(no subject)
on the fourth day, dionysus did not return home.
he had three days remaining with sebastian--three days he wanted to spend with sebastian, not sitting at home thinking about him.
so he didn't tell eros, or anteros, or even hypnos where he was going--lethe could only watch him, puzzled, as he told her 'i'll be gone for a few days, mother.' one of dionysus' weird quirks--leaving and wandering for days. a leftover from back when he had his merry band of followers.
he still misses his satyroi (though he hadn't wandered in years, so its cause was a bit worrying, and the love gods were suspicious).
when he reached sebastian's apartment--his arrival was unplanned even for the saint--he could only smile sheepishly and say, 'i don't feel like wasting any time,' to which sebastian laughed and tugged him inside.
sebastian laughed a lot. dionysus had noticed this the more he'd visited with him, and told him about it while they were--predictably--sitting on the couch, too close together.
too close together, and dionysus didn't mind this time.
"why shouldn't i laugh, darling?" asked the saint, batting his eyelashes and leaning against the wine god rather playfully. "i've got everything i could ever want, haven't i?"
except for the fact you're leaving, thinks dionysus, but instead he grins and pops a grape in his mouth.
there are grapes in his hair, grapes on the table--perfect plump purple grapes, fresh from the vine and absolutely divine, says sebastian, stealing one from dionysus' long red-brown tresses.
the wine god turns and looks at him seriously, saying, 'of course.' they couldn't be anything other than perfect! from his godly stock, only the best vines and grapes begat from them belonged to bacchus, as sebastian tended to call him. dionysus had always been a mite fond of the romans. even if he'd contributed to the sacking of the city. oops!
the television's volume is turned down low, nearly muted, and the two beings are just talking--about anything, whatever comes to mind; be it grapes, or heaven, or theology, even those bloody cellphone commercials.
this goes on for hours, until sebastian says he's tired.
says he's tired, and gives dionysus another kiss on his cheek--except this time dionysus turns his head and catches it, so he tastes sticky strawberry sweetness, and this leads to strings of kisses, kisses tasting of wine (though none had been drank) and lipgloss.
which led to sebastian nearly tugging dionysus into his bed by his long hair, pressing against him impatiently.
dionysus shushed him and went to work pressing his lovely, practiced god-kisses everywhere his mouth would go, until sebastian shoved him off and rolled over on the bed to pin him, grinding their hips together pointedly--which unsettled the wine god enough for sebastian to laugh, dark and low against dionysus' collarbone before moving down, and down--
it went on like this for what was a very pleasurable forever, until they collapsed, one on the other.
in the morningtime, when dionysus woke sebastian with well-placed kisses on the circular scars from his arrows, he realised he probably should regret this, but he was far, far too happy to do so.
even when sebastian frowned and held up three fingers.
three to go.
he had three days remaining with sebastian--three days he wanted to spend with sebastian, not sitting at home thinking about him.
so he didn't tell eros, or anteros, or even hypnos where he was going--lethe could only watch him, puzzled, as he told her 'i'll be gone for a few days, mother.' one of dionysus' weird quirks--leaving and wandering for days. a leftover from back when he had his merry band of followers.
he still misses his satyroi (though he hadn't wandered in years, so its cause was a bit worrying, and the love gods were suspicious).
when he reached sebastian's apartment--his arrival was unplanned even for the saint--he could only smile sheepishly and say, 'i don't feel like wasting any time,' to which sebastian laughed and tugged him inside.
sebastian laughed a lot. dionysus had noticed this the more he'd visited with him, and told him about it while they were--predictably--sitting on the couch, too close together.
too close together, and dionysus didn't mind this time.
"why shouldn't i laugh, darling?" asked the saint, batting his eyelashes and leaning against the wine god rather playfully. "i've got everything i could ever want, haven't i?"
except for the fact you're leaving, thinks dionysus, but instead he grins and pops a grape in his mouth.
there are grapes in his hair, grapes on the table--perfect plump purple grapes, fresh from the vine and absolutely divine, says sebastian, stealing one from dionysus' long red-brown tresses.
the wine god turns and looks at him seriously, saying, 'of course.' they couldn't be anything other than perfect! from his godly stock, only the best vines and grapes begat from them belonged to bacchus, as sebastian tended to call him. dionysus had always been a mite fond of the romans. even if he'd contributed to the sacking of the city. oops!
the television's volume is turned down low, nearly muted, and the two beings are just talking--about anything, whatever comes to mind; be it grapes, or heaven, or theology, even those bloody cellphone commercials.
this goes on for hours, until sebastian says he's tired.
says he's tired, and gives dionysus another kiss on his cheek--except this time dionysus turns his head and catches it, so he tastes sticky strawberry sweetness, and this leads to strings of kisses, kisses tasting of wine (though none had been drank) and lipgloss.
which led to sebastian nearly tugging dionysus into his bed by his long hair, pressing against him impatiently.
dionysus shushed him and went to work pressing his lovely, practiced god-kisses everywhere his mouth would go, until sebastian shoved him off and rolled over on the bed to pin him, grinding their hips together pointedly--which unsettled the wine god enough for sebastian to laugh, dark and low against dionysus' collarbone before moving down, and down--
it went on like this for what was a very pleasurable forever, until they collapsed, one on the other.
in the morningtime, when dionysus woke sebastian with well-placed kisses on the circular scars from his arrows, he realised he probably should regret this, but he was far, far too happy to do so.
even when sebastian frowned and held up three fingers.
three to go.