Feast of the Flesh

by A. D. Christopher

  He would show the river god that he still knew how to worship, that he still knew how to serve. And that he still knew how to make a god beg for satisfaction.

  Chapter Three

  This was harder than he’d thought it would be.

  Even after centuries of torment and loss, all those years of planning this night, dreaming of this night, the reality was more painful than Caradoc had expected. Every time he touched the other man he remembered sweet nights together, long days full of wine and love. Remembered the depth and beauty of the connection they’d shared, stronger than it had been with any of Caradoc’s other human companions or any who worshipped him. He’d believed it would last forever.

  Patrick lay back on the grass, his cock still incredibly swollen. Caradoc imagined how it must hurt. The thought satisfied him even as some small part of him felt…guilty. How much of Patrick was still Padraig, and how much was an innocent man? Did it matter?

  “I’m sorry,” Patrick gasped. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it—”

  Caradoc rolled his eyes and leaned back. “Save your apologies,” he said. “I asked you a question. Surely if you were truly sorry, you would give me the respect of an answer.”

  “I don’t want to die.”

  “But do you think you deserve to live?”

  To his credit, Patrick didn’t answer him right away. Whether this was a ploy or he was truly ashamed, Caradoc didn’t know. He didn’t even know why he was giving Patrick this chance.

  Or perhaps he did, and simply didn’t want to admit it. The truth was, being buried in Patrick’s body, feeling the wet heat of Patrick’s mouth around him, had awakened feelings Caradoc had thought long dead. Patrick deserved to be punished, certainly. Caradoc just wasn’t sure anymore if that punishment should be death.

  “I can’t say if I deserve to live,” Patrick said finally. “Only you can make that decision. But I want a chance to make it up to you.”

  “Nothing can make amends for what you did.”

  “Let me try. At least let me try to serve you again, even if just for this night.”

  “There is no service you could perform for me, in this world or the next, that would—”

  “Cadaraig, elg ester.”

  What? What was he doing?

  Words spilled from Patrick’s mouth, words Caradoc remembered as if from a dream. The ancient words of service, of binding. The words he himself had taught Padraig, all those years ago.

  From the look on Patrick’s face, Caradoc didn’t think he even knew exactly what he was saying, but the spell worked anyway. Caradoc felt his magic break, felt the transfer of power as Patrick’s body once again became completely his own.

  He moved quickly, reaching over his head to redraw the symbols, but Patrick was too fast. His hand closed over Caradoc’s wrist with a strength that belied his wiry frame.

  They were eye to eye, chest to chest, and Caradoc’s breath caught. Padraig had not been this beautiful, had he, when the moonlight hit him? No, he had not.

  Patrick’s eyes widened as they stared at each other, and Caradoc knew his were doing the same thing. Patrick’s free hand came to rest on his chest. Already his cock was swelling again, despite the intensity of his earlier release in Patrick’s body.

  “Let me serve you again,” Patrick whispered. “Let me prove my worth.”

  There was little point in this. Caradoc had only this night, only the hours of darkness to walk on the earth. When the sun rose he would be gone again, on the spirit plane.

  But perhaps that was all the more reason to—

  His thoughts were interrupted by Patrick’s teeth on Caradoc’s lower lip, nibbling gently. Caradoc’s eyes closed.

  “One night,” Patrick murmured as he moved down to nibble Caradoc’s ear. “Just this one night.”

  “No!” Caradoc put his hand on Patrick’s chest and shoved, but Patrick was too fast for him. He wrapped his strong arms around Caradoc’s waist, refusing to let go, so they tumbled over together and landed with every inch of Caradoc’s body pressed against every inch of Patrick’s.

  Patrick’s hand wound up into Caradoc’s hair, twisting the strands between his fingers, pressing Caradoc’s mouth against his. Caradoc tried to resist. This wasn’t the time for such things. He’d planned hours more of torture, planned to turn Patrick into a living monument to Priapus here in the forest, not to lie here and kiss. Not to feel his erection growing harder still against Patrick’s warm thigh, not to open his mouth and let Patrick’s tongue invade it.

