Original -- "Galatea"
written for the Slashers Dionysia 2007, under the category of satyr play.
This fic includes an f/f relationship and my usual brand of fast-and-loose mythology (of the Greek kind only this time). You don't like, don't read. You've been warned.
Thanks to triannamaxwell and velvetcherri for the beta.
My original fic is also rated on the Kinsey Scale.
“Stop me if you’ve heard this one before,” Eros bitched, right wing twitching idly.
Galatea | PG-13 // 6 | 1300 words | complete
Abby walked into the studio, early morning light gilding the edges of the piles of stone and completed statues inside. She knew she had work to do - the Stevenson commission was due the end of the week, and she hadn’t even started the last piece - but she couldn’t help but go directly to the back corner where her finest piece stood. She pulled the protective cloth from it and couldn’t help the gasp that always escaped when she first saw it each day. She could see it every day for the rest of her life and her response would be the same.
It was a life-size statue of a woman, nude, reclining on a backless chaise longue, her long hair flowing down her back in waves that looked too soft to be stone. She seemed to be staring off into the distance, her delicate features pensive. She was beautiful, perfect from the crown of her head to the tips of her elegantly-formed toes. She was so real, more like a woman who was just sitting perfectly still than just a piece of stone.
Abby reached out to touch her cheek, surprised as always to find cool marble under her fingertips rather than warm skin. She sighed, closing her eyes. Just once, she wished she could cup the back of that lovely head and feel soft hair under her hand. Just once, she wished she could kiss those bow-shaped lips and have them kiss her back. Just once, she wished that head would turn and look at her, eyes fill with life and love...
“Stop me if you’ve heard this one before,” Eros bitched, right wing twitching idly. He closed the file with an almost audible snap. “Next?”
“No, I like this one,” Aphrodite said, not moving from where she lay in the large bathing pool, cucumber slices on her eyes and a green mud mask on her face, blonde hair piled up on top of her head. “Sounds like worship to me.”
“Not of you,” Eros said, scratching his shoulder through his t-shirt. “Of her own creation. If anything, you should punish her for presuming to make something too beautiful to exist.”
“You always did take after your father when it came to a lust for retribution,” Aphrodite said lightly. Eros snorted at the pun and picked a bit of lint from his jeans, but he didn’t speak, and Aphrodite laughed. She stood, water sheeting off of her body, and the mud mask and cucumbers disappeared with a wave of her hand, hair tumbling down around her in honey waves. Eros rolled his eyes. “I do like this girl, though,” she said, gliding over to lean over Eros’ shoulder and flipping open the file. “She’s refreshingly passionate.”
“Mother, you’re dripping on me!” Eros complained peevishly. “These are True Religion jeans.” Aphrodite laughed again and stepped back into a silk robe that appeared and wrapped itself lovingly around her damp form. “So, you’re going to give her what she wants? She won’t know to thank you.”
“Good sex is thanks enough,” Aphrodite said with a dirty laugh. “Don’t worry your little head about it, I’ll take care of it.” Eros shook his head and put the file into the ‘Request Granted’ box and picked up the next one.
Abby sat back wearily, running a hand through her hair and spreading a liberal coat of stone dust through it. It had taken all day, but the last Stevenson piece was almost complete, and she could leave polishing it for tomorrow. She ran a hand over the still rough stone and stood, wincing as pain flared in her lower back from sitting hunched over for hours. She waited until the sharp pain had faded to a dull ache and then went about cleaning up the workshop, putting away the many chisels, mallets, and rasps she had used while making the rearing horse that now sat on her worktable. She ran the shop vac over the floor to clean up as much of the dust and chips of stone as she could and then went to the back of the shop to clean herself off, turning off lights as she went.
The dusty apron went up on its hook after the pockets had been emptied of the chips of stone, bits of charcoal, scraps of sandpaper, and assortment of small chisels she’d accumulated through the day. The mask, goggles, and abandoned gloves went back into their drawers in the cabinet by the sink. Abby was too tired to try to clean the streaks of dark charcoal and light marble dust from her hands, face, and hair, so she just shut off the light over the sink and went to cover her masterpiece for the night.
Like she did most nights, Abby couldn’t just cover this statue like the others. She caressed the frozen features of the face before cupping the back of the head and leaning in to kiss those cold lips. With her eyes closed, she could almost imagine she was kissing a sleeping lover, rather than a chunk of stone. Abby sighed and pulled away.
