Gods and Monsters

by Sean Michael

  ***

  He had been angry for days. And when Turchino was angry the sky and the sea rolled, rose and sank, nearly meeting in the middle.

  His storms were the stuff of legends.

  Now he wasn't angry anymore. Just tired.

  And a little worried.

  His sweet children lived in the oceans, and he had not been kind to the oceans -- his storms had stirred them up and flung them against the earth with inhuman strength. He searched through the waters for them, looking for their loving touch. Deeper and deeper he traveled, going down into the darkest depths of his oceans.

  Turchino saw one emptied city after another, his children having retreated to the Great Caves. Finally, as the god reached the outskirts of the underwater stronghold, the softest touches brushed across his mind, subdued and careful, but still quietly rejoicing at his presence.

  Two mermen, strong and beautiful -- one violet and the other shot through with silver -- swam before him. Their muscles rippled, hooked weapons in their hands. Warriors, guardians, protectors of the school.

  They moved as one, bowing before him, their thoughts warming the cool water.

  You do not need your weapons with me, my children. I will not harm you or your brothers and sisters.

  The hooks fell, happy smiles gracing the too-serious faces. Our Beloved! Our Lord! You are well and whole. We worried for you, longed for you. Two slick bodies twined around him, his children unafraid and ecstatic.

  He took their joy as a balm, letting it smooth the edges in his spirit still raw from his anger, letting it fill him happiness. He reached out and touched them as they moved around him, hands sliding over warm muscles and slick scales.

  Webbed hands brushed through his hair, lips were warm and eager on his skin. So free with their love, their passion -- they shared all with him.

  Beautiful Lord!

  Our heart, our hope!

  Missed you!

  Waited for your pleasure!

  Oh, such passion and happiness, their excitement and joy his and his alone. He lay back, floating in the water. Love me as only you can, my children.

  He was set upon by incredible strength and unrelenting pleasure, spun round and round in the water. There was a mouth on his spine, hands massaging his shoulders, another mouth engulfing his hardness, a tail slick against his legs.

  He let his pleasure flow to them, sharing as openly with them as they did with him. There was nothing that could compare with the way his mermen loved him. His lips were taken in a long kiss, violet eyes shining at him. Those strong hands slid over his body, down over the silver hair of the merman feasting upon his phallus.

  He undulated, rippling beneath the touches. His hips pushed his hardness deeper into the heat that sucked him. One hand cupped his sacs, another stroked his hip. Suddenly the water was alive -- the chorus of thousands of loved and beloved minds singing for him, for his pleasure, for him alone.

  He cried out, his joy bringing light to even these depths of the ocean as his silver-haired child swallowed down his pleasure.

  They sank slowly, four hands becoming dozens as he was welcomed into his children's hearts.

  ***

  "What could make the god of skies and seas so angry?" asked Melin, having crept into Verde’s lap.

  "Many things." Marrone answered. "Our siblings are capricious. Are they not, brother?"

  Verde grinned. "Be fair, beloved. Sometimes the anger is well-deserved."

  "Oh, yes. Why, I remember the story of Rivermoon."

  ***

  Balls of lightning rolled across the mesa, the spirits playing, carried by the weight and fury of the coming storm. Blacker than night, the cloud stampeded over the sun, winds screaming as the mist-stallions led the rush, shattering the sky, rain bleeding down behind.

  Rivermoon’s skin drew tight, the sand clinging to each pore, drowning him in the heavy air as he waited for water. The thongs around wrist and tail and throat had dried long before his lips, growing stiff first, then tight, then painful, the sun betraying him yet again.

  The old woman had warned him before he escaped into the night, into the desert, into the Land of the Gods, that he was born of the moon, of the dark, of the richness of secrets and mystery and the silent owl who hunted at the banks.

  The hawk and golden-eyed warrior had snared him in the riverbed, his silence pointless when the light set the silver at his brow aflame, making a beacon for his enemy. A beacon for the Bright God.

