercy, Scythe! I can’t hold back.”
Scythe rubbed his cock furiously. Archiebund’s

stomach muscles tensed. “Tell me the situation and ask
me to help you before you come. Perhaps I’ll do it.”

Archiebund whimpered. “A horde of goblins—

attacking the castle. Oh…please…won’t you…

Uhhh! Ahhh!

”

Scythe yanked him through his convulsions. When

the final spray of white erupted he put the tip in his mouth
and sucked hard enough to make his cheeks hollow.

“Ahhh! Scythe—

mmph

!”

Scythe popped his mouth off. “I like it when you

say my name.” He looked up at Archiebund with a wanton
smile. “Did you enjoy that?”

“Of course. Magnificent, Scythe.” He closed his

eyes. “You’re about to kill me, aren’t you?”

Scythe stood and dusted off his knees. “No. I think

I’d like to eviscerate that horde of goblins. Helping you is

coincidentally fun for me. Goblin screams are so shrill
and lovely.” He picked up Archiebund’s pants and threw
them at him. “You may move again.”

Archiebund caught his pants. “You are as

charitable as you are beautiful. I’ll be forever in your
debt.”

Scythe sat on the edge of the table and crossed

his dainty legs. “Don’t bother flattering me. I’m still going
to rape you later. You’re getting a momentary reprieve
because tearing apart goblins is too tempting to delay.”

“Ah.” He donned his shirt. “I see. But by rape do

you mean more of the same?”

“By rape I mean sodomy.”
Archiebund hissed as though he’d been burned.
“You need to get out of here, King Percival,” Fluta

said.

“Right!” He ran for the stone stairway.
The castle shook again. Percival stumbled, but

darted up and continued to flee.

Scythe walked onto the north wall. A dozen

goblins had already climbed to the ramparts. Guards
futilely battled them with swords. Several mortals lay dead
with their insides torn out. Scythe lifted a hand and made
the goblins’ faces melt.

He looked back at Archiebund. “From Brackasalt,

The Book of Enchantments.”

“Amazing. It’s a spell any wizard would be lucky

to pull off once in a lifetime.”

Scythe made a proud smile. “Child’s play.”
He leaned over the wall. A hundred goblins

teamed up towards them like cockroaches.

“You’ll like this one. Rain of Burning Water.”
A cloud appeared against the wall just above the

highest goblin. Archiebund saw a similar effect as the
melting faces spell, except the goblins’ whole forms

succumbed. He couldn’t help but have a gaping mouth.

“My word, Scythe. How can you warp an elemental

spell? You don’t even have the token needed for the base
spell!”

Scythe giggled. “I can teach you that one. You’re

impressed, aren’t you?”

Archiebund stared at him with wide eyes.

“Impressed? I’m in love.”

Scythe turned away, but not before Archiebund

saw him blush.

“Curiouser and curiouser,” he whispered to

Fluta.

“Not curious at all,” she whispered from inside

his shirt. “Why would he bother with spells when he can
use his raw magic? He’s trying to impress you because
he’s in love with you.”

“Haven’t we said many times: That’s too good to

be true? It’s a dream too dear for me to fathom.”

“I think your dream’s come true, Archiebund.”
“Now then,” Scythe said, “that annoying cannon.”
Archiebund followed Scythe’s eyes to a platform

made by the goblins adjoining their bodies. A cannon lay
atop it like a metal tree trunk. The goblins loaded one of
their own as a cannonball.

“That’s what shook the castle,” Archiebund said.

“Strange. Goblins usually don’t work together like that. It’s
odd for the one being used as the cannonball to be so
calm and resigned.”

“Damn him.”
Archiebund’s brow rose. “What?”
The demon tipped his head up. “Never mind. Have

you a spell that can cross this great distance, Archie
dear?”

Archiebund frowned. “No, Scythe,

dear

. There’s

none that I’m capable of. Though once a wizard named
Barleymight was able to manifest a tornado.”

“Tsk. How uninspired. Think hotter.”
Archiebund came next to Scythe and put his arm

around him. A euphoric smile formed on the demon’s
face.

“Don’t open a volcano below them, Scythe. You

mustn’t cast anything that will harm people as well as
goblins.”

Scythe clapped and chirped with laughter. “You

guessed right! How delightful.”

Archiebund’s heart raced. “Please, Scythe.”
Scythe met his eyes with a mischievous grin.

“Fear not, you sentimental fool. That would be like gift-
wrapping an excuse for you to pout in bed later. I’ll
endure no such annoyance.”

He shot an enormous fireball at the mountain of

goblins. Screams germinated without reaching
maturation. The metal cannon dropped through the ash of
incinerated bodies.

Archiebund cringed from the stench, but

recovered fast. He hugged Scythe tight against his side.

“Good man. Thank you.”
Scythe made a demure smile.
The demon took his time destroying the horde in

small sections. He flaunted a dozen newly learned spells.
When the task neared completion he even deigned to
show Archiebund the technique for the elemental spell.
Despite the guidance Archiebund could not master it. He
commended Scythe on his effortless spell-casting.

“That’s the last of them,” Scythe said while

referring to a mound of dead goblins.

Archiebund took his hand. “Scythe, you’ve saved

my kingdom.”

He eyed him. “And you’re eternally grateful. I

know.”

“More than that.” Archiebund drew a deep sigh.

“You don’t need to use the rune controlling me to get me

to your bed. If you’ll find my submission a reward for your
immense generosity today—how can I refuse?”

Scythe fluttered his long eyelashes. “What are you

saying, Archie?”

“You know what I’m saying. I’ll let you sodomize

me without protest.”

The demon’s evil smile gave him a shudder.
“I only ask for chance to imbibe a little, shall we

say, encouragement?”

“Your potent potion? You let me try that last time

you enslaved me. Do you remember, Archie?”

“Ah, yes. You professed that you loved me, but I

assumed it was smoke talking. I seem to have been
mistaken.”

He became smug. “Perhaps.”
Archiebund led him off the rampart by the hand.

Percival waited in the hallway. The sight of him made
Archiebund feel as though his stomach dropped. He

clenched Scythe’s hand tighter.

Percival bowed in front of the demon. “Lord

Scythe—I’m in your debt.”

“Who’s this?”
“He’s the king,” Archiebund said. “Kindly don’t kill

him. Percival—get out of his way!”

