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Flow	By : kunihwoarang Category: +S through Z > Warcraft III Views: 5661 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Warcraft III, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Flow
- 1
I love how desperate the blood elves are for magic in The Frozen Throne, and I wondered just how far Kael would go to help his people quell their addiction...

And so, we get a sadistic piece of yaoi. The vision is so vivid in my head that I wonder if I might be ripping it off from somewhere unintentionally... O_O;; Or maybe I'm just a freak.

Wrong, wrong, WRONG~!

And thus, the story begins: Illidan has just been "killed," and Arthas is about to make his ascent up the Frozen Throne to merge with the Lich King. Hooray! And for some reason, he likes boys. Hooray!
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Arthas washed the violet blood from Frostmourne with a clump of snow. Once it was clean, he dried the blade on his cloak and turned back to the Frozen Throne. Now, at last, he could claim his rightful place at the Lich King's side.
A loud sob erupted from behind him, near the body of the fallen Illidan. He recognized the voice as Kael's; a smirk spread across his lips. He began his ascent without looking back.
"Arthas!" The voice was choked with sorrow.
The death knight kept walking, his head down.
Kael suddenly appeared in front of him. The blood mage's eyes glowed white and his teeth were bared. He held his hands in front of him, poised ready to summon a flame strike. The mana orbs flew around his body, sped with the anxiety of his situation; the wind they kicked up sent his robes flapping around his body.
"Arthas," he said, his voice deep, "I cannot allow you to pass."
The death knight lifted his head and let out a long sigh.
"Move, Kael," he threatened.
The blood elf stepped forward; a low growl sounded in his throat. "You have taken everything -- everything -- I've ever cared for, Arthas."
"I gave him a chance to leave alive," said the death knight. "And now I'm giving you your chance. Get out of my sight."
The blood elf took another step forward. "Jaina. Dalaran. Quel'Thalas. Now, Illidan; he waspeoppeoples' last salvation! You must die for this, Arthas."
Seeing the elf wasn't going to give up, the death knight sighed and brandished Frostmourne. Kael crouched in stance. He swayed to either side, his hands flickering as he summoned a pillar of flame. Arthas side- stepped and charged. He let out a yell as Frostmourne swung at the elf. Kael ducked, but the blade caught one of the mana orbs, knocking it to rest in the cushion of snow. The death knight swung the blade again and sheared the orb in half.
The blood elf swore under his breath.
"Leave, elf," snapped Arthas. "You cannot defeat me."
Kael yelled and sent a bolt of flame. It sizzled into nothing before it could reach the death knight. Without all three mana orbs, he couldn't focus his powers enough to summon a phoenix or even a flame strike. His stomach dropped. He needed more energy.
Arthas charged; the mage teleported behind him. Kael thrust his hands before him and began to drain magic energies from the death knight.
The instant the magic hit his system, he fell to his knees, gasping.
This magic...what was this magic? It was overwhelming, orgasmic. It seeped into his pores, fuelling his addiction. He fell to his hands now, trembling.
Arthas turned, an eyebrow raised. He rested the blade against the fallen elf's neck.
"So the power of the Lich King is too much for to hto handle, is it, elf?"
Kael gasped, staring at the snow below him. A sweat drop rolled off the tip of his nose.
Arthas pulled off his glove; he dropped to one knee and gripped the elf's chin. Kael tried to jerk away, but the death knight's grasp was too strong.
"I had forgotten what a pretty thing you are," said Arthas contemptuously. "It's no wonder Illidan kept you around without disposing of you."
"Kill me quickly," gasped Kael. The magic still flowed through his veins. He closed his eyes. He wanted more.
Arthas crouched before the elf, his hand still at the man's chin. "Such a pretty, pretty face," he murmured, tracing the narrow jaw line. "Who would guess that behind this pretty face was a man so desperate for magic that he'd trade his own soul just for a drop of it?" He sneered. "I know about your pact with Kil'jaeden, elf. I know how you crave the magic that was taken from you." His voice lowered. "I can help." There was something dangerous in his tone.
Kael closed his eyes, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, for now the heavy, overwhelming magic flowed delicately from the death knight's fingertips into his skin.
"You feel that, elf?" whispered Arthas harshly. "That is the power of the Lich King." He withdrew his hand. "He can provide your people with an endless source of magic. All you have to do is follow my lead."
The glowing white eyes opened; Kael glared. "I will never be that desperate," he hissed. His flushed cheeks and ragged breaths suggested otherwise.
"Is that so?" Arthas brought two cold fingers to the elf's sneering lips. He traced the top one, then the bottom, letting the magic pulse into them. Kael's eyes slid closed and he groaned. This magic was powerful indeed; there was something deep, raw and coarse about it, something stronger than the pure fires of the Dread Lords. His lips parted, and the fingers slipped between them.
The magic tasted of strawberry wine and fresh bread and pure butter and brie cheese. It was overwhelming; its rich warmth spread through his body to nestle in his groin and his brain, burbling there in warm pools. Kael gasped and his hands gripped the fingers; he brought them deep into his mouth, sucking the flow of energy. His tongue rasped against the source as he swallowed every fiery drop.

