Fucking the Enemy
Part 1
Published by Adriana Rossi at Smashwords
Copyright 2012 Adriana Rossi
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Eric halted in front of the door that led to his Lord’s chambers and faltered. His heart began to jump. Suppose he’s found out. It was a worry that frequented his mind. Lord Gareth was, after all, the head of the state. Years ago, he had crushed the opposing Benial armies and assassinated the cruel, tyrannical king and claimed the land of Kanth for his own. Eric himself had fought with him. He had once believed in Gareth’s virtue, but he had become corrupt with power, as rulers often do.
So he joined a rebel faction in the hopes of dismantling Lord Gareth’s rule. Still, he had grown up with Gareth, looked up to him. The heaviness in his heart grew with every deception he planned, with every murder committed. Though he knew he was doing the right thing, he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of guilt.
Once more, he raised his hand to the door and pushed it open.
“Did you summon me, my lord?”
Gareth looked up briefly from his desk.
“Yes, Eric.” He stood up and shuffled the papers on his desk.
“Tell the guards they are relieved of their duty for tonight,” he instructed. He opened a drawer and placed the stack of papers neatly inside. He then added, “And shut the door.”
Eric did as he was told. He waited, quietly surveying the room. He rarely came into Gareth’s study, since the Lord disliked being interrupted during crucial Party work. A large walnut desk stood by an even larger fireplace, guarded with iron-wrought gates. A bearskin rug was placed before the fireplace. The entire room was covered in russet colored marble, which spanned across the huge floor. Near the walnut desk was a miniature library consisting of five tall bookshelves and three vases filled with various books and scrolls, and in one of the vases, an ebony cane.
Gareth turned to Eric. He had taken a scroll from one of the vases and unrolled it onto the top of the walnut desk.
“Does this look familiar?”
His heart raced. Were they the faction plans? Did he finally obtain the headquarters’ blueprints?
Eric stepped closer to the desk and peered down.
It was an ornately decorated scroll with figures strewn all over the page. The figures were naked and copulating in various positions with captions such as “Flowers of the Mango Tree.” The scroll was highly detailed and done in India ink, framed with gold leaf.
He blushed at the images. “My Lord, how does this apply—” he started, and then stopped.
Suddenly Eric felt something cold brush against his crotch. Gareth had snaked his hand around his hips and now cradled the contours of his member with slow, tantalizing movements. Eric stiffened, too frightened to protest.
Gareth leaned in close to his ear and whispered with a voice barely above a sultry murmur, “I know who you are. You’ve betrayed me.” With a perfect tongue, Gareth licked his ear. “Now,” he breathed, “you shall claim your consequence.”
Gareth pressed his body against Eric and fingered his crotch with slow, deft movements. Using the tips of his fingers, he traced the sensuous shape with leisurely, circular movements. Gareth smiled, feeling the warmth increasing beneath his fingers. Eric shuddered as he felt Gareth explore him. He stood rigid, his mouth slightly open in shock. Gareth carefully tucked a lock of Eric’s hair behind his ear. He nestled his head on Eric’s shoulder and began trailing the tip of his tongue against Eric’s neck.
Slowly, Gareth unbuckled Eric’s pants and his fingers slipped in. He stroked the member with arduous precaution, and with his other hand, tugged the pants slowly down.
“Get into position,” Gareth murmured, “on the desk.”
Eric shuddered and Gareth slowly guided him to lean over. After Eric had bent over the walnut desk, Gareth unbuckled his pants and quietly slipped out of them.
He’s just playing with me, Eric thought with dumb horror. A cat playing with his mouse. He’ll kill me next and surely if I protest he’ll...
Gareth tore off his shirt. Eric whirled around at the noise and gaped at him. His beautifully carved muscles wavered under bronzed skin. His golden hair tumbled on his shoulders and he smiled mysteriously.
“Milord,” he protested. “I have not betrayed you. Please don’t…”