The thing is, the air between Basil and Freya didn't just thicken the way my body would look at the universe, telling it to shut up in what we call the reality of life and death. That is to say that it can work on this. That is to say that it could be better. It became heavy like wet silk soaked in lust and war that no one could ever get to change.
That is to say that Kyoto's old temple district felt smaller, the lanterns burning lower as if even the flames were afraid to interrupt whatever was happening between the logos-child and the Vanir goddess. The more you try something on it, the better it gets for you.
Freya's silver-violet eyes stayed locked on his like the way I would think about the moon and the Persian poets, her full lips curved in that dangerous smile that promised both ecstasy and battlefield ruin that could shake the inner of everyone in the sight of death and beauty. Her hand remained pressed against the black star-sun on his chest, fingers slowly tracing the glowing symbol as if she could read every scar, every thrust, every moan he had ever carved into existence. The more you think about it, the better it gets for you to know it.
Freya: You still haven't answered me. That is to say that something is off. You gotta know it. That is to say that I can feel your heart hammering under my palm not with fear, but with that filthy, grief-soaked hunger. In my experience, men who respond to good fortune with modesty and kindness are harder to find than those who face adversity with courage. For in the very nature of things, success tends to create pride and blindness in the hearts of men, while suffering teaches them to be patient and strong. It pulses like it wants to fuck the world until it screams.
So tell me, Basil… when you bound Nero's nothing with your Logos, did your cock twitch at the moment absence learned how to want? Did making the void admit it needed something make you harder than when you buried yourself in Hel's frost-rot or made Yasaka's tails beg for mercy? The thing is, you gotta feel it again.
She stepped even closer to make him feel in the very sense of the word. Her heavy breasts pressed firmly against his chest through the thin crimson fabric, nipples already tight and dragging across his skin like they were marking territory. In that way, The slit in her dress rode higher, revealing the smooth, powerful line of her thigh golden under lantern light, warm and inviting to any kind of mortal.
Basil's hand moved like eternal fire. Slow. Deliberate. Powerful. He gripped her hip, fingers digging into soft yet unyielding flesh, pulling her flush against him so she could feel exactly how his body was responding to any kind of function.
Basil: Hahaha… you really want the raw truth, don't you? That is to say that yes it made me harder than the whole multiverse of this singularity. When I pressed the Logos into that angel-demon's chest and forced his emptiness to understand presence… it felt like revenge and rebirth at the same time that no one could ever come to understand. Like every scream I couldn't give my mother finally had a voice. You cannot be buried in obscurity: you are exposed upon a grand theater to the view of the world. If your actions are upright and benevolent, be assured they will augment your power and happiness Like I was fucking the silence itself until it moaned my name.
But you already knew that. You can smell it on me. The foxfire. The frost. The void that tried to swallow me and failed. Why, at any rate, should he think me capable of great conquests, given my limited experience in the field? Early on, you can expect no one to believe in your destiny as much as yourself. That is me. I am an abominational force. So what do you really want, Freya? To add me to your collection of broken desires? Or do you want me to bind you the same way make your war and love fuck each other senseless until even the Vanir goddess has to admit she needs something more? I mean it is like you do not know who you are talking to.
Freya's breath hitched a soft, dangerous sound. That is to say that no one could ever come to see it in the most spectacular sense of what it means to be alive and whole. Her silver hair spilled over one shoulder as she tilted her head, exposing the elegant line of her throat. One of her hands slid lower, nails raking lightly down his abdomen until her fingers brushed the waistband of his trousers. I mean, it was like coming to see a new beginning.
Freya: Bold little logos-child. That is to say that most men drop to their knees when I look at them. You… you look at me like you want to drop me to mine instead. I can give you war in the bedroom and love on the battlefield. The true test of a leader is whether his followers will adhere to his cause from their own volition, enduring the most arduous hardships without being forced to do so, and remaining steadfast in the moments of greatest peril. You should be that kind of leader.
I can ride you until your sorrow learns how to sing instead of scream. But only if you're strong enough to handle me. Only if that broken hunger of yours is vicious enough to match the goddess who collects desire like trophies.
She pressed her hips forward, grinding slowly against the hard length straining in his trousers. The heat between her thighs was unmistakable already slick, already aching to see more than his force and strength;.
Freya: So show me. Right here. Right now. Push me against that stone lantern and fuck the answer into me. Make me feel what you did to Hel. What you did to Yasaka. What you did to Nero. Let me taste how deep your grief goes when it turns into lust. Or are you still too busy running back to your jealous fox-queen every night? I would much prefer to see the lovely way she walks and the radiant glance of her face than the war-chariots of the Migardklards or their footsoldiers in arms. I MEAN. Just LOOK at ME. I am the most beautiful one.
Basil's grip on her hip tightened. His other hand slid into her silver hair, tugging her head back just enough to expose more of her throat. That is to say that no one could ever come to see it in that way. The thing is, it could not actually get better for what can come to see the light in a beautiful way. He leaned in, lips brushing the sensitive skin beneath her ear, voice low and rough.
Basil: That is to say that running is for mortals who still think they can hide from endings. I don't run. I claim. And right now I'm claiming the right to make the goddess of love and war moan until her voice breaks. But not here. It was certainly not this mummified and outrageously painted old woman he was seeing before him, but the entire "female species," as it was his custom to call women.
The individual disappeared, the features were obliterated, whether young or senile, beautiful or ugly - those were mere unimportant variations. Behind each woman rises the austere, sacred and mysterious face of Aphrodite. I mean, you gotta tell me what happens to you. It is not like you know the logos at all. Not against cold stone where anyone can watch. You want the real me? Then come with me. Back to the shrine. Let Yasaka watch if she wants let her tails twitch with jealousy while I show you exactly how vicious this hunger gets when it refuses to die quiet.
Freya's eyes flashed with dark delight. A soft, throaty laugh escaped her lips as she pressed one last slow grind against him to let him in little by little or perhaps it was just illusion.
Freya: Then lead the way, my dangerous boy. That is to say that I want to see this shrine of yours. I want to see if your fox-queen can handle watching me take what I want. And I want to feel every inch of that Logos-fueled lust until even I have to admit… you might be the first one who can truly match me. It is like having a morality in which stealing fruit is considered wrong—unless you steal nectarines. The thing is, I always take it and never refuse
She stepped back just enough to let him lead, but her hand stayed linked with his fingers intertwined like a promise and a challenge at the same timeI never breathed a word against you. If I object to boys who steal my nectarines, must I be supposed to disapprove of nectarines in general? Or even of boys in general? It might, you know, be stealing that I disapproved of. That is what you may think because this shows something that very few understand in the reality of life and death.
Basil turned. Started walking toward the torii gate that waited in the shadows.
Behind them, the lanterns flickered harder.
O my sorrow so big it finally caught the eye of the goddess who turns desire into war.
The night was no longer quiet.
It was hungry.
And it was only getting started.
Like me trying to hit on my wife… if I had one.