Art Arthas watched, his eyes half-slit, as the elf greedily nursed his fingers. The mouth was so warm, so moist; the elf's tongue was hot, raspy and swift. Kael began to nibble on the finger pads in his desperation, and a long, low groan slid from the death knight's mouth in spite of himself. He yanked the finger away; the elf looked at him, stunned.
"You are a ravenous little thing, aren't you?" murmured Arthas. His palm cupped the elf's cheek, and he yanked him forward for a deep kiss.
No, he hadn't originally intended to kiss him -- he would use him for a blow job, perhaps, or a quick fuck -- but it had been far too long since he had felt warm lips pressed to his. His tongue slid through the thick, pouty lips and roughly ped ted the elf's mouth. Kael whimpered, still overwhelmed by the magic burning through his body.
Then the death knight broke the kiss. He glared at the elf, their noses almost touching, and slid his hand down the front of Kael's robes. His hand wrapped around the fully engorged shaft and he let his palm warm with the flow of magic. Kael began to double over, a loud hiss sliding between his clenched teeth, and his hands gripped Arthas' shoulders to keep himself kneeling upright. He felt his eyes roll toward the back of his head as the warmth flooded his body.
"This is the power of the Lich King, elf. Imagine it coursing through your veins each day and night. Imagine how good it would feel." Arthas' cold lips pressed to the elf's ear. "It is limitless, elf. Eternal."
Kael sobbed; his fingers clawed into the death knight's back as creamy liquid spurted into his tormentor's waiting hand.
Arthas watched, his lips curled in a sneer. The hand dropped and he smeared the liquid against the elf's entrance. Kael dropped his forehead to rest against Arthas' shoulder, his breaths shuddering. A tear slid down his cheek as a long, cold finger curved into him. He yelled and tried to pull away, but the magic flowing from theger ger soon quelled the pain of the rough intrusion. The elven prince nuzzled slightly into the death knight's neck as the magic began to overwhelm him once more.
"So pathetic," hissed Arthas, and he slid in another finger. Kael's forehead lifted an inch; he yelled. The death knight forced a finger of his free hand into the elf's open, panting mouth to pacify him. Soon, again, the magic quelled him, and his forehead rested once mon Arn Arthas' shoulder. He suckled at the finger in his mouth, his teeth rasping against the cool flesh.
"Look at you," murmured Arthas, turning his lips so they pressed against the elf's ear. "A ragged, desperate magic addict who would sooner let a man have his way with him than go a day without his precious magic. What enedened to the proud, noble elven prince I once knew?" A third finger; Kael screamed, then panted heavily, euphoric. His mouth tightened around the death knight's finger. This magic was opium, it was absinthe. Green flames began to dance before his closed eyes, and he groaned as another orgasm threatened to take control of his body.
Arthas withdrew his fingers from the blood elf's rear and quickly unbuckled his mail. His own erection sprang free, rigid with sadistic pleasure. He yanked down the elf's robes, and forced him onto his back; one finger was still in the elf's mouth. The death knight's cock pushed just a centimetre into the orifice. A yell sounded through Kael's nose; he was too engaged with the finger to be able to open his mouth.
"I thought you said you'd never be this desperate, Kael," taunted Arthas.
When the elf's only answer was a whimper, Arthas forced himself in to the hilt.
Now Kael reacted; he pulled his head back and yelled, the pain overwhelming the flow of the magic. Arthas yanked his hand away and gripped the elf's narrow hips. His fingers curved into the flesh and he let his energies flow freely.
The blood elf spasmed as the magic flowed through him. This was the edge of orgasm with no release. The pain was pleasurable now; it fuelled his high, pressuring his brain. He screamed and hissed and cried out and sobbed as Arthas' strokes grew rougher. At last, he couldn't bear it anymore; his clawed fingers wrapped around his cock and he jerked in time with the thrusts. Arthas grunted and picked up speed. Kael's moans were quiet now, then he yelled as release finally flooded his body. His muscles clenched delightfully around Arthas, jerking him to the brink; his climax began just as Kael's ended. He emptied into the elf, his breaths jagged.
After a moment to compose himself, Arthas pulled out, breathing hard. His hands rested on the blood elf's hips for another moment, then he pulled away entirely.
"Please," gasped Kael, and he turned his head to look at the death kn. Hi. His eyes were desperate; his lips curled in a sneer angry with need.
Arthaood ood and refastened his armour. "There will be more soon enough, elf. I have some business to attend to first." He stood and ran a finger along the slender jaw; Kael turned to bite it, but he wasn't fast enough to catch it before it jerked away.
"Now," pleaded Kael.
"So pathetic," murmured Arthas; a smirk tugged at one corner of his lips. He stood to his full height. "I will send word to you when I have need of you again. Until then, go find your people. Tell them of the power you have just tasted."
Kael stared up at his new master, panting. The powerful magic still clouded his mind; he wasn't sure he understood what had just been said.
"Until then." Arthas sneered, then turned and recommenced his ascent up the Frozen Throne.
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THE END
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