  Torn and bloodied, hooked and dragged from the waters -- the warrior put him in a box and bade him live so as to serve as sacrifice, as payment, as living promise to a name he had never heard sung.

  Sung -- oh, Most Loved! Beloved Lord. Beautiful Storm and Bearer of Sky and Sea.

  His prayers were fervent and soft, his eyes -- silver as his hair – clouded as he whispered for the storm to come. Their Lord, their Beautiful One, their Heart and Hope -- he could only wish that the One who Made the Waters would take him into perfect arms and wash him with the waves of eternity.

  The drops fell upon parched lips, trailing over his still face like tears.

  ***

  "Oh, how terrible!" exclaimed Melin, face buried in Verde’s chest.

  "Yes," agreed Liska. "You must tell us what happened to poor Rivermoon!"

  "And so I shall."

  Chapter Eight

  Turchino howled.

  The winds whipped up, sending the clouds skittering through the sky, storm building and building as he flew through the sky, seeking the source of the painful prayers that wailed in his ears.

  One of his children needed him.

  He sent the rains ahead of him, letting them forewarn his coming.

  He howled again as he found the merman, staked out upon the sands, colorful scales dull and dry, pain etched upon the beautiful face.

  He roared, lightning filling the sky, hitting the temple to his brother Arancione, sending its congregation scattering.

  He could feel his brother's wrath push toward him and he turned everything he had on his brother, rage making him strong and sending Arancione back to his bower. His child had been taken, had been violated, had been left to die.

  In Arancione's name.

  He would demand payment, but that could wait. The merman's pain was not assuaged by his rains, only kept from becoming worse. His child needed him.

  Swooping down, he gathered the merman in his arms and flew deep into the mountains. This child was one who danced among the fresh waters, far rarer than his seawater cousins.

  Turchino took him into a deep cavern where a dark, cold, fresh spring began, fed by glacial ice.

  He immersed them both into the water.

  A soft moan sounded, the tiniest whimper filling the air. Beloved One. Beautiful One. We called for you. We knew you would come.

  Yes, my child. I would not leave one of my own to be so badly used. You will be avenged, my child. But first... He bent and pressed his lips to the merman's, filling his child with his own sweet breath.

  He pushed the pain and ache away with his breath, those poor foggy eyes clearing, silver beginning to glow for him, scales beginning to shimmer.

  He ran his hands over the rejuvenating skin, adding his touch as a soothing balm to sun-burned skin and seared wrists, ankles and neck.

  He would not allow his own to suffer.

  Oh... Oh, our Lord. Our love. Our life. Salty, grateful tears slid over the drawn cheeks, body beginning to move in the water, slow beautiful waves.

  What is your name, child? Tell me so that we may sing together in these quiet pools.

  We are Floatingfeather's son and Smoothstone's father and your own Rivermoon, Beloved one.

  Rivermoon the Strong. He kissed the merman again, taking pleasure in the way Rivermoon was recovering,

  Oh. We are honored. Opening easily, the water began to ripple with a tentative pleasure, a quiet joy.

  He wrapped his spirit around the merman, mouth and hands working to call forth
more of Rivermoon's pleasure. He could feel the hunger and happiness flow for him, the adoration and thanks sweeter than anything, those bright eyes full of his own reflection.

  I would fill you with myself, Rivermoon.

  Please, Most Loved. I am your own.

  He slid around to push up against Rivermoon's back, arms circling the muscled body, holding the merman close. Sliding one hand down, he stroked the shining scales. Open to me, Rivermoon.

  His fingers slid against the hidden opening to the strong body, muscles relaxing for him, opening to his touch.

  Such heat and pleasure to be had here. It was not an act he performed often -- the mermen gave of themselves willingly -- as this was extremely intimate for them and he rarely linked himself that way with them. Rivermoon, however, had suffered greatly and still had cleaved to him.

  You shall be my very own, special even amongst the most special of my children. He pushed into Rivermoon's body, filling the merman with his heat.

  We are yours. We believed in our Lord. Strong arms reached up to hold him, stroke him, share his joy.

