by Sean Michael
"I would do anything for you, my Lord," Antonio whispered, his worst fears coming true. He was not here to earn another dream so that Amatia might love him; he was here so that he could service his god.
"Yes, Pet. You will." His forehead was caressed. "Worship me."
"With everything I am, Lord Grigio." He nuzzled for no more than a moment into that warm, all-giving hand, and then turned his attention to the heat of his Lord's phallus.
He licked the strong, burning drops from the tip and then took the head into his mouth, lips wrapping tight around the bottom of the crown as he sucked. The scent of pleasure and leather wrapped around him, surrounded and aroused him in a manner nothing else ever could.
He whimpered, head beginning to bob as he pulled the long phallus in as far as he could and then pulled back to just the head again. He sucked as hard as he could, worked as hard as he could to bring pleasure to his god.
A delicious humming filled the air, low and sweet, a tune that had haunted his dreams for years. The sound of his Lord's pleasure. That made him work harder, made him take that phallus deeper, trying to take it all. For his Lord.
The mark on his neck throbbed, every motion reminding him of its presence. His mark. His Lord's mark. His own body was hard, trembling on the brink. Not even a touch to his body and yet he was ready to spend himself at his Lord's feet. Such was the power of those smoky eyes.
He continued to suck, to lick, his lips sliding along the perfect heat.
A hand touched his cheek, his hair. "You are mine. Accept me and I will fulfill your dreams." Then heat filled his mouth, hot and sharp and salty.
He swallowed his Lord's seed into himself, swallowing again and again and again, and still it kept coming. He refused to lose a drop of this precious gift, though, and continued to swallow even as his head swam from lack of breath.
When the precious heat stopped and his head cleared, he found himself surrounded by cool mist, kneeling before a huge bed. "Welcome to your new home, Pet."
"Oh my Lord! I never dreamed...well, maybe I dreamed it, but I never thought I would be so honored." He bowed his head, tears staining his cheeks at the honor. He had thought that he would be allowed to serve his Lord only now and then; to be brought here instead... "Thank you, Lord Grigio."
"You have pleased me so far. Take care that you continue." Smoky creatures surrounded him, fingers ethereal and teasing, sliding over his skin.
He shivered, his skin so sensitive, his body wanting. "I will devote my entire life to that pursuit, my Lord."
A sensual laugh brushed his ear. "Indeed, with our Lord? Your life will grow and grow."
"All the better to honor him with." He was trembling, needing, the sweet ethereal caresses making his desire sharp and immediate, but he would not come without his Lord and Master's permission.
Grey eyes watched him as mists coalesced around the slim body, touching and pleasuring his Lord. "Your pleasure is mine. Your heart. Your very soul."
"Yes, my Lord. Though I did not know it -- it has always been so." He could feel the years of his life falling away, becoming distant until he could barely remember working, loving, living, only his dreams remaining sharp, in focus.
"Yes." Those long legs appeared before him, leather boots shiny and close. "Now, Pet. Your pleasure, offer it up."
He called out, the sound resembling his Lord's name as his body shook, seed spraying from him and splashing his Lord's boots. Lord Grigio spoke not a word, just petted his hair until his shivers eased and then eased his mouth towards those boots.
Whimpering, another shudder of pleasure moving through him, he began to lick his Lord's boots clean. Those ghostly, soft, smoke hands kept stroking him, petting his skin, admiring him.
Who would believe that to serve a god could make one feel so cherished? Most tales spoke of the gods as selfish, hard to please, to be nothing but feared. He was happy he had pushed beyond his own fears and called upon the Lord of Dreams.
His Lord was kissed, stroked, mist covering the beautiful body until seed rained down upon him again. Oh, such honor, to be kissed by his Lord's seed. He would pray to live forever in the service of his god.
Beware, Pet, I might decide you are one I will not do without and forever with a god is a very long time. The touch to his mind was deep, terrifying, overwhelming.
He bowed his head, shaking, terrified, and yet wondrous with awe at the same time. "Yes, my Lord and Master."
