A/N: This is the last chapter I will derive from chapter 1 (which was over 10,000 words but now is a lot less to read...thank god) and I will start updating stuff for real! xD Sorry for all this trouble.

Warning: NSFW; smut content ahead, you have been warned.

Chapter 3: Suffocate

It was already night when Makoto stood outside of the Emperor's door to his bedroom. Yes, his bedroom. Makoto couldn't help but notice as two priests passed by him, whispering something along the lines of, "some Major Priest" and "worst of taboos". Makoto let a chuckle escape his lips. Five years ago—and even before that—he would've turned around and argued against them, begging them to believe in him.

Begging them to believe that he would never lay with another man as the Religion prohibited.

But now he had no room to argue. They weren't wrong after all. Some Major Priest he was. He reluctantly opened the door and entered the room, not greeted by the Emperor in the least. The emperor stood on the far side of the room, staring outside the large window. Makoto didn't need to announce he was there for the man to know that. He had probably sensed him the moment he entered the palace. It was a suffocating sensation, truthfully, but Makoto announced himself anyway, "Did you call for me, my lord?"

The Emperor didn't turn around, he simply spoke, "Oh, so you've finally shown yourself." He spoke in a bitter tone.

So he knew. Makoto said nothing to his indignant statement.

The Emperor turned around and faced Makoto. He smirked at the mere sight of him. "Why so serious all of a sudden?" He said, marching toward the Priest, "it's just me, you know."

He said it so simply. As if being with his should've induced his happiness or a sense of calmness. What Makoto felt was far from that. He gulped down some saliva, even though his throat felt dry. He didn't like his tone. He knew that he took this tone when something was on his mind. Something sick and perverse.

"So you've been missing for a while," the Emperor continued, "Where have you been?"

"My lord…" Makoto began to explain himself.

"Tsk, don't be so nervous! I'm just asking a question!"

But the way the emperor circled around him, Makoto could feel his threatening aura. He couldn't not feel nervous! To make matters worse, the Emperor began to trace his skin with his hands, not removing them from Makoto's shoulders. He harassed him with his slender but rough fingers, tracing over his skin which thankfully remained concealed by his robe. But not for long.

"I...wasn't feeling well…" Pathetic.

"Oh? So you were sick for six weeks is what you're saying? I'm shocked at your resilience!" He was mocking him. Of course he didn't believe him.

"I am sorry…" Makoto said, his voice threatening to break, "it's just...the weather has been really…."

The Emperor laughed. "So you're telling me that you were sick because of the weather?! Seriously? What are you, a woman?" The Emperor's face was so close to his. It was suffocating. "I've seen women handle the weather better than you. But then again...you aren't much of a man, aren't you?" He stood right behind Makoto, threatening to attack at any moment.

The breath on his nape made Makoto shudder uncomfortably.

Liking his reaction, the Emperor remarked, "you, know, I noticed you've gotten thinner. Have you not been feeding yourself? Well, it doesn't matter. The look suits you; you look more like a whore than a priest."

Makoto was supposed to answer with a thank you. But he couldn't speak, suddenly overwhelmed with fear.

The Emperor whispered sensually, enjoying every minute of it, "but even whores commit to their duties. You truly have some nerve to defy me, Ma-ko-to." He pronounced Makoto's name like a slithering snake and suddenly he bit his earlobe.

Makoto cringed and gasped at the sharp sensation. Pleased with himself, the Emperor began to tug at Makoto's robe with his fingers, sliding it down little by little, exposing the very smooth skin of his shoulders. Then his nape. Then his muscular, sensual back. Then the small of his back which just begged to be touched. Then his round buttocks which were the epitome of perfection. His legs were beyond godly. But if the Emperor had to choose one part of his body which he loved the most, it was his back.

He loved his broad back. Because every time he took him from behind he would watch as the muscles on his back would contort and seeing each muscle just drove him up the wall of lust and want. In short, he wanted to fuck him harder.

"You know, I haven't held you in the past six weeks," the Emperor said, biting at his nape, causing the priest to shiver, "since you always manage to slip away from me. Do you hate me that much?"

For the first time in a while, Makoto spoke up, "No, my lord."

"Tch! You're quite standoffish nowadays, aren't you?" The Emperor said, his hands gripping at his warm body, "seems we need to change that, don't we?"

Suddenly, Makoto's body shivered as the Emperor threw his robe to the side and forcefully touched his crotch. "My lor...hn!" Makoto wanted to object, but the older man had already wrapped his fingers around his hilt. "Wait! Sto..." Not only did he try to dissuade him, his own body seemed to move on its own accord, trying to wriggle his way out of his harsh grip on him.

"Stop...moving..." The Emperor ordered annoyed. He released his cock and pushed Makoto onto the bed. Makoto yelped and forced himself to stay there. The emperor towered over him and eyed his naked body mischievously.

