by Sean Michael
He could hear the soft, distracted thanks of his brothers, the twins lost in each other as they drank down his rain.
Oh, to belong to another as they did to each other. He wished to sip from their rich passion.
Sliding from the clouds, he threw himself at the ground, falling into a million million raindrops and hitting the earth over and over and over again.
When he again assumed human form, he was in their bower.
Rich brown eyes smiled over at him, a low welcoming rumble pouring from Marrone's lips onto Verde's skin.
"Is there room for another in your bed, my brothers?"
Verde slid one hand along his twin's antlers, the other reaching for him.
"Always, beautiful brother." Hard and warm, the antlers stroked his palm as Marrone bobbed his head. "We were blessed by your rains, your water, your endless sky."
He slid his hands over Marrone's antlers, fingers touching, caressing, knowing it made his brother wild.
To Verde he offered his mouth, the rich, loamy taste of his brother filling him.
Marrone's cry sounded, needy and wanton, head jerking with pleasure. He could feel Verde, legs nudged apart, his earthen brothers always ready to rut.
He rained kisses upon them both, his own need growing as they began to move together, their cries filling him.
A sudden warmth covered his spine, the heat and width of Violo spreading him even as the playful laughter joined earth to water and thousands of lilies bloomed, the croaking of frogs filling the air.
Verde's laughter joined Violo's, even as he himself was speared by that joy.
He fell forward onto their bed of grasses, nibbling along Verde's neck as Violo loved him.
Violo's hands draped crowns of blossoms over Marrone's horns, his brother flowing into him, over him, around him.
Marrone's lips were warm against his spine, Verde's hot on his forehead. He raised his face and three sets of lips pressed together with his, their breath flowing from one to the other.
Sweet and rich, earth and air -- they moved as one, loved and beloved, earth and sky and life drawn together.
He and Violo pressed close to the hot bodies of the twins, the four of them merging, melding, making the world rich with abundant life.
Violo's hands reached around them, wrapping around his shaft, Verde's. They were held together, stroked with a rhythm echoing through the stones themselves, carried upon the winds.
Hot and cold, hard and soft, dark and light, all the opposites of the world flowed through them, channeled by Violo.
Marrone's call was rich, desperate, framed by the syllables of his twin's name.
Turchino let his form go, let the pleasure carry him on its wave, and broke into a million million drops against the twins as he came.
He coalesced upon a cloud of lavender laughter, buoyed by a deep-rooted vine of greenest leaves.
He wrapped around the vine and then leapt into the cloud, trusting his brothers to support him in his play.
Violo's laughter and lust cosseted him, cradled him, loved him.
The twins were hot and heavy on his back, Verde filling him suddenly, the Green God's heat like a brand, marking him as theirs.
Violo was on his knees before Marrone, taking the long, dark shaft deep, each moan creating a symphony.
With a thought he moved himself and Verde so that he could take Violo, the four of them forming a chain of pleasure that ran four gods deep.
Marrone's needy roar was swallowed by his own lips; Verde reaching out to stroke those antlers and close the circle completely.
Marrone and Verde grounded them in the physical, Violo kept their pleasure constantly growing and changing, while he kept them moving fluidly, back and forth like waves upon a shore.
Around them, the world was changing, the ground and sky and universe itself woven and rewoven with pleasure and passion.
He lost himself in them and found himself again, as renewed and remade as the universe itself.
They rested together, Violo and Verde curled together in his lap, Marrone supporting his back, fierce passion mellowed into play and rest. Marrone's hand brushed through his hair, sending more rain upon the earth. "Such beauty, such love."
"My brothers, you honor me with your pleasure and yourselves." He melted against them, with them, buoyed by their love.
Held and wanted, surrounded by desire and creation, pleasure and steady peace, he rested.
***
“That was most satisfactory.” Liska and Mikah were curled together, looking pleasured and pleased.