"Yes." Another touch stroked his hair. "Sleep, Pet. Dream."
He curled up at his Lord's feet, letting himself be led into dreams.
***
"So the gods and their worshippers are well-suited to them, like us to you," noted Liska, the flush of satisfaction upon her cheeks.
Verde looked again at his brother, and it was Marrone who told them the truth of the matter. "No, no. It does not always work out that way...sometimes the worshipper chooses the wrong god."
***
Arancione could see the prayers made in his name, the petitions for favor. Each one was like a flame rising from the fire in his hearth. Most would go unattended -- only the most worthy would receive a visit from him.
One rose higher than the others, shone a little brighter, and he ran his hand through it. A prince, the principality quite well-off. This was perhaps worthy of personal attention, worthy of his time. And if it were not, he would punish the man for his impudence.
He was there with a thought.
The temple was within the castle walls and smelled fresh, well-used and cared for. The altar was made of gold, as was the bowl where a small fire burned in his honor. The walls were covered with rich tapestries that told the tales of his exploits. The man meant to represent himself in them bore no likeness to him, however it was a comely enough visage that he would let it go.
Two men waited for him. One young and well-dressed, an air of innocence around him. The other was one in his service, a high priest by his golden robes, though Arancione had not dealt with this one before. Really, the designs on the robe were too much for an acolyte and with a wave of his hand, the robe became a simple garment.
"This had better be good."
The priest dropped to his knees, dragging the younger man with him. "My Lord Arancione. The king of these lands has asked me to plead your favor."
He raised an eyebrow. "Surely this young pup is no king?"
"No. No. The boy is King Hodor's youngest son, the most innocent and beautiful of men, offered up to you."
The prince jerked, looking over at the priest in surprise.
Arancione walked slowly around the pair. The boy was beautiful, and he was lacking a familiar. The last boy had been terribly clumsy. A beautiful mouth made for sucking, but not even that had been enough to overcome the unfortunately ungraceful feet.
And humans smelled so greasy as they burned up.
"Tell me, priest, how many sons does this king who could not be bothered to come himself have?"
"Six. Six, my Lord, but Prince Valetto, he is the most pleasing, I swear it."
He stopped and looked at the priest in shock. "Six? The man cannot be bothered to come himself and he sends his sixth son as barter." He snorted. "This must be a petty favor he seeks."
"The king wishes your support in the marriage of his heir to the Zintian's oldest daughter, Priscillia. The marriage, should both sides agree and a child be produced, would bring great wealth and honor to this principality and, in turn, to the god we worship."
"Is King Zintia giving him trouble? I'd have thought he’d be well pleased to get rid of that troublesome child -- she is far too like Gialla in temperament." These silly mortals never failed to surprise him. Zintia had begged his favor many times; it would be a small matter to smooth the way for this marriage.
"In truth, it is the Lady Priscilla who is reluctant to...have relations with the heir apparent." The priest's voice was serious, but the prince made a soft noise, much like a chuckle.
He pinned the boy with a glare
. "You find something about these proceedings amusing?"
Dark, laughing eyes met his own. He could see the natural amusement and ebullience fighting to spring free, the boy's energy written in the black curls, the wiry body. "No, my Lord Arancione."
How lovely.
He raised an eyebrow, letting none of his interest show. "And yet you laughed."
Those high cheekbones darkened, but the amusement didn't fade. "The idea of the beautiful Princess Priscillia enamored of my eldest brother is worthy of laughter, my Lord."
"I take it your eldest brother does not share your pretty face?"
"My Lord, the Prince Piotr is afflicted with a weakness of the skin, which leaves him covered in...spots."
The priest slapped the prince's backside sharply. "You should show respect, Pup. He is your god."
He waved at hand at the priest, the boy was his to discipline. "You will not touch him again." He turned his attention once more to the boy. "And yet, for all his ugliness, he is to be wed to the beautiful Priscilla and will one day rule the lands, while you are bartered away to curry favor."