  He rocked against the solid body, the waters churning around them, swirling and rolling them as they came together again and again in pleasure and devotion. The bright songs of pleasure grew until the waters rang with his name, with hope, with love.

  He found Rivermoon's phallus, pulling it fully from its place hidden among the merman's scales, and began to stroke it, urging Rivermoon to greater pleasure.

  Beloved! Most loved! Rivermoon rippled around him, shaft hot and heavy as it slid in his hand.

  My Rivermoon. Child of my heart. Show me your pleasure.

  All for you! The beautiful body convulsed, heat poured over his hand.

  He shared his own pleasure with Rivermoon, filling the merman with his seed. Now no one would be able to harm this one.

  Rivermoon arched, whole and healthy, near glowing in the dark cave. As Turchino watched, the silver hair darkened to a deep, rich blue, marking this one as his very own.

  He held his merman in his arms, floating in the pure, clear waters. The blue hair swirled and slid around them both, mixing with his own.

  Rivermoon relaxed against him, love and joy pouring over him. That faithful heart had never doubted, had believed in him. How anyone could harm such beauty...

  He could feel his outrage returning, anger and rage at his brother that such a thing could be allowed, possibly even encouraged.

  He slipped back around Rivermoon and offered a quick kiss.

  I must go now, most loved Rivermoon. If you have need of me, I will return with but a thought.

  We will await your pleasure, most Loved. We love you. We are yours. Those silver eyes shone at him, loved him.

  I will return, Rivermoon the Strong.

  With that promise between them, he flew out to the sky to find his wretched brother.

  ***

  “And did he return, my Lords?” Liska asked, all their children enthralled, as always, by the tales.

  “Indeed. He did. For Turchino is as faithful as his dear ones.”

  ***

  Rivermoon laughed and played in the caves, tail splashing water on the walls, songs in praise of their most beloved echoing back to his ears.

  Happy.

  So happy.

  He danced in the bubbling water, his body sleek and long and healthy as it slid over the smooth stones.

  A touch, one he could not mistake, slid along his body, cool and right like the water, but more, so much more.

  Our Lord! Our most Beloved! He arched out of the water, tail fin spread wide in greeting.

  My dearest Rivermoon. His Lord smiled at him, arms open wide in invitation.

  Oh! So lovely! So beautiful! His heart leapt and he hurried into those warm and beloved arms, tail sliding against his Lord in pure pleasure. Our Lord! We have been singing of your beauty, your joy.

  Those blue eyes that were pure water smiled at him. I know, my precious child -- I have heard your songs and they pleased me well. Lord Turchino was warm and strong and all around him now.

  His fingers trailed through the soft hair, his body rippling around pure perfection. How we love you, most Beautiful Lord. What joy you bring us. Everything he was, he would offer to that will. Everything.

  No more than you deserve, Bright One. Lord Turchino began to stroke him.

  His song grew, pleasure and honor bright as it crashed and poured over him.

  I would take my pleasure with you, my sweet child.

  Beaming, filled with happiness, Rivermoon nodded, tail splashing the clear water. Please. Yes. Please, our Lord.

  A purring sounded, the water bubbling and warm, sliding along his skin in a godly caress. He laughed, spinning and rolling with the sensations. His own hands stroked and petted, sliding on skin smoother than water.

  His Lord's lips closed over his own, joining their mouths in another caress. Rivermoon relaxed into the kiss, flowing in and around and about his most beloved lord. He could feel the large phallus, hot and hard and huge against his belly.

  He turned, offering himself to his Lord, offering the deepest, most private touch. For you, Beloved.

  Rivermoon the Strong -- bearer of his Lord's seed. The words blessed him as the large phallus filled him, no pain, no burn, just sheer pleasure pushed in with that flesh.

  His songs grew stronger, echoing through the caves, sharing his love and honor with all who would hear. His own pleasure was increased, his Lord sharing what he was feeling, offering him so very much.

  Our Lord! Most Loved! His body swelled, phallus filling in its pouch.