Scythe frowned at Archiebund. “I’m not some wild

dog. You’ve insulted me, Archie.”

Cold sweat formed on his brow.
“Lord demon,” Percival said, “your reputation is

one of evil, but today you’ve saved the lives of my people. I
hope you’ll consider letting this be the start of a new
purpose for you.”

“I can’t imagine anything droller,” Scythe said.
Archiebund swallowed to bring moisture to his

dry throat. “But, Scythe dear, wasn’t it fun killing the
goblins?”

Scythe kept his focus on Percival. “You’re wise

for such a young king. This is but the first wave of
darkness. More hordes are on their way to this kingdom
even now. Goblins are such simple things for me to kill.
He could send far worse.”

Archiebund looked at him. “What are you talking

about?”

“Goblins don’t work en masse, and they aren’t

interested in conquering a kingdom. Surely you realize
someone sent them? He wanted something from here
badly enough to enchant a thousand goblins. What prize
could be worth the trouble?”

“You,” Percival said softly.
Scythe cocked his head and smiled. “Wise little

king.”

“Who, Scythe? I insist you tell me.”
“Someone from my past. You’re not my only

admirer, Archie dear.”

“Can you tell him you’re free now and make him

stop?” Percival said.

“He’s not free!” Archiebund said.
“Ask the king if you can suck his toes,” Scythe

said.

“May I suck your toes!”
Percival blinked.
“You’re the one who isn’t free, Archie dear.”
Percival prostrated himself at Scythe’s feet. “I

need my people to be safe, Lord Scythe! Please—do what
needs to be done to stop the attacks.”

Scythe lifted his nose. “I’ll consider it.” He

stepped over the king while tugging Archiebund along.

They ascended the steps to Archiebund’s tower.
“I may be a mediocre wizard, and a slave to the

pipe, but my convictions are the same as the king’s. I
can’t have my people in jeopardy, Scythe.”

Scythe pursed his lips together. “There were

advantages to being your prisoner. You think you’ll outwit

me and imprison me again. I’m not so sure I’d object to
it.”

The stairs turned upside down. Neither seemed

to notice.

“So. This old flame of yours—you’re afraid of

him.”

Scythe climbed on in silence.
“How can you be afraid of anyone—especially

after what I just saw out there?”

“I think I want a taste of your pipe again.”
Archiebund fumed and pushed open his door. “I’ll

bring out the good stuff.”

He gave Scythe the first toke, and he coughed like

a woman. After a few puffs Archiebund felt emboldened
enough to treat him as one. He drew Scythe next to him
on the large cushion. The demon snuggled close. The
affection caused great warmth to burgeon in his middle.
He stroked his back as the room began to spin.

“What happened to your little snake?”
Archiebund laughed softly. “She was hiding from

you.” He opened his shirt for Fluta to creep free.

“Do you fancy me, Archie?”
He felt his hair and looked down at his sublime

face. The answer formed with little thought. “Yes. You thrill
me, Scythe, with your beauty and your power. I could feign
resist you even when I was sure all you wanted to do was
destroy me.”

Scythe gazed at him. “Kiss me.”
Archiebund rolled onto him and joined their

smoky  lips.  For  a  moment  he  wondered  how  he  could
have  kept  something  so  precious  trapped  in  the
catacombs.  The  smoke  erased  the  demon’s  diabolical
history.  For  now  he  only  saw  something  delicate  and
vulnerable.

The kisses fueled the aphrodisiac effect of the

smoke. Scythe’s staggered breaths told him he felt it too.

He tugged off his draperies and ran both hands over the
soft white skin. To see Scythe like this, prone, anticipatory,
with his dewy lips parted—Archiebund had to fight for
restraint. His coral colored nipples looked like solid
circles. He blew on them and delicate nubs hardened in
the middle. Archiebund closed his eyes. Scythe’s intricate
beauty took his breath away.

He plucked off the rest of Scythe’s clothing

expecting  at  least  sardonic  protests.  Scythe  yielded
completely.  Archiebund  kissed  the  middle  of  his  chest,
then his stomach. The latter flesh flinched and trembled
as  though  ticklish.  He  moved  back  to  his  face  to  enjoin
their tongues. He stripped while their mouths wrangled,
though  he  found  it  difficult  to  divide  his  focus.  Scythe’s
moist lips felt ambrosial.

Fluta slithered against his hand just when he’d

exposed his buttocks. The cunning snake delivered a vial
of perfumed oil from her coiled tail. He took it and shooed

her away.

Archiebund continued his ardent kisses while

gliding a hand between them. He felt Scythe’s hot swollen
member and clutched it. His mouth moved to his throat
while he masturbated him. The sounds the demon made—
such anguished pleasure. When he saw the strain on his
beautiful face his own cock swelled.

He tried to bring Scythe to the precipice of

orgasm. His moans grew to a crescendo. He released his
shaft  and  massaged  his  balls.  Scythe  gave  a  titillating
whimper. His fingers explored lower. Massaging the place
just  below  his  balls  raised  his  cries  up  one  octave.  He
poured  some  oil  with  his  other  hand,  and  then  pried  a
thick calloused finger inside him.

Scythe opened his eyes. Archiebund pursed his

lips. He felt like he’d been caught dipping into a forbidden
cookie jar. Scythe only laughed softly. He arched his hips
and drew back his splayed legs. The flutter this caused in

his stomach was so potent he was certain his heart
skipped. The beautiful, dangerous demon had just offered
himself.

Archiebund forced himself to concentrate. He

oiled a second digit and slowly worked it in beside the
first.

“You’re being so careful,” Scythe said with his

eyes closed.

“I don’t want to hurt you, my dear.”
“I’m not used to such…consideration.”
The statement puzzled him, but he put this aside.

Now three fingers squirmed within hot moist insides. His
cock gave a foreboding twitch. It would be a triumph of will
if he could press in slowly. His eagerness now bordered
on desperation. The pulsing and clenching of Scythe’s hole
—

, to feel the same gripping his cock. Just the thought

could propel him to orgasm. He coated his shaft with oil
and pushed against the tender wrinkles.

The head of his rigid cock popped in with little

effort. Scythe urged him in deeper. He registered only
slight pain. Archiebund felt certain he’d done this before.
He spent several minutes slowly stretching the tender
muscle. Scythe leant up to give him a reassuring kiss.