"You've become so beautiful Makoto," he said with a perverse tone in his voice, "I remember when you refused to accept that you were a sick freak. Now you practically squeal at my touch. But you know, watching people lust after you even though you're a Priest is damn painful."

Makoto hated the way he looked at him. He abhorred those eyes looking at him. At his body. His face. His eyes. It was worse when he looked into his eyes. He couldn't stand it. He always found himself looking away and cowering from the man's gaze. Sensing this, the Emperor grabbed his chin and forced him to look at his face and into his eyes. It was horrible. "Look at you," the Emperor said, "hiding like a virgin. Is this how you feel every time I take you?" The Emperor traced the lines on Makoto's chest and guided his finger to one of his nipples.

"Ngh...ah!" Makoto yelped as the man kneaded his nipple like a soft toy.

But the Emperor was still waiting on an answer even as he kneaded his nipples. Makoto managed to gasp something out, "...y...yes..."

That was a lie. The Emperor smirked at him and only kept teasing him and his body. "You know, I should punish you for ditching your duties as a priest for the past six weeks. But even more than that you haven't fulfilled your duties as my whore."

"Ngh..." A sound of discomfort made it past his lips. Makoto didn't have any way to speak as his body was toyed with and he couldn't help but react to it.

"I could strip you off your position as a Major Priest. I could kick you out of the Palace. I could even kill you if I wanted to," the Emperor said calmly, as if he were reciting a schedule, "but I can't really do that, can I? After all, you're probably the only person in the Empire—no—In the WORLD who can keep up with me."

Makoto felt like sobbing. If only he wasn't like this. If only he could fulfill his duties as a Priest and if only he...didn't love men so much.

When he was unaware, the Emperor stopped playing with him and instead he spread his legs widely apart. Makoto looked up, feeling embarrassed by this position. His body shuddered as the Emperor traced his finger over the entrance of his asshole, just threatening to mercilessly delve into it but not actually doing it. Makoto's breathing quickened when he could feel himself becoming aroused by the sensation. And yet he hated it. He hated being constantly on edge because once he let his guard down, he knew the Emperor would take that chance to attack. Perhaps this was the reason why he wasn't bored of him yet.

"I won't throw you away," the Emperor said, touching Makoto's face like a prized possession, "you're too beautiful, plus you know you belong to me only, don't you, Makoto?"

Why couldn't he just get it over with? Being played with was driving him insane. And still he was feeling it throughout his body. The desire to be touched. He couldn't calm down even if he tried. His voice came out sounding like a sob when he replied, "...I...I...know...mn!"

The Emperor planted a rough kiss on his lips. It was suffocating. He couldn't breathe with the other man's tongue enveloping his forcefully, as if he were trying to reach deep down his throat and block the air out.

When he separated from his face, the Emperor boldly ordered, "Turn over."

They were two simple words. But Makoto knew exactly what he was talking about. He hesitantly raised his body and turned himself over, his face and chest facing the mattress while his rear was slightly up in the air.

Makoto heard a throaty laugh, and the Emperor ran his hands over the Priest's broad back. "Your back is so beautiful," the Emperor mused, "what a shame you aren't a woman, I wouldn't even let you out."

Makoto cringed at the idea. He didn't even want to begin to imagine a life like that. Being with the emperor, everyday for the rest of his life. Seeing no one else but him. It was enough to make Makoto's body shiver fearfully. The Emperor caught hold of his rear and dug his fingers onto his sensitive skin. He grabbed his ass and ordered him to stick it out more. Makoto shut his eyes and gripped the sheets beneath him, waiting for what came next. Sweat was already running down his brow.

"You're not saying it, Makoto," the Emperor said.

"...Eh...?" Makoto couldn't even say words anymore. His mind wasn't functioning right.

The Emperor didn't help him out. He merely teased him and kept playing with his body as much as he could, until Makoto remembered. The words he hated saying the most. He hated them because he didn't want to say them. Because they reflected the opposite of what he felt, but at the same time reflected exactly how he felt.

"...I...want...y...in..." He struggled to say the words.

"I can't hear you. Say them properly and look at me."

"Ah...hn!" Makoto gasped. His knees wobbled from the anticipation in this body. He couldn't stand this side of him. But he somehow managed to erect himself in that position. He craned his neck and looked into the Emperor's perverse eyes.

With a barely calm voice, Makoto muttered, "I want you inside me."

It was almost one in the morning when Makoto tiptoed out of the Emperor's bedroom. He contemplated going to his room and getting some sleep, but there was an uncomfortable feeling that resided in his rear. He wanted it out of him. Everything. So instead he headed for the washrooms, where he set up a bathtub full of cold water. The day may have been hot, but the morning was usually chilly, so the cold water against his sensitive skin didn't make him feel better in particular.

