Frodo sat with the rest of the Fellowship at a fork in the path. Gandalf sat up top, pondering the past. Frodo sat bored, like the others. A noise behind him startled him and he turned to look down into the dark abyss. A small dark creature was jumping up the stairs to where they sat. He ran up to Gandalf who was sitting in deep thought.
"There's something down there!" he gasped out.
"It's Gollum," Gandalf responded.
"Gollum?" Frodo could hardly believe his ears.
"He's been following us for three days," Gandalf said calmly.
"He escaped the dungeons of Arabdul?" Frodo asked earnestly.
"Escaped, or was set loose," Gandalf said and looked up to meet Frodo's gaze.
"He hates and loves the ring, as he hates and loves himself. He will never be rid of his need for it."
Frodo lay pondering his memories of Gandalf, choking back tears that wanted to come. The rest of the Fellowship lay quiet in their slumber; they were safely hidden and protected in the forest of Lorien. Finally asleep crept over him.
He woke with a start and sat up. He looked around and found himself in a cave of some sort. He could hear the soft splash of water against a shore, though he couldn't see anything. The hard, cold stone beneath him made him visibly shiver and he was met with a purring voice in his ear.
"Is it cold, my preciousss?"
A rancid, hot breath streamed over his neck, and though he could not see its origin, he knew its owner. He shivered again and realized he now sat only in his shin-length pants. A second breath swept across his skin, though this time it was much closer and directed to his ear. He froze as his ear was taken hostage by two leathery but surprisingly warm lips gently tugging and sucking it. A warm rough hand traced his other ear. It was strange that this creature knew his weak spot.
He succumbed to the touch and suckling and lied down once again on the stone floor. His eyes closed, though it made no difference in the darkness, as those lips traced down his cheek to his neck, where they continued their massage. Frodo slowly licked his lips as he began to get unexpectedly aroused by the wet, soft touch. He was soon caught off his guard when that mouth betrayed him and bit and sucked hard. At first, his reaction was to pull away from it, but soon it too became quite arousing and the pain evoked great fires in him. He let out a soft moan as Gollum sucked hard on his neck.
"It likes this, yesss, my preciousss," Gollum whispered in the nearest ear while pausing for a moment. He suddenly attacked another part of the innocent white flesh in front of him, which sent Frodo into an arch and a gasp.
Frodo did not know how to respond to this at all. It was incredibly arousing, yet incredibly strange. His face became more and more contorted with pain as Gollum began to bite harder on an already sore spot. But Frodo could not make his vocal chords work to tell him to stop. It felt so good and the pleasure and pain mixed into an intoxicating poison that tempted him to no end.
The pain felt so good. It washed over him in spasms and his chest felt heavy. It was a different kind of heavy than the ring. This weight pierced him. It devoured him and made him feel as though he was sinking into a dark abyss where there was no escape and no hope. He heard a voice whispering to him. Who's it was, he could not tell, for Gollom was ensnared by his exposed throat and he did not sense another soul around for a mile. This voice seemed to be speaking in his head, telling him that it was over. Everything was gone now and there was no hope. Pain twinged in his soul and it began to swallow him up. He arched into Gollom's grasp and let the pain wash over him again. The sensation outweighed that in his chest and he begged for more pain from Gollum.
Gollum responded by dragging his coarse fingertips across the smooth milky skin that lay before him. He bit harder and grabbed Frodo's hair and pulled him up and into his mouth. He began to bite hard enough to draw blood and a trickle dribbled down from Frodo's shoulder. Gollum wiped up a large drop onto his forefinger and touched it to Frodo's lips.
Frodo opened his lips hungrily. He felt Gollum rub it on his lips and he licked them. Frodo did not move, but let the creature lick his lips and felt him kiss and nibble his way down his face and sore neck to his torso. Gollum began to devote his lips to the two stiff nipples on the hobbit's chest. He licked slowly around one and bit softly. He repeated this on the other and then nibbled and bit his way downward while raking his fingers down Frodo's arms and chest.
Once Gollum found his new treasure, he began to tenderly but eagerly stroke it and lick and kiss it. Frodo's face twisted into different expression with each new sensation washing over his body. The roughness of his hands, the smoothness of his tongue and the overall warmth was driving Frodo wild and he began to wriggle under the leathery creature pleasuring him.
Gollum didn't bite much here, but he did nibble and he found that Frodo liked this very much. He continued and quickened his motions and finally Frodo came into Gollum's mouth. He enthusiastically swallowed all of it and began to bite and nibble his way back up to Frodo's bleeding neck. He rested himself onto the frail hobbit's body and began to lick up the spilled wine from Frodo's wound.
Suddenly a sound echoed off in the darkness and Gollum got up immediately. He planted one last, warm, leathery kiss on Frodo's neck and disappeared into the darkness.
Frodo was not afraid of the darkness, nor bothered by the cold stone beneath him. Just now he lay catching his breath from the short exciting escapade. He closed his eyes and ran his hands over his thin body, remembering the unique sensations. His hand rested upon the bleeding bite mark and felt a warm sticky wetness. He smiled in memory of the pleasure. He let his hand traipse across the rest of his neck, finding that it was very sore. He let his hand rest momentarily and he suddenly realized what was wrong. The chain around his neck was gone, along with the ring.