He pulled out and turned the demon onto his

stomach. His body hugged the rounded cushion.
Archiebund molded his own body over him and penetrated
from behind.

“Uh!”
Scythe’s sound of ecstasy made him shiver. The

new position felt rapturous for him as well. He thrust
against the soft mounds of Scythe’s ass, burrowing deep
in clenching warmth. He had to stop and kiss his neck a
moment.

“Your body—it’s exquisite.”
Scythe sounded out of breath. “Flatterer.”
“No—you’re a treasure. A glorious treasure.”

He resumed thrusting. A delicious twinge already

started at the base of his cock. His stomach felt like
water. The luxurious warmth of Scythe’s flesh, the sweet
scent of his hair, those anguished moans—Archiebund’s
head swam.

The supple body beneath his sapped his restraint

moment by moment. He thrust as hard as he dare. The
demon’s moans heightened and he writhed. Archiebund
grimaced. He buried his cock as deep as it would go. His
muscles felt like they seized. He actually felt his testicles
jolting with the orgasm. He squeezed Scythe’s lithe form
and quivered.

His temples throbbed in the afterglow. Both he

and Scythe heaved with each breath. He remained
collapsed over the demon’s warm body. Maybe, somehow,
he’d draw up the strength for a second bout. Scythe was
so sublime—he didn’t want the moment to end.

“I’ve sullied your cushion.”

Archiebund’s eyes widened. He felt euphoric

warmth in his middle. His own rapture had been so
powerful he hadn’t been aware of the demon’s climax.

“Nevermind,” he said, while peeling himself off

him. “Let’s move to the bed.”

He separated from Scythe for short moments.

They curled together under the warm blankets of his bed.
Scythe rested his head on Archiebund’s shoulder and
closed his eyes. The wizard couldn’t join him in sleep. His
mind raced. He felt a sudden desperation.

How? How could he make divine creature his

eternally? There had to be some way he could truly win
his heart. The thought of this night being a singular event
made him panic. What would it take for Scythe to never
leave  him?  Did  he  need  to  become  more  exciting?  To
move  to  a  more  grandiose  kingdom  worthy  of  Scythe’s
majesty?  Or  perhaps  he  had  to  become  his  puppet—
forever  doting  on  him  no  matter  what  crimes  he

committed. Such a wretched fate, but, at that moment,
Scythe seemed worth it. He’d become so dourly smitten.

He knew. Of course. He knew what he wanted

from Scythe all along. If only his wants were possible. He
fancied  him  when  he  enslaved  him  thrice  before.  They
played  a  flirtatious  game  that  always  had  the  threat  of
Scythe  murdering  him  around  its  edges.  If  the  fantasy
could have been real—what a delight it would have been
to have Scythe as a lover. He used to dream about his full
lips, and kissing them. So much foolishness. But he’s a
pathetic wizard, and Scythe a god-like demon. Of course
he’d dream of somehow being a peer to him. At least that.
Their conversations so enthralled him it pained him when
they parted. He’d think of him, oh, how he’d pine for him,
long after their adventures.

Archiebund heard a snuffle. His heart began to

race. He realized Scythe didn’t sleep in his arms. He
wept.

He stroked his hair as tenderly as thick hands

could manage. “Why do you weep?”

A dainty wrist came up to wipe the tears. He gave

a hopeless, soundless laugh. “This was a nice fantasy,
wasn’t it? You and I.”

Archiebund swallowed. “I’d give anything for it to

be real.”

He lowered dense eyelashes. “So would I.”
The wizard forced words past the anguish that

built in his throat. “Tell me, Scythe. Who is he?”

He sighed. “The first time we met—when you cast

the spell that summoned me—I could have resisted you,
Archie dear. I could have simply destroyed you. But, that
spell beckoned me to a strange kingdom. It made me
aware that other lands existed besides my miserable
home. So sweet—so tempting—I let your weak magic pull
me away from Dinwraithe. I hoped it would be forever.”

“Dinwraithe?”

“My master. My…tormenter.” He nestled his head

on Archiebund’s shoulder. “I thought he truly hated me.
How long have I been imprisoned here? Four seasons? I
believed he must have been happy to be rid of me.
Perhaps he was. He probably seeks me because I grew
content here. My happiness was something he could
never abide.”

“I already despise him to the very core of my

soul.”

“He created me.”
The words stung. Dinwraithe just became too

powerful for him to fathom.

“He formed me as a stripling youth, not even past

puberty. It was his intention to both give me and rob me of
a childhood. I was born in a magic circle. Naked. Cold. My
eyes found him and I was at once relieved and overcome
by love. I asked the question etched on my soul. The
answer to which would give my existence meaning. ‘Are

you my master?’

“’Yes, child,’ he said. He opened his arms wide to

welcome me into an embrace. I ran to him, so desperate
for  that  welcoming  comfort.  We  never  connected.  Fire
erupted  from  him,  charring  my  fresh  face,  searing  the
loins  he’d  just  formed.  I  crashed  back  into  the  magical
womb that had spawned me in shocking agony.” Scythe’s
voice  became  choked  with  tears.  “He  strode  from  me
without a backwards glance. ‘If you survive that,’ he said,
‘perhaps I’ll have some use for you.’”

Archiebund squeezed him. His tears flowed more

copiously than the demons. “My God.”

“I survived by nursing on the magic residue left in

his  circle.  I  hoped  my  cleverness  would  please  him.  Of
course,  there  was  no  way  to  do  this.  The  most  I  could
hope for was him waving me off with a hand and saying,
‘Fine.  Good  enough.’  This  only  happened  when  I  killed
something for him in some horrendous, tedious way that

satiated his lust for cruelty. It was more novel for me to
do this in a childlike form, so he drew out my infancy. It
took ten years for me to age just one. After 50 years of
this cycle I apparently grew into something he could fancy.
The sex was—so brutal. Strangely, I wanted him to hurt
me. It seemed to make him happy.”

“Oh, Scythe.” He soothed him.
Archiebund’s sympathy seemed to snap the

demon out of his doldrums. Perhaps he’d been so
conditioned by his master that he couldn’t continue to
show weakness, even now.