  A low moan escaped his throat as the kiss deepened even more. Somehow his anger, his feelings of hurt and betrayal, were tangling up with long-dead desire and affection. He’d thought the memories couldn’t hurt him anymore, but now they burst in his head like the powders Padraig used to add to his spell-fires.

  They’d met when Padraig was barely a man. He’d been newly ordained and so eager to serve it caught Caradoc’s heart—or what he’d had for a heart, faded as it was by the years between the death of his last priest and the day Padraig appeared on the shore.

  But in the middle of that youth and beauty—and he had been beautiful indeed—Caradoc sensed maturity, a willingness to accept the responsibilities of the connection. He’d felt Padraig’s ability, even then, to lead his people in worship. He’d felt Padraig’s eagerness to please, and it had attracted him as much as the firmly muscled body and soft, full lips.

  So he’d appeared, and they’d sealed their compact there on the shore. Caradoc could still feel the damp, cool sand beneath him, still feel Padraig’s worshipful mouth enclosing his cock in searing, tender heat.

  Was this that day, lived again, in the cycle of time? Even gods did not always understand how the universe worked. If he and—

  “No!” he said again, trying to pull away, but Patrick held him fast. Releasing his bonding, performing even that bit of magic, had obviously called on the soul-power Padraig had once had. Now that power manifested itself in Patrick’s body, making him strong, heavier. Harder for Caradoc to fight.

  “Yes,” Patrick whispered, running hot hands down Caradoc’s back to grip his ass and squeeze. The movement made Caradoc’s cock press harder against Patrick’s thigh. His own stomach was sticky with the fluid leaking from Patrick’s cock. It took everything he had not to reach down and gather that fluid on his fingers, to bring his fingers to his mouth and taste the essence of the soul he’d once loved.

  With ease Patrick flipped them over, until he straddled Caradoc, his weight resting on Caradoc’s stomach and his knees pressing Caradoc’s elbows into the hard ground beneath them. It was impossible to move, impossible even to think of moving, with Patrick’s swollen cock so close to his mouth.

  He wanted his revenge, yes. But he wanted that body more, at least at this moment. His mouth watered and his cock ached to be inside the other man again.

  “How can I serve you?” Patrick asked, his eyes glittering in the moonlight and a very wicked smile playing across his lips. “What can I perform for you, so you know how very sorry I am? That I am much stronger now than I was before, and will never betray you again?”

  He scooted forward. The soft skin and hair of his sac slid up Caradoc’s chest, eliciting goose bumps on Caradoc’s skin. “How can I show you that I am worthy to be taken into your service again?”

  Caradoc opened his mouth to say there was no service, to tell Patrick that he would never trust him again no matter what body his soul now resided in or how much he’d changed, but Patrick silenced him with one finger on his lips. “You promised me a chance,” he said, although Caradoc had promised him nothing of the kind.

  Somehow Caradoc couldn’t find the words to argue the point. Not when Patrick’s right hand was sliding down Caradoc’s stomach to grip his hardness. The movement made Patrick lean back, shoving his hips forward. His cock was only inches away from Caradoc’s mouth.

  “What was the word we used to say?” Patrick asked. “I re
member we said something, a spell…”

  The memory was painful despite the shiver of excitement it sent through his body, but he said it anyway. “Uelor.”

  Instantly he felt something cool and sweet wash over him, like dry water. He groaned. It had been so long since he’d felt it, but his body remembered. This was how he and Padraig had cleaned themselves, how they’d sweetened their bodies again after hours of love, so they were ready for the next round. Once again he had the odd feeling no time had passed, that somehow this world and the one he’d shared with Padraig were overlapping. It confused and frightened him, even through the haze of desire.

  Patrick nodded. “Uelor,” he repeated, and his eyes widened. Caradoc knew he was feeling that same cool dry bath. But though Patrick might have remembered there was a word and what it did, he obviously didn’t remember the sensation. His lips parted and he cried out as the spell swept over his body. A part of Caradoc, that mad part that wanted to forget his plans for revenge, was tempted to laugh at the other man’s amazed expression.

