Gods and Monsters

by Sean Michael

  His own anger and upset were left behind, lost in the flavors on his tongue: one as familiar as his own, the other bright and metallic.

  Marrone's hand slid down his belly, finding Violo's hand and then both sliding over Verde's shaft, drawing him closer. Oh yes, they would make him sing, make him fly so quickly, as if he were a yearling in the throes of his first season.

  How he loved them.

  His elder brother and his very soul touched him, driving his arousal higher and higher, the ivy crawling in through the window and beginning to bloom.

  Once he had flown, he would take them both at the same time, be filled by them. The very thought, on top of their touches, was too much and he shouted, pleasure spraying from him, flowers sprouting, small lilies of the valley, whereever his seed fell.

  "So lovely, little brother."

  "Beloved!"

  "Oh, my brothers, lay me down and take me, use me for your pleasure."

  With a thought -- he was unsure if it was Marrone's or Violo's or a mixture of them both -- he was bent over a bed blossoming with waxy-petaled flowers, Marrone's heat sliding against his hip, Violo's darker phallus nudging his lips.

  He opened his mouth to take his brother in even as he spread his legs, welcoming the familiar heat of his beloved twin into his body.

  So full! It was wonderful.

  Violo pushed deep into his throat, reaching to kiss Marrone as his twin found a home within him, the temperamental god's hunger clear. Moaning, he sucked hard on Violo's shaft, eager to make them both come inside him.

  Their cries poured over his skin like the finest wines, sliding against and inside him, making him arch. His body tightened, shaft growing hard again, spurred on by their pleasure, by the dual claiming.

  They moved together, Violo's need following Marrone's instinct as easily as night followed day, mouth and body filled and touched and taken.

  My brothers. He caressed their minds with his own, finding joy in their joy.

  Beloved.

  Brother.

  Need.

  Want.

  Love.

  Love you.

  They filled him -- body and soul and mind until his heartbeat was theirs, the splash of seed upon his tongue echoing the pulses within him. His own pleasure washed over him, mingled with theirs. They were as one, flying, floating, curled together on the bed of flowers.

  Marrone's heat was familiar against him, Violo cooler and so thin, so sharp-edged, even in repose. He found himself curling against Violo, trying to lend his brother some of the warmth he and Marrone took for granted.

  Violo's pleasure washed over him, still cool, but happy. So sweet, little brother.

  "Not little," he muttered as Marrone wrapped around him from the other side, keeping him warm as he shared his heat with Violo.

  "Is he not little, my brother?" Violo's voice was full of laughter again, those thin lips sliding over his skin.

  "He is everything, Violo. My universe."

  "As you are mine, Beloved." Verde turned his head, purring as his lips met Marrone's.

  Marrone kissed him until even Violo fell away and they were in their own grotto, flowers and trees creating a bower.

  He purred, arching up into his brother’s arms, rubbing against Marrone. "Will you have me again, brother?"

  "Our brother did not satisfy you with his teases and chill touch?" Marrone's hands were hot, wide, running over his body and drawing him close.

  "Only you bring me satisfaction, Beloved." He writhed beneath his brother's touch, reveling in it.

  "Only I adore you, my brother." He received a hard kiss, those dark eyes hot. "I alone know your heart."

  He nodded, caught by Marrone's eyes, left breathless by them. His body rippled, legs circling Marrone's waist. "Only you can fill me."

  One hand cupped his hip, drawing him up, dragging him onto his brother's eternal need. "Yes, Beloved."

  He cried out as he was spread open, filled with Marrone's heat. There was nothing that could equal this. Nothing. He gave himself over to his beloved twin, their minds and bodies melding.

  Verde reached up, stroked the so-sensitive base of his brother's horns, heard the needy call echo through the forest. That call was for him; only he could bring such noises from Marrone. Only he had that power just as Marrone was the only one with power over him.

  This was why Violo teased them so -- pure jealousy for he had none to whom he belonged so completely.