He sat up suddenly and opened his eyes. A soft glow of moonlight and grass under him woke his senses up. He was back in Lothlorien. He threw his hand up to his throat and found the ring safely where he had left it. He rubbed the back of his neck, for he had begun to sweat. His hand draped down on his sore neck and he felt a peculiar sticky wetness. He brought his hand up and looked at it. A smear of his blood was present.
Suicide mission, my ass, he thought and kicked a charred rock across the devastated field. It wasn't like he wanted to die. Most of his life was spent honing his survival skills. It was just that the odds of this mission succeeding were very low. He was stunned that he was actually still breathing. He coughed as smoke from the city drifted across the plains. He stared at the destruction before him and wondered if this was what hell looked like. A low rumbled made him look up into the gray sky. Through the clouds of smoke flew four mechanical lions. He felt a lump in his throat at the familiar sight. He could hear subdued cheers coming from the other ground units. He just stared until they disappeared over the next ridge. He remembered a life that felt a long time ago when he was flying up there, when he was a member of the Voltron force. He remembered when he was Lance, pilot of the red lion.
"Listen up people." Someone behind him broke him out of his reverie. He turned to see his commander coming towards them. "We're going to do a A-1 sweep of the building. Leave nothing unchecked. They say the Castle is deserted, but be aware of traps. If you find anyone arrest them. We don't know who's friendly in there. We're only to clean the building for Intelligence, so don't go mucking about in the computers." Lance snorted, he could see Intelligence drooling with anticipation at the information that castle carried. The attack was a surprise, so hopefully they didn't have time to destroy anything of value.
"Fox Two, Three and Four will check out the western section; the rest check out the east. Check in every 15 minutes, and stay alert. This war isn't over yet." Lance followed Fox Two and Four into the castle. The deeper they got, the less the damage. The only evidence that there was a battle was fine cracks on the walls and a light dusting of plaster on the floor.
"You can say one thing about Zarkon, he sure knew how to build a home." Lance decided not to tell Fox Two that this place was probably built with the blood of slaves. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise up. Who knew how many ghosts wandered the place? The fact that it was deathly quiet didn't sooth Lance's uneasiness. Their echoing footsteps were the only sound in the abandoned building. He thought that if he listened close enough, he could hear the cries of the dead. He quickly scolded himself for his superstitious dread. At one point the three of them split up, each taking a hallway. As Lance moved through the building, he noticed a change decor. It was like stepping into a completely different building. It went from dark and intimidating to bright and pleasant. He entered what was someone's living quarters. Hell, those "living quarters" could have qualified as a mansion of some worlds. Beautiful paintings of alien landscapes lined the cream colored walls. A large red and yellow vase had shattered, spilling brightly colored flowers on the ground. Through a shattered window he saw a beautiful garden in bloom, completely oblivious to the destruction outside. His eyes drifted from the virtually untouched garden to a portrait on his right. He gasped and took a step back.
"Lotor." His voice echoed through the empty room. So these were his quarters. Who knew old blue boy had a fashion sense, he thought. A sense of frustration filled him. He was expecting...
Hell, he didn't really know what he was expecting, maybe skulls and weapons decorating the walls, or maybe the smell of death saturating the air. Maybe he built this day up so long that it seemed more like a holodrama than reality. The realty was that Lotor's living quarters was beautiful. Tasteful furniture filled the bright and airy living area. Large picture windows opened up to the private garden. Serene art hung from the walls and a small vase filled with fresh flowers sat on top of an ornate fireplace. This wasn't the living place of a sadistic dictator. The fact that his most hated enemy lived like this made Lance even angrier. How dare that sadistic little bastard surround himself with such beauty. He was thinking about all the people who had suffered while he live in the lap of luxury. He wondered where he stole the artwork; who did he have to kill to add another treasure to his private collection.
He opened one last door and stood there in shocked surprise at what he saw. It was obviously Lotor's bedroom. A room that was bigger than Lance's last three apartments. Like the rest of the place, it was decorated in tasteful earth tones. Thick plush carpeting cradled his feet. The pleasant perfume of flowers tickled his nose. A swirling, hypnotic fresco covered the ceiling. But that wasn't what made him stand there in shock, it wasn't what made his breath catch in his throat and his heart nearly stops. Laying there on the massive bed, with wrists tied to the headboard was a young man. He looked so out of place there that Lance rubbed his eyes to make sure that it wasn't a hallucination. Sure enough, he was still there.
