FicWad

To say Sydney Losstarot was bored would be a profound understatement. Sitting at the antique desk in his study, he idly leafed through an old grimoire written by what had to be the most tedious sorcerer the Dark ever produced. It contained a whole lot of poorly written tripe about sacrificing various and sundry small woodland creatures to "ye powers of darknesse". Sydney shut the tome, firm in his conviction that this simpleton was either a fraud or a bad pulp novelist.

"Hardin?" Sydney called out in a lazy fashion, then sighed when he realized he'd sent his best friend out to tend to some errands. He rose to his feet and stalked the large chamber, poking and prodding the various instruments of the magical trade that he kept. At that particular moment in time, the great Sydney much more resembled a fidgeting child than the omnipotent Master of the Dark.

Then, as he ran a single mithril talon along a flat, copper disc engraved with an inverted rood, he heard it. At first it was so hushed, so distant, that he believed it a figment of his imagination. It was a gentle, pleading whisper. Curious, Sydney closed his eyes and listened intently. It grew louder, more insistent, but was still gentle.

"...grant me the answers I have been searching for these long years...I summon and stir thee, Darkness, show me your Heart..."

The voice seemed to caress Sydney's skin like fine silk. It possessed an almost overpowering masculinity, stirring and powerful, but paradoxically soft all at once. As Sydney focused on it, he felt its seductive tones tugging at him. And profoundly seductive it was.
Sydney suddenly realized that this man was very, very far away. He was in another world, on a different plane, perhaps, someplace very distant from an abandoned Iocan monastery on the outskirts of a dead city in Valendia. Sydney's curiosity was definitely piqued. He didn't know who this mysterious supplicant was, but he was very intrigued by the prospect of a sorcerer powerful enough to reach across such a distance in a summoning. Of course, Sydney could not be taken against his will--he was Master of the Dark, after all--however, he was rather impressed that this stranger was powerful enough to reach him in the first place.

Sydney sank to his knees and folded his claws across his bare chest in an ancient Kildean gesture of surrender, then lowered his defenses, giving into the voice and letting it carry him away. Hardin would have most likely found it imprudent and dangerous to go answering mysterious summons from another world. However, as Sydney's form was engulfed by a nimbus of violet-tinged shadow and began to fade, he was smiling like a Cheshire cat.

All things considered, it was a lazy Sunday afternoon and he had nothing else better to do.

*

Sydney opened his eyes, and sat face to face with his mysterious summoner in a large circle marked by tall, tapered candles. He was...oh, gods. Long, silver hair and amber eyes and rich golden skin gleaming in the candlelight and...exquisite, really, a work of fine art. Though he was also kneeling, Sydney could tell he was also very tall--taller than himself, and Sydney wasn't exactly short. There was an elegance about him that spoke of nobility and power, though he seemed not much older than Sydney.

Reaching out with his mind, Sydney guided his will ever so subtly past the summoner's defenses, slipping here and there to gaze into his soul. He was called Ansem, and was the ruler of this far distant world known as Hollow Bastion. There lay a profound emptiness within him that Sydney dearly empathized with. It was the loneliness of a man so engulfed in his pursuit of ancient secrets, so transformed by what he found and how he got there, that none could really understand him anymore. Sydney found himself pitying him.

Ansem hadn't said anything. There was a bit of shock in those beautiful eyes, and Sydney saw that he hadn't been expecting a flesh and blood human to appear--even one so loosely defined as Sydney.

"What were you expecting, my seeker?" the Sayadin asked.

"Something far less...comely, " Ansem purred with an almost feline smile, his deep, rich voice even more seductive in person. The momentary shock was gone in an instant, replaced by immense curiosity. He certainly was quick on his feet, Sydney thought.

"I could change into something else, if you so desire," Sydney said with a hint of playfulness. "A troll, perhaps?"

It was Sydney's turn to be surprised when Ansem suddenly reached out with one white-gloved hand, and gave his cheek a single, gentle caress. It was pleasant--beyond pleasant, that sensation of soft silk against his skin.

"There is no need for that," Ansem said, still smiling. "This form is eminently suitable."

His sheer boldness was fascinating to Sydney. No one ever dared touch him like that, and certainly not within moments of meeting him, though most dearly wanted to. Ansem was clearly a man accustomed to being in control, of using his overpowering charm to put people at ease and get his way. Sydney suddenly wanted to laugh. Hardin was right, there really was no one in the world quite like Sydney Losstarot--in fact, he was a whole universe away.