Her retreat was stopped by a hand gripping her wrist and Abby’s eyes flew open in surprise. For a moment she thought she’d imagined it, but then the statue’s head turned and Abby realized she was looking at pale skin and light brown hair rather than white marble. The statue sat up on the still-stone chaise, hair cascading down around her in waves. Abby opened her mouth to speak, but the statue pressed a soft finger to her lips and shook her head slightly. Her hand slid back to cup Abby’s head and she leaned down to kiss Abby’s mouth.
Her lips were as soft and as warm as Abby had imagined, and yet infinitely better, and she moaned against the statue’s mouth, her mouth open just enough that the other was able to slide her tongue inside. They kissed until they had to come up for air and then the statue tugged Abby’s captive wrist until they were both laying on the chaise, Abby on her back with the statue above her. The other woman caressed her cheek and then leaned down to kiss her again but Abby stopped her. “What…what happened?”
“Aphrodite heard your prayer and granted your wish,” the statue said simply. Her low musical voice made Abby shiver.
“My what?” Abby asked, incredulous. “I must be dreaming.” They were pressed tightly together, the statue’s bare skin against her rough work clothes, and in the dim light Abby realized the other woman’s eyes were a rich blue.
“You are not,” the statue countered. “Lady Aphrodite found your love to be true and rewarded you. Rewarded us,” she added, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.
“Love?” Abby asked. “Until just now you were just a piece of stone!”
“You made me every so much more than that,” the statue said with a soft smile. “You made me with care and came to love my form for its own merits, not because it was of your creation. And who could not fall in love with such affection?”
Abby stopped the statue as she leaned in to kiss her again. “I don’t even know your name,” she protested. True, this was something she’d dreamed of since she’d completed the original statue, but it was so unreal to finally have it. She was afraid she’d wake up any minute, alone as usual.
“Terra,” she supplied. “I’m not going to disappear, I promise.”
“Dreams always say that,” Abby grumbled, but she cupped Terra’s head in her hands, the trapped tresses softer than she’d imagined. “But if this is a dream, I hope it’ll never end.” She ran one thumb over Terra’s cheekbone and pulled her in for a kiss.
Feedback is better than chocolate.
This fic includes an f/f relationship and my usual brand of fast-and-loose mythology (of the Greek kind only this time). You don't like, don't read. You've been warned.
Thanks to triannamaxwell and velvetcherri for the beta.
My original fic is also rated on the Kinsey Scale.
“Stop me if you’ve heard this one before,” Eros bitched, right wing twitching idly.
Galatea | PG-13 // 6 | 1300 words | complete
Abby walked into the studio, early morning light gilding the edges of the piles of stone and completed statues inside. She knew she had work to do - the Stevenson commission was due the end of the week, and she hadn’t even started the last piece - but she couldn’t help but go directly to the back corner where her finest piece stood. She pulled the protective cloth from it and couldn’t help the gasp that always escaped when she first saw it each day. She could see it every day for the rest of her life and her response would be the same.
It was a life-size statue of a woman, nude, reclining on a backless chaise longue, her long hair flowing down her back in waves that looked too soft to be stone. She seemed to be staring off into the distance, her delicate features pensive. She was beautiful, perfect from the crown of her head to the tips of her elegantly-formed toes. She was so real, more like a woman who was just sitting perfectly still than just a piece of stone.
Abby reached out to touch her cheek, surprised as always to find cool marble under her fingertips rather than warm skin. She sighed, closing her eyes. Just once, she wished she could cup the back of that lovely head and feel soft hair under her hand. Just once, she wished she could kiss those bow-shaped lips and have them kiss her back. Just once, she wished that head would turn and look at her, eyes fill with life and love...
“Stop me if you’ve heard this one before,” Eros bitched, right wing twitching idly. He closed the file with an almost audible snap. “Next?”
“No, I like this one,” Aphrodite said, not moving from where she lay in the large bathing pool, cucumber slices on her eyes and a green mud mask on her face, blonde hair piled up on top of her head. “Sounds like worship to me.”
“Not of you,” Eros said, scratching his shoulder through his t-shirt. “Of her own creation. If anything, you should punish her for presuming to make something too beautiful to exist.”