Bound and blindfolded, the man's body tensed as he sensed someone coming in. Lance knew he should say something to reassure the prisoner, but before he say anything, the young man began to move. Slowly he stretched, flexing the tight lean muscles packed under pale, flawless skin; his long, jet black hair fell across his face. The man's strange movement lured him closer and before he realized it he was standing by the bed. He watched the strange dance the man was performing. He'd never seen anything so hypnotic, so erotic. To his surprise and embarrassment he felt a stirring in his crotch. Gods, what was he thinking! He couldn't imagine what this man had gone through in the hands of that sick bastard Lotor. Yet there he was, getting aroused like some horny teenager. Ashamed of himself, Lanced reached to untie the prisoner, but his hands had a mind of their own. He found himself gliding is hands lightly over the warm satin skin of the man's chest. What felt like electricity traveled up his arm, saturating his whole body. Lance shivered with aroused energy, and he knew he should stop before he went too far. But knowing he had to stop and wanting to stop were two very things. The soft moan that escaped the prisoner's lips destroyed the last of his resolve. It was like his body took over and he was just a passenger. He bent and ran his lips lightly across his chest, stopping at his hard nipples. He bit and sucked the little mounds of flesh until the man was gyrating with pleasure. The man's heady scent filled his senses, his intoxicating taste made him crave more. He kissed his way up his neck, tasting every inch of his skin. He ran his tongue along the line of his jaw, nipping at the smooth skin.
All thought quickly fled when he finally came to the man's mouth. Lance's tongue was sucked into that warm delectable cavern. His hand came up and grabbed the other's hair, holding him still as he ravaged that willing mouth. Suddenly his pants became too tight and constrictive against his sensitive skin. He reluctantly broke away panting, and unfastened his pants to release his aching cock. The man tugged at his bindings, moaning in helpless need. The sight of his straining body, glowing in a fine sheen of sweat, nearly sent him over the edge and he returned to the feast laid out before him. His tongue swirled around the man's bellybutton causing the man to gasp. He slowly made his way lower until he came to his weeping cock.
What he saw there made him gasp in surprise. The man's crotch was completely devoid of hair, naked like a small boy's. And where his testicles were supposed to be there was nothing but smooth skin. He had heard of slave masters making eunuchs. He'd actually seen one, a poor, fat, sad man, who looked after a harem for some Caldian noble. This was different, there wasn't even any scars. Instead of being repulsed by it, it excited him even more. He nuzzled his crotch, sucking at the smooth skin where the man's balls should have been. The man cried out and spread his legs to give him better access. Lance ran his hands down his smooth, white thighs, feeling the muscles jump under the skin. Then he concentrated on the cock that was demanding his attention. He ran his tongue up and down the raging shaft, pressing the hard muscle against his lips. He caressed the head, lapping up the precum that was trickling out. Finally he sucked the long cock into his mouth. It fit perfect size for him, it was like it was made for his throat. He sucked and massaged the pulsing member while the man groaned and withered above him. He reached under and squeezed the firm muscles of the man's ass. His other hand slowly explored the smooth emasculated area, making his way to that secret opening. It was there that he found yet another surprise.
He released the man's cock in shock. His fingers sank into an opening that wasn't supposed to be in a man. What kind of creature was this, he thought. A part of his mind was screaming that something was wrong, that he should get the hell out of there. But his body was drunk with desire for this sensuous creature. The lust overwhelmed any thoughts of reason. The "man" widened his legs further as Lance slowly glided his finger into him. He returned his attention to the other's manhood. One finger quickly became two, all the while he sucked harder. He pumped his fingers faster until the young man screamed, and hot, bittersweet cum filled his mouth. He sucked it down like sweet spring water. He never tasted anything like it and he wanted more, a lot more. He continued to nurse the sated cock until it was completely depleted, then he released it with a parting kiss.
He couldn't wait any longer. He positioned himself the man's legs then pushed into the ready opening. It was like a velvet grip inside him. Lance groaned as the hot cavern molded around the hard organ. When he was fully sheathed into the man, he just about came right there. Gripping the other's thighs hard enough to bruise, he slowly began to thrust. It was not like anything he had ever experienced. Waves of intense pleasure crashed into him. He heard the man beneath moan beneath him and it only edged him on. He thrust faster and deeper, losing all control. It was too much, too intense; he came in an earth-shattering climax. He roared at the top of his lungs and blinding light flashed before his eyes. He felt his body expand, then shatter into a million pieces and then...oblivion.
***** It was like coming back from the dead. He'd never passed out after sex before, but then this wasn't ordinary sex. He wasn't sure what it was only that it wasn't normal. He felt great, in fact, better than great. He was surprised, because he was sure he would feel tired or even sore. He hadn't felt this good since...well, since never! He opened his eyes and realized he was still on top of the young man. Looking at the bound and blindfolded man, reality decided to rear its head and bite him on the ass.
"Oh my God!" He scrambled off the bed, tripped and landed on the floor. Oh God, he'd just...just. He didn't want to think about it, yet the word borrowed into his consciousness. Rape. He'd just raped someone. A part of his mind screamed that it wasn't true, that the man didn't resist him, he actually got aroused by it. That didn't explain the fact that he took advantage of one of Lotor's helpless victims. And that was rape in his book. Suddenly he pulled up his pants and ran from the room. He found himself on his hands and knees puking on the expensive looking rug. When the muscle spasms stopped, he sat there, staring at the bedroom door. What was he going to do? How could face that man. During his life he had done a lot of things he wasn't proud of, but never this.
The beeping sound from him communicator nearly gave him a heart attack. He fumbled with his comm. and turned it on.
"Fox Three here."
"Fox Three, this is Fox Commander. Where the hell are you, you were suppose to call in five minutes ago."
