The Thread (Mythklok Interstitial)
Feb. 20th, 2011 01:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tikificTitle: The Thread (Mythklok Interstitial)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: NC-17
Summary: On authorship.
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs, swearing, smoking
Notes: Just an FYI, I have a three-day weekend with NO ONE looking over my shoulder, so this is a little steamier than what I usually write.
The Thread
Lord Ganesh was reconsidering his plans to add a new section to the Kama Sutra.
This, he felt, merited an entire additional volume.
Perhaps this time he would leave that glory-hound Vatsyayana out of the process completely, and simply write in collaboration with loyal Nandi. True, Nandi could be a bit plodding (he was a bull, after all), but the benefit of being gods, they could take a rather long time between editions.
Not that Ganesh was currently thinking much of anything, including authorship. If what was going on in his conscious mind at this precise moment could be transcribed, it would probably have resembled something like “!!!!!!!”
After a bit of persuasion (and Ganesh could be quite persuasive when he was of the mind) Sariel had been coaxed into occasional sexual relations in his angelic True Form. Ganesh had lived a long existence, and no longer felt himself capable of beings much surprised by matters of an erotic nature, but in this he had managed to quite throw himelf for a loop, in a most pleasant way.
He had divined, after some puzzlement, certain of the explanations behind Sariel’s reluctance. Sariel never did anything for one reason alone, which was why he made such an interesting companion. He was, at root, and like many angels, a bit ashamed of his True Form. It was quite unthinkable to Lord Ganesh how a group of beings whose existence was defined by the possession of a gorgeous and intriguing flight apparatus had managed to convert this into a taboo subject, but angels, he was rapidly discovering, were characterized by contrariness as much as by their winged nature.
But beyond that, Sariel seems to have a quite honest fear of causing physical harm to Ganesh. It was a grounded fear, as Sariel was quite incredibly powerful in that Form, but one as easily maneuvered for Lord Ganesh as was successfully coupling with a winged being. Ganesh, as a coauthor of the world’s first sexual instruction manual, had absolutely no compunction towards directing Sariel on exactly what to do, with generally exquisite results, though Ganesh found he was having to exercise more than his usual amount of restraint in the process.
And so he found himself this night, pressed face-down to the silky soft sheets of his bed, legs splayed, while Sariel, fingers entwined through Ganesh’s hair, arced back his body to once again thrust his cock incredibly deep into Ganesh, murmuring softly, “Slowly, dear. Slowly. Make me want you,” when what he really found himself tempted to do was burst out with, “Oh, gods, fuck me raw.”
He could feel, though he could not see, the soft air currents as Sariel’s wings unfurled, as they did when he approached orgasm. It was so lovely to watch, and so lovely to think about, but coherent thought was being knocked away. He was so close himself. So very close.
And then he felt it.
It was Sariel’s orgasm.
The angel had thrust his thoughts into Ganesh’s consciousness, as he sometimes did, but it was not just thoughts this time, it was an incredible tangle of feelings and impressions: the great, warm throbbing in his pelvis as he climaxed, the desire, the ache, the need, the terrible loneliness, the electric arc of his body, Ganesh’s smell beneath him, a flash of Ganesh smoking a cigarette and looking up at him, a rivulet of sweat dripping down the center of his chest, and then it was all gone just as quickly, and the angel was resting, heavy, on top of him, panting, wings giving one last flap and fold.
Ganesh lay, in tears.
Winged Forms, it had been decided, were not suitable for the shower.
Although Lord Ganesh did not rule out the eventual remodeling of his residence to include a slightly bigger washroom. Perhaps something that included an Olympic sized swimming pool, he mused.
And so Sariel had shrunk into his Charles Form, with only one silvery eye and an intriguing grey patch in his hair remaining. Ganesh found he needed to kiss the wet, silvery hair. There were so many subtle differences between Sariel’s Forms, so many things he had never noticed before. He seemed so much smaller, and more vulnerable. Very like a human in some ways. Ganesh wondered if he had simply gotten very clever at disguising himself as a mortal over the years, or if there was something more to it.
Ganesh blinked. Sariel had pushed him away slightly, small smile on his face. “Didn’t we just do this?” he said.
“I did this with Sariel. Now I want you too.”
Sariel laughed: a small, light laugh at his mad god. Ganesh could not recall hearing such a thing - something so unburdened - from Sariel until very recently. And then Sariel made himself very light, as angels are able to do, and hopped up and wrapped his arms and legs tightly around Ganesh, and they carried on.
