Interlude with Myth

Caiside sputtered and tried to gasp in a breath as fingers pried open his mouth, left him vulnerable to a force that filled him completely. Every moan, every little breathless motion he made felt like a betrayal to himself, like he was giving over more and more to this inexorable pleasure. He couldn’t keep a hold of himself; the him pressed against the tree, the him in the strange twisting dream tunnel, the him being drowned and dragged to the very edge of something, climax or consciousness or life. Why? The word seemed to echo inside him, a dozen continuations offering themselves, tearing a dichotomy into his being. Why had he not given in completely? Why was he fighting to keep a hold of some part of himself? Why had he never considered this use of power, this overwhelming flow? Hands on his legs, his back, his ass reminded him of his body, the physicality that he was still tethered to, however tenuously. What did he want? What didn’t he want? Adoration, wealth, devotion, pleasure. Caiside wanted the world. Wanted to be in the place of the god so absolutely pinning him down, to be terrible and beautiful and everything. ”Power.” Much like before, he wasn’t sure if he spoke it or simply thought it, but the word seemed to echo around his mind, giving him a thought to focus on within all of the sensation the near shattered pieces of him drowned in. Caiside You know how it goes, this story’s been told again and again A love, pure and light, that makes stars align Well that’s not the case here