“I won’t go on. You can imagine what a miserable

existence I had. Yes, I’m a murderous thing, but only
because he made me so. He showed me the least disdain
when I mutilated something creatively, hence, I found
pleasure in that. I’m still conditioned that way, but at least,
at least I can control this. I don’t have to thrive on chaos
and ruin, Archie. I don’t have to be the terrible thing he

tried to make me.”

“Of course not, dear. That’s obvious to me.” He

tried to speak without the weight of tears on his voice.
“You know he’s a wretched monster. You can’t go back to
him. My word—it would be a sickening tragedy. I just won’t
allow it.”

“You can’t help it. Nor can I.”
Scythe paused to imagine something horrible.

Archiebund could see his lower lip trembling.

“He’ll kill everyone here, spending most of his

wrath on you. One look in my eyes and he’ll know—you
made me happy.”

Archiebund’s mind raced yet again. “We’ll flee.”
“Finding me is as easy as finding himself.”
“We’ll fight.”
“He’s too powerful.”
“But you learned all those spells while you were

here. He has no access to that knowledge. You can defeat

him, surely.”

He saw Scythe searching the darkness. His

hesitation gave him a flicker of hope.

“A…binding spell, perhaps?”
“Yes,” Archiebund said. “That’s the spirit.”
“I can’t manifest a rune.”
“But I can. I’ll go with you, dear. We’ll fight him

together.”

Scythe clung to him. “No. What if he destroys you

right before my eyes?”

“It’s not open for debate. If a rune of binding will

defeat him then I’m the perfect ally for you. It’s fate. Runes
are my specialty. I was able to conquer you with them,
after all.”

“You make it sound so easy.”
Archiebund kissed his forehead. “Death would be

easier than letting you go.”

They slept after that. Archiebund couldn’t sense

how long. When he woke Fluta’s small round head blocked
his view. He could see her concern.

“Just let him go.”
Archiebund whispered. “I can’t.”
“You can’t help him. There are only two possible

outcomes: You die a horrible death and he goes back to
his master, or he goes back to his master and you don’t
die a horrible death.”

“I kill his master and we live in bliss for the rest

of our lives.”

Fluta scowled. “Balderdash! You’ve never

managed to keep a lover more than a decade. How long
do you think it will take Scythe to get sick of you?”

The words stung him. “I’ve never felt so strongly

about anyone. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep him. I’ve
learned from my mistakes.”

“You won’t have the chance to change. Look past

your lovesickness and see reality. This is a fantasy. It

needs to end before something unthinkable happens.”

He knocked her off the bed and stood. “Stop

discouraging me.”

Archiebund walked to his viewing mirror. Fluta

fluttered onto his shoulder. He cast a simple spell so the
mirror would show him any nearby threats. What it fixed
on had yet to draw near: A hundred giant golems
marched in unison toward their eastern border. Golems
never banded together. Archiebund frowned.

“How can you stop them?” Fluta said. “They’re

immune to every spell Scythe cast yesterday. No matter
how you pulverize them they just reform.”

Archiebund expelled a deep breath. “We’ll defeat

them by destroying the one who enchanted them.”

Fluta shook her tiny head slowly.
“This tells me we have to act now. They’ve only got

a week’s worth of travel before they reach our walls.” He
met the snake’s eyes. “Don’t tell Scythe. He needn’t know

the situation is urgent.”

“Too late,” Scythe said. He lifted his chest off the

bed with effort and swung his legs to sit on the side.
“When do we leave?”

Archiebund swallowed.
When Scythe registered that no answer was

coming he stretched and yawned. “Tonight then. Pack
some victuals and such. Whatever you’ll need for a
journey.”

Archiebund didn’t give the prospect any thought.

He couldn’t think of it. His words came automatically.
“Should I—have the stables prepare a carriage?”

Scythe resumed a comfortable position on the

bed. “No. We’ll fly.”

Archiebund scratched his chin. “Victuals. Right.”

He headed towards the door.

He heard Fluta’s nagging whisper during his

chores in the kitchen. Her words couldn’t penetrate the

haze of dread hanging around him. Archiebund returned
to the castle ruins with a leather satchel over one
shoulder. Scythe stood amid the rubble. He gave an
approving nod at his decision to travel light.

“Meet me outside the arcade when you’re ready.”
Archiebund couldn’t turn his thoughts into words.

Now? We’re leaving right this instant? But your master is
so powerful—and I’m so pitiful.

He went up the tower to pack a few more

necessities. Fluta wept next to his ear. When he entered
his chamber he tossed her onto his bed.

“Stay behind.”
The snake flew back to him with a desperate

flutter of her wings. “I refuse.”

He gave an annoyed tsk while shifting through a

dresser. “There’s no need for you to come.”

“I’ll be the one to decide that! If you’re stupid

enough to risk your life for this evil slut then so be it! I

won’t let you go alone.”

“Fluta…”
“My love for you is the only one that will never

wane.”

He fumed and patted her. “You’re a dear

creature, Fluta. I hope we’ll all return safely.”

A massive white stag with iridescent scales, a

flowing  horse-like  mane  and  tail,  and  the  horns  and
hooves from Scythe’s more human form, waited for him in
the  courtyard.  Archiebund  went  to  it  without  an  iota  of
fear. He instantly recognized his beloved. He attached his
scant  baggage  to  a  gilded  saddle  and  then  went  to
address his massive head.

He ran his fingers over the strangely soft scales

of his snout. “Scythe, dear, should we not devise a plan?”

The lovely beast spoke without moving its mouth.

“The plan is simple, Archie. We’ll seek audience with my
master. When I draw near him you’ll manifest a rune of

binding. I’ll attach it to him the same way I did to you.”

“What if…” He stopped himself. Scythe gave him

cue not to worry. He needed to accept this. The mission
would either be easy or impossible. No other scenario
could exist.

He mounted the stag. Cold night wind rushed over

him as the beast trotted into the air. He hugged his body
close to him. If he’d not smited every possible god he’d
surely pray to them now. He felt the rapid heartbeat of
Fluta against his breast.

When the sky lit with fiery orange and hues of pink

he beheld a castle so abysmal it had to be that of Scythe’s
lord. Its darkness marred the horizon. Every spire had
jutting black tiles like the carapace of a demonic beetle.
He became so in awe of it he didn’t notice their adversary
until—

Something like a black griffon scrapped massive

claws against Scythe’s delicate scales. He tumbled with

an ungodly scream. The griffon grabbed Archiebund with
one of its enormous limbs. His body felt scalded—but
worse than that—the thing ripped him from Scythe’s
back.