Little Melin was still wrapped in his brother’s lap, and Marrone smiled. “You wish to hear another tale of the mermen.” He could tell the creatures had captured Melin’s imagination.
“I do.”
“Then you shall.”
***
The humans who fished in the seas, who tilled the land, who knew what water and rain could do for them, had a week-long festival in his honor.
Turchino had made an appearance on the second day and stayed, the mortals so loving and happy to have him in their midst.
He always had been a sucker for adoration.
Of course it was love of children well-blessed with what they asked for, not the true eternal love that was given as his due day in and day out, no matter what.
No, only his children of the sea offered him that unconditional love.
By the time the week was up, he was yearning for the simple, uncomplicated joy and love his mermen offered.
With a thought he was in the seas, flying through the water as he searched for those who loved him best.
He found a trio of pretty mermen wrestling and playing, stretched out on a outcropping of stone, their joy carried to him in bubbles.
He floated for a while, watching, absorbing their joy for life, their zest, the way they looked, all muscles and multicolored scales sliding together.
Finally, one saw him, green eyes sparkling. Our Lord! Look! Look! He has come to play!
Suddenly he was surrounded by love and laughter made flesh.
He soaked it in, the pure, unadulterated pleasure at his presence a balm to the noise and selfish love he'd been lavished with over the last few days.
My children. He touched each of them, stroking scales and sliding his fingers along strong muscles.
Beautiful Lord! Our heart! Our love! A trio of voices bounced within him, happy and rejoicing, strong tails stroking his legs and torso.
Warm skin, cool scales, the contrasts made him shiver, made his body hard, his phallus red-tipped and leaking.
A gold head dipped down, took him deep, even as a pair of the palest blue lips pressed against his own.
He purred, opening his mouth and tasting the pleasure on the sweet lips.
Bright blue eyes sparkled and gleamed, hands soft in his hair. How we love you. Our Beautiful Lord!
Oh yes, my children. And you are most beloved. My very own.
His pleasure was great and he touched them, sharing the joy with them.
Another mouth pushed into the kiss, giggles tickling him, filling him.
He came, filling the golden-haired one with his seed.
Two strong tails wrapped around him, stroking and squeezing, rippling. So strong.
There was nothing like his children, so strong, so gentle. Wondrous feelings went through him.
Golden eyes sparkled at him a heartbeat before the mermen's blue brother tackled, fighting for a taste of his seed on the beloved lips.
He laughed and turned to the third merman, winking. There is more from the source.
Emerald eyes grew wide, laughter bright. Oh? What a rich blessing! Might your beloved Shelllight feed?
Indeed, he might. If he so wishes. He stroked the turquoise cheek, imparting warmth and pleasure.
A soft trill sounded, warm and happy, the beautiful face nestling into his touch. Such beauty.
And you are a reflection of me, sweet one. He bent forward, bringing their lip
s together.
Oh...such honor! Such love! Happy cries pushed into his mouth, body moving against him.
Sweet child, so full of love and happiness. He flowed around the merman, touching and offering pleasure.
Blue and gold eyes appeared. You are with us! You are our love, our heart. There is no room for sorrow.
He laughed, hands trailing over all of them. Come, my children! Let us dance with the waves.
The agreement rang through the waters, hands drawing him deeper into the cool waters.
Humans, who needed them?
***
“Well if there were no humans, there would be no one to build temples to you and spread the word of your greatness. No one to hear that word.” Liska sounded quite put out.
Marrone laughed. “We are not as our brother Turchino.”
“Oh, yes, for many of us, we are devoted to our human servants.”
“That is not always a good thing, brother.”
Marrone laughed again, the sound echoing in their cavern. “No brother, it is not.”
Chapter Nine
Violo held court in his palace regularly -- well, as regularly as he did anything -- dealing with lost and forgotten muses, mending the broken wings and hearts of his beloved ones and listening to their tales.
