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Possession	By : Sarryn Category: +S to Z > Sorcerer Hunters Views: 3035 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Sorcerer Hunters, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Possession
- 2-Chapter 2
- 1
- 2
Disclaimer: I don�t own the rights to Sorcerer Hunters, but that hasn�t stopped me from writing about them.

Warning: This story contains the themes of torture, sex, and male/male relationships. If any of these may offend you, then stop reading. If, however, you do read this, in spite of my warnings, and find it offensive, then I have to say it is your own fault. This scene is of an erotic nature, but I have attempted to write it as tastefully as my ability allows.

Note: I will not accept any flames, however, comments and criticisms are welcome. I am under the assumption that anyone reading this has a clear understanding of the difference between flames and criticisms so I don�t have to explain it. Here are some reason why I don�t accept flames: 1) they generally include an attack on the author�s character without regard to previous or future works that may or may not be in the same vein, 2) not only are they childish, but they make the writer of them sound immature and not old enough to read the material contained herein, 3) flames help neither the author nor the flamer to improve the work and, therefore, are not constructive, 4) if something is so offensive as to elicit the impulse to flame then it is better forgotten and not dwelled upon, 5) you waste time writing it and I waste time reading and then deleting it, 6) it won�t do you any good to point out my lack of scruples, morals, intelligence, sanity, etc., because not only don�t I care, but I won�t listen.

So, anyway, please review and no flames. Also, Carrot has been paired with more than the two mentioned in the summary. He�s the gift that just keeps on giving, especially when a man is doing the taking. ;)

Possession

Cyprian Alexander Mint collected the rare, the beautiful and the powerful. His sprawling, three-floor mansion housed many artifacts from around the world that would have museums and other collectors salivating and plotting his imminent demise. Sumerian goddess statues watched passersby from lighted niches in the white walls along the many stairways. Finely preserved Japanese prints and scrolls decorated rooms and hallways. Vases, statues, suits of armor, tablets and much, much more entranced visitors. People had been known to spend hours in a single hallway looking at the pieces he had on display there. Whenever one of those visitors questioned him on his method of acquisition, he smiled a warm, gentle smile. In the most part he regarded others� amazement at his expansive and expensive collection with indulgent amusement. The collection filling the rooms and halls of the mansion were valuable only in mortal terms. Those were mundane in comparison to what he hid away in the extensive labyrinth below the mansion.
Treasures, won or stolen from the domsdoms of heaven and hell and beyond, rested in magically reinforced cases. Each item hummed with power and latent sentience. These artifacts were only shown to a few, choice friends of his inner circle; the few who knew the truth behind Cyprian�s philanthropic façade. However, even these mostly-trusted cronies did not know about the green room on the third floor, or about the most powerful treasure residing there.