He watched his beloved white fawn grow smaller

in  the  sky.  The  only  sound  now  was  his  own  ridiculous
screams.  He  let  the  current  one  end  and  closed  his
mouth. Then he wept. His agony felt worse from the inside.
He  thought  to  help  Scythe,  but  had  become  a  pawn  his
master would use against him. Poor dear Fluta looked up
at  him  with  terrified  eyes.  He  stroked  her  with  the  one
hand free enough to move.

His monstrous kidnapper flew through the open

draw  bridge  of  the  castle.  It  continued  into  a  domed
passage  leading  to  the  throne  room.  The  griffon  tossed
him  onto  the  floor.  Archiebund’s  shoulder  crashed
against the stone, but he tumbled, spreading the impact
over a rough somersault. He didn’t stop until he banged

into the steps leading up to a throne. He stayed crumpled
on the floor until he caught his breath. The griffon landed
behind him to remain as a sentry.

Archiebund lifted his chest from the floor on

battered trembling arms. Six short steps above him sat
Dinwraithe on a hideous black throne adorned with skulls
and thorns. The back of it ascended all the way to the
ceiling. Dinwraithe looked small by comparison. He
appeared to be a mortal in his 50s. The top of his head
lacked hair, but dark locks still grew just above his ears,
around his scalp, and downward to touch his shoulders.
He had thin lips drawn in a permanent scowl. He wore a
wizard’s frock and ornate shoes that curled upwards at
the toes. His cold grey eyes were fixed on Archiebund.

“Good evening.” Archiebund climbed to his feet

slowly while emitting several pained grunts. After dusting
off he returned his gaze to Dinwraithe. “So. Here we are.
The name’s Archiebund. And you? You would be—

Dinwraithe, yes?”

Dinwraithe continued to stare while bringing a

gnarled hand to his mouth. He tore a scrap of dead skin
from his bottom lip, flicked it away, and smiled. “You’re
under Scythe’s power.”

Archiebund’s brow twitched. “His—? You mean

the rune. Yes. Quite got away from me, that one.”

He turned aside to mutter to himself. “And here I

thought you were an accomplice.”

A massive wrought iron cage slammed over

Archiebund with a clang that made his skeleton buzz. He
cried out from fright. Dinwraithe manifested it without so
much as a gesture. Before the wizard’s heart could settle
the cage scrapped against the floor. He was forced to
move along with it until it halted at the left side of the
throne’s platform. Dinwraithe glanced down at him briefly,
but then lost interest. The griffon walked out of the throne
room on all fours. Then an eerie silence pervaded once

its footfalls no longer sounded. Archiebund looked up
through the bars at Dinwraithe. The malevolent man sat
waiting with his chin propped on his elbow.

Archiebund sighed and moved to the back of the

cage to sit. Fluta wriggled against his chest. He opened
his shirt to look down at her.

“’And here I thought you were an accomplice,’”

the snake whispered. “He thought you were working with
Scythe, but then he saw you were under a spell.”

“Shh. I know.”
“Maybe he now thinks Scythe meant to give you to

him as a gift.”

Archiebund put his finger to his lips to silence

her. For all he knew Dinwraithe had magic ears that could
hear them.

Scythe’s stag form entered with slow clops of his

hooves. His large head hung low like that of a scolded
dog. He halted at the foot of Dinwraithe’s steps and took

his  more  human  form.  Archiebund  rose  and  came  as
near to him as the cage would allow. The emotion in his
chest felt so excruciating he began to weep. A thousand
variations  of  anguish  seemed  to  assault  him.  First,  he
responded  to  the  defeated  look  in  Scythe’s  eyes  as  he
gazed up at his master. Second, he lamented the short
instant when Scythe glanced at him. He’d betrayed him by
being captured. He never felt more useless.

Scythe’s face transformed into a cunning smile.

Archiebund’s heart felt like it fluttered. The demon decided
to gamble. He knew Dinwraithe well enough. Perhaps a
hope remained?

“Master, why did you snatch my gift before I had a

chance to present it?”

Archiebund heard Fluta’s tiny gasp.
Dinwraithe continued to look bored. “Was it a

gift?”

“Why else would I bring him? I thought it would

please you to destroy the wizard who enslaved me. If you
use a bit of magic you’ll see the rune of binding on him
with my symbol. I stole it from him when he tried to
enslave me yet again.”

“I saw it.” He leaned back. “Why didn’t you let my

goblin army ravage the kingdom?”

Archiebund winced.
Scythe looked downward with a blush. “I’m

embarrassed,  master.  At  first  I  didn’t  know  you’d  sent
them.  They  merely  seemed  a  tempting  group  of  raiders
that I could dispatch with pleasure.” He met Dinwraithe’s
eyes  with  a  renewed  smile.  “You’d  be  proud  of  the
creative ways I annihilated them. When I realized their odd
behavior  it  dawned  on  me  that  you’d  sent  them.  I  was
surprised master.” He swallowed. “After all that time—I
thought you…I thought you’d disregarded me.”

“Fool!”
Scythe closed his eyes.

“I never relinquished you. I was waiting for you to

destroy them on your own. How could this paltry wizard
imprison you so long? Did you even try to escape?”

“No, master.” Scythe’s voice became heavy with

emotion. “I thought you were glad to be rid of me.”

“Pshaw. I created you, did I not? You are mine.

Your purpose is to serve me. When I tire of you then I’ll
simply kill you. Until then you’ll remain at my feet like an
obedient pet.”

Scythe gave a shuddering sigh that caused a

twinge of pity inside Archiebund.

“You made me more than a pet, master. You

made me love you.” He paused to wipe a tear. “How can I
endure meaning so little to you? I would sooner rot under
the cellars of a pathetic mortal kingdom.”

Dinwraithe fumed. “I see the time away from me

has emboldened you.”

Scythe lifted his head back to Dinwraithe with all

the despair of one facing execution.

“You are a pet to me. Nothing more. I’ll grant you

but one concession. You are my

favorite

pet.”

Scythe’s eyes brightened perceptibly. If he had a

tail Archiebund knew he’d be wagging it. The pet had just
been scratched behind his ear.

