Date: Sun, 27 Jul 2014 05:25:49 +0100
From: Enchanting Enchanter <enchantingenchantor@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Enchanter's Storybook: Chapter 17

OFFICIAL NOTICE: Chapters will mainly be updated on weekends, so check
whenever you've got the time if you want to see the newest chapter.

Recently, I've been going over my story and realised at some points I
deviate between third and first person, I don't mean to do this, sometimes
I just forget because I'm human. I hope you haven't noticed it, or it
hasn't put you off, but the story is mainly written in third person and I
only go off track sometimes. Sorry.

COUNTDOWN: PLEASE NOTE, THIS STORY WILL DISINTEGRATE IN THREE CHAPTERS!
I.E. I PLAN ON ENDING THE ENCHANTER'S STORYBOOK ON THE 20th CHAPTER
FOREVER, DONE GONE, FINISHED, NO MORE. THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT, BUT I FEEL
LIKE IT'S FINALLY TIME TO END IT. WHAT I'M NOT SURE OF IS ENDING IT ON A
GOOD NOTE OR... ;) And last chapter I said there were only three chapters
remaining, when I really meant four. Maths is useless to me, sorry I can't
count from 16 to 20, kids. I'm a prime example of why you should try and
give a fuck about your education.

Here are the rules to reading my story:

1: No under-aged kiddies, sexually confused, openly gay, or whatever kinds
of people here. Either you're of an appropriate age or get out. But, just
between us, I can't and won't stop you.

2: If you're lawfully restrained from reading gay literature then don't
read it, but, again, I won't stop you. It's clearly your country's fault
(Hi Russia, Hi Uganda, etc) for being so closed-minded. We are, after all,
in a post-modern world, I can't stop you, but I have warned you.

3: Read the previous chapters if you want to understand the story.

4: Donate to Nifty if you enjoyed this story.

5: Break the rules if you want, kids. I myself am a nonconformist (not a
religious nonconformist, ew) and do so myself.

6: EMAIL ME AT THE FOLLOWING: ENCHANTINGENCHANTOR[AT]HOTMAIL[DOT]COM THIS
EXACT SPELLING PLEASE LOOK AT IT BECAUSE THE SPELLING IS VERY IMPORTANT,
ENCHANTOR NOT ENCHANTER, IDK, IF YOU WANT TO COMMENT THEN DO IT
THERE. THANKS BITCHES. BYE BITCHES.

The Enchanter's Storybook: Chapter 17 (THREE CHAPTERS REMAINING)

"He did this."

Her body was cold on the floor, her blood oozing into the cracks and
crevices, the hole in her chest putrid and festering. They hadn't dared to
dwell near her body.

"No," Varia assured him, but it was no use. She knew full well what had
happened here. The majority of Marcus's powers were clearly dormant
throughout his life, and the intensity of his kiss with Darius had somehow
unlocked it. Lady Grisella, the leader of the Purgadorian Witch Guild,
stood beside them, eyeing them with caution. She declared the entire North
Wing "unstable" and had the entire Guild hunting the city for one
blond-haired teenage boy. "It wasn't him, he isn't himself, he's been
overpowered by his darkness."

He turned to see her, his face pale with anger. "Has that ever happened
before, to witches, anything?" he asked, knowing the answer. To Varia,
Darius looked absolutely destroyed. Like the one person in the world that
loved him, understood him, got him completely and entirely, was gone. He
looked empty.

"No."

"Actually," Grisella poked in, struggling to stand beside them. She was a
walking corpse, pale and wrinkling. With this woman, the major military
strength of the witches was placed. A frail, aged woman not long for this
world. "The witches know not what ails him, but I do have certain... allies
that may be able to shed light on the matter of his... condition."

"It is NOT a condition, he's fucking out of control, he killed a room full
of people, he killed Daisy! He killed one of your queens, a ugly, stupid,
bitchy queen, but a queen nonetheless, so stop giving me false hope, back
the fuck up, and die already, you crumbling dusty corpse!" He let out a
long breath after screaming right in her face. She remained composed the
entire time, watching silently as Darius stormed out of the remains of the
throne room, away from the white corpse of Daisy Dweller.

"What on Earth is his problem?" she asked, her thin, pursed lips tugging
into a grin like no other. She'd never been spoken to so freely.

"Marcus is his lover," Varia announced. As one of the first few who
uncovered their secret, she felt she could announce these
things. Especially since no such prejudice existed in this world. The
humans were the most prejudiced of peoples, hating anything that was
different, denying obvious evolution. That was their weakness, their
downfall. Now evolution was catching up to the witches, in the form of a
seemingly harmless teenage boy.