It was his greatest joy, his greatest source of amusement and, periodically, the source of his fury. A sweet, tiny muse had limped home -- starved and overworked, asked to perform endlessly without care or rest, beauty or peace.
All too often this happened. A mortal would be blessed with a muse and then the rigors of mortal life would interfere, grind the tie between artist and muse until the sweet beloved flew home, leaving both mortal and muse bereft.
He stroked and petted the pretty little muse, bringing the mottled rainbow of colors back into her wings. "Shall I go avenge you, little one?"
She shook her head, pointed chin firm. "No, Creator. I wish you to make him well. His heart has forgotten you, forgotten me, forgotten how to truly believe."
He nodded, smiled. He was exceptionally capable of causing wide-spread belief among his followers. If his presence did not accomplish that, then a decade in his dungeons would. "I will grant your wish, little one. Go and rest and I will cure this mortal of his malaise."
Muses' kisses were sweet and they tingled, even against his eternal lips, and his mouth still felt full and warm when he appeared in a barren room, the scent of linseed oil in the air.
The artist was a young man, well-built though thin beneath his painter's smock. He sat despondently in the window seat, looking out over the lands that surely belonged to his patron.
The room was littered with canvases, each of them destroyed.
Bright gold curls framed the sulky face, the wind stirring them gently.
"I believe I have someone who belongs with you, but I will not return her unless you take more care with the gifts you are given."
The young man started, gaze turning to him. With a gasp, the painter fell to the floor on his knees. "My Lord Violo."
He arched an eyebrow. "So you do remember your Lord. Your lady muse whispered the news that your faith had failed you."
"My muse deserted me, my Lord. I am a prisoner in despair's keep. I have the desire to paint, but my feeble efforts are nothing short of hideous."
"Your muse was sadly mistreated, mortal -- starved and exhausted, no care given to her happiness, her joy -- you know nothing of being imprisoned, Painter. Take care that continues to be a truth."
Bah, whining. How unutterably boring.
Blue eyes full of pain and confusion turned up to him. "But Lord...I do not understand."
"Which fact escapes you? That your muse was not well-fed with joy and beauty? That you required her to perform for you without adequate recompense?" He reached down, looked into those lost eyes. "What confuses you, Painter?"
Fear crept in at the edges of those eyes now, the young man almost flinching. "Recompense, my Lord?"
"Yes, Painter. Recompense." He drew them away to a high balcony in his palace, the view wild, breathtaking, supreme. "Beauty, joy, colors, pleasure, laughter -- these things are the muses' coin."
He held the mortal so that all might be seen, the glory of creation, bubbling with life and bliss and pain. "They are born from this maelstrom, wet-winged and full."
"It is beautiful, Lord." The mortal sounded sad. "I could never create anything like this. My art is...poor and wretched."
"Then perhaps I should remove the gift from you altogether."
The young man nodded. "Perhaps you should, my Lord. And my life with it."
Violo shrugged. "As you wish."
He snapped his fingers, the lifeless body falling into the void, an iridescent opal resting on his palm, pulsing with consciousness. "You will cause my little one much joy in this form, Painter. Bring a sparkle to those tired eyes."
He smiled, tilted his head. "If you're lucky, she'll keep you with the others so you won't be lonely. Of course, muses can be so fickle... They do so love novelty."
With that he willed himself back to his throne, jewel deposited in his cloak to deliver to his little one when she awoke.
***
There were gasps and giggles and Liska grinned wickedly. “One must be careful what one wishes for.”
“Indeed!” Verde nodded and clapped his hands, pleased with their clever girl. She would be a good mother of the new village set up in their honor in the spring.
“My Lords,” murmured Mikah. “Remember Arancione’s gift? The one with a twin in Violo’s dungeons?”
“We do indeed.”
“Is there more to be told of him?”
Verde laughed softly and nodded. So greedy for the wonders they spoke about. “Oh yes, but first you must hear of the twin.”