"Indeed." There was no disappointment in the sound, more curiosity, surprise. "There is little use in a sixth son waiting to rule, my Lord Arancione. In truth, I have never sought the throne."
"No? Tell me then, what have you sought? What do you bring to this bargain?" With a thought he conjured up a throne and sat. "Convince me to accept you as payment for my facilitating the marriage between your brother and Pricillia."
Those fearless dark eyes met his own again, the glint of humor unshaken. "I have little, in truth, my Lord. A fair face, an average mind, a good temper -- verily, I would not be surprised to find my father finds me easiest to offer, as my gifts are shallow and apt to fade in time. If it would please you, I shall swear undying adoration and service."
"You don't seem very adoring."
"I haven't much practice, I'm afraid."
"Prince Valetto! Watch yourself!" The priest's voice was furious, eyes flashing.
"Yes, the boy doesn't seem to be taking this very seriously, does he, priest?" He waved his hand again, this time stripping the boy and spreading the prince face down on the floor on front of his throne. "You may practice while your father's priest and I negotiate."
The prince gave a soft sound, but stayed still, silent. The priest was sweating, eyes fastened to the floor, the stench of fear thick.
"Really, this hardly seems like a fair trade -- despite the boy's obvious charms. Does your King really believe that I will smooth the way for this wedding with nothing more than this child as recompense?"
"Yes. Yes, my Lord." The priest's voice was lost in the flash of music that was as familiar to Arancione as breath.
Violo stood beside him, eyes flashing. "Your priest lies, brother. This child is worth more than they let on. I know, his mother entrusted his exact match to me when they were but babes still wet from the womb."
"Well then, the favor is not granted. Tell your king I have taken the boy as my own." He waved his hands, bringing himself, the prince and his brother to his hearth.
"Explain," he demanded of Violo, leaving the boy, still naked, prostrate on the floor before them.
"Bright day to you also, brother." Violo leaned back, his cosset of clouds supporting him immediately. "The good king was told by a seer -- one of Grigio's hacks, of course, overwhelmed by that damn'd herb they insist upon -- that the number seven would be the death of him.
"The queen, a fine woman, raised to honor my name, was in a panic when she bore not one but two tiny princes. She offered her life in exchange for her seventh son and I accepted." Violo stroked his arm. "She weaves for me now, singing the days away like a tiny bird."
He moved closer to his brother. "And the boy?"
Violo's eyes darkened, the flash erotic and sensual, intriguing. "I have only recently claimed him as my own. His capacity for pain, for need -- brother, it knows no bounds. In truth, I believe the queen knew as she carried them that they were meant for us, and made them for our service."
"So the king wished to give me what was already mine?"
Arancione growled and sent a request to his brother Turchino. Let the kingdom of Hodor feel now his wrath in the form of Turchino's storms. He would make it up to his brother later.
"Are we to play together then, brother? Please tell me the boys are identical twins and not just fraternal?" He enjoyed playing with Violo; none of his brothers or sisters had the capacity for perversion that Violo did. In truth, the purple god was the only one he deemed worthy of his time.
Violo nodded. "Indeed, as one unto another, although my Eric does wear my marks, my colors where your lad's skin is lacking them." His brother leaned forward, touching their lips together. "Once you have explored to your satisfaction, my Bright Love, then come to me and we shall make them sing together, you and I."
He licked Violo's lips and smiled. "As you wish, brother-mine."
Those dark eyes gleamed, his brother sweet and sharp beneath his lips for a moment. "I leave you to your fun, brother. I would not have my Bright One played as a fool."
He stepped back glaring as his brother disappeared. He was no fool.
He turned his ire on the boy before him. "Well, child? Have you anything to say for yourself?"
"No, my Lord. I... This is beyond my understanding, indeed."
He growled; the boy had seen him all but made a fool of, rescued by his brother. "You will adore me. And serve me. And spend your life in the pursuit of making me happy."
"I... I will try to please you, Lord Arancione." The voice was unsure, confused, yet still not frightened.
