Title: Be Careful What
You Wish For
Author: Shaded Mazoku.
Email: herukatto@hotmail.com.
Part: 1/?
Disclaimer: All mine. Steal and prepare to suffer.
Warnings: Yaoi, blood and implied shota. And death.
Rating: Very much NC-17.
Summary: Ishamael can fulfill any wish, but at what price?
Pairing(s): Elkath x Ishamael, Ishamael x Iuan, Ishamael x Elkath.
Fandom: Original characters.
*
Elkath looked at the strange, beautiful crystal tower, shivering to himself. While he wanted so badly to make sure his children would never have to suffer, he wasn’t entirely sure this was the way to do it. But he didn’t know any other way to do it, either. He had been told that the creature that lived in the tower could fulfill any wish. Swallowing, he placed his hand on the door. The material felt like ice to the touch, chilling him to the bone, and he wanted nothing as much as to run away, but he forced himself to stay. He was about to push the door when it swung open with an ominous creaking sound, as if to invite him in and warn him at the same time. Gathering all the courage he could muster, he stepped into the darkness of the tower.
The inside of the tower was much larger than what should be possible, and the hallways were labyrinthine in layout. They were dark and even the many glowing orbs that filled the air couldn’t light the shadowed corners. Every now and then, one of the creatures Elkath had thought were rats until he saw their wings would scuttle or fly by, chattering. There was a strange sound chiming through the air, like the sound from a wind chime being ruffled by the breeze. The whole place was eerie and Elkath had to fight to move forwards.
Finally, the hallways widened and he came into a large chamber. The room was filled with the glowing orbs, and in the middle of the room, an ornate throne dominated the room. There was a scent of sandalwood, cinnamon and musk in the air, a strange and seductive scent. Elkath shivered again, and pulled his worn cloak closer around his shoulders. He walked closer to the throne, which was worked into a statue of an angel with its wings spread wide. It seemed to be crying.
A slender creature was sated on the throne, his mismatched eyes focused at Elkath as he slowly moved towards the throne. The creature had deep red hair and white, flawless skin, and his eyes, one red and one gold, were both slit like a cat’s. He had claws, and they were tapping rhythmically against the white marble of the throne. As Elkath lowly approached, the creature smiled to himself, his elegantly pointed ears twitching beneath the long curtain of crimson hair. “Welcome,” he said, his voice like the darkest velvet sliding over polished marble. “I have been expecting you, Elkath Ary of Shimmervale.” He rose from his throne, his velvet robes draping off his body as if they were an extension of his body. “What do you wish for?”
Elkath swallowed, unsure how to deal with the sensuality that dripped of the strange creature. “You’re the one who fulfills wishes?” The creature smiled, licking his lips. “Yes,” he said, his voice sibilant. “I am Ishamael the Wishmaster.” He slid across the floor, stopping so close to Elkath that the human could feel the heat radiating from his body. “And I can give you whatever you desire, if you’ll let me.” The last words were whispered, accompanied by hot breath washing over his ear. Elkath felt his cheeks heat, and desperately searched his mind for something to say, to divert the creature’s attention from him.
“My children,” he finally managed to say, stepping backwards to get away, just so that he’d have room to breathe. “I wish for my children to never go hungry again. To never suffer again.” Ishamael smiled and disappeared, just to appear behind Elkath, wrapping surprisingly strong arms around the human’s waist. “And what will you give me in exchange, I wonder?” He whispered into Elkath’s ear. He smelled like the room did, only sweeter, and his mere touch felt hypnotizing, especially combined with his velvety voice. “What do you consider your children’s worth?”
Elkath wanted to fight, but he couldn’t muster the strength to move a muscle. “Anything you want,” he said, slumping into the unwanted embrace. “Just make sure they won’t suffer ever again.” Ishamael laughed and let go of Elkath, who immediately turned to face him. “Your soul will be my payment,” Ishamael said, his voice lowering to a seductive purr. His fingers slid up underneath Elkath’s shirt, stroking over the too-thin torso. “When you die, you’ll be mine.” Elkath shivered again, although for a different reason this time. Since his wife had died of fever a few years back, he’d been alone. Nobody had touched him like that since.