"Sorry sir." I was just fucking some poor bastard in Lotor's bedroom. He couldn't stop shaking. Here he was, in the middle of battle, with people who were probably fighting and dying, and he was having the most incredible sex he'd ever had in is life. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
"Did you find anything?"
"No sir, area is clear."
"The area is more than clear, it's ours." He could hear his commander's smile. "Come back to base Fox Three, we've taken Castle Doom." Victory. They've taken the homeworld of their enemy. King Zarkon was dead along with his major generals and Lotor was on the run with only a quarter of his army. They did it, they won. Four years of hardship and death finally ended, but he felt no joy, no happiness. This victory was tainted by a terrible, unforgivable act.
Lance was half tempted to just leave him there for some other search team to find. No, he couldn't do that. He runaway from his problems once before; he wasn't going to do it again. He would free the poor kid and let him beat the crap out of him if he wanted. He was going to free him so no one else could see him in that position. He owed him that much dignity.
The man tensed again when he entered the room. From where he stood, he could see the man trembling. By now, he must have known that the man fucking him wasn't Lotor. He must've been terrified. Lance should have said something to calm him, but the words were stuck in his throat. He stood by the bed and looked at him. Even though he knew what he did was wrong he couldn't help but feel attracted to the man. He was so beautiful, perfect even. If Lance had a creature such as this, he would have been tempted to lock him in his bedroom too. With a sigh, he began working the tight knots that were cutting into his wrists. They were tight, but after a little work, he was able to loosen them. The man's wrists were red and raw, a little trail of blood ran down his left arm. Once he freed the man, Lance stepped back.
"I am Lieutenant Lance Harway of the Galactic Alliance of Planets. We have taken control of this planet. I need you--" As he was talking the man removed his blindfold and he was finally able to see his face.
Those eyes. Oh God, he knew those eyes. Those eyes were the reason why he joined the Alliance in the first place. Those eyes were the reason why he actually committed to something other than himself. Those eyes haunted his dreams and nightmares for four long years. Those eyes were the eyes of a dead man. What he was seeing was impossible, a ghost. His legs started to give out and he had to grab the edge of the bed for support. He stared at this living ghost for what seemed like hours before the word that had been fighting to come out finally made it.
"K..Keith?" Silence. There was no recognition in the other's eyes, just wariness and a strange glazed look that suggested that he was drugged. But there was no need for confirmation, he would have known those eyes anywhere. With a shaking hand, he reached up and touched Keith's face. That same electric tingle shot up his arm. He was real, he was alive. And he raped him.
"Oh my God. Oh my God." He found himself sinking to the floor with his hands over his face. "What have I done?" He uncovered his face, hoping to find that it was all a weird hallucination. No, Keith was still sitting on the bed. He was facing away from Lance, looking out the large windows.
"Keith?" Still no answer. He must be in shock, he thought. He reached out and gently touched Keith's knee and squeezed. The young man faced him. The eyes were still the same, but there was other differences. His face seemed softer, almost feminine which gave him a completely androgynous look to him. Still, there was no recognition; there wasn't much of anything which just confirmed Lance's suspicions about drugs.
"Keith, it's me Lance." Suddenly, it was too painful to look at him. He turned away, remembering a bright young captain, full of life, ready to take on the universe. Looking at him now, naked and broken, it was hard to see the same person that he had known and loved. He felt a tightness in his throat. How could he even think of love when at his time of need he was turning his back on him? Was that love? He pushed down his feels of guilt and loss, he would feel them when he had the time. Now wasn't a time to be selfish. Now Keith needed him, and for as long as he needed him Lance would be there. He turned back to find Keith looking out the window again.
"Hey buddy, lets get you out of here." He stood and started looking for clothes for him to wear. He opened a door on the other side of the room, thinking it was a closet. What he found filled him with rage. It was filled with all sorts of whips, chains and other nasty looking equipment. All of them were designed for sexual torture, for pain, and all of them were probably used on Keith. This was Lotor all right, this was what he expected to see. Under all this beauty he has finally found the truth. He couldn't stand this place any longer. He was taking Keith away from this place and he wasn't looking back. He quickly opened another door and luckily this closet had clothes in it. He grabbed what he could only describe as a large black ceremonial robe. He could only imagine what kind of ceremonies a monster like Lotor would perform. But it was quick to slip on and was big enough to cover him.
"Here." He handed Keith the robe. Keith didn't take it, he just looked at it then up at him with a perplex look on his face.
"Come on, Buddy. I'll help you." He gently pulled Keith out of the bed, grateful that the other didn't put up any resistance. Those large eyes regarded him with such open curiosity that Lance felt like he was dressing a child. The robe was too big on him; it dragged on the floor, making Keith more child-like. It would do until Lance found something else. He looked at his old friend for a while. What was he going to do now? Right now, he needed discretion, and that will be hard. If word got out, the powers-that-be would take Keith away and he'll never see him again. He was going to need help, powerful help, and he knew the person gave could give it. Someone he thought he'd never see again. He was not looking forward to that reunion.
"Ready to go?" Not expecting an answer, he took Keith's hand, and led him out of the room.