In some cultures, their kinds of relationships were even more common than
others, especially with the fairies. They boasted of such relations, their
entire gods and pantheons were established around what they called "divine
love." Varia smiled at that. They truly believed love with a member of the
same gender was somehow divine. Love was love, however shit and cliche it
sounds.

"Obviously," she replied simply, clasping her hands together. "My allies, I
fear he will not take too kindly to their proposals. The Guild has had no
luck finding the boy, they have scoured the entire castle, but it appears
he has vanished from thin air. But, on the bright side, he isn't dead," she
offered, giving Varia a sweet smile that she openly scoffed at.

"What game is he playing?"

"A tricky one. I personally have never seen such a thing happen, and live
to tell the tale. No such witch has been as dark as he is, his very soul
grapples with the nature of being a good person, his final battle has
begun. The battle against his own self, his own darkness."

Varia could understand the basics of his condition, but what she did not
understand was how they cure it. He was just a boy after all, small and
harmless, yet with an unbelievable darkness inside.

"What is your cure?" she decided to ask.

"It's not a cure, well, more of a lead," she admitted. "But, as I have
said, no WITCH has ever befallen such an illness of the mind and soul, and
my diplomatic ranking has allowed me access to certain allies in certain
places, of whom I have called forth to help me diagnose the boy and come up
with an amiable prognosis." She shifted her position, allowing the light
pink silk of her dress to ripple freely over the floor. Leaning on her cane
with all of her weight, she began to limp slowly from the room, asking
Varia to follow at her side.

"Such allies as whom?"

"Come now, Varia, time shall tell," the old woman claimed, in a withered
and waning voice that spoke of her age. But of all things, this woman was
fierce and wild in nature, devote to her queens and country, unbelievably
powerful, and one of the most (if not the most) intelligent witch in aspect
to alchemy, medicine, magic, and suchlike, alongside her knowledge of
strategy, diplomacy, and military.

"No." Varia stopped dead in her tracks. "I want to know now."

The woman sighed and turned, her face pale and clearly dying. She looked in
pain, constipated, easing her way to the valley of death.

"Very well," she cursed. "Diplomats Cortenza di Zoarchi of Elvenholm; Lady
Genevieve Antoinette de Baptiste-Henri of the Feyrie; and Sir Ivan Tsoviksi
of Orkovsk. I would have invited the trolls, but we all know how useless
they are in regard to medicine and matters of the mind. However, as we all
well know, the fairies mastered the magique of mind and soul long ago, the
elves preach of purity and white lights and all that nonsense, and who
knows what magic the orks have kept from us? They are so secret about
everything. So, as a precaution, I invited them all to see if they can
enlighten us on the situation."

Varia was, to say the least, astounded. "Are these three diplomats aware
they will all be meeting each other?" she inquired.

"Yes, why?"

She thought a moment. "Well, the fairies hate the elves, the orks hate the
witches, and the witches hate everyone, so why would they agree to help at
all?"

She laughed a bitter, cold laugh. "They are carrion crows come to feast on
the corpse. Word has reached the entire Known World, they all flock to the
Witchlands to see if we are as defenseless as we seem. Not only will
inviting the diplomats of our most powerful neighbours reduce the threat of
war when they see how fortified we actually are, but they may actually see
the situation as it actually is: the Witchlands are still more powerful
than them, and they must resume kissing our polished rears in the form of
their assistance in this matter." It was clear that years of being the
military leader of the strongest, most protected city in the world had
payed off for Lady Grisella Galdersleeve. She knew exactly what she was
doing, Varia had to give her that.

"So, with three royal invitations into Purgador, and one swish of your
hand, and this entire matter is put to rest? Now that seems too good to be
true."

"Well, it took hours of negotiation between states, millions of golden
coins spent on rebuilding the castle, and tripling our military budget
simply to put on a fancy masquerade for these foreign dignitaries who
simply want to see us all dead. But if you do not believe me, come see for
yourself. The diplomats wait for you in my office."

"Why me?"

"They require the boy, so he may be diagnosed, but since he is
God-Knows-Where, off the coast of Who-Really-Gives-A-Shit, we need a report
on his condition from those closest to him. I would have asked the fighter,
but since he seems otherwise engaged in his wrath, you are the next best
thing. Provide us with as much information on the boy, his curse,
personality of late, condition, and so on and so forth."

"To what end?"

"To give the diplomats an understanding of his condition, to see if there
is even an inkling of hope for the boy with their own enchantments. Now
come with me, and let this droll affair be at its end."