"You want to leave." It wasn�t a question. Dressed in a gown of deep emerald, cinched tightly about the waist by a wide sash of black silk, the boy stared determinedly out the large windows that faced the expansive backyard, rose gardens, hedge maze, orchard, and verdant forest beyond.
"You want to leave," Cyprian continued with a gentle, almost loving smile, "But I won�t let you." Stubbornly the black haired boy maintained his silence. The man laughed indulgently as his pale green eyes devoured the boy. The dress clung to the planes of his thin chest and flat stomach, then flared out at his narrow hips to cascade in loose pleats to the wood floor. The man delighted in the golden glow the color brought out in the boy�s olive skin tone and the luster it added to his spiky black hair.
The boy refused to grow his hair out, much to Cyprian�s continued amusement. It was his only rebellion, a sign of his fiery spirit. He had not been broken. He endured everything thrust upon him, quite literally, too, and maintained a sort of seething resentment.
He wasn�t physically beautiful. There was something too strong about his face for feminine beauty, but there was something soft, almost delicate, that prevented him from being handsome in the classical sense. The true attraction lay in the fact that his face, his whole body, was a reflection of the soul within. His soul surpassed all others in exquisite innocence, determination, compassion and strength. Those four facets of his essence had shaped his face and form to something that transcended beauty. However, it was not a beauty that could be seen by the casual observer. One had to know what he was looking for in order to see it.
Cyprian had seen it. Had wanted it from the first moment. And now, like so many other things, he owned it, owned the boy. It had been pure luck, or perhaps divine or demonic intervention (he was inclined to believe in the latter), that had brought the delicious boy to him. The boy had sacrificed his freedom and his dignity to save one who wasn�t even blood related. That was truly what made the whole situation so amusing. The world he traveled had no time for heroics or selflessness. The boy, an orphan, had sacrificed everything for a little girl who he likened to a sister, also an orphan. The man savored that.
"Now that I have you." He approached the youth with measured steps. A slight stiffening of his posture was the only clue that he was aware of the man�s approach. Cyprian paused a few feet back to bask in the waves of hatred rolling off of him. Such volatile passions pulsed through that slight frame. Every scant inch of his flesh seemed to beg for a caress, whether with hand, silk or whip.
He touched that smooth flesh, felt it strain with tensed muscles. He slid a hand up the tanned arm and paused at the delicate, puffed sleeve just below the shoulder ball. An almost imperceptible shiver traveled the succulent length of the boy�s body. Did he think that the Cyprian would take him now with a large social even planned to occur in just a few hours� time? Of course he did; it would not be the first time, but the philanthropist had no intention of plundering his young flesh�yet. There would be plenty of time after the last guest left.
"Your clothes will be laid out for you in an hour, which will be five o�clock. The event begins at seven thirty. I expect you to be ready by seven and in the main ballroom to await the guests.
"Remember to be on your best behavior. Do not speak unless spoken to and do not talk about anything more important than the weather or some such pleasant but useless information. You would not like my treatment if I find you have evidenced a mind in front of my guests." The boy offered no reply. The man knew he didn�t need reminding, but he enjoyed the ritual of it. There was something to be said about tradition, especially between two people of differing status.
Tenderly he nibbled the boy�s earlobe. The boy made as if to shift away, but the man wrapped his arms about his waist and pressed him close. Cyprian inhaled deeply. The boy always smelled of soap and lemons. He honestly had no idea where the lemons came from, perhaps the soap? Nonetheless, he enjoyed the scent. It was so delightfully innocent and fresh. Everything about him spoke of undaunted innocence. The man could just gobble him up.
"S-stop." The man ignored the stuttered plea and bit into the tender flesh. A hissed exhalation issued from the youth even as he leaned back. Lovingly he laved the small hurt and delighted in the coppery taste sliding across his tongue.
"Why?" The boy pushed against his arms ineffectually. The boy began to shake exquisitely as he ran his tongue about the whorls of the delicate shell of the boy�s ear. Hitched gasps were his only answer as he slid a hand down his vulnerable stomach and lower. "You seem to like it so much."
Yes, the youth was so deliciously hard despite all his silly protesting. His mind fought so valiantly against the urges of his body, but it always lost. Cyprian loved that, loved the sweet humiliation on the youth�s reddened face when he finally yielded. The man knew he was obsessed, obsessed with the beautiful surrender of the boy�s taut little body. And how unwillingly it happened! The struggle, the internal battle between mind and libido, always played so clearly across the boy�s expressive face. Every grimace and blush explicated his turmoil, his shame.
"I�don�t," he grated out as Cyprian teased his erection. The man laughed with delighted amusement and kissed his flushed cheek.
"Naughty, naughty. You shouldn�t lie to your elders," the philanthropist murmured wickedly. "Especially not when they can tell that you are lying." He gave the turgid length of flesh a squeeze and then released the boy, who staggered forward and braced himself against the window ledge.
"Be ready by seven." With a gracious smile Cyprian left the boy to his thoughts. No doubt he would be thinking about him, wanting him to come back and finish what he had started. Unfortunately the man was needed elsewhere at the moment. His toy would have to wait for a few hours, but, after that, Cyprian would make up every second between now and then. The waiting would only heighten the tension, and the release.