He closed his hands together in front of his

chest. “Master—!”

Dinwraithe gave an annoyed tsk. “I throw you a

crumb and you make it a feast.”

Scythe recoiled. “I beg pardon, master.” He

smiled again. “Shall I please you by mutilating this
wizard?”

Archiebund blinked.
“You seek only to please yourself.”
Scythe looked deflated. (Archiebund noted the

exaggeration of Scythe’s responses).

“Please me by ending my celibacy,” Dinwraithe

said.

Again, the demon’s eyes brightened. Archiebund

bit his bottom lip.

“Right here. In front of the wizard.”
That suggestion brought a more devious smile to

Scythe’s lips. He dropped off his scant costume in half a
second. Archiebund’s anguish renewed. Scythe’s
gorgeous nude body had not been presented for his eyes.
He watched his beloved ascend the steps with his shapely
long legs.

Scythe wrapped his arms around Dinwraithe’s

shoulders.  The  old  man  cracked  something  close  to  a
smile. He placed his foul hand on Scythe’s hip. Archiebund
watched  dumbstruck.  How  could  Scythe  show  such
wanton  enthusiasm  for  such  a  repulsive  man?  He  lifted
one leg onto his lap and leaned close to kiss him.

“Now, Archiebund,” Fluta said.
He watched Dinwraithe fondle Scythe’s cock. The

demon tilted his head back to moan. Archiebund saw his
white-skinned perfection in profile. His beautiful lips. The
delicate arch of his back. He was too exquisite for this
despicable man to be touching.

“Archiebund!” Fluta bit him.
He flinched and looked at her. She had desperate

wide eyes.

“Manifest the rune!”
“Ah. Yes. I suppose—I suppose I should.” He lifted

a hand and conjured a rune of binding.

It flew from him in a blur. Archiebund looked up

just  in  time  to  see  Scythe  slap  it  onto  Dinwraithe’s
forehead.  He  expelled  a  sigh  of  relief.  The  cruel  man’s
face  became  petrified  in  an  expression  of  angry  shock.
Scythe climbed off his lap.

“What—what have you…?”
“Silence,” Scythe said. “You’ll say nothing and do

nothing until I’m gone. Then you’ll destroy yourself in the

most hideous way your dark mind can imagine.”

Archiebund welled with happiness.
Dinwraithe’s eyes and mouth grew even wider.

Scythe leaned close to him.

“I’m no one’s pet.”
He slapped him. The noise reverberated

throughout the hall. The sound of Scythe’s hooves clopping
down the steps followed. His face was reddened by tears.
He donned his clothes at the foot of the steps. The cage
on top of Archiebund tipped over. It took a moment for him
to realize he’d been freed. Scythe snuffled and turned
back to him.

“Let’s go.”
Fluta cheered inside his shirt. Archiebund headed

for Scythe with an urge to comfort him. The demon
transformed to a stag before he could. He paused beside
him long enough to swallow his emotions, and then
mounted. Scythe bolted once he righted himself. He raced

into the sky and away from the desolate castle.

“Poor, Scythe,” Fluta said.
Archiebund’s brow furrowed.
“It must have been so difficult for him to do that.”
“Am I insane?” Archiebund said. “I feared losing

him more than being killed by him.”

“You’re insane with love.”
They landed in the courtyard near Archiebund’s

tower. Archiebund remained in the saddle long moments.

Were they truly home? Had they really succeeded

in this impossible quest? The beast bristled. He took it as
a cue to dismount.

Scythe crumbled onto the ground once he

transformed. He covered his face with both hands. The
only indication he wept was the shuddering of his body. He
stayed folded over on the grass as silent sobs wracked
his form.

Archiebund knelt and grabbed him. He squeezed

his small body with all his might. What surprised him was
that Scythe squeezed back. The demon held him tight
while crying on his shoulder. Archiebund soothed his hair.

“I’m nothing.” Tears choked his words.
“Shh. Don’t let him rule your mind. He was

nothing—just a rotten, corroded old man. Too foul to keep
something as precious as you. Too simple to know your
real value.”

Scythe broke from him enough to look into his

eyes. He snuffled. “He wasn’t simple. He was a genius.
And powerful.”

“So if he says you’re worthless it must be true?

Come now, dear. Even wise men can be vile. It pleased
him to make you miserable, so he excelled at it. You’re
such an exquisite treasure. He was the one wrong—not
you.”

Tears wet Scythe’s face, though they no longer

flowed. “I know he was wrong. That’s why I had to destroy

him and be free. I

know it

. But even so—I don’t

feel it

.” He

pressed against Archiebund again. “Make me feel it,
Archie.”

Archiebund leant down and sealed their lips

together. He tasted the salt of Scythe’s tears. The demon
clutched him and his kiss became desperate. They
lowered to the grass, kissing and writhing their bodies
together.

Archiebund didn’t know if they should do this.

Scythe seemed so vulnerable. The demon shared none of
his reservations. He stripped in an instant, and then
rushed to undo Archiebund’s pants. His urgent desire
began to infect him.

Scythe bent back his splayed legs. Labored

breaths already came from his flushed face. He
commanded Archiebund to get straight to the point with
the wanton pose. His small member stood fully engorged.

Archiebund wet a finger and used it to slick his

passage. Scythe’s body jolted.

“Ngh! Hurry.”
He pressed into his almost painfully tight hole.

Scythe thrust against him. He was forced into a deliriously
fast pace that caused shockwaves of pleasure to the root
of his cock. Scythe thrashed his body and pleasured
himself. Archiebund grit his teeth. The sex was furious—
demanding. Scythe compelled them towards a manic,
heady state.

He saw blood and gasped. Scythe wouldn’t let him

slow.  He  pulsed  against  his  hips  while  yanking  out  his
orgasm. Even climax didn’t still him. Scythe turned onto
hands  and  knees  and  cried  out  for  more.  His  dainty
flexible body was too enticing for Archiebund to restrain
himself. The demon’s ass arched up perfectly to connect
with his cock. Then there were the noises he made. He
came inside him without warning. Scythe robbed him of
any  control.  His  muscles  seized  and  he  grunted

helplessly. The powerful climax had his head reeling.

Scythe relaxed then. Archiebund realized his

desperation was to please him. When he saw him sated
he looked back with a flushed smile.