“You always did take after your father when it came to a lust for retribution,” Aphrodite said lightly. Eros snorted at the pun and picked a bit of lint from his jeans, but he didn’t speak, and Aphrodite laughed. She stood, water sheeting off of her body, and the mud mask and cucumbers disappeared with a wave of her hand, hair tumbling down around her in honey waves. Eros rolled his eyes. “I do like this girl, though,” she said, gliding over to lean over Eros’ shoulder and flipping open the file. “She’s refreshingly passionate.”
“Mother, you’re dripping on me!” Eros complained peevishly. “These are True Religion jeans.” Aphrodite laughed again and stepped back into a silk robe that appeared and wrapped itself lovingly around her damp form. “So, you’re going to give her what she wants? She won’t know to thank you.”
“Good sex is thanks enough,” Aphrodite said with a dirty laugh. “Don’t worry your little head about it, I’ll take care of it.” Eros shook his head and put the file into the ‘Request Granted’ box and picked up the next one.
Abby sat back wearily, running a hand through her hair and spreading a liberal coat of stone dust through it. It had taken all day, but the last Stevenson piece was almost complete, and she could leave polishing it for tomorrow. She ran a hand over the still rough stone and stood, wincing as pain flared in her lower back from sitting hunched over for hours. She waited until the sharp pain had faded to a dull ache and then went about cleaning up the workshop, putting away the many chisels, mallets, and rasps she had used while making the rearing horse that now sat on her worktable. She ran the shop vac over the floor to clean up as much of the dust and chips of stone as she could and then went to the back of the shop to clean herself off, turning off lights as she went.
The dusty apron went up on its hook after the pockets had been emptied of the chips of stone, bits of charcoal, scraps of sandpaper, and assortment of small chisels she’d accumulated through the day. The mask, goggles, and abandoned gloves went back into their drawers in the cabinet by the sink. Abby was too tired to try to clean the streaks of dark charcoal and light marble dust from her hands, face, and hair, so she just shut off the light over the sink and went to cover her masterpiece for the night.
Like she did most nights, Abby couldn’t just cover this statue like the others. She caressed the frozen features of the face before cupping the back of the head and leaning in to kiss those cold lips. With her eyes closed, she could almost imagine she was kissing a sleeping lover, rather than a chunk of stone. Abby sighed and pulled away.
Her retreat was stopped by a hand gripping her wrist and Abby’s eyes flew open in surprise. For a moment she thought she’d imagined it, but then the statue’s head turned and Abby realized she was looking at pale skin and light brown hair rather than white marble. The statue sat up on the still-stone chaise, hair cascading down around her in waves. Abby opened her mouth to speak, but the statue pressed a soft finger to her lips and shook her head slightly. Her hand slid back to cup Abby’s head and she leaned down to kiss Abby’s mouth.
Her lips were as soft and as warm as Abby had imagined, and yet infinitely better, and she moaned against the statue’s mouth, her mouth open just enough that the other was able to slide her tongue inside. They kissed until they had to come up for air and then the statue tugged Abby’s captive wrist until they were both laying on the chaise, Abby on her back with the statue above her. The other woman caressed her cheek and then leaned down to kiss her again but Abby stopped her. “What…what happened?”
“Aphrodite heard your prayer and granted your wish,” the statue said simply. Her low musical voice made Abby shiver.
“My what?” Abby asked, incredulous. “I must be dreaming.” They were pressed tightly together, the statue’s bare skin against her rough work clothes, and in the dim light Abby realized the other woman’s eyes were a rich blue.
“You are not,” the statue countered. “Lady Aphrodite found your love to be true and rewarded you. Rewarded us,” she added, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.
“Love?” Abby asked. “Until just now you were just a piece of stone!”
“You made me every so much more than that,” the statue said with a soft smile. “You made me with care and came to love my form for its own merits, not because it was of your creation. And who could not fall in love with such affection?”
Abby stopped the statue as she leaned in to kiss her again. “I don’t even know your name,” she protested. True, this was something she’d dreamed of since she’d completed the original statue, but it was so unreal to finally have it. She was afraid she’d wake up any minute, alone as usual.
“Terra,” she supplied. “I’m not going to disappear, I promise.”
“Dreams always say that,” Abby grumbled, but she cupped Terra’s head in her hands, the trapped tresses softer than she’d imagined. “But if this is a dream, I hope it’ll never end.” She ran one thumb over Terra’s cheekbone and pulled her in for a kiss.
Feedback is better than chocolate.