~*~*~*~

Cyprian Alexander Mint watched the whirling butterflies of society flit amongst themselves while holding glasses of perfectly chilled champagne and plates of delicate hors d'oeuvres. His sharp, pale green eyes scanned each familiar face. There was not a person invited who he had not shaken hands with or kissed on the cheek. He had made it a stringent policy to exclude all hangers on and others simply looking for the thrill of money. He would not deign to call the majority friends or even pleasurable acquaintances; they were far too mundane for such note. However, scattered among the menagerie of de-clawed housecats, stalked the true predators of his own kind. Human only in appearance and genetics, they were the ones who held any interest to him. To be sure he chatted and spoke a few gracious words to each guest, but it was to them that he indicated the true purpose of the gathering.
Unlike many of his peers-in-name, he did not hold extravagant events to display his newest human acquisitions. What was the point of throwing grand parties in order to showcase a rare Babylonian clay tablet or bit of glittery jewelry? When he held such an event a majority of the participants would be clueless. To them it would be simply a social occasion, but to his true peers, the ones who shared his knowledge of larger existences, this would indeed be a display. It had become something of a game for them: throwing grand gatherings in order to show off some artifact that only they knew the value of.

"That is him, isn�t it?" a cool baritone asked lowly. Cyprian felt a possessive smile curving his lips. Hungrily he watched the slight figure dressed in gold and white sulk at the outskirts of the crowd.
"Quite astonishing, wouldn�t you say?"
"What�s his name?" Simon Marcel Torte inquired while spinning a fluted champagne glass between two long fingers.
"Carrot Glace." Simon snorted and shot his companion a skeptical look.
"Indeed?"
"Oh, you want his real name?"
"That was my intent. I find your little pet names rather odd." Cyprian brushed back an escaping wisp of silver hair and leaned closer to the other man.
"Jason Caleb Glace," he replied, lips barely touching the other�s ear. Simon turned to look at him. To an observer it might have looked like a kiss, but their mouths never met.
"I see where the �c� and �a� came from, but how did you come up with �Carrot�? He does not have orange hair, or look anything like a vegetable, unless you count how skinny he is."
"He is good for the eyes, Simon, just like a carrot."
"You have a twisted sense of humor, Cool Mint," the man remarked, using a knick name not heard since high school. He turned back to observe the boy�s progress about the room. He took a contemplative sip from the glass. Cyprian chuckled softly and followed Simon�s gaze.
Dressed in a gold robe of vaguely oriental design and split high at each hip to reveal loose white pants, the enslaved youth nibbled reluctantly at meat filled pastries and avoided anyone who tried to strike up a conversation. Nervous tension hummed through his slight frame and his dark brown eyes darted around frantically. He looked so delicious that the man had to firmly restrain himself from simply tossing the boy over his shoulder and abandoning the party in favor of a tête-à-tête of a more intimate nature.
"Does he know?"
"Of course not. You think I would tell him? I never took you for a fool before, Simon."
"And I wouldn�t start now. However, it has always been difficult to tell what exactly goes on in that head of yours, Cyprian. You make too many plans."
"Not this time, old friend. This time I�m simply a collector."
"You�re not planning on using him?" the black-haired man demanded incredulously. Deep purple eyes scanned Cyprian�s tranquil face.
"Oh, I am using him, just not in that way, at least for right now." Simon laughed deeply, cynically, and shook his head.
"You amaze me sometimes, sir. You are honestly telling me that you haven�t tapped into even a little of the boy�s power?"
"Not a jot."
"Your control is admirable, especially since you don�t evidence much of it normally."
"I shall take that as a compliment."
