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And Then There Was One	By : auntfanny Category: +1 through F > Dungeons and Dragons Views: 2212 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dungeons and Dragons, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-And Then There Was One
- 1
AND THEN THERE WAS ONE

So this was it. The Arch Mage had put a lot of thought into when to put an end to this final one. The prisoner in front of him had been quite the thorn in his side for the last decade, particularly after becoming a Paladin. But he was the last one left, and the Dark Lord couldn’t help but feel that his life would be significantly less meaningful with all the Young Ones finally gone. He had, after all, been planning how the Paladin was to die for some time. He wandered what he would do once it was all over. Still, he had the pleasure of this act to look forward to first. He smiled at his captive.
‘Hello, Eric.’
The Paladin met his gaze, coolly. ‘Why?’
‘You must have known today was coming. It’s not as though you weren’t depressingly easy to capture. You all were.’
Eric still didn’t drop his eyes. ‘Divided we fall, right?’
The Arch Mage just smiled. That had been the answer – scattering them. The initial loss of the Magician had weakened them considerably – more so than the Arch Mage had expected. It hadn’t just been a case of having one less weapon, one less young warrior to fight the good fight - they had been distressed and frightened following that first loss. They’d turned their misery inwards, had started blaming each other and themselves. After that, they’d been easy pickings.

The Paladin – or former Paladin, stripped as he was of weapons and armour – spoke again. ‘Why now? That’s what I meant.’
‘You’re getting old, Eric.’
‘I’m 28.’
The Arch Mage smiled at him again, regarding the young man. ‘And that’s exactly the right age for you to be. You pluck the fruit when it’s ripe. I don’t want you to start losing your looks.’
Eric snorted a laugh. ‘That’s very kind of you. Is that what you did for the others, too? Cut them off in their prime?’
‘One of them.’ The Arch Mage watched his prisoner’s dark eyes, watched for flashes of terror from behind the mask of impudence. ‘The Ranger suited tender years. It would have been a crime to let him reach his twenties.’
‘So you did kill him,’ replied the former Paladin. ‘We never found him…’
‘It was done privately.’ The Arch Mage closed his eyes for a moment, lost in the memory. ‘In this very room.’
‘I see. I get to die the same way as Hank did, I take it.’
‘You must be curious as to the way he died.’
‘Not that curious.’
The Dark Lord actually laughed at that one. He slowly walked around his captive, regarding him. The young man was very different from the silly child he had once known – it had taken Eric some years to grow into himself, to become comfortable in an adult body. There was more black hair now on his face and body, and his movements were more confident, less stumbling. He was still a little too slender for his height, which gave him an attractive air of vulnerability. And of course there was that delicious melancholy etched on his face. The Arch Mage was well acquainted with that sad air – it had been shared by all of his young opponents.
‘I didn’t use magic,’ he announced to his prisoner. ‘Nor weapons. I did it myself, with my hands.’
‘Strangulation,’ breathed Eric. The young man cocked his head backwards, presenting his white throat to his enemy. ‘Knock yourself out.’
The Arch Mage took a step in to the prisoner. Eric didn’t flinch, but kept his head thrown back. The Ranger had never offered himself like that, but then the Ranger had been so much younger, and had still had so much to live for. He ran a finger over Eric’s windpipe. He’d had to force his hands around Hank’s neck. He was hit with the memory again – the sounds, the sensations… the smell of the Ranger’s hair. He pressed his nose against his prisoner’s head and took a long, deep breath.
‘What are you doing?’
And then there was the taste. He could still remember all those tastes. He extended his tongue flat against the firmer Paladin’s ear and licked slowly down his chin, savouring the skin and the sweat.
‘What…?’ Eric’s voice was finally trembling. ‘What are you…?’
‘That surprised Hank, too,’ he replied, flatly.
‘Oh God, no… no, you can’t be serious…’
‘He cried,’ the Arch Mage recounted. ‘He sobbed. He begged and begged.’
‘You fucked him.’ Eric’s voice was no more than a whisper. ‘You… you fucked him… Why?’
‘Because I wanted to.’ The Dark Lord ran the finger that had been toying over Eric’s throat down his body, down the valley of his chest, over his naval.
‘You…’ stammered the prisoner, ‘you don’t need to do it to me.’
‘Oh, I do, Eric. You need to die the way he died, because that is how I want you to die.’ His hand stopped at the young man’s genitals, and curled tightly around them. Eric cried out slightly, but quickly silenced himself.
The Arch Mage smiled slightly, pushing his prisoner hard against a wall, one hand still tight around his crotch. He opened his hand gingerly, as though what was inside it was a trapped butterfly, and looked at the pale, darkly haired penis as he played it around his fingers.
The young man was still stuttering like a frightened boy. ‘You don’t… you don’t need to… just stop. Please, stop.’
Ignoring words of his prey, he toyed with the penis experimentally, brushing a thumb up the shaft, pinching the foreskin hard over the end, and then pushing it back to expose the tender head. He squeezed and scraped nails over it until Eric’s protests became harsh breaths of terror and pain. He wrapped his hand around the member and tried, rhythmically, to force it to a state of excitement but, as with the Ranger before, fear kept the former Paladin from achieving anything more than semi-stiffness. The Arch Mage, conversely, was tremendously excited. He had been anticipating this intimacy for so long, his flesh was quick to override his usual self control. He pushed his own erection against Eric’s hip.
‘Feel that?’
Eric nodded silently, desperately holding back tears.
‘Lick it.’
Eric stared at him – his eyes widened first, then set in defiance. ‘No.’
‘You protected a lot of people in your years in the Realm, didn’t you? As a Cavalier and as a Paladin.’ The Dark Lord stepped back from his prisoner, pulling his robe up to expose his excitement. ‘Wouldn’t it be terrible if some of those young people you befriended were to find themselves in the situation you’re in right now?’
‘You wouldn’t…’
‘Lick it. The Ranger did, to spare the women and the child the same death that he suffered. You were never part of that deal. I keep my word.’
The young man bit his lip. A tear managed to escape one eye and ran, unchecked, down his face.
‘Yes,’ recalled the Arch Mage, ‘this is when he started crying, too. When he realised he had no option but to kneel in front of me and debase himself. Do it. Knees. Now.’
The former Paladin stifled a sob and slowly got onto his knees.
‘Do it!’
Still trying his hardest not to cry, Eric lightly touched the base of his captor’s penis with a pointed tongue tip and curled it up to the head. The Arch Mage sighed blissfully and instinctively pushed a hand through his prisoner’s hair.
‘Again… harder.’ He sighed again as Eric did as he was told a second time and then licked again, unbidden. ‘I knew you’d be good at this.’ He stroked Eric’s hair a little in encouragement as the young man got into a rhythm. ‘Hank was too pure to give good head. You always had such a clever tongue on you. I always wanted to feel that tongue on me. Did you know that?’
Eric stopped and looked up at him, surprised. ‘No. I didn’t. Are… are you telling me that you’ve always…’
‘Did I tell you you could stop?’ snapped the Arch Mage, forcing his prisoner’s head back over his crotch. Damnations! He hadn’t meant to let that slip! He’d accidentally told the Ranger before he’d died, as well. Now both young men were going to die with the knowledge of the power their bodies had always had over him, knowing that he was doing this to them because he desired them, not simply because he could. It weakened his position. It made him so… Human. He felt the anger rising along with the desire as he forced the young man to lick him again and again. It was exactly the same combination of hot emotions he’d felt before he’d killed the Ranger. He knew what he had to do.