  But the urge to laugh quickly passed as Patrick’s hand closed tight around Caradoc’s cock. He tugged gently, moving the soft skin easily over the hard shaft.

  “You feel so good,” Patrick whispered as he manipulated him. “So good in my hand, almost as good as you tasted in my mouth. I don’t remember you the way you remember me, Caradoc. I remember bits and pieces, emotions…I see you in my head but it’s like watching a— Dammit, you wouldn’t know about movies, would you? I barely remember them myself.”

  Caradoc tried to think of how to respond to Patrick’s confession, but was hard to concentrate on anything when Patrick’s hand moved so smoothly up and down his shaft. His earlier determination and will seemed to have left him. The desire for revenge was still there, his anger was still there, but over it all was the languor of his desire, the reckless realization that this night was not going as planned, so why not take as much pleasure as he could?

  He could still have his vengeance, and it would still be sweet. But in the hours before he disappeared from this plane, he could save up memories to last him another century.

  “I want to remember you,” Patrick said. “And I want you to remember me, the way I really was. I want you to know what truly happened, what I meant to do—”

  “Silence!” Sharing bodies for the night was one thing. Having Patrick try to explain his betrayal, as if there was any way it could be forgiven, was another.

  For a moment fear flashed in Patrick’s eyes. Then he smiled faintly, a smile of both triumph and sadness.

  “You spell won’t work now, Caradoc, I broke the binding. You need your hands free to cast again, and I think I can come up with a better use for them, and your mouth. Don’t you?”

  Before Caradoc could reply Patrick leapt up, his muscles moving smoothly under his gleaming skin. This incarnation truly was perfect, Caradoc thought, before Patrick flipped himself over.

  His knees rested on the ground just above Caradoc’s head, his cock right before Caradoc’s eyes. It was obvious what he wanted, and became even more so when Patrick leaned over and took the full length of Caradoc’s erection between his lips, sucking it into the heat of his mouth.

  Even after coming as hard as he had before, Caradoc still had to fight to keep his orgasm at bay. Patrick’s tongue slid thickly over Caradoc’s swollen tip, delving into the neat slit, running down the ridge on the underside and flicking it lightly. Caradoc gasped. His hips lifted involuntarily, but Patrick’s hands pressed them back down.

  “My turn,” Patrick said. The command in his voice sent a shiver through Caradoc’s body. Padraig had not dared to challenge him in this manner. He was a god, and not to be trifled with.

  So why, then, did Patrick’s insubordination arouse him so much?

  One of Patrick’s hands slipped down to caress Caradoc’s sac, to tug on it gently. His tongue moved down as well, to caress the soft skin, before he lifted his head, resuming his work.

  Caradoc gasped, his mouth opening, and before he had time to think of what he was doing he reached up to guide Patrick’s cock into his mouth. It was harder to do at this angle. He had to arch his back up, to stretch his throat, and the awkwardness of the position made it even hotter. His legs spread as Patrick worked between them, reaching down now to finger Caradoc’s ass.

  Caradoc lifted his head to pull Patrick deeper, so deep he felt the blunt head hit the back of his throat. His mouth filled with the clean, slightly salty taste of Patrick, with the glorious sensation of velvety skin against his tongue. Patrick was big enough that Caradoc had to open his mouth all the way.

  He hand rested on Patrick’s hard, hairy thigh. He slid it inward, collecting his saliva on his fingertips and sliding them up, over the delicate and sensitive skin between Patrick’s sac and his ass, and then rubbing the tight ring with it.

  Patrick moaned, bathing Caradoc’s cock in delicious vibrations. Caradoc slid his finger inside, and Patrick mirrored him, so together they were a circuit, a perfect unit. Patrick’s cock thrust into Caradoc’s mouth as Caradoc’s finger thrust into Patrick’s perfect ass, and each repaid the favor.

  Blood rushed to Patrick’s pelvis. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer, and from the incredibly swelling of Caradoc’s cock he knew he wouldn’t either. The need to come, the need he’d thought earlier couldn’t get any worse, was now all-consuming, blinding. He’d never needed it so badly in all his life, and even searching the shadowy mists of his newly found memories he didn’t think he’d needed it this badly—ever.