Slashdot Mirror
Frodo sat with the rest of the Fellowship at a fork in the path. Gandalf sat up top, pondering the past. Frodo sat bored, like the others. A noise behind him startled him and he turned to look down into the dark abyss. A small dark creature was jumping up the stairs to where they sat. He ran up to Gandalf who was sitting in deep thought.
"There's something down there!" he gasped out.
"It's Gollum," Gandalf responded.
"Gollum?" Frodo could hardly believe his ears.
"He's been following us for three days," Gandalf said calmly.
"He escaped the dungeons of Arabdul?" Frodo asked earnestly.
"Escaped, or was set loose," Gandalf said and looked up to meet Frodo's gaze.
"He hates and loves the ring, as he hates and loves himself. He will never be rid of his need for it."
Frodo lay pondering his memories of Gandalf, choking back tears that wanted to come. The rest of the Fellowship lay quiet in their slumber; they were safely hidden and protected in the forest of Lorien. Finally asleep crept over him.
He woke with a start and sat up. He looked around and found himself in a cave of some sort. He could hear the soft splash of water against a shore, though he couldn't see anything. The hard, cold stone beneath him made him visibly shiver and he was met with a purring voice in his ear.
"Is it cold, my preciousss?"
A rancid, hot breath streamed over his neck, and though he could not see its origin, he knew its owner. He shivered again and realized he now sat only in his shin-length pants. A second breath swept across his skin, though this time it was much closer and directed to his ear. He froze as his ear was taken hostage by two leathery but surprisingly warm lips gently tugging and sucking it. A warm rough hand traced his other ear. It was strange that this creature knew his weak spot.
He succumbed to the touch and suckling and lied down once again on the stone floor. His eyes closed, though it made no difference in the darkness, as those lips traced down his cheek to his neck, where they continued their massage. Frodo slowly licked his lips as he began to get unexpectedly aroused by the wet, soft touch. He was soon caught off his guard when that mouth betrayed him and bit and sucked hard. At first, his reaction was to pull away from it, but soon it too became quite arousing and the pain evoked great fires in him. He let out a soft moan as Gollum sucked hard on his neck.
"It likes this, yesss, my preciousss," Gollum whispered in the nearest ear while pausing for a moment. He suddenly attacked another part of the innocent white flesh in front of him, which sent Frodo into an arch and a gasp.
Frodo did not know how to respond to this at all. It was incredibly arousing, yet incredibly strange. His face became more and more contorted with pain as Gollum began to bite harder on an already sore spot. But Frodo could not make his vocal chords work to tell him to stop. It felt so good and the pleasure and pain mixed into an intoxicating poison that tempted him to no end.
The pain felt so good. It washed over him in spasms and his chest felt heavy. It was a different kind of heavy than the ring. This weight pierced him. It devoured him and made him feel as though he was sinking into a dark abyss where there was no escape and no hope. He heard a voice whispering to him. Who's it was, he could not tell, for Gollom was ensnared by his exposed throat and he did not sense another soul around for a mile. This voice seemed to be speaking in his head, telling him that it was over. Everything was gone now and there was no hope. Pain twinged in his soul and it began to swallow him up. He arched into Gollom's grasp and let the pain wash over him again. The sensation outweighed that in his chest and he begged for more pain from Gollum.
Gollum responded by dragging his coarse fingertips across the smooth milky skin that lay before him. He bit harder and grabbed Frodo's hair and pulled him up and into his mouth. He began to bite hard enough to draw blood and a trickle dribbled down from Frodo's shoulder. Gollum wiped up a large drop onto his forefinger and touched it to Frodo's lips.
Frodo opened his lips hungrily. He felt Gollum rub it on his lips and he licked them. Frodo did not move, but let the creature lick his lips and felt him kiss and nibble his way down his face and sore neck to his torso. Gollum began to devote his lips to the two stiff nipples on the hobbit's chest. He licked slowly around one and bit softly. He repeated this on the other and then nibbled and bit his way downward while raking his fingers down Frodo's arms and chest.
Once Gollum found his new treasure, he began to tenderly but eagerly stroke it and lick and kiss it. Frodo's face twisted into different expression with each new sensation washing over his body. The roughness of his hands, the smoothness of his tongue and the overall warmth was driving Frodo wild and he began to wriggle under the leathery creature pleasuring him.
Gollum didn't bite much here, but he did nibble and he found that Frodo liked this very much. He continued and quickened his motions and finally Frodo came into Gollum's mouth. He enthusiastically swallowed all of it and began to bite and nibble his way back up to Frodo's bleeding neck. He rested himself onto the frail hobbit's body and began to lick up the spilled wine from Frodo's wound.
Suddenly a sound echoed off in the darkness and Gollum got up immediately. He planted one last, warm, leathery kiss on Frodo's neck and disappeared into the darkness.
Frodo was not afraid of the darkness, nor bothered by the cold stone beneath him. Just now he lay catching his breath from the short exciting escapade. He closed his eyes and ran his hands over his thin body, remembering the unique sensations. His hand rested upon the bleeding bite mark and felt a warm sticky wetness. He smiled in memory of the pleasure. He let his hand traipse across the rest of his neck, finding that it was very sore. He let his hand rest momentarily and he suddenly realized what was wrong. The chain around his neck was gone, along with the ring.