"Tell me, Ansem. What is it you seek?" Sydney was not about to be bested, particularly not in foreign territory.

"The Darkness," Ansem replied. "I have studied it for years, and still I...well, there are things that remain hidden to me. Things I must know." If he was surprised or impressed by the Valendian sorcerer's knowledge of his name, he did not outwardly show it.

"Those who seek the Dark cannot control it," Sydney warned him with a weary sigh. It was a familiar admonition, one he'd had to give all too many times to starry-eyed acolytes.

"Control?" Ansem laughed softly. "Angel of Darkness, I do not seek to control it. I merely wish to understand it."

Sydney rather liked that name, Angel of Darkness. When Ansem said it, it sent a pleasant tingle down his spine. He suddenly wondered if this was the way others felt in his own presence, and if all this was some sort of cosmic retribution. The Lady did possess a rather perverse sense of humor, after all.

"Intellectual curiosity, Ansem?" Sydney asked, absently brushing a stray lock of blond hair from his eyes with a mithril talon. "I would remind you of a certain tired cliché involving felines."

Ansem leaned in close, invading Sydney's personal space to the point where he could feel the taller man's warm breath upon his neck.

"One could remind you of that, Angel. You did not have to answer my summons, yet you did," he breathed into Sydney's ear, and it was all the sorcerer could do not to melt into the plush red carpeting. His warmth and his voice and his scent of aged sandalwood mingled into a single intoxicating blend of sex. Sydney reached up and tucked Ansem's silver hair behind his pointed ear.

"Curiosity has served me well," Sydney breathed back.

"As it has served me," Ansem whispered. He withdrew, resting back on his knees. "Tell me, then. Can you give me the answers I seek?"

"Truth lies within, Ansem," Sydney answered with an uncharacteristic lack of guile. He found that he genuinely liked him. "I can point you in the right direction, but ultimately you must look inside yourself."

"I understand this, Angel--" Ansem paused, frowning a little. "Pardon me, but we haven't been properly introduced, even though you seem to know who I am. Before we continue any further, shall we give an offering to propriety?"

"Far be it from me to disregard propriety, but a man of learning such as yourself surely must realize there is power in names," Sydney said. Ansem smiled, and bowed gracefully, without rising.

"I am well aware of that. However, simple decorum demands I introduce myself. I am Ansem, Lord Ruler of the Hollow Bastion, as you most likely know."

Witty, charming and devastatingly handsome: the trifecta, as far as Sydney was concerned. And, honestly, if his intentions were nefarious, it's not as if he could actually harm him. Sydney decided to play along.

"Very well. I am Sydney Losstarot, and I am the Sayadin, or 'Master of the Dark' as it is named in modern times."

"Fascinating," Ansem said with genuine respect. "Milord Losstarot, it is a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine."

Ansem, witty silver-haired devil that he was, caught the faint undertone of innuendo in Sydney's reply, and answered it with another cat-like smile. He folded his hands in his lap, pursing his lips together in thought.

"Now then, Master of the Dark. What precisely does such mastery entail?" he asked, staring intently at him.

"Many things," Sydney replied enigmatically. He leaned back on a metallic elbow, resting a claw on his thigh. "But all knowledge comes with a price."

"Oh?"

"It is an incontrovertible truth of the cosmos, my Seeker. One does not gain something without giving something in return."

Ansem rose to his feet and stood over Sydney, gazing down at him mysteriously.

"And what is it that you desire, milord Losstarot?"

Sydney stood, and slowly circled his petitioner in much the same manner as a wolf stalking its prey. He paused, stopping in front of the taller man with a wicked smirk upon his lips.

"I have every confidence that you can think of a suitable...offering."

Ansem smiled in a rather iniquitous manner, and exited the candlelit circle with a flourish of his coat. He made a sweeping gesture toward a door with an elaborate heart insignia carved into it, one that strangely reminded Sydney of his Blood Sin.

"Please, let us retire to somewhere more comfortable for our...communion."

Sydney could not help but stifle a snicker. Yes, this was someone he would get on well with, he decided as he followed his Seeker into an elegantly decorated chamber filled with plush divans, priceless tapestries and lush carpets. It was oddly familiar, with just enough of a hint of exoticism to intrigue him. Sydney likely would have recognized the room as looking faintly Kildean in design, if he hadn't been staring at the tall, dark and handsome man pulling his coat off to reveal a tightly muscled chest. He was not a huge, muscle-bound barbarian, but instead was finely chiseled, with the physique of a martial artist, or a Riskbreaker.