He grabbed a sponge and scrubbed his body until it was red and irritated. Nevertheless, he never cried once. He simply scrubbed the filth off of himself. Not that the filth of his soul could ever be scrubbed off, but he could only try. Yet he couldn't help but cringe uncomfortably when he dug two fingers between his buttocks and cleaned the residue of sex out of himself. He felt torn and disgusted. But perhaps this was merely punishment after six weeks of his insolence. He should've seen that coming.

Still, he felt lucky that there had been no one around when he left that room. There were many occasions when he had stepped out of that room while there were people outside. They did nothing but stare at him. But even if there was no one right now, Makoto was positive of one thing.

Everyone knew.

He couldn't hide from anyone that he was the Emperor's whore. The only reason he still had his position was because the Emperor claimed to be exclusively blessed by Him. Thus he argued that having sexual intercourse with any person, including a Priest, was like being blessed by Him himself. In other words, being fucked by the Emperor was supposed to be a divine experience that was good for the soul. Makoto could only shake his head, since the teachings of the Religion said no such thing, but the Emperor was obstinate. Whatever he said was true was the truth.

But that didn't stop some of the other Priests from developing a grudge on Makoto for his impious actions. Makoto didn't blame them. Every time he left that room he hated himself just a little more than the last time.

But not everyone hated him. In fact, most of the Priests—in particular, the Priestesses —respected him. Makoto wasn't the first person the Emperor screwed with in that manner. In the past, when his wife refused to consummate for other than producing the next heir, the Emperor sought many mistresses. He took many of them, even Priestesses, by force but most ended up crying because it was too painful to bear. It was then that he started to look at men. But not just any men. He focused mostly on effeminate men. And even though Makoto wasn't physically effeminate in the least, the Emperor seemed to have noticed something in him that was absent in all the other men. For some reason, only he could withstand his rough treatment without breaking down.

"Ngh...Ow, ow..." Makoto let out a little cry a as he took the remnants out of himself.

He didn't have to bear it. He could've broken down like everyone else and the Emperor would've looked for someone else. But the thought of more victims going through the same thing he had was enough to give him the resolve to keep doing this. And unlike the others, he had a major flaw that doomed him from the very beginning. He could only love men. The Emperor would've put it differently, however. He only liked being fucked by men.

It was a bold statement. But it was the truth no matter how he looked at it.

The Priest rose from the bathtub, the water dripping along the lines of his body. He felt a pestering ache between his legs and the small of his back. Normally Gou would massage his back. But he knew that she must be asleep at this hour. Everyone was asleep, except him. He didn't feel sleepy after soaking in cold water and sticking his fingers up his ass.

In the end, he did nothing else but return to his room and lay awake in bed. Normally, he would've read, but he had no desire to read. He simply stared at the ceiling, making images out of the patterns of the ceiling. This kind of made him feel nostalgic. He thought of the days when he was free. When Ren, Ran and himself would lay on the grass and look up at the sky and make figures out of the clouds. Makoto sighed at the brief recollection. When had he last seen his family? He didn't even want to begin counting the years he hadn't spent with them. If only he would've been normal. If only he didn't have the undesirable qualities. If only he wasn't a...

Makoto shut his eyes tightly, not wanting to think about that anymore. He turned over on his side and decided to focus on the present. Tomorrow he had to make sure the Priests in-training were handling their duties correctly. He had to help tend the wounded. He had to check on the prisoners. He had to check on...him.

When the face of the last prisoner surfaced in his mind, Makoto groaned irritated. Great. He had tried to be a little positive. But the mere thought of seeing that man again made his skin crawl and his heart sink. He didn't let him treat his wounds despite Makoto's reassurance. He could feel that he hated him for some reason. His beastly glare pierced his very soul. To top it off, he had tried to kill him. Who knew what he would try next? What annoyed Makoto even more was that he didn't even know his name. And that he refused to talk. It was strange. Most of the prisoners ended up talking some way or another. But he completely refused.

What was he so afraid of? Perhaps the guard was right after all and he truly knew something about the resistance that no one else knew. Perhaps his name was so important that saying it would jeopardize...something. A plan? Possibly a tribe? The resistance itself? Who knew? There were so many unanswered questions and Makoto couldn't even begin to guess what was true and what wasn't, since he did not get a single word out of that man's mouth. He had to respect his resolve, however. Perhaps tomorrow he would be a little luckier...

But why did it matter? Why did Makoto think about him as if he had all the time in the world to get to know him?

He would be gone with most of the newcomers in less than a week. Whether he talked or not hardly mattered. Without opening his eyes, Makoto sighed frustrated. He placed his arm over his eyes, hoping that forcing them closed would provide him with a miracle and he would finally fall asleep.