He sat up suddenly and opened his eyes. A soft glow of moonlight and grass under him woke his senses up. He was back in Lothlorien. He threw his hand up to his throat and found the ring safely where he had left it. He rubbed the back of his neck, for he had begun to sweat. His hand draped down on his sore neck and he felt a peculiar sticky wetness. He brought his hand up and looked at it. A smear of his blood was present.
Suicide mission, my ass, he thought and kicked a charred rock across the devastated field. It wasn't like he wanted to die. Most of his life was spent honing his survival skills. It was just that the odds of this mission succeeding were very low. He was stunned that he was actually still breathing. He coughed as smoke from the city drifted across the plains. He stared at the destruction before him and wondered if this was what hell looked like. A low rumbled made him look up into the gray sky. Through the clouds of smoke flew four mechanical lions. He felt a lump in his throat at the familiar sight. He could hear subdued cheers coming from the other ground units. He just stared until they disappeared over the next ridge. He remembered a life that felt a long time ago when he was flying up there, when he was a member of the Voltron force. He remembered when he was Lance, pilot of the red lion.
"Listen up people." Someone behind him broke him out of his reverie. He turned to see his commander coming towards them. "We're going to do a A-1 sweep of the building. Leave nothing unchecked. They say the Castle is deserted, but be aware of traps. If you find anyone arrest them. We don't know who's friendly in there. We're only to clean the building for Intelligence, so don't go mucking about in the computers." Lance snorted, he could see Intelligence drooling with anticipation at the information that castle carried. The attack was a surprise, so hopefully they didn't have time to destroy anything of value.
"Fox Two, Three and Four will check out the western section; the rest check out the east. Check in every 15 minutes, and stay alert. This war isn't over yet." Lance followed Fox Two and Four into the castle. The deeper they got, the less the damage. The only evidence that there was a battle was fine cracks on the walls and a light dusting of plaster on the floor.
"You can say one thing about Zarkon, he sure knew how to build a home." Lance decided not to tell Fox Two that this place was probably built with the blood of slaves. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise up. Who knew how many ghosts wandered the place? The fact that it was deathly quiet didn't sooth Lance's uneasiness. Their echoing footsteps were the only sound in the abandoned building. He thought that if he listened close enough, he could hear the cries of the dead. He quickly scolded himself for his superstitious dread. At one point the three of them split up, each taking a hallway. As Lance moved through the building, he noticed a change decor. It was like stepping into a completely different building. It went from dark and intimidating to bright and pleasant. He entered what was someone's living quarters. Hell, those "living quarters" could have qualified as a mansion of some worlds. Beautiful paintings of alien landscapes lined the cream colored walls. A large red and yellow vase had shattered, spilling brightly colored flowers on the ground. Through a shattered window he saw a beautiful garden in bloom, completely oblivious to the destruction outside. His eyes drifted from the virtually untouched garden to a portrait on his right. He gasped and took a step back.
"Lotor." His voice echoed through the empty room. So these were his quarters. Who knew old blue boy had a fashion sense, he thought. A sense of frustration filled him. He was expecting...
Hell, he didn't really know what he was expecting, maybe skulls and weapons decorating the walls, or maybe the smell of death saturating the air. Maybe he built this day up so long that it seemed more like a holodrama than reality. The realty was that Lotor's living quarters was beautiful. Tasteful furniture filled the bright and airy living area. Large picture windows opened up to the private garden. Serene art hung from the walls and a small vase filled with fresh flowers sat on top of an ornate fireplace. This wasn't the living place of a sadistic dictator. The fact that his most hated enemy lived like this made Lance even angrier. How dare that sadistic little bastard surround himself with such beauty. He was thinking about all the people who had suffered while he live in the lap of luxury. He wondered where he stole the artwork; who did he have to kill to add another treasure to his private collection.
He opened one last door and stood there in shocked surprise at what he saw. It was obviously Lotor's bedroom. A room that was bigger than Lance's last three apartments. Like the rest of the place, it was decorated in tasteful earth tones. Thick plush carpeting cradled his feet. The pleasant perfume of flowers tickled his nose. A swirling, hypnotic fresco covered the ceiling. But that wasn't what made him stand there in shock, it wasn't what made his breath catch in his throat and his heart nearly stops. Laying there on the massive bed, with wrists tied to the headboard was a young man. He looked so out of place there that Lance rubbed his eyes to make sure that it wasn't a hallucination. Sure enough, he was still there.