Author: tikistitch
Rating: NC-17
Summary: On authorship.
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs, swearing, smoking
Notes: Just an FYI, I have a three-day weekend with NO ONE looking over my shoulder, so this is a little steamier than what I usually write.
The Thread
Lord Ganesh was reconsidering his plans to add a new section to the Kama Sutra.
This, he felt, merited an entire additional volume.
Perhaps this time he would leave that glory-hound Vatsyayana out of the process completely, and simply write in collaboration with loyal Nandi. True, Nandi could be a bit plodding (he was a bull, after all), but the benefit of being gods, they could take a rather long time between editions.
Not that Ganesh was currently thinking much of anything, including authorship. If what was going on in his conscious mind at this precise moment could be transcribed, it would probably have resembled something like “!!!!!!!”
After a bit of persuasion (and Ganesh could be quite persuasive when he was of the mind) Sariel had been coaxed into occasional sexual relations in his angelic True Form. Ganesh had lived a long existence, and no longer felt himself capable of beings much surprised by matters of an erotic nature, but in this he had managed to quite throw himelf for a loop, in a most pleasant way.
He had divined, after some puzzlement, certain of the explanations behind Sariel’s reluctance. Sariel never did anything for one reason alone, which was why he made such an interesting companion. He was, at root, and like many angels, a bit ashamed of his True Form. It was quite unthinkable to Lord Ganesh how a group of beings whose existence was defined by the possession of a gorgeous and intriguing flight apparatus had managed to convert this into a taboo subject, but angels, he was rapidly discovering, were characterized by contrariness as much as by their winged nature.
But beyond that, Sariel seems to have a quite honest fear of causing physical harm to Ganesh. It was a grounded fear, as Sariel was quite incredibly powerful in that Form, but one as easily maneuvered for Lord Ganesh as was successfully coupling with a winged being. Ganesh, as a coauthor of the world’s first sexual instruction manual, had absolutely no compunction towards directing Sariel on exactly what to do, with generally exquisite results, though Ganesh found he was having to exercise more than his usual amount of restraint in the process.
And so he found himself this night, pressed face-down to the silky soft sheets of his bed, legs splayed, while Sariel, fingers entwined through Ganesh’s hair, arced back his body to once again thrust his cock incredibly deep into Ganesh, murmuring softly, “Slowly, dear. Slowly. Make me want you,” when what he really found himself tempted to do was burst out with, “Oh, gods, fuck me raw.”
He could feel, though he could not see, the soft air currents as Sariel’s wings unfurled, as they did when he approached orgasm. It was so lovely to watch, and so lovely to think about, but coherent thought was being knocked away. He was so close himself. So very close.
And then he felt it.
It was Sariel’s orgasm.
The angel had thrust his thoughts into Ganesh’s consciousness, as he sometimes did, but it was not just thoughts this time, it was an incredible tangle of feelings and impressions: the great, warm throbbing in his pelvis as he climaxed, the desire, the ache, the need, the terrible loneliness, the electric arc of his body, Ganesh’s smell beneath him, a flash of Ganesh smoking a cigarette and looking up at him, a rivulet of sweat dripping down the center of his chest, and then it was all gone just as quickly, and the angel was resting, heavy, on top of him, panting, wings giving one last flap and fold.
Ganesh lay, in tears.
Winged Forms, it had been decided, were not suitable for the shower.
Although Lord Ganesh did not rule out the eventual remodeling of his residence to include a slightly bigger washroom. Perhaps something that included an Olympic sized swimming pool, he mused.
And so Sariel had shrunk into his Charles Form, with only one silvery eye and an intriguing grey patch in his hair remaining. Ganesh found he needed to kiss the wet, silvery hair. There were so many subtle differences between Sariel’s Forms, so many things he had never noticed before. He seemed so much smaller, and more vulnerable. Very like a human in some ways. Ganesh wondered if he had simply gotten very clever at disguising himself as a mortal over the years, or if there was something more to it.
Ganesh blinked. Sariel had pushed him away slightly, small smile on his face. “Didn’t we just do this?” he said.
“I did this with Sariel. Now I want you too.”
Sariel laughed: a small, light laugh at his mad god. Ganesh could not recall hearing such a thing - something so unburdened - from Sariel until very recently. And then Sariel made himself very light, as angels are able to do, and hopped up and wrapped his arms and legs tightly around Ganesh, and they carried on.