Indeed, at that particular moment in time, Sydney Losstarot had other things on his mind besides architecture.

Sydney had never submitted to any mortal in his life, and in every aspect he had to be the one in control. However, Ansem bore down on him, his eyes betraying the intensity of his own lust, and as he gently pushed his back to the wall, Sydney gave no resistance or complaint. He had no choice but to lose himself in the larger man's intoxicating warmth, and decided that if he were to submit to anyone, it would be this Seeker. To Sydney Losstarot, at least, power was the greatest of aphrodisiacs, and he momentarily lost sight of the fact that it was Ansem who was supposed to be offering himself up.

He lightly fingered thick, silver hair as he allowed himself to be kissed, and marveled at how unbelievably soft Ansem's lips were. Sydney's slight, willowy form of flesh and metal was quivering with every silken caress, and it took every bit of self-control he could muster not to mar Ansem's back as he lightly drew his claws across it. Ansem responded by biting his neck, pushing harder against him, and Sydney let out a soft, incoherent moan, the sudden sensation of delicious pain and the substantial cock pressed against his mithril thigh almost too much for him to bear. Sydney's limbs, magically imbued by the gods, had a sense of touch no different from flesh and blood limbs, though all his senses were far keener than those of a mortal thanks to the Dark essence which flowed within him. Those Dark-heightened senses came alive at Ansem's touch, and were crying out for more.

"I would have your offering, my Seeker," Sydney hissed softly into Ansem's ear. "Now."

"As you wish, my Sayadin," Ansem purred, unlacing Sydney's black leather pants and slipping a silk-gloved hand down the front. "I have spectacular methods of genuflection." There was a hint of a smile in Ansem's voice as his gloved hand tightened its grip around Sydney and began to stroke. The feeling of warm, smooth silk sliding against him was exquisite, and the blond sorcerer felt himself growing unbearably hard.

Ansem kissed Sydney deeply and slipped his hand out, only to sink reverently to his knees before him. The intensity of Ansem's worshipful gaze nearly made Sydney's heart stop. It was the way a pagan priest of old would look upon a living icon of the god he held so dear, and it was mesmerizing to the Sayadin. He lost himself to it, barely registering that Ansem's hands were carefully removing his trousers and likely seeing the other mark of his inhumanity. If the Seeker was at all disturbed by Sydney's legs of burnished mithril steel, he did not show it. To the contrary, the way he caressed them, deliberately and with great care, seemed to indicate a deep fascination with them.

"You are a living work of Art, my Sayadin," Ansem remarked in a hushed tone filled with quiet awe, and planted soft kisses across his thighs in an almost worshipful manner. Perhaps Ansem shared his fascination with unnatural things, Sydney thought. It mattered not, however. Nothing seemed to matter to Sydney at that moment, not with Ansem's tongue slowly and deliberately dragging its way across the shaft of his cock, silk-sheathed fingers massaging his balls.

Sydney found his breath growing labored, and he leaned back against the wall, resting a claw on Ansem's head to steady himself. Suddenly, without warning, the Seeker devoured him, and Sydney let out a sharp gasp. He closed his eyes, everything seeming to fade away until nothing was left but the blissful warmth of Ansem's mouth upon him, suckling him with rapturous adoration, and practiced fingers stroking him. Sydney's claws clenched into fists and he cried out to the Lady as he came hard into Ansem's mouth.
Ansem swallowed every drop as if it were precious to him, his eyes nearly rolled back in his head. This was not merely sex to Ansem, Sydney suddenly realized. Playful banter and innuendo aside, to Ansem, it truly was an offering to the Dark. Sydney could feel the significance of it as well, as he looked down upon him benevolently, stroking his silver hair with a claw. Perhaps this meeting did not happen by chance, after all.

"And has my offering pleased the Darkness, Angel?" Ansem said softly, the hint of a smile on his lips.

"Oh, yes," Sydney replied with a mischievous grin. He gestured for Ansem to rise to his feet, then took his face into his claws, his expression turning serious. "The Mysteries of the Dark are myriad and profound. One cannot simply be told what they are."

"I realize that all too well," Ansem said, "yet seek them I ever shall."

"Why, Ansem?"

Ansem gently grasped Sydney's wrist and guided his claw to rest upon his bare chest. To Sydney's shock, he felt no heartbeat.

