A/N: Sorry about the wait, guys. I've been dealing with some emotional shit lately.

Well, here it is, the fourth, or next-to-last, chapter of Broken Crown, Dented Scepter.

Enjoy.

WARNING: This chapter contains a heavy lemon. Two, actually. Don't like guy/guy?

Push the back button.

Now.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters, obviously. I think Shakespeare would have discouraged homosexuality.

Broken Crown, Dented Scepter

Tilted Illusions

"What?" The baritone scream could be heard reverberating all throughout the castle.

"A servant," Macduff replied, wincing from the sharp pain that shot through his ears.

"But why," Macbeth questioned, voice lowering, "would a man of your stature want or need to be enslaved?"

"Personal reasons.

"Oh, someone put a bounty on your head and you need to lay low for a while?"

"Not my head, per se."

"Hm. This could provide me with temporary entertainment. Alright, you are now my personal servant. One would suppose you, being a wealthy lord yourself, know what this position entails?"

"I most certainly do, Macbeth."

"Well if you do," the king growled, "then you know what to call me."

Macduff sighed. This plan would be harder to execute than he previously thought. "I most certainly do, Milord."

"That's much better. Now run along. I suppose you want to become acquainted with all the other riffraff employed around here."

Hopefully, this king would be as easily seduced as the last one.

-A year prior-

"Hn... hnah! J-james!" The young blonde called out the older man's name in ecstasy, shuddering as the warm seed spilled from his body.

"Shh, milord," the rough-voiced reply came, and a tanned and scarred hand was placed over the young mouth to stifle any further cries from the shuddering boy. "So, how did that one feel?" Macduff licked his free hand clean of the boy's semen.

"A... amazing, James." Duncan sighed, tensed muscles loosening. "How do you do that?"

Macduff let out a low chuckle. "Years of practice."

Yes, it was true. A thane was having an affair with a king. A gay affair, at that. Practically unheard of at the present time. But, both men adored each other. It wasn't just an affair to them, it was a marriage.

But then,

Duncan was killed.

This was the true reason for Macduff's bloodlust.

-Back to present-

"Milord, your bath is ready," Macduff said quietly, acting the part of a perfect servant.

"Thank you," Macbeth replied haughtily, falling for the act perfectly. "Care to join me?"

"But sir," the man repressed a blush. Even though he was acting, the thought of what was to come still excited him. Greatly.

"What? You're my slave, I tell you what do do. So, come. Join me." Macbeth ceremoniously dropped his robe to the floor.

Part A of the plan, Complete.

Macduff's jaw dropped incredulously. Macbeth was extremely... well endowed. As the king's body slipped below the scalding water, he looked to Macduff expectantly. "Well? Are you coming in, or am I going to have to make you."

It's acting time... the false servant thought to himself, putting on his best face of embarrassment. "Milord, but, this is so improp..."

"Like it matters, James."

Macduff blushed again, dropping his own robe to the warm wooden floor. Covering himself up out of humility, he began to stutter, "but... but..."

"Just step in. It's really not that hard."

Macduff had to restrain himself from laughing at the obvious innuendo. The king was obviously falling for his act of false innocence. Walking over to the tub of water, he stepped in, letting the heated sensation run up his legs and through the rest of his body. "Milord, why?"

"Because, James. Just because." And with that mysterious statement, Macbeth abruptly closed the space between them, bringing their lips crashing together, moving his mouth hungrily against the Thane's. The king's abruptness had caused Macduff to truthfully take in a gasp of air, giving Macbeth just the opportunity he needed to deftly insert his tongue into his servant's mouth. The velvet muscle moved in and out, lapping the other's lips in time to his own heartbeat. At Macduff's moan, he took it further.

Placing his heated hands around the servant's smooth hips, he brought the rest of their bodies together, skin meeting skin with only a thin layer of hot water now mixed with sweat and precum separating them. His curious hands began to roam, exploring every scar in the Thane's skin, every muscle, every limb. Macduff bent to his touch, arching and moaning in all the appropriate places.

"What are you doing?" Macduff finally managed to pant out.

"What does it look like?" Macbeth moved his lips from the other's mouth to the neck.

"Something very improper, that's what."

"Like it matters." Macbeth smirked into the soft skin of his servant's neck, and removed one of his hands from Macduff's lower back. Wrapping it around the other's throbbing manhood, he purred, "how's this for improper?" His deft fingers began to toy with the tip of the Thane's erection.

"Hn..." Macduff groaned from the personal touch.

The king's hand began to roam up and down the shaft, from the deep russet hair back to the tip, motions becoming harder and faster along with his breath. "Come on... James..." he panted.

Finally, what Macduff was looking for. The king had shown caring. For him.

Part B complete.

But he couldn't concentrate on that for long. Macbeth had hit the exact rythym that Duncan used to use before his untimely death, and the Thane's mind's eye was flooded with memories of pleasure, abruptly sending him into a state of euphoria. The seed expelled mingled with the already dirty water before melting away. "Mi... milord," he still kept his facade.

"I truly love you," came the response from an equally tired king.

Part C,

Complete.