****

Darius was fuming. Clenching and unclenching his fists repeatedly, pacing
the room, up and down and up down, wall to wall. He was so mad, he couldn't
really tell what he was mad at, or more importantly, who he was mad at.

They all keep telling him lies. He'll show up, he'll be fine, he'll be back
to normal soon. Well who the Hell decided what normal was? Because,
whatever it was, Marcus was far from it. He was never normal, and that was
a part of his charm. Was.

He was having trouble switching tenses. Gods know what actually happened to
Marcus, but two things were certain: 1) Daisy was murdered. 2) Marcus
killed her. Meaning that whole murderous Marcus with the killing spree in
the throne room hadn't left him alone. But whether or not, this wasn't some
curse, it was a part of who he was, it couldn't be ripped from him, it was
in his soul and body. Even Darius could see that no magic could change
that.

"Darius." His eyes shot straight to the door.

There he stood, leaning against the frame with a devilish grin spreading
over his cheeks. Slowly, he closed the door behind him, his eyes a darker
blue, sparkling like a deep ocean, like the sky before dawn.

"Marcus?" he asked, taking a step back. This was the killer, the murderer,
those hands ended lives, HE ended lives. He killed dozens, in under a day,
dead, at his hands.

He stepped closer. Darius stepped back. His back hit the wall, but still
the boy cornered him, slowly entrapping his prey.

"Do it already," he demanded. If he was going to die, he'd prefer it fast
and swift, and hopefully painless. What did it matter, it's not like he'd
live through it?

"Do what?" Marcus asked, his voice huskier, deeper. The sheer sound of it
electrified his body in a way he had never felt. It made him shudder with
desire, something Marcus seemed to sense.

"Kill me," he spat out.

"I'm not going to kill you," he whispered, his voice so quiet that was even
more deadly, even more... seductive. Darius's eyes popped out of his head
once he realised what was happening. "Are you... coming on to me?" he
choked out.

His reply was a slight tilt of his head and smug smile tugging at his
adorable face. He was closer, so close to him that his breath wafted over
his face, sending wave after wave of electric surges through his body. He
rested both hands against the wall, on either side of Darius, encroaching
him in this small space.

"Tell me to stop," he ordered, his face snuggling deep into his neck,
kissing and biting and sucking at the skin. Darius let out a quick moan,
before he realised what was actually happening and composed himself.

A sudden surge of passion shot through him, he grabbed Marcus by the hair
and ripped him from his neck. His face dazed and shocked, their lips met in
a flash. He begged for entry, panting and pleading and the two of them out
of breath. He picked him up at the hips, he was such a small kid, Marcus's
legs automatically wrapping around his waist, and smashed him against the
wall. He felt him tugging at his hair, a stray hand running under his
linens and over his chest.

Marcus bit at his lip and tugged it teasingly, giving him a deviously sexy
smirk. Tongues, snogging, the two of them stopped and came up for air, but
reality flushed in and Darius dropped him to the floor.

"You killed people!"

He shrugged.

"Don't you care? Are you even yourself anymore? What the fuck happened to
you? You were such a sweet little kid in the Pass, and now you're... you're
a monster!" he screamed, backing up from him.

Recomposing himself, he replied, "I was never a sweet little kid. This is
who I am, monster or not! Now take it or fucking leave it!"

"Ugh! You pig!"

"Fuck you, arse-hole!"

"Why did I ever fucking love you?"

"Like you ever stopped," he shot back smugly.

"And that's the worst fucking part! I still fucking love you!" he
screeched.

Marcus swallowed, stepped closer, and smirked that sexy devious
smirk. "Then stop being a wimpy little rat and FUCK ME!"

The two of them pounded against each other hard, like there was a magnetic
pull between them, their lips crashing instantly. Somehow they found the
bed. Picking him up with ease, Darius tossed him over the blanketed
mattress and ripped off his shirt. Marcus did the same.

He dropped his breeches without pause or warning, watching Marcus gawk at
the sight before pulling at his own, ripping them off of his ankles for
him, and slowly climbing over his body. Marcus's hands found his shoulders,
his hair, his chest, his arse-cheeks, and rubbed and pinched and traced his
fingers all over his steamy body.

Without warning, he swerved and pushed Darius down onto his back, leaning
over his cock and taking the head in his mouth. Darius moaned, he couldn't
contain it. His hands went straight into his hair, pulling and pushing it
up and down. Fast and almost expertly, Marcus's tongue lapped over the
sensitive head, slowly engorging his mouth as he pushed slowly down the
shaft. Licking up and down, slurping as he went, sending Darius simple
looks that would drive him absolutely mad, so mad that he felt himself on
the verge of spewing his entire load down Marcus's throat.