  They loved each other, so lost in each others arms that mountains grew and fell around them, leaving them happy in their bower.

  ***

  Arancione waited until Marrone and his little twin disappeared from Violo's side and then appeared in their place. The bed was still warm from their bodies, but a thought leeched the heat from the silk, leaving it cool against his naked body.

  He reached out, touching Violo's cheek. "Brother, why do you bother with them? They rut their days away, lost in each other's arms. They are not worthy of the attentions of someone such as yourself."

  "Mm...I cannot create or destroy that which blooms between them. It makes me want to touch it." Violo's dark eyes cleared, then fastened onto his own. "Oh, but they are distant and dark compared to your light, my bright brother."

  He preened. Of all his brothers and sisters, it was Violo who pleased him the most. "Indeed, I am worthy of your time. The imagination I fire in men's souls leads them to your bounties." He pressed a kiss against cool lips, appreciating the way Violo tempered his heat.

  Violo's hand brushed over his skin, fingers clever as they at once eased and aroused. His brother tasted of grape and honey and the slightest hint of blood -- heady.

  He slid his hands over the cool skin. Violo was softer than the silks they lay upon, his brother's breath a breeze within his body. Hands slid up over his belly, caressing his chest, his shoulders.

  So bright, so strong, my brother. Violo's words were true, honest; he loved them all and often.

  He pressed kisses on his brother's skin, rolling Violo onto his back and spreading his legs. Violo opened to him, spread wide and eager to be touched deep. Cool fingers combed through his hair, soft music filling the air.

  He filled Violo with his passion, phallus burning with the fire of his need. Violo stretched and arched; the cry that filled the air was a symphony, the sheets beneath those fingers were stained a thousand hues. Such beauty and passion, all his at the moment, created in honor of his love for his brother.

  He moved, building the fire between them.

  Images of the mirror of his little prince flashed playfully into his mind -- bound to a wall and well-marked, stretched over a bed with need trapped in leather, riding on a thick wooden phallus with lips parted for another -- only to dissolve into the shining beauty of his own eyes, Violo crying out with need.

  He gave Violo what his brother needed, what he himself needed, entering the depths of his brother's body again and again.

  Bright One! Oh! So hot, my brother! Violo rode him, cool skin drinking him in.

  He wrapped his hand around his brother's phallus, encouraging Violo's own heat to come to the surface and grace their skin.

  As always, Violo's passion met his own, the bright creation of a thousand muses filling the air with song.

  Brother! He filled his Violo with his own fire.

  Held by the most familiar hands, Violo sang for him, a quiet praise none other would ever be honored with.

  He lay against Violo, nuzzling along the cool neck, accepting the praise as his due, offering his happiness and warmth in return. There was peace here, with his brother, a place where he could share of himself.

  Where he was welcomed and adored by his own.

  ***

  "Violo moves from one to the other of you with such ease," murmured Tisli.

  "Violo is the most...loving among us," answered Verde.

  Marrone laughed. "You mean lusting, brother."

  "Perhaps I do. He even visits our sister Rossa."
>
  "The Lady of War?" asked Tisla, eyes wide.

  "Yes, indeed. Even she is not immune to our brother’s charm."

  ***

  Rossa pouted and stamped her foot.

  Stupid humans.

  Every war, it was the same thing, over and over again.

  Did they have no imagination?

  Where was the torture, where were the devious dealings? Where was a poor girl supposed to find her entertainment?

  King Wallis wouldn't know a creative idea if it hit him upside his head, and King Mabin was just as bad. Why were they fighting a classic war, copying each step to the letter?

  She stamped her foot again. She would make them come up with new ways of killing each other if she had to pledge life to her Dark Father himself.

  Of course, it was her dear brother Violo who nurtured men's creative juices.

  With an impatient wave of her hand, she brought him to her.

  Violo appeared, brush in one thin hand, hair loose over his shoulders, sensual and lazy and perfect. "Rossa. Beauty. Good day."