  Yes, Rivermoon, my very own. Strong hands stroked through his long blue hair, tangling in it. He arched beneath the touch, bowing for his Lord's pleasure, calling out in joy.

  His own hair, his Lord's hair, and one hand wrapped around his phallus and began to stroke in time with each thrust. They moved together, rocking as the waves, the motions flowing them one into the other.

  Beautiful, Rivermoon. You make me happy.

  His honor and love was so great that there was no room for anything else, tears of joy sliding from his eyes, seed pouring over Lord Turchino's hand.

  "Yes!" His Lord's shout echoed through the caves, filling them with a beautiful song, even as he was filled with burning seed.

  They floated together, the water caressing and rejoicing around them. You are loved, our Lord. Most loved.

  As are you, Rivermoon the Strong. Marked as mine.

  Yes, Lord. Your own Rivermoon. Your own.

  My own.

  He was turned, soft kisses pressing again on his lips.

  Rivermoon dared to reach up, trace the fine features. His Lord nuzzled into the touch, a soft smile on his face.

  He held his beloved gently, offered his Lord a warm place to rest, to laugh, to play.

  His Lord Turchino lay with him, taking what he offered. Peace settled over the waters.

  ***

  “Oh, such a happy ending. For both Turchino and his Rivermoon.”

  “Yes, Liska. You see how good things are between the gods and their beloved? That is how it can be for all of us, gods and disciples. You are proof that such as we can coexist.”

  “You seem to glow when speak of Turchino.”

  “We love our brother Turchino and love to see him happy.”

  ***

  Turchino flowed over Verde's skin, whispered secrets against his brother's warmth. Verde, sweet and responsive, arched beneath him, offering more of that fine skin, begging without word or thought for his touch.

  His fingers were rivers as he explored the landscape of Verde's body.

  He could feel Marrone's attention upon them, though the horned god did not join them. Still, Marrone's pleasure added to Verde's, which added to his own.

  Lapping at Verde's skin, he pushed into heat, surging in as the tide. Verde cried out for him, the sound echoing with Marrone's roar.

  The rhythm they established was ancient, eternal
. In and out, in and out, like the tides against the shore.

  Verde's fingers explored him softly, found again and again the places he best liked being touched. His pleasure rained down on them both, warming the earth, feeding it pure, sweet water.

  Verde's mouth opened and Turchino accepted the silent invitation, licking at his brother's lips before sliding his tongue inside. The sweet perfume of trees and grasses, flowers and herbs filled him. The hint of dark, rich loam that lingered within the kiss reminded him of Marrone's attention, made him shiver.

  "Your twin watched," he murmured against Verde's neck.

  "My Beloved is with me always," came Verde's reply, fingers sliding down his back, cupping his buttocks.

  "I envy you."

  Verde's hands squeezed, encouraging his movements to speed. "Just hold me in your fluid embrace and love us, Turchino."

  And so he did.

  He wrapped his hand around Verde's phallus, pulled in time with his thrusts.

  "Yes," whispered Verde. "Just like that. More."

  They moved together, earth and sky meeting, coming together until they both shattered, Verde's seed spreading between them, his own pulsing deep into his brother.

  They lay together, Verde warm, arms around him, holding him close. The musk of earth and salt of ocean filled the air, heavy and replete, lingering as they lay together.

  Marrone's joy in Verde, in him as well, covered them, leaving them warm and close.

  Turchino closed his eyes and rested, safe and warm within their embrace.

  ***

  “Beautiful,” murmured Marrone, voice deep and low, a caress, and Verde turned to his beloved, curled up with him.

  “You do indeed love him,” said Melin, smiling.

  “Yes. Though we are not alone in that love.” Verde grinned wickedly, teasing their sweet ones.

  Eyes turned to them, mouths opening. Marrone knew what pleas were coming, and he knew exactly the tale that would satisfy them.

  ***

  Turchino flew through the air, dancing among the clouds: around and around and up and over and through them he played.

  The earth called out to him, voice parched, and he released the clouds from the dance, letting them rain down onto the thirsty ground.