***
Eric ate sparingly, taking his sustenance from broth and the light bread that Lilaca brought him. He drank only water. His body was a temple, a shrine for his Lord Violo, and he would not foul it. Indeed, it was his honor to keep himself ready for his Lord's will.
Tonio came to brush his hair, Nitsio with him, rubbing sweet oils into Eric’s skin from the tips of his toes and fingers to his head. He turned, lying on his belly with his buttocks in the air, moaning softly as Nitsio's fingers pressed oil into his passage. It could only mean one thing -- his Lord would have him this night.
Once he was oiled and brushed, he was dressed in a violet robe and led to the room where his Lord took pleasure in him.
Nitsio led him to the wall, stretching him out against it and shackling his feet and hands against the wall, leaving him spread-eagle and alone. Waiting.
He waited for what seemed hours before the wind began moving against him, against his skin. Strong enough to feel, light enough to tease, the phantom touches were random -- his nipples, his chin, his thigh, his toes -- making his skin tingle and ache.
Soft gasps filled the air -- his own, though it was several moments before he realized it.
The touches continued, one sliding along his spine, one seeming to push into his aroused shaft, filling him.
"Oh, my Lord," he murmured, body shaking. He offered his pleasure freely. His answer was a breath of melody, pure and sweet, aching in his ears.
The touches continued, pushing him harder and higher, sheer sensation sending him soaring. He shook; it would not be long before his pleasure took over his body and spent from him, offered to his Lord.
Pressure built within him, his Lord coalescing, taking form with the length of that long phallus buried deep inside his body. He cried out his pleasure, seed spraying from him.
His Lord purred against his ear. "Filled so deep that you must spend your seed."
"Yes, my Lord." He trembled.
One hand curled around his shaft, filling him to a painful hardness with a touch. "I will milk the pleasure from you until you know nothing but my need."
"Yes, my Lord." He whimpered, leaning back against his Lord as much as he
could.
Violo began moving, rocking, taking him deep and hard, sensation slamming through him, his Lord's presence overwhelming, all-encompassing.
He sank into his Lord with every sense. There was nothing but heat and power and creation, nothing but his Lord.
"I have a gift for you. Your twin. He is yours to tutor, Eric. Yours to use." That voice was symphony upon symphony.
A gift, for him? When his Lord had already given him so much. He cried out, coming again, body squeezing around the thick phallus inside him. He felt Violo's moan against his shoulder, felt the heat of seed filling his body as his Lord held him tight.
He cried out again, body shaking at the gift that filled him.
"Oh, my Lord," he whispered. "You honor me and then honor me again. I am your humble servant."
"Yes." His stomach was stroked, petted, and then the presence behind him faded. "I expect your twin to please me well, Eric. See to it."
"As you will it, my Lord, so shall it be."
***
“Oh, so beautiful!”
“Yes, child. Nothing is more beautiful than pleasure and devotion freely given.” Verde stroked his brother’s belly.
“So what of Valetto?” asked Mikah.
He laughed, lying with his head cushioned by the firm abdomen of his twin. “Patience, and I will tell his story.”
***
He woke with a jerk, scrambling upright and moving back on soft sheets until his back hit a wall.
Sheets?
Valetto shook his head, face burying in his hands. He had been in the darkness so long, then burned terribly by bright fury. Rescued by cool hands and soft promises and...
And now he was lost and afraid.
"Brother? Valetto?" The voice was soft, somehow familiar.
He lifted his head, coming face to face with...himself. "What magic is this?"
His double sat on the bed across from him. "No magic, brother. I am Eric, your twin, offered to my most exalted Lord Violo before we were even born."
"E...Eric. I heard...I thought I heard... But it doesn't matter." The conversation he had overheard so long ago, in a place so different from here. "Why am I here?"
"So that I might teach you how best to please our Lord."
"Lord Arancione no longer wants me." He had never gone beyond causing the god offense. It seemed to be his gift.