Ishamael laughed. “It seems that there is something else you wish for, too, my master.” He ran his fingers down Elkath’s stomach again, sharp fingernails almost, but only almost, drawing blood. Elkath gasped, but didn’t pull away. He couldn’t, it was as if he was being held in place by some sort of force. Ishamael was surprisingly warm, almost feverish, and his skin was softer than anything he’d felt before. Elkath bit his lip hard enough to draw blood as what felt like liquid fire flooded through his veins and ended in his groin. “You,” he whispered, so quietly that he wasn’t sue he’d actually made a sound.
Ishamael caught the soft whisper, though, and smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant smile at all, more like the satisfied grin of a successful predator, but Elkath couldn’t see him. “Your wish is my command, master,” he purred, and pulled Elkath’s tunic of in one smooth movement. Gracefully, he walked in front of the human and kneeled, nuzzling his face against Elkath’s groin, breathing warm, moist air over the growing bulge there. He smiled again, and slowly unlaced the worn pants the human wore. Elkath felt his cheeks heat, and knew that his face had to be red as a tomato. “Shouldn’t we take this somewhere more private?” He asked, realizing that they were still in the throne room where anyone could walk in.
Ishamael chuckled. “So shy, my master?” He asked, but even as he did so, the room changed around them, going from the creepy throne room into a luxurious bedroom. That wasn’t the only thing that had changed, Elkath noticed. He was now entirely naked. So was Ishamael, but the creature was still kneeling in front of him, and as such was partially hidden. His hair created a veil around him, as well. Ishamael chuckled again and leaned forwards, taking Elkath’s semi-erect cock into his mouth with a smile. Elkath groaned in pleasure. It had been far too long since he’d done this with anyone. The feeling of the warm, wet mouth around his most sensitive part, and the agile tongue snaking around it, was driving him crazy, or so it felt.
The assault on his senses continued for a while, before Ishamael suddenly pulled away, leaving Elkath stunned from the mixture of pleasure overload and sudden withdrawal. He almost fell over, but Ishamael, rising swiftly, like a cobra, caught him. “Let us move this to the bed, my master,” the creature said huskily, licking the rim of Elkath’s ear with his tongue. He took the human’s hand and led him to the large bed, crawling onto the sheets and giving Elkath a very nice view of his backside at the same time. Elkath joined him on the bed as swiftly as he could manage in his painfully aroused condition. Ishamael gave another chuckle, this time a low and seductive one, and pulled him down on top of him. “I’m all yours, master,” he whispered with a soft breath. “Do what you wish to me.” Elkath bit his lip again, causing it to start bleeding again, but Ishamael leaned up and licked it away, purring happily.
Elkath shivered in pleasure, and let his fingers trace down the creature’s smooth skin to the cleft of his ass, pressing lightly at the entrance. The fingers slid easily inside, into an already slick channel, and even though he knew something wasn’t right about that, he was too far gone to care. Looking up at the blissful look on Ishamael’s face, he pulled his fingers out and replaced them with his erection. If he’d thought the feeling of Ishamael’s mouth had been wonderful, it was nothing compared to what he felt now. He knew that he should wait a while, to let his partner get used to the intrusion, but he couldn’t hold back, and began thrusting into that tight heat, grasping Ishamael’s hips as he did. The creature certainly didn’t seem to mind. He had his head thrown back in passion and was purring loudly. The sound should have put Elkath off, but it seemed so natural in this situation, and he was in no position to actually think at the moment. All he cared about was reaching release.
When it came, he fell forwards, onto Ishamael’s chest, panting. Ishamael was still purring, and it was a soothing sound. Elkath was exhausted after the long journey and then spending his last energy in bed with this creature, and now he fell asleep, his fingers tracing idle patterns on Ishamael’s torso. He didn’t hear the amused chuckle the creature gave as the light in the room dimmed.
