Head for the Library
From Create Your Own Story
Dez crossed the shiny marble floor, entering the hall under the staircase. He passed the rooms slowly, glancing through the open doors at the gallery of paintings, and another of sculpture, a room filled with various styles of armor and weapons, another filled with glass cases containing sparking jewels. Finally, he reached a room lined with shelves of leather bound books, a large table and several high-backed chairs in the center. With a casual glance up and down the hall he made sure no one was watching and stepped inside the library.
He shed his heavy traveling cloak and draped it over the back of a chair before taking a seat to wait. A few moments later, Zeth stepped into the room and shut the door.
"All right, what do you want?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the door.
Dez drew a slow breath. "Honestly, I want to fuck you--" Zeth made a disgusted noise. "--but I also want to keep them from ruining you. This place has destroyed mages far older than you--"
"I'm not as fragile as you seem to think," Zeth said.
"You've also never had a cock in your ass, let alone two."
"Two?" Zeth asked, his face paling. "That's impossible."
"Is it?" Dez asked, his body aching at the memory. "The first will enter you from behind, holding your arms back so you can't fight as the second rams in from the front, and it won't matter how much you scream or bleed, they won't stop. Then someone will go down on you and swallow your cock, as if that somehow make up for something, and somebody else will shove his cock in you mouth, and it will continue all night long, until you're so tired and sore you can hardly move."
"How can the Council allow that?" Zeth asked, clearly horrified. "It's inhuman."
"So are they," Dez said. "When you work with magic, humanity is the first thing to go, and the amount of energy generated by those horny, sadistic bastards is worth destroying a weak mage or two. I guess if you're not strong enough to survive being gang raped, you have no place here in their eyes."
"I'm not weak," Zeth said, but he didn't sound so sure.
"I never said you were," Dez said, rising from his chair and slowly walking toward Zeth. "In fact, I think you're one of the strongest mages I've ever met, and I'm sure you would survive, but at what cost? I can see in your eyes, you still believe there's good in all people, and you want to use your power to help those who can't help themselves, but one night at their mercy will kill that. You will hate the world and everyone in it, you won't care about anyone except yourself, and you'll do anything you have to, to never feel that helpless again. Trust me; I'm speaking from experience." He stopped barely a foot away and watched Zeth swallow hard.
"So why do you care about me, then?" Zeth asked, his whole body tense, pressed back against the door.
"Because when I saw you last month, I remembered how I used to be, before they made me hateful and cruel, and I thought that if I could save you, maybe I could save myself, too. It's stupid, but I don't want to be that person any more." He started to reach up, to touch Zeth's face, perhaps brush that loose strand of hair out of his eyes, but Zeth stiffened.
"Keep your hands off me," he whispered, his lips barely moving. Dez hesitated. He just wanted to show Zeth that he wouldn't be savage and cruel, but under the circumstances, it might be better to just do as he said.
Dez should...