"Try?" He rose, growing taller and taller until he towered over the boy and, indeed, the room that was his own. "Try?"
The boy seemed to shrink, face and eyes still hidden.
Coming back down to human size, he glared down at the boy. "You will do more than try or you will be punished. My last familiar warmed my rooms for the scant time he burned as a log on my fire."
"Yes, my Lord." The dark curls bobbed, falling in waves upon the floor. "I meant no disrespect."
"Good."
He let the fire in the hearth blaze higher and shed his clothes with a single thought before settling on a large, padded chair. "Get up and come pleasure me."
"I..." Those dark eyes met his as Valleto stood, curls falling around the finely-built body. "How shall I pleasure you, Lord Arancione? I...I am not experienced in this."
Of course not. Of course the boy was innocent, that was after all part of his charm, was it not?
"Go to the kitchen and find me something sweet," he snarled.
As the boy disappeared he pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closing. Being a god could be such a trial.
***
"Poor Lord Arancione," murmured Melin.
"He is only as poor as his arrogance, child. Unlike my beloved and myself, he does not favor his human children." Marrone did not approve of Arancione. He was too quick to dismiss his beloved Verde, who simply shone. How could it be that not everyone saw that?
"No, he does not. He is far more suited to his special pets." Verde rubbed against him, warming him as always.
"His special pets, Lords?" asked Mikah, arms around the three triplets and their sister.
"Oh, yes. Dragons."
There were gasps and the sweetlings moved closer, hands reaching out to touch himself and his beloved.
"Would you like to hear of them?"
They nodded, eyes wide. Chuckling, Marrone began his next tale.
***
Arancione moved from temple to temple, growing more and more discontent as he surveyed the sycophants that purported to follow him. These frail mortals could be fun, but they were weak and greedy, self-centered. He needed the pure love and adulation of his most precious children.
With that in mind, he traveled East, searching for the caves of his golden dragons.
One called for him, a soft light welcoming him,
the magic of his children reaching out to caress his spirit, soothe them and adore him from afar. He followed the call, finding a warm, brightly lit cave.
Bright gold eyes shone over at him, scales like coins tinkling toward him. "Oh, great Lord, how honored you have made me."
"Your adoration deserves a return in kind, my dragon. Pray tell me your name, that I might know you."
"Greath, beloved Lord." His dragon bowed deep, long beard dragging the cave floor. The heavy wings were folded back in submission and respect, tail quivering with anticipation and honor.
He purred, moving closer, hands sliding over the metallic scales. "Greath. A name befitting a beast of beauty, power and intelligence. You glow my beauty, my fires light you from within."
"It is our greatest honor, to bear your light, most Honored One." The deep voice rumbled, muscles rippling beneath his hand.
He felt his desire quicken, the strength and beauty of this Greath, this dragon filling him with need. He stepped close, raised the great head and brought their mouths close, breathing the same air together. The beautiful beast morphed for him, heeding his will. Soon a beautiful golden man stood before him, shining eyes and wings giving the dragon-man's true self away. He drew his hands over shining muscles, chest and belly, thighs and buttocks, his own skin quivering, eager for this dragon's touch.
"Might I offer you my pleasure, most Bright Lord? Might I have the honor of touching your skin?"
He took a deep breath that smelled of pure fire and gold, threaded through with need. "Please."
Hands warm as summer's kiss grazed over his skin, sliding randomly, exploring. Pleasure and arousal poured through the fine, tiny scales, the dragon feeding him with beautiful hunger. He let his head fall back, hair sliding against his back, his buttocks. A soft moan passed his lips, blessing and praise.
A shudder shook his golden child, a rumbled sounding. "My beautiful Lord, nothing is so sweet."
"No, there is nothing else that is. Take me to your bed, Greath, and taste of your god."
"As you will it, Bright Lord." He was drawn through the hoard of jewels and gold, leading him to a pile of orange and yellow silks, piled high. "It is unworthy of you, Lord, but it is the best your devoted one has."