*
The next morning, he was woken and given breakfast by a servant girl, who would have been pretty if she hadn’t had dead, empty eyes, like a doll. He was told that Ishamael was busy with his work, and that he should return home after he’d eaten. He did as he was told, although he was a bit sorry that he didn’t get to say goodbye to Ishamael after the night they’d shared. Even so, he understood that the creature probably had a lot of work to do, considering his role as a fulfiller of wishes.
The journey back to his village was long, but eventless. It was nightfall by the time he finally saw the familiar rooftops of his hometown, and the waxing moon had come out in the sky, joined by the first stars. In the distance, he could hear an owl hoot. He walked the last part of the path to his house in a daze, thinking of his wishes the previous night. To never have his children suffer again was worth his soul, and the idea of Ishamael owning his soul wasn’t an unpleasant one.
He pushed the door open and prepared to greet his children. When neither of them came, he stepped inside and closed the door. He figured they’d gone to bed already. He opened the door to the children’s room and went inside. The room was dark, and the only thing he could see was his daughter’s collection of homemade dolls in one corner. There was a new one in the collection, one that, as far as he could tell from the outline, was about the same size as his daughter. He took a few steps forwards to examine the doll, but stopped when he stepped in something sticky on the floor. Curious, he took the oil lamp from its place on the shelf above the bed, and lit it. Nothing in the world could have prepared him for the sight that met him.
What he’d taken for a doll wasn’t a doll at all. His daughter was sitting on the floor among her doll, dressed in her festival finery, a beautiful white dress. Her throat had been cut open, and blood has poured down her body onto the floor, forming the crimson pool under his feet. A scream rose in his throat, but it didn’t get out. He turned and left the room, trying not to think about the bloody footprints he left behind as he walked. He looked in the other rooms for any trace of his son, but there was no sign of him. Finally, he opened the door to his own room, silently praying to his Goddess that he would find his son.
On his old, battered bed, Ishamael was sitting, his strange eyes glowing slightly in the shadows of the room. He was cradling Elkath’s son to his chest, and there was a small, satisfied smile on his lips. “Iuan!” Elkath cried, and lunged towards the bed. He couldn’t reach it, though. There was a force holding him back. “What did you do?” He screamed at Ishamael, wanting nothing more than to reach over there, grab his son and throttle the creature.
Ishamael grinned, a gesture that showed off his teeth, and a set of very sharp canines. “Only what you wished for, my master,” he said, the voice that had been seductive yesterday sounding twisted and cruel now. “They will never suffer again.” He got off the bed, still carrying Iuan’s limp body in his arms, his slim fingers caressing the boy’s naked flesh. “Your daughter never even felt my claws slicing into her flesh,” he said with another of those chilling smiles. “She was dead before she could notice. She didn’t suffer, and never will again.” He brushed some of Iuan’s hair out of his face. “Your son was different, though. He made a wish that surprised me greatly. I couldn’t do anything but fulfilling such a request.” Meeting Elkath’s angry and horrified glance, Ishamael’s eyes lit up, glowing much more brightly than before. “If you’re to kill me, do it with pleasure,” he said, his voice not his own, but that of Iuan, the voice of a young boy, young enough to still have the high-pitched voice that small children have. “Such a sweet boy,” Ishamael chuckled as his voice returned to normal. “Positively delicious.”
Elkath, realizing that he had brought this upon his family by seeking the easy way out of his problems, sunk to his knees, much like Ishamael had done the night before, but unlike the creature, the demon, he started crying while whimpering his children’s names again and again. Ishamael grinned and swept past him, still carrying the naked boy. He had plans for him. He looked over his shoulder and saw Elkath holding a knife to his wrist. “If you kill yourself, your soul will be mine,” he reminded the man, his voice decidedly amused. “You know how they say ‘be careful what you wish for’? They’re right.” With these words, he faded away, leaving Elkath crying brokenly to himself on the floor, in a room where the bed was stained with the evidence of his son’s death, and the floor was now marked by the evidence of his daughter’s.