They snuggled together on the grass. Archiebund

loved how the demon fit in his arms. His chest welled with
joy for all that had happened. He had Scythe. His beloved
Scythe.

He knew Scythe was still a child—one desperate

to be valued. Dinwraithe tore him down. He had to rebuild
his fragile heart. Through his love he would not only keep
him, but make him whole. That love flowed so abundantly—
he’d be exactly what Scythe needed. He swore a silent
oath: he’d erase this demon’s pain.

After a listless night in his bed Scythe insisted on

returning to his apartment in the catacombs. He called
Archiebund’s chamber ‘claustrophobic.’ He demanded to
be courted in his luxurious cavern. Also, he wished for

some time alone to ponder his new fate. Archiebund
promised to grant him privacy, but not for long. Scythe
agreed with a smile.

During the brief parting the king came to visit.

Archiebund gave him a full report of the events.

“How can you be sure Dinwraithe is gone?”

Percival said.

Archiebund smiled. “Quite easily. An army of

golems was headed for this kingdom before we left.
They’ve all crumbled to dust. I assure you, the villain is
dead.”

Percival became interested in the magical globe

again. “What about Scythe?”

“He’s returned to the catacombs for now to

ponder his future.”

“He’ll probably move on to a city. We don’t have

much to offer him here.”

Archiebund felt a pang of worry, but dragged his

thoughts away from the gloom. “No, no. He’ll stay. He’s
mine, your highness.”

“How are you going to keep him?”
Archiebund lifted his head. “Through love.”
Joy renewed in his heart as he said the words.

Perhaps there would be strife, or doubt, or pain yet to
come. For now he reveled in a sublime happiness. He’d
make Scythe feel it also. At least that he was sure of.

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Zolabarth Bi

Yamila Abraham

Artwork by Himitsu Studio

* * * * *

‘You’re going to be killed,’ thought the parasitic

worm that lived in Maximus’ neck.

Maximus reduced the strength of his space

cruiser’s shields so he could increase propulsion.

‘Don’t ignore me.’
“I refuse to entertain any notions of failure,”

Maximus said. “I know I’ll succeed, therefore I will.”

‘Why can’t we just go home? You escaped. You’re

unhurt. Let’s put this whole incident behind us.’

Maximus hmphed while smirking with one side of

his mouth. As if he’d ever let them get away with this.

“Make yourself useful. Tell me more about this

supposed god we’re going to see.”

Lurz conveyed a sigh through his thoughts.

‘Xenith probably is a god. The fact that she’s enslaved a
race as powerful as the Rig-mertians is very telling. No
one else was able to stop them. The universe owes her a
great debt.’

“You said there were only six Rig-mertians left.”
‘That I know of. Yes. Xenith lends them out to

those she finds worthy. If someone comes to her who’s
unworthy she destroys them. Most everyone who’s asked
to borrow a Rig-mertian has been killed. The odds are
against you, Maximus.’

“We’ll see.”
‘Why take such an enormous risk?’
“Don’t ask needless questions. This is the only

way I can achieve my ideals.”

‘You could at least let me switch to a new host

before you commit suicide.’ Lurz saw their destination
world appear on the view screen. ‘Ten thousand years of
life and its down to this.’

Maximus sped the ship onward. The planet

became the size of a dinner plate on their screen. Then
they hit an invisible wall.

Maximus jolted forward. He caught himself on the

console.

“That’s close enough.”
He froze. The world on his view screen had

pulsed as the words boomed around them.

‘Xenith—speaks through the planet?’ Maximus

thought.

‘Xenith

the planet,’ Lurz said in his mind. ‘I

suppose I should have mentioned it.’

“I know why you’ve come, Maximus Crom.”
The world looked like the coiled flesh of a massive

eel, yet with an atmosphere that made it hazy in places.

‘How—how do I answer her? She’s not speaking

through a communicator. It’s like her voice is all around
us.’

‘I surmise if you talk she’ll hear you. She is a god

after all.’

Maximus squared his jaw. “I’ve come for a Rig-

mertian. You give them to the worthy. My aim is noble.”

“Perhaps that’s true.”
His heart began to race. She’d really heard him?

Until that moment he hadn’t accepted her godhood.

“But that’s mere coincidence. Your true

motivation  is  revenge.  You  plan  to  carry  it  out  through
genocide.  Did  you  think  I  would  not  know  this?  Rig-
mertians  are  killing  machines.  They  have  no  other
merits.”

‘Genocide?’ Lurz said. ‘Is that the truth?’
Maximus expelled a breath through his nostrils.

“Those fiends need to be destroyed. My motivation doesn’t
matter. Neither does my method. Those troopers—surely
they’re a greater threat to the universe than even the Rig-
mertians once were.”

“You’re quite an orator. My decision was made

long before you ventured here. Nothing you can say now
will change your fate. Your parasite had a good argument
just now—“

Maximus shuddered. She knew his thoughts?
“You could have walked away, but you raced out

to me in fit of anger. Even though you knew the ticket for
this audience may be your death. Is it still worth it to you,
Maximus Crom? To lose your life over such a brief
encounter with your enemy?”

“Yes.” Maximus did not hesitate. “I don’t do

anything in a fit of anger. Every move I make is calculated.
When those troopers kidnapped me and almost robbed
me of my mind they became my focus. I will destroy them.

If I can’t accomplish that then I have no purpose. Without
purpose there’s no point to living—hence, risking my life
is elementary. The Troopers are a galaxy-wide plague. The
only way I can defeat them is with a Rig-mertian. If you
give one to me then I’ll triumph. If you won’t give me one
you do me a favor by killing me. I’d rather die than live
without purpose.”

Xenith pulsed with a laugh. “You speak the truth.

That amazes me. Very few sane men can rival your
conviction.”

Maximus waited. He felt he’d said enough. Of

course he’d get what he wanted. He only wished she’d
hurry up.

“Yes, Maximus, I will lend you a Rig-mertian as

you knew I would.”

He smiled.
‘Thank the stars,’ Lurz said.
“You’re vile, but you’ve a necessary goal and the

single-mindedness to achieve it. The Rig-mertians are
also vile. This is their nature, though I’ve strived to change
that. I have the perfect subject for you—one you’ll fall in
love with. That love may be enough to change both of you.”