"You would." The silver-haired man smiled enigmatically and plucked the champagne flute from his companion�s hand. Placing his lips upon exactly the same spot that Simon had, he drained the last of the effervescent liquid. Pale green eyes sparkled with dark amusement upon seeing the disapproving glare on the other man�s handsome face.
"Would you like to meet my pet? I assure you that he will be on his best behavior," Cyprian whispered conspiratorially. Carefully he placed the glass on a nearby table.
"Trained him, have you?"
"Oh yes!" He caught the boy�s glance and motioned him to come over. The boy paused, as if he would refuse the summons, then walked reluctantly towards the waiting men.
"What?" he demanded petulantly despite the obvious fear shimmering in the depths of his dark eyes.
"A bit surly, Cyprian," Simon observed dryly.
"I prefer to think of it as spirited," the pale-haired man replied with an indulgent laugh.
"You spoil him."
"I like my toys to have a bit of fire in them."
"T-toy?" the boy sputtered indignantly.
"What do you think of him?" Cyprian inquired, both men ignoring the offended youth. Simon grasped the boy�s chin between thumb and index finger and tilted his face up. He moved it left and right, eyes carefully noting every line and angle. He bent down as if to kiss the faintly trembling boy, but he merely inhaled deeply.
"A little on the thin side, but nothing age won�t cure." Slowly he withdrew and released the quivering chin. The boy looked decidedly dazed. Cyprian smiled deeply. His poor little toy had been overwhelmed by the dark-haired man.
"Not that way, silly."
"Hmm?" Simon arched one dark brow and scrutinized the boy. "He might become an addiction." Warning colored his voice, but the philanthropist chose to ignore it.
"Would you like a taste?"
"What do you mean?" Cyprian smiled serenely as a suspicious frown appeared on his companion�s face. He pulled the boy close, wrapping one arm about his waist, and toyed with the wiry strands of black hair. For a moment the youth struggled against him, but gave up with a resigned sigh.
"I could always arrange a play date between you two. I�m sure you would enjoy it." The silver-haired man winked suggestively and ran a pale hand down the boy�s shocked face.
"You never share, Cyprian."
"Don�t I? I have donated millions to various charities." Simon waved a waved dismissive hand, though his purple eyes had taken on a calculating glint.
"That is a human concern, and you know of what I speak."
"Indeed I do, but I�m feeling exceptionally generous."
"And why, pray tell, is that?"
"Kanure Stella will no longer be a problem. Her delightful brother has made sure of that," Cyprian answered with a particularly malicious smile.
"You trust that weak boy?"
"No, but he comes through sometimes."
"Like now, for instance?"
"For instance," the pale-haired man affirmed, lightly stroking the boy�s bewildered face. "So?"
"Perhaps later, if you�re still in such a good mood."
"You still don�t trust me, Simon?"
"I trust no one. You are the same, yes?"
"You�ve found out my dark little secret. I�m as paranoid and suspicious as you are, old friend."
"No one," Simon said coldly, "Has ever found out your dark secret. You�re too shrewd." Cyprian smiled calmly at the other man, though he didn�t deny his claim. Abruptly he released the boy and pushed him off to the side. The youth took the hint and quickly dashed away. The man cast a tender smile after the retreating figure before returning his attention to Simon.
The black-haired man had a look of faint amusement upon his darkly handsome face. Cyprian raised an eyebrow patiently.
"You�re already addicted," he said simply. The philanthropist had the grace to look embarrassed, though one couldn�t tell if it was true or merely for show.
"You think so?"
"Most assuredly."
"Perhaps I shouldn�t share him, then. You might find yourself unable to resist him." Simon laughed harshly and turned his attention to the oblivious crowd of the socially elite.
"All power is corrupting."
"But, Simon," Cyprian breathed, leaning against the other man, "You�ve already been corrupted." Teasingly he ran a pale hand up his arm and returned his scowl with a serene smile. "And he�s so delightfully innocent."
"Yes."
"Couldn�t you just�" The silver-haired man nipped Simon�s ear playfully. "Eat him up?"