Bound and blindfolded, the man's body tensed as he sensed someone coming in. Lance knew he should say something to reassure the prisoner, but before he say anything, the young man began to move. Slowly he stretched, flexing the tight lean muscles packed under pale, flawless skin; his long, jet black hair fell across his face. The man's strange movement lured him closer and before he realized it he was standing by the bed. He watched the strange dance the man was performing. He'd never seen anything so hypnotic, so erotic. To his surprise and embarrassment he felt a stirring in his crotch. Gods, what was he thinking! He couldn't imagine what this man had gone through in the hands of that sick bastard Lotor. Yet there he was, getting aroused like some horny teenager. Ashamed of himself, Lanced reached to untie the prisoner, but his hands had a mind of their own. He found himself gliding is hands lightly over the warm satin skin of the man's chest. What felt like electricity traveled up his arm, saturating his whole body. Lance shivered with aroused energy, and he knew he should stop before he went too far. But knowing he had to stop and wanting to stop were two very things. The soft moan that escaped the prisoner's lips destroyed the last of his resolve. It was like his body took over and he was just a passenger. He bent and ran his lips lightly across his chest, stopping at his hard nipples. He bit and sucked the little mounds of flesh until the man was gyrating with pleasure. The man's heady scent filled his senses, his intoxicating taste made him crave more. He kissed his way up his neck, tasting every inch of his skin. He ran his tongue along the line of his jaw, nipping at the smooth skin.
All thought quickly fled when he finally came to the man's mouth. Lance's tongue was sucked into that warm delectable cavern. His hand came up and grabbed the other's hair, holding him still as he ravaged that willing mouth. Suddenly his pants became too tight and constrictive against his sensitive skin. He reluctantly broke away panting, and unfastened his pants to release his aching cock. The man tugged at his bindings, moaning in helpless need. The sight of his straining body, glowing in a fine sheen of sweat, nearly sent him over the edge and he returned to the feast laid out before him. His tongue swirled around the man's bellybutton causing the man to gasp. He slowly made his way lower until he came to his weeping cock.
What he saw there made him gasp in surprise. The man's crotch was completely devoid of hair, naked like a small boy's. And where his testicles were supposed to be there was nothing but smooth skin. He had heard of slave masters making eunuchs. He'd actually seen one, a poor, fat, sad man, who looked after a harem for some Caldian noble. This was different, there wasn't even any scars. Instead of being repulsed by it, it excited him even more. He nuzzled his crotch, sucking at the smooth skin where the man's balls should have been. The man cried out and spread his legs to give him better access. Lance ran his hands down his smooth, white thighs, feeling the muscles jump under the skin. Then he concentrated on the cock that was demanding his attention. He ran his tongue up and down the raging shaft, pressing the hard muscle against his lips. He caressed the head, lapping up the precum that was trickling out. Finally he sucked the long cock into his mouth. It fit perfect size for him, it was like it was made for his throat. He sucked and massaged the pulsing member while the man groaned and withered above him. He reached under and squeezed the firm muscles of the man's ass. His other hand slowly explored the smooth emasculated area, making his way to that secret opening. It was there that he found yet another surprise.
He released the man's cock in shock. His fingers sank into an opening that wasn't supposed to be in a man. What kind of creature was this, he thought. A part of his mind was screaming that something was wrong, that he should get the hell out of there. But his body was drunk with desire for this sensuous creature. The lust overwhelmed any thoughts of reason. The "man" widened his legs further as Lance slowly glided his finger into him. He returned his attention to the other's manhood. One finger quickly became two, all the while he sucked harder. He pumped his fingers faster until the young man screamed, and hot, bittersweet cum filled his mouth. He sucked it down like sweet spring water. He never tasted anything like it and he wanted more, a lot more. He continued to nurse the sated cock until it was completely depleted, then he released it with a parting kiss.
He couldn't wait any longer. He positioned himself the man's legs then pushed into the ready opening. It was like a velvet grip inside him. Lance groaned as the hot cavern molded around the hard organ. When he was fully sheathed into the man, he just about came right there. Gripping the other's thighs hard enough to bruise, he slowly began to thrust. It was not like anything he had ever experienced. Waves of intense pleasure crashed into him. He heard the man beneath moan beneath him and it only edged him on. He thrust faster and deeper, losing all control. It was too much, too intense; he came in an earth-shattering climax. He roared at the top of his lungs and blinding light flashed before his eyes. He felt his body expand, then shatter into a million pieces and then...oblivion.
*****
It was like coming back from the dead. He'd never passed out after sex before, but then this wasn't ordinary sex. He wasn't sure what it was only that it wasn't normal. He felt great, in fact, better than great. He was surprised, because he was sure he would feel tired or even sore. He hadn't felt this good since...well, since never! He opened his eyes and realized he was still on top of the young man. Looking at the bound and blindfolded man, reality decided to rear its head and bite him on the ass.
"Oh my God!" He scrambled off the bed, tripped and landed on the floor. Oh God, he'd just...just. He didn't want to think about it, yet the word borrowed into his consciousness. Rape. He'd just raped someone. A part of his mind screamed that it wasn't true, that the man didn't resist him, he actually got aroused by it. That didn't explain the fact that he took advantage of one of Lotor's helpless victims. And that was rape in his book. Suddenly he pulled up his pants and ran from the room. He found himself on his hands and knees puking on the expensive looking rug. When the muscle spasms stopped, he sat there, staring at the bedroom door. What was he going to do? How could face that man. During his life he had done a lot of things he wasn't proud of, but never this.
The beeping sound from him communicator nearly gave him a heart attack. He fumbled with his comm. and turned it on.
"Fox Three here."
"Fox Three, this is Fox Commander. Where the hell are you, you were suppose to call in five minutes ago."
