AllyBlue stories: In The Arms Of The River God

"In The Arms of the River God" is a story I wrote a couple of years ago. It's never been published other than here on my website. I decided to put it here to give everyone a look at the sort of things I used to write.

WARNING: this is a bit dark, though not so much as some of my other older stories.

*****

It’s July, and the Savannah heat sticks to Carl’s skin like pine sap, even at two in the morning. He stretches out on a bench and smiles blearily at the sky. The blotter acid’s just kicked in, turning the susurration of the leaves into green and purple whorls in the soupy air.

Carl haunts this small waterside park most nights. He likes it here, in the quiet hours between midnight and dawn, when the traffic is stilled and the only sounds are the whispers of the trees and the slow syrupy roll of the river. He likes to lie on his favorite bench, get high on whatever he’s managed to score, and think. Revelations come easily to him here, no less profound for their tendency to evaporate in the morning sun.

At first he thinks the voice he hears is a hallucination. He hears things a lot when he’s on acid. But then a face appears above him, a hand touches his arm, and he begins to believe someone is really there.

"Hello?" he says to the face. "Who are you?"

The face smiles at him.

"My name is Pete," the face says, each word a bright diamond bubble floating from its mouth into the air. "I am the god of the river."

Carl giggles. Pete seems an inadequate name for a river god, and he says so. Pete the River God shrugs.

"I'm Carl," Carl says, sitting up and holding out his hand to shake.

"I know.”

Pete the River God takes Carl's hand in both of his and licks his palm, then sucks his fingers one by one. Carl laughs at the tickly sensation.

"I came to you," says Pete, "because I need something from you."

"What?" Carl wonders.

“Your body,” the River God answers. “Your love.”

Pete’s eyes glow soft cerulean, shedding fuzzy lavender sparks that float lazily to the ground. Carl’s heart swells with love and desire, and pride at being the chosen one of a god.

“Yes,” he says, and takes the god’s hands.

Pete pulls Carl to his feet and kisses him softly on the lips. Carl opens his mouth and lets Pete’s honey sweet tongue in to slide over his. The kiss plays a vague, jangling music in his mind, like wind chimes and flutes.

They undress each other, letting the discarded garments fall where they might, trailing lips and fingers over newly bared skin. Naked they sink to the grass with limbs wound together and mouths locked. Pete rolls and pins Carl’s body with his, insinuating himself between Carl’s open legs. Carl caresses Pete’s face, staring in fascination at the sparkling scarlet contrails left by his fingers.

“Fuck me,” Carl whispers. “Make me yours.”

Carl smiles to hear himself say such things, but he doesn’t take it back. He belongs to the River God now, and he wants the god to claim him.

“I will,” Pete says, and bends to kiss him again.

Carl sighs when Pete’s mouth trails down his throat, his chest, over his belly, swirling a languid tongue over the head of his erect cock before pushing his thighs up and apart and plunging into the cleft of his ass. Pete anoints his anus with hot slippery saliva, and he cries out loud when Pete’s tongue slips through the loosening muscles and inside.

By the time Pete sits up again, Carl is gasping and shaking with need. He drapes his legs over Pete’s shoulders, looking down at Pete’s dripping cock rubbing against his. Pete holds Carl’s hole open with his thumbs and penetrates him in one swift stroke. Carl moans low. He pulls Pete’s face to his, kissing him deeply.

Their bodies molded together sing a joyful harmonic hymn in Carl’s skull, tethered to the rhythm of beating hearts and the slip-slide of Pete’s cock in his ass. Carl tumbles weeping into orgasm just as Pete spills inside him.

Carl’s vision shines incandescent silver as Pete wraps him in strong protective arms, smoothing the tangled hair from his brow and murmuring words of love. Slipping unafraid into peaceful sleep, Carl thinks he hears Pete saying something to him. The words flash neon in the night for a split second and Carl smiles.

* * *

Carl wakes when the sun burns over the treetops, glazing the rippling river with searing light. He is still naked. That, he believes, is fitting. He remembers what Pete the River God told him only a few short hours ago, and the thought makes him smile. He walks to the edge of the river, leaving his clothes behind. He won’t need them.

“I’m yours,” he says to the dark flowing current. “Take me.”

He closes his eyes, squares his shoulders, and leaps into the river. It folds him in a cool fluid embrace, holding him tenderly but firmly when his chest begins to burn and he tries to struggle to the surface in spite of himself.

The River God’s voice comes to him at last as the silty water fills his lungs. Sleep, the loving voice tells him. Sleep in my arms.