  Her eyes lingered for a moment. Her brother cut a handsome figure, far more appealing than any of the kings and warriors who called to her.

  "I need your help," she stated flatly. She was too frustrated to play coy, though the game was one she did enjoy upon occasion.

  "Anything. You have only to ask." So eager to play, her eldest brother.

  She opened a viewing portal to Wallis and Mabin's war. "They're boring me, brother. No imagination, no creativity is being used to wage this war. Indeed, none is being used to woo me, either."

  She turned and gave him a soft smile. "I'm bored. You can fix it."

  "Of course." Violo tilted his head, then those long fingers began to move. One side was given huge war-creatures, one foot enough to trample three men. The other side was given a squadron of winged valkyries, screeching the need for blood.

  She bounced and clapped her hands, crowing happily. "Oh, Violo! They're wonderful!"

  The war grew more intense, the air painted with wailing and sprays of bright crimson. Violo gathered each lost soldier's spirit into his realm, denying them to the twins.

  Such a lovely war.

  She smiled at her eldest brother. "How can I repay you for such splendid improvements?"

  Violo tilted his head and smiled, the look wicked and delicious. "I would ask two things from you, Pretty. The first is simple. I have need of a fine, strong man to serve as a bench in my bathing quarters, unbroken, but unable to resist, preferably caught by his own will."

  She clapped her hands again. Violo was such a perverted boy. "Done, brother-dear."

  She stepped close and tilted her head back to look up at him. "And the other?"

  Those dark eyes shone at her, one hand cupping her cheek. "The other will wait, lovely, until I have greeted my beloved sister with the kiss that is her due."

  Then Violo pressed his lips against hers, tingling and warm, wicked and arousing. She rose on her tiptoes and pressed back, giving Violo as good as she got.

  Violo settled with her on a wide divan, violet and soft, richly upholstered, one kiss becoming another and another. Her loins grew heavy, moisture gathering there, her desire brought to life by Violo's kisses.

  "Your need is sweet, heady." Violo's hands moved over her, teasing and stroking her skin.

  "It is yours, dear brother."

  She thought away his clothes, delighting in the slide of his cool skin against her own. His touch drew butterflies and cherubs from her skin, fiery-eyed muses that wandered close to dip their brushes and paint the world in her passion.

  It made her laugh, made her breathless and she pushed close, sending him down onto his back. She followed, rubbing against his heat. "Brother!"

  "Rossa." He took her mouth, her body in one fluid motion, hands and shaft and tongue driving her mad.

  She cried out, her passion bubbling from her, spreading over the world and driving all who heard her cries to frantic coupling. Violo's seed warmed her through, her brother's moans mingling with hers to assure the quickening of thousands of women.

  She purred, lying on her brother. "Such lovely passion, sweet Violo."

  "Dearest Rossa, such beauty, such glory." Violo held her close.

  She rubbed her cheek against his fine skin. "My passion marries well to your creation, dear brother."

  "As it always has, pretty." Violo stroked her hair. "I do have a final favor to beg of you, lady-sister, but the asking of it should most amuse."

  "I had not forgotten you said two favors, brother." She raised her head and looked down at him, waiting.

  Violo's grin was wicked and playful. "You have heard our Dark Father has found himself a new pet -- small and winged and black as night?" At her nod, he continued. "The wicked little beast is deliciously perverse and quite entertaining, but mischief made flesh and feather.

  "Father bade the creature into our lady-mother's bower, wherein he did truly besmirch her handmaidens, filling their bellies with...well, to be sure, we know not what the mixture of purest and darkest heart creates. Not yet." Violo chuckled, wrinkling his nose at her.

  "When Mother found the deed done, she did rage and boil over, threatening to burn the little one into dust after tearing its wings from its frail body. Nero heard and rushed to his pet's defense, given that the implet was only causing trouble where it was bid.

  "Father has forbidden Mother's hand in this. She cannot hurt the wee thing. However, and here's the fun, beloved, we have no such order." Violo nuzzled against her. "So, she's coming to beg favor of you, and I came to ask you to make no promise to her, to allow the implet to live."