But Marcus stopped. "I don't want you to climax yet," he said seductively,
climbing up his body on all fours and lifting Darius up off of his
back. "Fuck me," he ordered him, dropping down on his back and raising his
legs in the air.

Easily, lost in the entire moment, Darius obeyed. How could he not, when
this sex god presented himself, naked and lean, and asked for it
especially?

He held the legs onto his shoulders and positioned himself at Marcus's
tight pink hole, waiting for any sign of pain before he slowly pushed the
head in. It popped in easily and quickly, earning a groan from Marcus. He
begged for more, his cute face twisted in pain and pleasure, ecstasy,
passion.

Darius willingly obeyed, and slammed the entire cock in without warning. He
screeched in agony, but smirked at the same time, dropping his legs from
his shoulders and turning on all fours, his ass pointing right up at
Darius. Sliding out slowly, earning a full moan from Marcus, he slammed
straight back into him, over and over, repeating. Slipping in and pulling
out, only to drive him crazy as he slowly and tortuously slipped his way
back inside. he picked up a steady pace, and soon Marcus was pushing harder
against him with each thrust into him, begging for more, every once in a
while wincing from the pleasure.

"Fuck me harder!" he begged, pleaded, screaming in pleasure. Darius did as
he was told, and pounded harder and faster with quick, swift rhythmic
grunts pounding in and out of his tight hole. He was on the very edge of
the glory, savouring every second, loosening his tight hole as much as he
could.

Marcus's ass engulfed his entire length, and let it slip in and out of him,
screaming and moaning until he couldn't contain himself.

He took control fast, especially for such a small guy.

Pushing Darius down with strength he didn't know he had, he turned and
tossed him the darkest, devilish, most horrifyingly evil smirk he had ever
seen. And still, the boy turned him on. He crept up on him and, without
warning, position his own surprisingly long, hard dick at the entryway to
Darius's hole. He wasn't too sure about it, but before he could even say
anything, Marcus was pushing himself into Darius, deeper and deeper.

It stung, so much that his eyes even watered a little, but he took it. He
was rough, rougher than even Darius had been, and so fast. Marcus was
pounding at full speed immediately, without warning or loosening, just
full-on pounding nine inches deep into Darius's tight, untouched hole.

He cried out in pain, awful, tearing, horrible pain that refused to go
away, but Marcus never stopped. He grunted and pounded and became more
forceful, rougher, deeper, longer?

And then it came. "SHIT!" he screamed, an intense and brilliant thrill
pulsating through him. Marcus hit it again, and again and again and
again. The pain slowly abated, with Marcus pumping his dick deep into
him. He took it all, easing into it, sinking deeper and deeper, letting the
pleasure take full control.

Long after he'd reached his climax, Marcus kept going, drilling and
pounding and fucking deeper into him. His ass became sore at some point,
but he hardly noticed it over the pleasure and moans and grunts. For such a
small guy, he had stamina, endless stamina. Even when Darius tried to
retake control, Marcus bested him and slammed especially rough and
deep. Screaming out his name, Marcus pumped faster and faster, until
suddenly, he called out, his entire body jerked, and Darius felt a warm,
oozing liquid shoot into him, filling him up.

"Take me," Marcus called, "take all of meeeeuaaa. Uh. Shit." That was when
Darius felt it. The surge shooting through him, like bolts of electricity,
painful and hot, right through his body from Marcus's cock lodged deep
inside him. He looked up at him, the two of them stunned, spent, and
shocked.

Marcus collapsed on top of him, still inside, when Darius felt the true
dizziness of the electric shock galvanise him and force him into a sleep.

!NEVER IN MY LIFE HAVE I WRITTEN SUCH A THING, IDEK IF I'M EVEN GOOD AT IT
BUT WHATEVER, THERE YOU HAVE IF, AFTER SIXTEEN LONG, BORING, SEXLESS
CHAPTERS, IT'S FINALLY FUCKING ARRIVED!

*Snaps the cum-stained porn magazine of the once proud and virgin
Enchanter's Storybook to a close*

DONE! Three chapters left, so watch out for them, although after this
chapter I might wait a little while, idk. I'm so tired right now. I'll deal
with it, down't worry. I've never written smut or filth before so idk tell
me what you bitches think. Come back next time. Bye whores.

Your's Sexually,

THE GORJIE ENCHANTOR (TAHTAH I LOVE YOU NO I HATE YOU KILLING MYSELF IT'S
ALL YOUR FAULT NEVER LIKED YOU KBAI)