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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.
- 4
- 5
- 6
His hand clutching the staff drops to the side, his mouth falling open. He did not know what to expect, but it certainly was not this. Medusa stands before him, reformed by his will, and she is beautiful.
She is like her sister, slender and tall, but her feminine curves are full and luscious. Pit has studied his goddess' form for so long now that he does not for an instant doubt the comparison. That Medusa wears nothing but the skin of wan complexion into which she was born makes it all the more easier for him. This is a sight that before this moment his eyes have never known. She is naked, from head to toe, and Pit can see all of her, from the dark grey circles of flesh protruding from her breasts to her hairless sex. And he knows not what to do.
The candles cast flickering light over Medusa as she slowly traces her shape. Her head is tilted back as fingers dance upwards towards the smooth plane of her stomach, eyes half closed as she cups and lifts her breasts. Pit's gaze is fixed as the goddess' hands rise to her throat and her chest dips under its own weight. A crown of serpents sigh, lifting their glistening heads high above Medusa's dark, thick locks. Pit swallows as the eyes of the goddess at last settle upon him. His grip tightens upon the staff as the corners of her lips twitch.
"I only gave you back your body," he tells the goddess, "nothing else."
"I understand," she replies, and the low, husky timbre of her words pumps life into his manhood.
"You're mine," Pit says, hoarse of voice. "You belong to me. I can do what I want with you."
Medusa smiles. "I am yours, little angel, all yours."
Pit nods. Afterwards, he wonders why he did so. He need not assure himself of anything; he is in control here. The dark, terrible powers of the goddess are denied her. He made sure of that. He is an angel of high rank and in the end Medusa merely inhabits the form of a human woman. She poses no threat to him. Pit has nothing of which to fear.
And yet, he stands there, heart pounding to a swift rhythm. An itch creeps up his neck when his gaze threatens to fall below Medusa's navel, leaping away again. Pubescent shame chastises him and Pit clenches his jaw, rallying against it. He is not a boy, not a child; he is a man.
A man takes what he wants, and he has wanted this for so long.
With such conviction in mind, Palutena's staff clatters to the floor and Pit reaches for his chiton. He exposes himself clumsily, however, and when he takes his length in hand, Pit's skin prickles with heat. His gaze moves restlessly as he takes a non-committal step towards the goddess. As he falls under her shadow, Pit becomes all too aware that his head barely reaches her chest.
"What are you doing?" Medusa asks him.
Pit swallows. He looks up, but not quite high enough to meet her eyes. "I'm taking you," he mumbles, fist tightly wrapped around his cock.
The goddess softly laughs, slipping a hand between her thighs. "Little angel, these lips are not like these," she tells him, tapping the edge of her mouth with a finger. "You cannot use them without preparation."
Pit scowls. "What do you mean?"
"You want this to feel good, don't you? You must make proper use of me, otherwise this would be all such a waste."
"It will feel good," Pit tells her. "I can use you however I want."
There is something about Medusa's smile that sends a chill creeping down his spine. But then the moment is gone and as the goddess speaks Pit convinces himself that it was imagined.
"Have you ever known the true warmth of a woman, Pit?"
He looks away. The angel shivers when Medusa cups his cheek with her palm.
"I will teach you, my darling," she says.
The goddess takes a measured step backwards, finding the marble pedestal behind her with her hands and lifting herself up onto it. Then slowly, as Pit watches with unblinking eyes and a tight throat, Medusa spreads her legs. With an intangible chain his gaze is fastened in place, the goddess pushing her hand down to find her nether lips as he stares. A pair of fingers part them, exposing pink, intimate flesh. The beckoning of her voice pulls him forward without a thought.
"You must use your tongue," Medusa suggests, and Pit finally blinks.
"My tongue?" he echoes, with a hint of distaste.
"Yes, little angel, your lips to mine," she says. "It will feel so good, and then I will be ready to use however you see fit."
"Why can't you do it yourself? Use your fingers," Pit demands.
Medusa wears a small smile as she replies. "But the mouth of another is so much better, isn't it?"
He swears he can see a smirk in her eyes, but then her hand is at the top of his head and the goddess encourages him to kneel. At the back of his mind, it is the last thing Pit has any desire to do. However, he does not resist the goddess as she pushes him down onto his knees; or rather, he cannot. And with strength he is sure she should not have, Medusa holds him there.
Her fingers curl into his hair as he begins to prepare her. Medusa coos, calling down words of direction, where to press his mouth and how to shape his tongue. Her grip tugs at his scalp and the angel hisses, but when he tries to pull back the goddess pushes his face forward.
"Stay there, Pit," she tells him, "right there, on your knees. You're doing so well, my darling."
He struggles to breathe when his nose flattens against her body, the strong smell of her sex filling his nostrils. His chest is a cage as Pit slaps his hands against Medusa's thighs. She does not relent, even when his nails dig into her skin. His attention flicks upwards and suddenly Pit's eyes widen. The goddess' glint with sinister intent, her mouth curved into a sneer. His panicked yell is muffled by her flesh, but both can hear all too clearly the golden blade in Pit's right hand shimmering into being. He draws back his arm to strike – and Medusa tosses him bodily through the air.
Pain slices through his back, Pit's skull ringing as his head bounces off the floor. The weapon he summoned tumbles out of his grip, clattering into the dark corners of the room.
Medusa grants him not a single moment of respite. With one of her feet lowered from the edge of the pedestal, she stretches out her hand. A cry escapes Pit's lips as black tendrils slink towards him, sinking through the cold stone tiles and wrapping themselves around his limbs. His immediate struggle is in vain. The more Pit fights them, the tighter the shadows constrict him. He stops when Medusa sets both her feet to the floor.
"Foolish boy," she says, and a serpentine whisper echoes in the wake of her voice. The goddess walks over to the staff he discarded, gracefully sinking low to retrieve it. Her pale eyes turn on him thereafter, shining with amusement. "You did not understand the power you sought to wield. I, however…"
Medusa moves towards him. Pit once more feels the tattoo of his heart against his chest. It pounds through his ears as cold sweat beads upon his brow. His stiff length wilts between his legs as the goddess' shadow falls upon him. She stands over him, her feet to either side of his hips, and glances down with a click of her tongue. "Well, we can't have that now, can we?" she sings, and Pit sharply inhales when Medusa reverses her grip on her sister's staff.
The angel's eyes peel open again when all he feels is the merest touch of a smooth, cool surface. Medusa lifts the tip of the staff away from his manhood, the crown of which she brushed with the floating sapphire stone. Nothing occurs. Pit stares down at himself in confusion. The goddess only smiles. And that is when an otherworldly rage surges through him, right to his core. Right to his cock. He grows tight, hard and tall, and Pit gasps as he throbs to the rhythm of his heartbeat.
Medusa laughs at his discomfort. "Is this not what you wanted, little angel?"
He has no voice to answer, straining against his bonds with clenched teeth and a cry trapped in his throat. Medusa crouches over him, a salacious grin shaping her lips.
"Worry not, Pit," the goddess whispers. "I will make a man of you."
- 4
- 5
- 6
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The Gorgon's Head