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The Gorgon's Head	By : DrkVrtx Category: +G through L > Kid Icarus Views: 8624 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not Kid Icarus or its characters and am making no profit from this work.

Chapter List
- 1-i.
- 2-ii.
- 3-iii
- 4-iv
- 5-v.
- 6-vi.
- 1
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- 3
The room stretches on before the angel, and with his continued stride grows darker. Soon all that accompanies him is the sound of his own footsteps, a steady rhythm that his heart betrays. It beats eagerly as he draws nearer, as Pit leaves behind the light and sanctity of the temple and steals unknown into the tainted depths of the vault. He seeks not the decorated, inanimate trophies that over time he and fellow angels have won in the name of their goddess. His eyes pass over them, solid gold and shimmering crystal a lure he can easily withstand. But there is one he cannot.
Pit aches painfully with need as he reaches the vault's darkest corner.
Twelve flames spring to life, golden, three-pronged candelabras standing tall at each corner of the marble pedestal. The warm orange light reveals a peculiar trophy, one which both brought about war and with its claiming put an end to it. Pit's stride slows to a stop, though his chest pounds and his curled hand grow slick.
More than an arm's length separates him from the pedestal as he stands in front of it, watching thin shadows flicker and sway across pallid grey skin. Small, beady eyes roll open, a dozen serpentine pairs that fasten themselves upon him. Forked tongues taste the air, taste his presence, taste his revulsion. And they taste Pit's desire, thick and heady, a dark taint that clings to him. The eyes of a woman peel open last of all, rimmed with a deep shade of kohl. She finds him, and her pale lips curve into a smile.
That smile weakens Pit at the knees. With his gaze fixed on her mouth, on her soft, full lips, the constrained weight between his thighs weeps with excitement. And the angel lurches forward, single-minded in intent as hurried fingers scrape underneath his flowing chiton. Raw, desperation pounds in his ears, throbs in his throat, burns at his core, and he sees but one use for those lips, for that pliant mouth which he has sought and sated himself with before. He is a man and a man takes what he wants.
But then the goddess speaks.
"Welcome back, Pit. We've missssed you."
Her words halt him. They ring in the darkness like a slap to the cheek. The angel curses himself. The goddess smiles.
"Where have you been, my darling?" she laments, the low, throaty utterance of her voice bringing his passion to boil. "I am left all alone with no comfort or companion."
"That is your punishment," Pit forces through clenched teeth.
"I yearn for you daily, little angel," the goddess whispers, lips carefully forming each word. And Pit watches them, entranced. "I think only of you."
He swallows hard, unfurling his hands. "I did not come here to listen to you talk, Medusa."
"No," she says, with a slant to her mouth. "I know what you came here for. I only wonder why you deny yourself, when I offer it freely. So come, my darling," she tells him, and the serpents that shade her brow slink away. "I hunger for the tasssste of you."
Leaden weight roots his feet to the ground and Pit merely stares at the goddess atop the pedestal. This is where he should turn away, where he should master himself and turn his mind from the sheer desire pulsing through him. It leaves his throat dry and tongue thick. It renders numb his powers of thought, silencing the voice that warns him to put an end to this. Because he needs this. He'll go mad otherwise.
Pit drags his feet and moves to stand before Medusa's severed head. Scarlet seeps from the wound at her neck, staining the white marble that she sits upon. With a tight jaw and his eyes singularly focused on her mouth, Pit splits open his chiton and produces hard, hot flesh. The goddess licks her lips, humming softly. He pushes the loose, silken fabric behind his hips and with stiff hands reaches for her head. He tries to ignore the cold, serpentine touch gliding along his skin as he pulls her forward. They disgust him; she digusts him, and yet here he stands once more, pushing his proud, throbbing cock towards her mouth.
Pit winds his fingers into Medusa's hair, thick and lifted all around her head by a delicate, eternal breath, and tugs insistently. "Open," he growls, impatient as her small, white pupils flick upwards to find his eyes and she does nothing but grin. Her gaze unnerves him, leaves Pit unsettled. He does not like the way the goddess looks at him, or the subtle way she smirks. He wishes she were cold and dead so he could use her for his pleasure and be done. But then, were that the case, he would not use her at all.
Pit pulls once more and hisses. This time, Medusa promptly obeys his command.
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The Gorgon's Head