Authoress' Notes:

Wow, this was fun to write! I'm irritated beyond belief at the apparent lack of an official first name for Lord Coward, but I'm making do.

This fic is based almost entirely on that look Coward gave Blackwood in Parliament. You remember the look-- the shiny-eyes, beaming, "My boyfriend's the most amazing person ever!" look. He looked so adorably proud of Blackwood!

Rated for artistic mentions of teh smex. I suppose some people might get offended over the stuff I say about God, but remember folks-- that's Lord Coward talking!

Disclaimer: If I owned it, the gay would be way more obvious.

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Power

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The common man was a foolish one-- weak, vulnerable, tending towards fanciful delusions, and in possession of a pitiful inability to see the simple truth spelled out right before his eyes. Sherlock Holmes was decidedly not a common man, and yet he seemed unable to understand the simplest fact of all: he had been beaten. He had lost, and there was no hope of a come-back, because he had been beaten by the greatest man in all the world. Lord Coward saw this so plainly, and surely Holmes could too-- he was an observant man if ever there was— but for some reason, he refused to acknowledge the truth of it.

Coward had seen the truth the first time he'd ever met his Lord, nearly seven years before. A single look into his Lord's eyes-- a green darker than any he'd ever imagined-- had shown him a power more limitlessly terrifying and infinitely seductive than he could ever have envisioned in his darkest, most forbidden dream.

Coward had been raised a proper British boy, and until that moment he'd never strayed from his path. He'd done well as a schoolboy, he had always avoided fights, he tipped his hat to the ladies he passed in the street, and he had just been given one of the highest positions in the land, that of Home Secretary. Coward had, above all, never been an invert. The very idea, on the rare occasion it had crossed his mind, had left him feeling sick. Those who committed such... unnatural sins deserved every bit of torment they were sure to receive in the hereafter.

But in that moment, in the hold of that unnervingly steady gaze, he knew he would do anything for this man, and if Blackwood had ordered him to kneel down and service him then and there, he would have considered it an honor. The man looked every inch a god, and was so powerful, surely it would have been a sin not to submit. Why would the Lord above ever make such a dark and perfect angel, if not to inspire absolute devotion and love?

And dark this man was. The first time Blackwood had invited Coward to witness one of his ceremonies, he had been terrified to realize just how evil this man was. But maybe "evil" was the wrong word for it-- a creature so perfect, so powerful, could never be evil. The devil himself hadn't a hope of corrupting the perfection of Lord Blackwood, just as God Almighty couldn't dream of the raw power Blackwood possessed. Coward realized soon enough that he should feel honored that his Lord considered him worthy to witness such an important ceremony. To be honest, he'd spent the majority of the proceedings staring worshipfully at his Lord-- to stand in his presence was truly a breathtaking experience. And take his breath it did.

Coward wasn't sure when he had come to realize the depth of his devotion to his Lord. At some point, a point lost between the echoing beats of his racing heart, he had realized the truth. He... loved this man. Once, he would have been disgusted by such a love. But then, was it not right to love perfection? Was it wrong to worship this dark and powerful god on earth? After all, what mortal had the strength to resist such beauty, such energy, such authority as this?

So when Blackwood pinned Coward against the wall, eyes so intense they nearly burned him, he nearly melted in the man's hands. When those lips, lips that had spoken liquid death so many times, brushed his gently, he moaned. When Blackwood whispered dark secrets in his ear while thrusting desperately into his filthy, unworthy body, he thought his heart would burst. And when Blackwood ordered him to drink his allegiance, Coward only smiled.

He drank, but he didn't need to. Coward knew his entirety, his heart, his body, his mind and his soul, were his Lord's now, just as they always had been and would be forever. Amen.

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Well, I hope you liked it! I'm a little concerned it might sound cliché, but Coward really does seem adorably head-over-heels for Blackwood. Don't worry-- I'm not suggesting Blackwood could be head-over-heels for anyone. But hey, even the Dark and Powerful Lord of All the Earth needs a booty call, right? (Also, what better way than to manipulate Coward? 8D)

Please review!