Temptation of the Scribe

Chapter 1: The Summoning

The office of the Grand Sage was bathed in the amber glow of the setting sun, the last of the Akademiya’s scholars trickling out into the streets of Sumeru. Azar, however, had no intention of leaving. Not yet. His plans were far too delicious, far too wicked to be delayed. He sat behind his imposing desk, fingers steepled, a predator’s smirk playing on his lips as he awaited his prey.

A polite knock echoed through the room, sharp and precise, before the door creaked open. Alhaitham stepped in, his presence a storm of quiet intensity. The young scribe’s tight-fitting attire clung to every curve and ridge of his physique, a temptation that had whispered through the halls of the Akademiya for far too long. His sharp eyes met Azar’s, unreadable, a fortress of intellect and restraint.

“Grand Sage,” Alhaitham greeted, his voice a low, measured drawl, devoid of warmth or suspicion. “You called for me?”

Azar’s smirk widened, though he masked it with a veneer of professionalism. “Indeed, I did. I’ve stumbled upon a rather… peculiar transcript.” He slid a piece of parchment across the desk, his tone dripping with faux innocence. “As a member of Haravatat, I trust your expertise in languages might shed some light on this mystery.”

Alhaitham’s gaze flicked to the paper, his fingers brushing against it as he took it. Azar watched, predatory anticipation coiling in his chest, as the scribe’s eyes scanned the text. Then, like a switch had been flipped, those piercing eyes dulled, turning vacant. The paper slipped from his slackened grip, fluttering to the floor. The hypnosis had taken hold.

“Stand up,” Azar commanded, testing the waters. Alhaitham obeyed without a flicker of resistance, rising to his full height. A dark satisfaction bloomed in Azar’s chest as he circled the younger man, his gaze raking over the taut lines of muscle barely concealed by fabric. Those oft-whispered-about assets—his chest, his ass—were even more enticing up close. To test the depth of his control, Azar delivered a sharp smack to that perky backside. Alhaitham didn’t even blink.

“Perfect,” Azar murmured, locking the door with a decisive click. He turned back to his scribe, eyes glinting with lustful intent. “Strip. Fold your clothes neatly and set them aside.”

Without hesitation, Alhaitham complied, his movements mechanical yet mesmerizing. The fabric around his waist dropped first, followed by the compression shirt that caught under his pectorals, making them bounce as they were freed. Azar’s breath hitched at the sight of those inverted nipples, his fingers itching to tease them out. The pants and undergarments followed, leaving Alhaitham bare, his body a sculpted masterpiece under the dim light.

Azar stepped closer, his hands bold as they roamed over Alhaitham’s chest, groping and squeezing. “From now on, you’ll report to me every Thursday for… body inspections,” he purred, scraping at those hidden nipples until they began to peek out, stiffening under his touch. Alhaitham’s face flushed, a controlled groan escaping his lips.

“Yes, Grand Sage,” he replied, voice monotone.

“Call me Lord Azar during our sessions,” Azar corrected, a wicked edge to his tone.

“Yes, Lord Azar.”

Azar’s eyes darkened as he noticed the younger man’s cock, already hard and standing proud between his legs. “What a slut you are, Alhaitham,” he chuckled, delivering a light smack to the erection, delighting in the faint flinch it elicited. “But this…” He tugged lightly at the pubic hair, making Alhaitham wince. “This needs to go. Keep yourself clean and shaved for me.”

He stepped back, spreading Alhaitham’s legs and puffing a breath against the tight pucker of muscle between those firm cheeks, watching it clench lewdly. “Every inspection, you’ll strip and stand in position. Understood?”

“Position?” Alhaitham echoed, a rare crack in his vacant demeanor.

Azar’s grin was feral. “I’m so glad you asked.” He maneuvered Alhaitham’s limbs with deliberate care, placing his arms behind his head to puff out that glorious chest, then pushing him into a squat, legs spread wide for balance—and display. Stepping back, Azar admired his work, the scribe looking like a debauched offering, all private areas exposed without a hint of shame. “Remember this well. It helps me… read your reactions.”

“Understood, Lord Azar,” Alhaitham intoned, a pretty flush spreading across his face, the only sign of arousal in his otherwise blank expression.

“Now, at ease.” Azar pulled him toward the desk, his voice a low growl. “Kneel between my legs.”

As Alhaitham obeyed, Azar freed his own aching cock, the sight of the scribe’s vacant yet flushed face driving him wild. He pushed into Alhaitham’s mouth without warning, relishing the initial gag and struggle before soothing him into compliance. “That’s a good boy,” he purred, patting those silver locks as Alhaitham’s throat contracted around him, wet eyes peering up through thick lashes. “This is just a test of your endurance. Improve.”

Azar forced himself to focus on paperwork, though his hands and feet wandered—cupping those firm tits, rolling the flesh in his palms, or teasing Alhaitham’s leaking cock with a light press of his foot. The scribe’s mouth tightened around him with every movement, a warm, wet cavern that tested Azar’s restraint to its limits.

Finally, paperwork done, Azar’s attention snapped fully to the man beneath him. Alhaitham’s lips were red and swollen, eyes hazy and dripping with unshed tears. Gripping a fistful of silver hair, Azar began to thrust, fucking into that tight throat with abandon. “Take it,” he growled, ignoring the weak push of hands against him, the lewd gurgling filling the office as he chased his release.

The tension built, hot and unbearable, and Azar knew he couldn’t hold back much longer. He pulled Alhaitham up onto his lap, thighs spread around him, those neglected nipples right at eye level. With a wicked grin, he licked a thick stripe over one, his hand teasing the other. “Do you ever feel ashamed of this chest, Alhaitham?” he taunted, rolling a nipple between his fingers.

“…Yes, Lord Azar,” came the quiet, unexpected reply. “I feel… unwanted gazes on campus.”

Azar’s smirk softened, though his touch remained possessive. “Be proud of them. They’re part of you.” His lips crashed against Alhaitham’s in a heated, dominating kiss, tongues battling as the scribe flushed deeper. “From your face, to your tits, to your waist…” His hands roamed lower, groping that perfect ass. “And definitely here.” He thumbed the tight pucker between those cheeks, feeling it twitch. “Have you ever touched yourself here?”

“…No, Lord Azar.”

A dark thrill shot through Azar. “Then I’ll teach you.” He repositioned Alhaitham across his lap, chest down, ass up, his knee pressing into the scribe’s hard, dripping cock. “Remember this well. It’s part of your training.”

With a bottle of lube in hand, Azar coated his fingers and pressed one into that tight, warm hole, savoring the way it clenched around him. A second finger joined, scissoring and grinding against silken walls until he found that sweet spot. Pressing hard, he drew a loud, confused whine from Alhaitham, the scribe’s body jumping at the sudden pleasure.

“What… what is that?” Alhaitham gasped, trying to look back, only to moan again as Azar targeted his prostate mercilessly.

“This,” Azar purred, adding pressure, “is your prostate. Never ignore it.” He watched, enraptured, as Alhaitham squirmed, panting and sweating, his cock leaking messily onto Azar’s lap. The scribe’s body tensed, back arching, toes curling, as Azar pushed him closer to the edge, ready to shatter him completely.