Maximus’ brow construed. ‘Does she mean

romantic love?’

‘That’s a touching prediction. You’ve never been in

love before.’

“Hmph.”
The ship jostled. Maximus gripped his armrests.
“I’m bringing you in. Zolabarth lives in a cave in

my southern hemisphere.”

The ship descended at an unnatural angle.

Maximus kept his cool.

“Zolabarth, eh?”
He assumed the pits deep in the folds of the

coiled body were caves, but as they came through the
atmosphere he saw the dark places turn into expanses of

canyons, mountains, valleys, and rivers. The massive
planet matched the gravitational pull of his home world.
He gave an impressed nod to his view screen.

“Zolabarth has not been lent out for over 100

years as punishment for killing his former master.”

‘Wonderful,’ Lurz said.
‘It’s a male?’
“If he disobeys an order from you I’ll draw him

back into me for another 500 years. I have no doubt he’ll
be loyal.”

The ship touched down on purple moss outside a

cave. Both of the ship’s hatches seemed to open of their
own accord. Maximus darted his head back.

“Go and fetch your Rig-mertian, Maximus Crom.”
He leapt down from the ship. “Finally.”
A figure sat just outside the pool of sunlight

streaming in from the cave’s entrance. Maximus squinted.
His eyes adjusted enough for him to see a man of long

black hair and light blue skin. The alien stared at him with
dark eyes. He wore an open vest and ripped pants
Maximus considered trashy. He saw no other immediate
faults to draw judgment on. He seemed young, muscular
without being hulking, and had an appealing face.

Maximus stepped in front of him in the shaded

portion of the cave. The alien followed him with his eyes.

“You. Zolabarth. I’m Maximus you’re new master.

Get up and come with me.”

“I can’t, dumbass.”
Maximus blinked.
Zolabarth stretched out his bent knees revealing

a cord attached to his navel. It trailed off leftward into the
deeper shadows of the cave.

Maximus gave a droll expression. “What is it?”
“Just what it fucking looks like. Umbilical cord.

How do you think this bitch is keeping me prisoner here?”

“Zolabarth!” Xenith said.

The ground shook. Maximus widened his stance

to keep his bearing.

“This is your new master. You will heed his

orders or—“

“Yeah, yeah, I know the fucking drill.”
“Be silent and listen to me! Every time you take

your beast form you will have to spend an equal amount of
time in your new ‘weak form.’”

“Weak form? What the Hell is—“
“This man is your absolute master. If you disobey

an order from him even once I will drag you back and
keep you imprisoned for 500 years!”

“Five hundred! I only got 100 for killing that other

dickwart.”

Maximus sneered. Xenith thought he’d fall in love

with this?

“Those are my conditions,” Xenith said. “Or would

you prefer to stay?”

Zolabarth climbed to his feet. “Fine, whatever. Cut

me loose!”

“Just a moment,” Maximus said.
Zolabarth glowered at him.
“My first order is for you to cease being

disrespectful to me.”

“Are you serious?”
Maximus punched him. The force sent him

crashing back against the wall. He expected to feel his
jaw snap. Instead he realized Zolabarth’s face may have
broken his hand.

Zolabarth put his hand on his cheek and smiled.

He let out a breathy laugh. He looked at Maximus with a
strange gleam in his eyes.

“Okay. I’ll be respectful.”
Maximus soothed his knuckles. The change that

came over Zolabarth sent a crackle down his spine. The
alien’s demeanor now lacked hostility. He kept his eyes

low and shoulders slumped.

A sound like dry leaves being crumbled started

deep in the cave. It drew nearer and louder. Zolabarth’s
cord dissolved into ash.

“Fuck yeah!”
Maximus turned his back to him as though daring

him to attack. He led the way towards his craft. They went
only a few paces in silence.

“So, what’s your deal?”
“My deal?” Maximus went through the hatch of his

ship.

“How come Xenith didn’t kill you?”
They sat beside each other in the two pilot seats

before the front console. Maximus started flipping
switches. The hatches closed.

“All right,” Maximus said while considering. “I’m

an arms merchant from the Shengrilla galaxy. There’s a
massive army known as the Troopers on this side of the

universe. They’ve conquered at least a dozen worlds and
have millions of soldiers. I came out here to do business
with them in person. My contact explained that the
Troopers implant mind control devices in the inhabitants
of every world they conquer. They force these people to
become soldiers so they can conquer more worlds and
enslave more soldiers. They intend to do this until they’ve
enslaved the entire universe.”

The cruiser lifted off Xenith. Maximus typed in

coordinates and set the autopilot.

“I found this alarming, however, since their base

was so far from my home world I saw them more as a
business opportunity than a threat. My contact explained
they had different methods for obtaining their goal. They
not only conquered worlds through outright force, but
sometimes send sleeper agents to propagate their
soldiers virally.”

“You lost me,” Zolabarth said.

“They take over the mind of one soldier, and then

send  him  home  to  implant  their  mind  control  device  in
others,  who  in  turn  implant  it  in  others,  and  so  on.
Someone  who  dealt  with  the  military  of  multiple  worlds
was  a  bonanza  opportunity.  So  they  attached  their
garbage to the back of my neck and took over my mind.”

Zolabarth gave a monosyllabic laugh. “No shit.”
“Fortunately they attached the chip right over a

parasite that lives in my spine.”

Zolabarth’s brow twitched.
“It took him several days, but he was able to

break the device. I woke up enroute to my home world.
That was yesterday. Your mission will be to destroy the
Troopers.”

“That’s it, huh? They messed with you and now

you’re going to annihilate the whole fucking group? I like
your style. Xenith kills 999 out of every thousand who
come asking for one of us. Shit—you got some balls. Man

after my own heart.”

The edges of Maximus’ mouth felt the tug of a

smile. He resisted it. “Why did you kill your former
master?”

Maximus saw the reflection of his face sour in the

chrome of the console. He crossed his arms and turned
away.

“Eh—who the fuck can remember? It was 100

years ago.”

This time Maximus allowed his smile. Zolabarth

exposed his emotions like a billboard. His simplicity
seemed as though it would repulse him at first. Now he
admitted in finding a kind of jejune charm to him. He
preferred his company to the elitist traders he normally
dealt with. Since he had to have an ally for this venture it
may as well be one easy to control.

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