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Las posesiones de los Dioses

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"J'on, you are my acolyte now. You will serve my purpose" The priest finished binding his servant to the stone alter and removed the man’s skirt with one slit of the sacrificial dagger before pulling out a flask and drizzling it against the golden skin. "I will fill you and you will know our God’s power."

The acolyte shivered, not saying a word. The nervous energy filled the chamber as Sh’loc pressed against the other man, his fingers pressing against his anus, flicking one at a time. It would not due to take this one roughly, no. He was a rare prize given from Kinich Ahu himself; the proof was in the sun-kissed locks that surrounded the slave’s face. He heard the rough sigh as his smallest finger breached.

“Yes, bend to our Gods will, my will. It need not be rough.” Sh’loc intoned as he pulled the carved snake-head dildo from beside the sun-kissed man and poured the sacred oil praying over it as his second finger found it’s place inside J’on. Removing them, he swiftly pressed the ribbed tail against the pinked entrance as the slave keened. The priest could feel himself stir under his coverings now at the mewling sound that rapidly was turning into pleasurable noises.

Sh’lock removed his lower raiment with a single pull of the braided side strings. His cock began to stand proudly for his God’s service, he could feel the heat and breath of the God with him now. The priest slathed the oil around the widening entrance as the next graduated nub popped pleasurably past J’on’s rim. “So supple. You were made for this. I will take you apart.”

He could feel the rush of wings settle into his shoulders as J’on cried low, his own cock now weeping for them. The priest tasted the air with his tongue enjoying the humidity, the sweat tinged with sweet, burnt leaves and macerated berries that were at the top of the alter. The God was pleased. Tipping down, he ran their tongue along the man’s vertebrae tasting the soul of him. His essence. The acolyte was good; faithful to one. Would be faithful.

“Yes, J’on... say my name... tell this one that you are his.” The God’s voice blended with Sh’loc’s creating a deep, melodious sound that caused another tremor from the acolyte; this time the priest could taste the arousal in the air. He pressed in once more, the final carved bead popping in to allow the slightly thinner shaft movement.

“I am. Fuck me, Sh’loc. I am your vessel.” The priest pressed in further before pumping the carved shaft into the slave, his own heart beating loudly in his ears at the heated words.

“Yes, you are ours.” Sh’loc could feel the full weight of the wings now heavy on him. He extended them to either side as he removed the tool and thrust in with his own cock. The being had to close his eyes against the heat of the slick passage. He grabbed at J’on’s hips, pulling him closer, putting strain on the ropes and his arms as he fully buried them into the acolyte. The man only cried in ecstasy. “Soon, yes-s-s, J’on...”

The secondary prehensile cock pressed its thin head against the buried shaft of Sh’loc’s cock and thrust its way in gently to share the space. As the priest pulled away, the other cock wound it’s way around his, making it the main shaft they would receive the man with. The wing beat adding to the next thrust inward, both J’on and Sh’loc cried blissed, heavy moans as they were ridden. Sh’loc felt his God enter him as well, his tail filling his priest as Sh’loc slaked his carnal need within J’on.

“Mine, J’on. Only mine. Ever.” Sh’loc pulled at the man’s shoulders, now fucking him roughly, both cocks filling J’on to his limit, his heart beat filling the room and syncing with the priest’s. “I will stop your heart as I wish. No one shall defeat you. My warrior.”

The slave was grunting and begging now, his cock weeping its fluids onto the worn stone floor; total supplication and obedience was now theirs. Sh’loc keened as his God became rough with him, spurning him on to deep swift thrusts into his acolyte, chasing their sweet respite before they would once again be ridden in a matter of hours. This was their honeyed moon. Their reward for complete subservience to their deities.

J’on keened praises as Sh’loc bit his throat with his fangs and drank deeply of his warrior, his prize as he emptied himself into the man, the God milking the priest’s cock and prostate, making sure the seed was deep within J’on. The slave spilled long and hard, his body wracked with tremors as his orgasm came to him untouched. Thirst slaked, the priest’s fangs disengaged. The bite mark would be permanent. Another sign this acolyte was God-ridden.

Sh’loc shakily untied his prize and moved him to their pallet of sweet fronds and soft skins to rest, murmuring affectionate words only he would ever hear. The God ingested the energy greedily before leaving their chosen to rest until they were brought together again.