  He pulled his head away, regretting the loss of Caradoc’s thickness in his mouth but needing something else even more.

  “Caradoc,” he moaned, not daring to look down to see his cock still buried in Caradoc’s mouth. If he saw that it would be over. There was no way he could keep himself from exploding. “Caradoc I need to be inside you. Let me…let me perform that service for you.”

  As he spoke he slipped another finger into Caradoc’s ass, stretching him further. Caradoc’s hips leapt and he moaned around Patrick’s cock.

  “Please, Caradoc, I can’t hold on much longer…I want to come inside you.”

  Taking Caradoc’s stillness for assent, he slid sideways, off the man he loved and feared in equal measure, and positioned himself between Caradoc’s legs.

  Another word memory came to him, and he spoke it. “Dessu mi es.”

  Something slippery and invisible coated his fingers, warm and smooth. It felt good on his hand, and better when he used that hand to coat his cock. Caradoc hadn’t used anything but his own saliva to lubricate his earlier entry, but that was all right. Patrick had deserved the pain. Caradoc didn’t. He’d had enough pain, centuries of it, and it had been Patrick’s fault. Now Patrick was determined to serve his god the best way he could.

  Caradoc’s entire body was tense, waiting. Patrick rubbed the slippery magic lube between Caradoc’s cheeks, into his ass, unable to take his eyes off Caradoc’s chest and face as he did so. He was so broad and strong. Even centuries of waste had not changed the beauty of his physical form, the smooth perfection of his skin, the chiseled masculinity of his face. His eyes were open, dark and fathomless, staring at Patrick as Patrick positioned his cock just outside his body.

  He’d performed this act of worship, this act of purity, hundreds of times in his prior incarnation. The memories swam before him, some very clear, some not clear at all.

  But on the other hand, he’d never performed it. Not in this life.

  He was about to lose his virginity to a god. One who could take his life if he didn’t please him.

  Patrick took a deep breath and pressed himself forward, feeling the tight muscled ring give way around him, and decided death was worth it if it meant he could feel something this amazing even once.

  Chapter Four

  Patrick’s cry as he buried himself deep in Caradoc’s body was foreign to his own ears. It was a primal sound of joy, a soul-deep bliss that shattered his
memories of any lovemaking but this. The cry echoed through the dark forest and up into the starry night sky. The moon suddenly seemed to glow a little brighter, and for once the pale light felt like a benediction, not a curse.

  He took it as a sign. It wasn’t too late. He and Caradoc could begin again, here in this new world that was, in many ways, so similar to the old one they had known.

  “Caradoc,” Patrick groaned as he gazed down at the man beneath him.

  Caradoc’s face was twisted with carnal pleasure, his eyes pressed tightly closed as he arched into Patrick’s thrust, taking every last inch of Patrick’s cock into himself. Patrick knew he had never seen anything more beautiful. “My love, I—”

  “Do not speak words of love.” Caradoc’s eyes flew open, that fire there that threatened to burn Patrick alive every time he mentioned his love or his regret.

  “Please, let me—”

  “Fuck me, Patrick,” he commanded, the words causing Patrick’s cock to twitch inside Caradoc’s ass. “If you mean to show your devotion, then fuck me.”

  The words threatened to destroy the last of his control. Patrick cried out again as he pulled out and then plunged deeply back into Caradoc’s welcoming body. Caradoc’s ass was so slick and tight, the friction created as he thrust forward the most perfect thing he’d ever felt. He’d never even imagined such bliss.

  Patrick worked as slowly as he could, rolling his hips, caressing dark secret places inside his lover’s body with his cock. No matter how desperately he needed to come, he needed to assure Caradoc’s pleasure even more. Not merely to save his own life, but to show his old friend that his devotion was as strong and true as it had ever been. Stronger even.

  Sweat broke out on Patrick’s forehead as he took hold of Caradoc’s cock, using the slick substance that still lingered on his hand to coat his lover’s shaft. Caradoc groaned, sucking in a swift breath as Patrick thrust and tugged in time, working Caradoc’s shaft with the same slow, firm rhythm with which he fucked his ass.