"Sorry sir." I was just fucking some poor bastard in Lotor's bedroom. He couldn't stop shaking. Here he was, in the middle of battle, with people who were probably fighting and dying, and he was having the most incredible sex he'd ever had in is life. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
"Did you find anything?"
"No sir, area is clear."
"The area is more than clear, it's ours." He could hear his commander's smile. "Come back to base Fox Three, we've taken Castle Doom." Victory. They've taken the homeworld of their enemy. King Zarkon was dead along with his major generals and Lotor was on the run with only a quarter of his army. They did it, they won. Four years of hardship and death finally ended, but he felt no joy, no happiness. This victory was tainted by a terrible, unforgivable act.
Lance was half tempted to just leave him there for some other search team to find. No, he couldn't do that. He runaway from his problems once before; he wasn't going to do it again. He would free the poor kid and let him beat the crap out of him if he wanted. He was going to free him so no one else could see him in that position. He owed him that much dignity.
The man tensed again when he entered the room. From where he stood, he could see the man trembling. By now, he must have known that the man fucking him wasn't Lotor. He must've been terrified. Lance should have said something to calm him, but the words were stuck in his throat. He stood by the bed and looked at him. Even though he knew what he did was wrong he couldn't help but feel attracted to the man. He was so beautiful, perfect even. If Lance had a creature such as this, he would have been tempted to lock him in his bedroom too. With a sigh, he began working the tight knots that were cutting into his wrists. They were tight, but after a little work, he was able to loosen them. The man's wrists were red and raw, a little trail of blood ran down his left arm. Once he freed the man, Lance stepped back.
"I am Lieutenant Lance Harway of the Galactic Alliance of Planets. We have taken control of this planet. I need you--" As he was talking the man removed his blindfold and he was finally able to see his face.
Those eyes. Oh God, he knew those eyes. Those eyes were the reason why he joined the Alliance in the first place. Those eyes were the reason why he actually committed to something other than himself. Those eyes haunted his dreams and nightmares for four long years. Those eyes were the eyes of a dead man. What he was seeing was impossible, a ghost. His legs started to give out and he had to grab the edge of the bed for support. He stared at this living ghost for what seemed like hours before the word that had been fighting to come out finally made it.
"K..Keith?" Silence. There was no recognition in the other's eyes, just wariness and a strange glazed look that suggested that he was drugged. But there was no need for confirmation, he would have known those eyes anywhere. With a shaking hand, he reached up and touched Keith's face. That same electric tingle shot up his arm. He was real, he was alive. And he raped him.
"Oh my God. Oh my God." He found himself sinking to the floor with his hands over his face. "What have I done?" He uncovered his face, hoping to find that it was all a weird hallucination. No, Keith was still sitting on the bed. He was facing away from Lance, looking out the large windows.
"Keith?" Still no answer. He must be in shock, he thought. He reached out and gently touched Keith's knee and squeezed. The young man faced him. The eyes were still the same, but there was other differences. His face seemed softer, almost feminine which gave him a completely androgynous look to him. Still, there was no recognition; there wasn't much of anything which just confirmed Lance's suspicions about drugs.
"Keith, it's me Lance." Suddenly, it was too painful to look at him. He turned away, remembering a bright young captain, full of life, ready to take on the universe. Looking at him now, naked and broken, it was hard to see the same person that he had known and loved. He felt a tightness in his throat. How could he even think of love when at his time of need he was turning his back on him? Was that love? He pushed down his feels of guilt and loss, he would feel them when he had the time. Now wasn't a time to be selfish. Now Keith needed him, and for as long as he needed him Lance would be there. He turned back to find Keith looking out the window again.
"Hey buddy, lets get you out of here." He stood and started looking for clothes for him to wear. He opened a door on the other side of the room, thinking it was a closet. What he found filled him with rage. It was filled with all sorts of whips, chains and other nasty looking equipment. All of them were designed for sexual torture, for pain, and all of them were probably used on Keith. This was Lotor all right, this was what he expected to see. Under all this beauty he has finally found the truth. He couldn't stand this place any longer. He was taking Keith away from this place and he wasn't looking back. He quickly opened another door and luckily this closet had clothes in it. He grabbed what he could only describe as a large black ceremonial robe. He could only imagine what kind of ceremonies a monster like Lotor would perform. But it was quick to slip on and was big enough to cover him.
"Here." He handed Keith the robe. Keith didn't take it, he just looked at it then up at him with a perplex look on his face.
"Come on, Buddy. I'll help you." He gently pulled Keith out of the bed, grateful that the other didn't put up any resistance. Those large eyes regarded him with such open curiosity that Lance felt like he was dressing a child. The robe was too big on him; it dragged on the floor, making Keith more child-like. It would do until Lance found something else. He looked at his old friend for a while. What was he going to do now? Right now, he needed discretion, and that will be hard. If word got out, the powers-that-be would take Keith away and he'll never see him again. He was going to need help, powerful help, and he knew the person gave could give it. Someone he thought he'd never see again. He was not looking forward to that reunion.
"Ready to go?" Not expecting an answer, he took Keith's hand, and led him out of the room.