~*~*~*~

The last resplendent butterflies and housecats departed, each talking a little too loud and walking a little oddly. Jason Caleb Glace, also known as "Carrot", watched them go enviously. He pressed his young face against the glass until his breath fogged the window and he could only see dim shapes moving off into the lingering darkness. The low purr of foreign cars filled the air and, like so many ravens, they drove down the cobbled driveway, past lighted fountains and impenetrable hedges, and out the front gate, which opened obligingly. One by one they evanesced into the world outside, a world he could no longer visit. He rubbed the window clean with the sleeve of his robe and turned away from the window.
He stilled upon finding the silver-haired man watching him hungrily alongside the black-haired man. Both regarded him with similar auras of predatory cunning. Fear skittered up his spine and he found his limbs trembling with trepidation. The delicate hairs on the back of his neck rose in warning. Something was going on, he knew, something involving that stranger.
Vividly he remembered Cyprian�s early comments about sharing him, letting the other man �taste� him. He feizzyizzy just imagining those unfathomable purple eyes boring into his again. Surely the philanthropist wouldn�t whore him out just for kicks? However, he knew that the man would. He loved finding new humiliations to foster upon him. Anything to make him cringe and blush and scream was tested. With a shudder he recalled times when Cyprian had come across techniques that had him doing whatever he could for just a little more�
He didn�t need to be told to come over. As slowly as excusable, he approached them with slumped shoulders. He wanted to run away. He wanted to tear off the insufferable outfit, throw open the large front doors and sprint away after all the guests. But most of all he wanted to see Crepe, the little girl he called sister. Everything he did and endured was for her sake. She would get better if he obeyed, Cyprian had promised that. He couldn�t let himself doubt that. She had to get better. She was too strong for the cancer.
"Come here," Cyprian crooned holding out a pale hand. With a shudder of distaste he took hold t ant and found himself pulled into a tight embrace.
"Are you teasing me?" the dark-haired man demanded of the other one.
"Me? Tease? Certainly." Carrot felt the chest pressed against his face vibrate with mirthful laughter. A deep, throbbing heartbeat, Cyprian�s, filled his ears.
"For what purpose?"
"That�s the question, isn�t it? Why would I tease you with this delicious little morsel?" Warm hands slid up his back and began to press against the tensed muscles of his neck.
"I have no patience for games." He could hear the frost coating the other�s words, but also a hunger. He pressed himself into Cyprian. The unknown pain frightened more than the known.
"Perhaps I want something. Yes, I want something from you, Simon. Something only you can give me." Curiosity filled the boy. What could that other man have that Cyprian wanted so badly? What was is that caused him to so willingly offer up one of his �toys�?
"Indeed?"
"Very much so. You know of what I speak?" Tenderly the fingers worked loose each knot of tension. Carrot found himself leaning fully against the man, almost senseless to the conversation. He wanted to listen, but he just couldn�t wrap his mind around the words spoken about him.
"I do."
"This is a fair trade, don�t you think?"
"To you, perhaps, Cyprian. However, I�m not quite as gullible as you seem to think. I will not be bound to you through this one."
"You think I�d do that?" The shock in his voice sounded real enough, but the boy doubted that the man was ever shocked by anything. If nothing else, he was a planner. He had contingencies ready for anything that might happen.
"I know you, Cool Mint. I know you better than the others, and I won�t gladly bend to your whim like they do. I have my own agenda."
"Of course you do," Cyprian placated graciously. He pushed Carrot back and began to undo the row of braided fasteners holding the robe closed. His face paled as his gaze darted between the concentrating face of Cyprian and the finger undressing him before the othen. Hn. He couldn�t be meaning to�
"You do realize that I�m not offering him as a one time event, don�t you?" Cyprian continued pushing the slick material off of the boy�s trembling shoulders. Carrot knew better than to grab at the cloth.
"Oh?"
"I�m willing to allow you unrestricted access to him, with prior reservation of course." The cloth pooled about his ankles with the barest whisper. He shivered as cold air caressed his revealed body. Silently he prayed that Cyprian would at least leave him the pants.