"I seek communion with the Darkness because...I need it," Ansem said simply, with quiet resolve. Sydney nodded solemnly, understanding the longing in those words all too well.

There was no meaning in an incomplete death.

The ways of the Dark were often mysterious and convoluted, but he was sure in his conviction that the Lady brought him there for a greater reason than dallying with a handsome stranger.

/Your will be done, my Love/, Sydney silently prayed to his Lady as he gently lifted Ansem's chin with a talon and stared warmly into his reverent eyes. He then kissed him deeply, his heart filled with empathy.

"Blessed art thou in the eyes of the Dark," Sydney whispered to him. "I will grant you that which you have sought these long years, for it is Her will. However, the will of the Hierophant must be fulfilled as well."

"Anything you desire shall be yours, if it is within my power," Ansem vowed with a quiet whisper.

"I would show you what it means to be the Sayadin," Sydney purred, kissing Ansem's neck. He drew his claws down Ansem's chest, leaving light marks this time, then stopped to deftly snap the lacing of his trousers with one quick twitch of his sharp talons.

"Then show me, Angel," Ansem said. He pulled his gloves off with his teeth, and rather nonchalantly cast them aside. "Show me your Mystery."

Sydney ripped Ansem's trousers off, and strode toward the large canopy bed in back of the ornate chamber. Ansem followed, scooping Sydney into his arms and showering him with kisses.

"To master the Dark, one must give oneself over to it, fully and completely," Sydney breathed, aroused all over again by Ansem's profound, masculine beauty. "This is the first Mystery."

Ansem rested on his knees, pausing momentarily to slicken himself from a crystal decanter on the nightstand, then beckoned Sydney closer.

"Then come, my Sayadin," Ansem beckoned, his eyes aflame. "Submit to me as I submit to your Mystery."

Sydney lay flat on his back, raising his metal legs to rest on Ansem's broad shoulders. The Seeker spread him open, oiled fingers stroking him inside, and Sydney sighed contentedly. Yes, he would gladly submit, again and again if need be...

Ansem slipped his fingers out, then slowly slid his cock into Sydney, an inch at a time. Sydney gasped, the size almost too much for him, but took him completely and bit his lip in pleasure.

The Seeker made a delicious moan as he dug his fingers into Sydney's hips and began to grind into him. His hands were shaking, and it was clear that Ansem was losing control of himself, overcome by sheer lust.

"Submit, Ansem," Sydney moaned, lowering his long legs and rising to meet his lover face-to-face in one swift motion. He wrapped his limbs around Ansem and stared fiercely into his eyes, slowly clawing his back without any of the care he previously took. "Submit to me."

"By all the Gods, I submit," Ansem hissed through clenched teeth, pounding into him harder and faster. Sydney grinded down against him, matching his quickened pace thrust for thrust. He clawed his back again and again as he rode his cock for what seemed like a blissful eternity, and it only drove Ansem into an even more frenzied state. Sydney grew delirious with pleasure, and could finally hold out no longer. He dug his claws into Ansem, arching his back as far as it could go as the orgasm overcame him.

"Gods, my Ansem!" Sydney screamed, climaxing so hard he began to see spots. It was but a moment later, as he shuddered in delirium, that Ansem tensed and slammed into him a final time, crying out words in a long forgotten tongue. Ansem appeared momentarily disoriented himself, but quickly recovered the presence of mind to hold Sydney before he collapsed. The Sayadin clung to his Seeker, resting his sweat-soaked brow against his shoulder.

"Are you well, Sydney?" Ansem finally asked after catching his breath. Sydney rose up a little, and smiled weakly at him.

"Yes," he answered in exhaustion. "Gods, yes."

Ansem laughed and embraced him tightly. It was an unbelievably comforting feeling, and Sydney thought he could very well get used to it.

"I'm pleased. I am not nearly as well-versed in the ways of the Darkness as you are, but it would be awfully bad form to break my Hierophant, would it not?"

Sydney chuckled and pulled away from him, lying on the plush bed.

"The very soul of courtesy, you are," he said with a smirk.

Ansem lay down beside him, resting on his elbow and propping his head up with a hand. "I strive to be," he replied with a wink.

"I wonder if I am this insufferable to my own lovers," Sydney mused aloud.

"I would think it part of your charm," Ansem said with a grin. "After all, I am told it is part of mine."

Sydney laughed and pulled him close, kissing him soundly.

"Ansem, my dear Seeker, I believe this is the start of a beautiful partnership."