  She laughed in delight. "Oh you are wicked, Violo."

  She gave her brother a kiss. "I will not interfere."

  "Oh, most excellent. Such fun, is it not?"

  "Oh yes," she agreed. "Our parents are far more entertaining than the humans."

  "Eternally so." Violo grinned and shifted them so they could watch the war, carnage and violence running amok.

  It was a good day after all.

  ***

  Violo stood at a window in his mountain home, looking down at the clouds and the sea. Bored. He was bored.

  His Eric awaited, bound and plugged and gagged in the rooms below, the boy's own servants seeing to his needs. He supposed he could go and amuse himself there, but in truth, he felt the need for his own kind.

  Violo's eye was captured by the ocean. Yes, his own kind. His beautiful, tempestuous brother so in love with his followers. "Brother? Beautiful Turchino? Are you near?"

  There was a brief touch to his mind and then a wave rose up from the ocean, shooting up through the clouds and through his window, Turchino coalescing by his side.

  "Near enough, Violo."

  He smiled, stroked the deep blue hair from the familiar face. "Bright day, Beautiful One."

  Turchino nuzzled briefly against his hand. "Bright day, Violo-mio. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

  "I need, Bello. I long for the company of another." He leaned forward for a kiss. "The games are fine and well, but there are times when one needs an equal strength, to forgo control."

  "So you called me?" Turchino looked pleased, blue eyes flashing at him. His kiss was met head-on.

  His answer was in the meeting of their tongues, the way their bodies melded together. His brother was salt and sun and sky upon his tongue -- a true addiction.

  Turchino nipped at his lips, teeth sharp, tongue soothing. "Would you visit your perversions upon me, Violo?"

  "In truth, Turchino, I wish for you to spend all your needs with me. I have not simply offered myself to another in too long." He let his arousal grow, held his hands out to his brother. "You are the basis of my art, your water and Rossa's fire mingling within me as smoke."

  Turchino took his hands and brought them to a bower in the sky. The large bed they were on seemed to float in the air.

  In a heartbeat he was as bare as the new
ly-born, sliding over cloud-kissed blankets to bring their bodies close enough to touch. "You hold the stars within your eyes, Bello."

  "Flatterer," whispered Turchino, hands sliding over his face, pushing his hair back.

  He could feel his brother's phallus, full and hot, nudging against his thigh.

  "Only the truth." He reached down, shuddering at the fine heat, the smoothness beyond any silk.

  Turchino made a soft noise and pushed him down onto the bed, following him with a deep kiss. His groan created a thousand butterflies, tangling in his beautiful brother's hair, wings fluttering wildly with adoration for the god of the skies.

  Turchino laughed, the sound turning into a breeze that caressed his skin. The depths of the oceans looked down on him with pleasure, and his fingers wrote a thousand tomes on sweet, soft skin.

  "Spread your legs for me, brother, let me into your depths."

  He nodded, opening easily to this brother with the laugh that quenched the thirst of eons. "Fill me, beautiful brother. Teach me to fly."

  "I can do that," murmured Turchino, phallus hard and hot, pushing into him even as Turchino bent to kiss him. His brother's tongue invaded his mouth, set the rhythm for their coupling.

  His cry was low and tasted sweet in his own mouth. Each motion was the wave of the sea, rocking slow and steady, deep within and all around.

  Turchino kept the rhythm slow and steady, eternal.

  The boredom left him, a quiet peace in its stead. Thank you, my brother. I have played amongst my children too long and forgot the bliss of loving my Beautiful One.

  Turchino sped his movements, eyes flashing. I too find here what no one else can give me.

  My laughing brother... He whispered his will and starlight twinkled around them, decorating the sky.

  Turchino raised his head, looking around with a smile. "More, brother. Show me what you can do -- show me how I make you feel."

  He reached deep, brought his sister's passion and brother's laughter together and lit it with their mother's fire, spreading his flashing joy across the sky.