"Of course."
"Well, what do you say now?" Gently the silver-haired man turned the boy about to face the dark-haired stranger. The stranger looked over him carefully. Carrot tried to inch away but Cyprian�s strong hands held him in place for the inspection. He could feel a heated blush staining his face and neck.
"What am I allowed to do?"
"Whatever you want, as long as you don�t harm him fatally. You�d be surprised at the amount of damage his lovely body can take." Cyprian leaned down and gently bit the rim of the boy�s ear. He squirmed beneath the hands, eyes watching the stranger fearfully. "And he screams so beautifully at just the right times." Tenderly he stroked the boy�s bare chest. Carrot felt his body react immediately to the light touches dancing across his body. He hated how responsive he had become under the man�s constant tutoring. He no longer controlled his body.
"I agree then. Your terms are quite generous, but do not think for a moment that I will let down my guard. I�ve known you since we were both toddling about in diapers. You were always a tricky bastard."
"Your words wound me, Simon! Aren�t we old friends?"
"And older enemies."
"True. True," ian ian conceded with a jovial laugh. He tucked Carrot beside him. The boy felt his teeth knocking together with his shivering. He had just been whored out. And for what? Something that the silver-haired man wanted desperately. There were few things in this world and the worlds beyond that he desired, but when he found one nothing, not heaven or hell (as was proved time and time again) could stop him. What would the stranger do with him, to him? He didn�t want to know, but he would fout out soon enough. Too soon.
"When do you want him? And would you rather I send him to you? Or would you care to partake of him here?"
"In a week, and send him to me. I trust your house even less than your intentions."
"It�s not a house, Simon. It�s a mansion." Carrot pressed his face against the man�s side and desperately fought against the tears prickling his eyes. He was doing this for Crepe. Her getting better would make everything worth it. He couldn�t lose her, not to cancer, not to anything.
The dark-haired man snorted derisively and waved away Cyprian�s mocking assertion. The boy cringed when the smoldering purple eyes touched upon him. He could feel them working over his exposed flesh and undressing the rest of him. Even naked he had never felt more exposed, more open. He could already feel the man�s fingers moving across his flesh, touching him in secret places. Would he want the same sick things that Cyprian delighted in? Oh gods, what if he wanted something infinitely, unimaginably worse? The boy couldn�t even conceive of something worse than what Cyprian had already inflicted upon him, but he was sure there remained a few things that he had not yet experienced. He shuddered.
"Shall I see you off to your car?" the philanthropist inquired congenially.
"Don�t bother. I�ll send it to you two days aftou sou send him. It should be ready by then."
"Thank you so much. And safe driving."
"Unless someone�s tampered with the brakes while I was inside, there shouldn�t be any need for concern."
"You really think that bad of me?"
"I�ve never put anything past you and I never will."
"Not even after our agreement?"
"Especially after our agreement. Good night, Cyprian." Carrot watched the man stride away around the philanthropist�s slender body. In a weeks time he would discover what perversities excited the man�s fancy and what tortures he could inflict. He was doing it for Crepe. He just had to keep telling himself that.
For Crepe�

* * * *

From Sarryn:
This is a frighteningly long story. It�s filled with various convoluted plots all leading back to Carrot and the mysterious power inside of him. Exciting, ne? I hope you all will endure this marathon of writing with me, and perhaps even enjoy the journey (though that is a bit much to hope). Did you know that the story part of this took up eleven typed pages? Single spaced? Isn�t that frightening?
Teno Hikari and Lady Douji were there through the whole thing, though. Thank goodness or I would have run into many a wall as I struggled to find a place to end this chapter. I owe them many thanks for being there for me in my time of need. Otherwise this story would have consumed me entirely. You guys are the best anchors for the weary soul!

Please REVIEW with that lovely review button at the bottom of this page, if you would be so kind.

Much Love,

Sarryn
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Possession