‘That’s enough!’
He pulled the young man away from him by the hair and threw him, face up, on the floor.
‘Please…’ begged Eric, ‘please, can’t we… can’t we talk about this…?’
The Arch Mage laughed, dropping down to the floor along with his prey, pinning his shoulders. ‘We missed our chance to talk about this a long, long time ago.’
‘I didn’t know!’
‘You weren’t supposed to know.’ He pushed a knee between Eric’s thighs, forcing them open, and reached between his legs. ‘What were you going to do – would you have come to me willingly? Are you really suggesting this could have ended happily? That we could have been lovers?’
‘We could have talked…’
‘I didn’t want to talk about it.’ He forced his middle finger deep inside the young man.
‘Oh God! Oh God, no!’
‘I wanted to screw you.’
‘Please!’
‘That’s all.’
‘Please, no!’
‘And now that’s what I’m going to do.’
He withdrew his thrusting finger and positioned his erection between his prisoner’s legs.
‘Please…’ Eric had started to sob, the way Hank had done. ‘Please, don’t end it like this. Not like this. Please, Presto!’
‘The Arch Mage paused. Yes, Hank had begged him by his old name too. It had been the last time anybody had dared call him that. Until now.
‘Say that again,’ he breathed.
‘Please, Pres…’ the young man cut himself off with an almighty, agonised scream as his former friend entered him.
‘Say “please, Presto, again”,’ continued the Arch Mage over Eric’s screams, ‘say “please, Presto, more”.’
Eric just screamed wordlessly, writhing. The Dark Lord leaned into him and silenced his screaming lips with a full, passionate kiss.
For a moment, the Arch Mage was a teenaged boy again – awkward and confused, battling with magic powers and feelings too powerful to control. For a moment he was sitting with his closest friend that night Varla had died, when his friend - his good looking, funny friend whom he admired so much – had hugged him for hours. He could remember the intensity of that sensation, in between grieving for the Illusionist and plotting how he would make Venger pay, sending him down that dark road which would only result in him taking the place of the one he destroyed. He remembered feeling the muscles on the arm wrapped around him and the weight of the head that rested sadly upon his, and how desperately, desperately he wanted to be kissed, and touched, and for the boy holding him to lie with him and open his legs to him the way he was doing now. He could have lost himself there in that young body all those years ago, let go of all the grief and the anger and kept his heart, kept what made him Presto.
He stopped his thrusts, holding himself still in Eric’s body as he continued to kiss him. Eric stopped writhing and fighting, relaxed into a limp vessel. He didn’t return the kiss, but at least slackened his jaw to allow the Arch Mage’s tongue inside.
Presto pulled out of the long kiss, choosing to brush his lips gently over Eric’s instead. He laid a hand over Eric’s throat, but didn’t squeeze.
‘I loved you, you know,’ whispered Presto.
Eric had stopped sobbing, but his tears were still flowing freely. ‘I loved you too. I mourned for you, when the magic took you…’
‘That’s what Hank said too’ replied Presto.
‘Did you love him as well?’
Presto shook his head, beginning to squeeze, beginning to thrust painfully into the young man again. ‘I never kissed him.’
Eric didn’t say another word. He couldn’t – he had no breath to draw. It took him just over a minute for his frame to begin shuddering uncontrollably, bringing the Dark Lord to climax inside his dying body. He waited until the dark young man was completely dead before he withdrew.

He stood up, re-adjusted his robe and started polishing his glasses. That had been wonderful – even better than the Ranger, just as he had hoped. He was hit with a sudden pang of sorrow, but forced it back down again. He had had his moment of allowed weakness, his moment of mortality. He’d experienced the pleasures of the flesh for the last time. His glasses cleaned, he threw them down beside the corpse. He wouldn’t need either of them any more. He turned, and without a glance back, left the room.

The End
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And Then There Was One