And he does.

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	"In The Arms of the River God" is a story I wrote a couple of years ago. It's never been published other than here on my website. I decided to put it here to give everyone a look at the sort of things I used to write. WARNING: this is a bit dark, though not so much as some of my other older stories. ***** It’s July, and the Savannah heat sticks to Carl’s skin like pine sap, even at two in the morning. He stretches out on a bench and smiles blearily at the sky. The blotter acid’s just kicked in, turning the susurration of the leaves into green and purple whorls in the soupy air. Carl haunts this small waterside park most nights. He likes it here, in the quiet hours between midnight and dawn, when the traffic is stilled and the only sounds are the whispers of the trees and the slow syrupy roll of the river. He likes to lie on his favorite bench, get high on whatever he’s managed to score, and think. Revelations come easily to him here, no less profound for their tendency to evaporate in the morning sun. At first he thinks the voice he hears is a hallucination. He hears things a lot when he’s on acid. But then a face appears above him, a hand touches his arm, and he begins to believe someone is really there. "Hello?" he says to the face. "Who are you?" The face smiles at him. "My name is Pete," the face says, each word a bright diamond bubble floating from its mouth into the air. "I am the god of the river." Carl giggles. Pete seems an inadequate name for a river god, and he says so. Pete the River God shrugs. "I'm Carl," Carl says, sitting up and holding out his hand to shake. "I know.” Pete the River God takes Carl's hand in both of his and licks his palm, then sucks his fingers one by one. Carl laughs at the tickly sensation. "I came to you," says Pete, "because I need something from you." "What?" Carl wonders. “Your body,” the River God answers. “Your love.” Pete’s eyes glow soft cerulean, shedding fuzzy lavender sparks that float lazily to the ground. Carl’s heart swells with love and desire, and pride at being the chosen one of a god. “Yes,” he says, and takes the god’s hands. Pete pulls Carl to his feet and kisses him softly on the lips. Carl opens his mouth and lets Pete’s honey sweet tongue in to slide over his. The kiss plays a vague, jangling music in his mind, like wind chimes and flutes. They undress each other, letting the discarded garments fall where they might, trailing lips and fingers over newly bared skin. Naked they sink to the grass with limbs wound together and mouths locked. Pete rolls and pins Carl’s body with his, insinuating himself between Carl’s open legs. Carl caresses Pete’s face, staring in fascination at the sparkling scarlet contrails left by his fingers. “Fuck me,” Carl whispers. “Make me yours.” Carl smiles to hear himself say such things, but he doesn’t take it back. He belongs to the River God now, and he wants the god to claim him. “I will,” Pete says, and bends to kiss him again. Carl sighs when Pete’s mouth trails down his throat, his chest, over his belly, swirling a languid tongue over the head of his erect cock before pushing his thighs up and apart and plunging into the cleft of his ass. Pete anoints his anus with hot slippery saliva, and he cries out loud when Pete’s tongue slips through the loosening muscles and inside. By the time Pete sits up again, Carl is gasping and shaking with need. He drapes his legs over Pete’s shoulders, looking down at Pete’s dripping cock rubbing against his. Pete holds Carl’s hole open with his thumbs and penetrates him in one swift stroke. Carl moans low. He pulls Pete’s face to his, kissing him deeply. Their bodies molded together sing a joyful harmonic hymn in Carl’s skull, tethered to the rhythm of beating hearts and the slip-slide of Pete’s cock in his ass. Carl tumbles weeping into orgasm just as Pete spills inside him. Carl’s vision shines incandescent silver as Pete wraps him in strong protective arms, smoothing the tangled hair from his brow and murmuring words of love. Slipping unafraid into peaceful sleep, Carl thinks he hears Pete saying something to him. The words flash neon in the night for a split second and Carl smiles. * * * Carl wakes when the sun burns over the treetops, glazing the rippling river with searing light. He is still naked. That, he believes, is fitting. He remembers what Pete the River God told him only a few short hours ago, and the thought makes him smile. He walks to the edge of the river, leaving his clothes behind. He won’t need them. “I’m yours,” he says to the dark flowing current. “Take me.” He closes his eyes, squares his shoulders, and leaps into the river. It folds him in a cool fluid embrace, holding him tenderly but firmly when his chest begins to burn and he tries to struggle to the surface in spite of himself. The River God’s voice comes to him at last as the silty water fills his lungs. Sleep, the loving voice tells him. Sleep in my arms. And he does.