Skip to main content

Short Story S1: P:5 - Ambrosia

     The touches were gentle, almost reverent among the throng of bodies around them. Like a spell had fallen upon them and them alone, their eyes caressed where their fingers could not. Chests heaved in shuddering breaths, skin prickled with extended senses and their mouths found one another as their hearts thundered with need. Nothing was forbidden in this place, the walls echoed with ecstasies that danced along the tight rope of the known world's taboos. Flesh thrummed against flesh, cries reverberated with one spiraling emotion after the next in an orchestra of undulated rhythms. Yet this was a step beyond even them.
     Their first taste of each other sparked like fireflies blossoming into existence in the veil of night. If they had not been so focused on one another, they would have seen the room shift around them. The canvases of flesh tones parted and swirled away to fade into a serenity of just them and a dark backdrop slowly being painted by their own colors. Fingers purchased into hips, breasts, backs and thighs with a desire to map their lines. Tongues brushed and lapped at the cocktails of flavors mixing from mouth, to skin, to sighs and moans. Each body curved and shifted against the other, caressing fine hairs along one another, building trails of sweat that kissed with each point of contact over and over. And as the void around them began to dance with droplets of their colored passion, they found a song even sirens could only faintly hear.
     So they flexed like the Eternals they were, their halos illuminating them in soft tendrils of golden waves as their bodies hummed the ever-longing tune. They arched and drew apart like rolling storm clouds consuming particles of matter and warping them with the paint of their actions, forming them into shapes denied only one thing. Finally, as they reached a crescendo, their breaths expelling from them in ragged departure, the Ambrosia of their want trailed down their thighs in hot release and gave life to the chaos they had created around them.
     The world burst into clarity and their hearts slowed to a tender rest as they wrapped around one another in a never ending cycle of yin and yang. Every flutter between them birthed a new being and they knew then and there Life would be their everlasting.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Snippet: Golden Children of the Night

     Since so many people have been following my twitter posts of me writing , here is a snippet unedited of what I've done so far. Enjoy! ...They watched as another bolt of lightening struck the ground, forcing them to bend into their stances to resist falling to their knees, and formed into a tall gleaming female figure. The armored woman’s eyes flickered with golden irises as she took each of them in before addressing them. “You speak as if you have earned a place upon Olympia, Dead King,” she said, her lyrical voice commanding between them as her eyes bore into Belloros. “You are old, Athena, and the Romans will see to it that nothing of Ancient Greece shall remain standing,” he replied defiantly, “including you.” Those wise eyes turning her way, she met them unflinching but not without respect. She felt measured, as she had the last time she stood before the Gods of Olympus, and like before she kept her words to herself. “And you seek to betray the gi

Short Story: S 5 P 3 - "Fire in the Blood"

I don’t remember much of my life before the wagon train to execution. Everything is hazy, as if I had no existence until then. But the blade of a steel axe rising high above my head, I distinctly recall. The smell of copper dripping from the last poor bastard to kneel upon the stained wood beneath me. The stench of horses. Mud. Gravel. Brimstone. When fire unexpectedly exploded around us, raining in a torrent of deadly chaos....I felt something within me come alive. This fever, igniting, under my sizzling flesh. It filled my senses, rushing my veins like growling ecstasy. I ached with a knowledge I couldn’t grasp into words. But I can comprehend it vibrating in my bones. It is what whispers to me now as I drive my axe forward, striking soft pebbled scales in a frantic blow for survival. That consuming molten honey humming in my muscles, chanting ‘kin of my kin, blood of my blood’ , while massive sharp teeth snap and snarl at circling soldiers. My heart constricts, knowing

Short Story S:5 P 1 - "Unseen Hands"

You want noise when something happens. A blaring warning sign. A whisper of foreboding. A chill of uncertainty. You want another person nearby. A hand to hold onto. A rush of moving bodies to motivate you to safety. A sense of unity. A pack survival mentality.   You want a tool. A device to give you advantage. Hope for success. A net for security, should you have to risk it all. A life line. What you don’t want. What you fear the most. Is the unpredictability of nothingness. Because that is where real terror begins. Humanity is so certain our greatest enemies will meet us on the battlefields in manners we understand, that we never stop to consider.... That they don’t think the way we do. There will be no siren. No amount of individuals beside you to make a difference. No technology to aid you. All there will be is a moment--a single flickering second of discord--and then.... oblivion. You see, our greatest enemies can perceive our mortal coil. Can