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tamingthemuseTitle: Behind Shadows
Fandom: Original
Prompt: Urchin
Warnings: hints of m/m
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Just moving the plot along…
As always, Mata’ka’ala rescued him. When the crowd became too overbearing, Mata’ka’ala made a path through them and pulled him along toward the temple. He shut out the people, leaving just the two of them alone in the cool darkness. Jacky broke away from him and drifted further into the temple, allowing himself to just breath.
The god inside him throbbed and was making it hard to breath. He stumbled and fell to his knees near the altar and stared at the offerings on top. “I’m frightened,” he murmured.
Mata’ka’ala moved close enough that Jacky could feel the warmth of his body at his back. “I’ll protect you,” he said, his voice low in the calm tranquility of the temple.
“I don’t want to be here,” Jacky continued as if Mata’ka’ala hadn’t spoken. There was sweat beading on his brow, and his chest heaved with every breath. His hands shook when he reached out to the bowel of grapes on the altar. “They just plucked me out of my time and brought me here without even asking how I felt about it.” Distantly, he realized he was speaking English, but it didn’t matter. He had a feeling Mata’ka’ala wouldn’t understand his feeling on this subject.
Mata’ka’ala was a proud man, and having the god inside him made him even more so. Jacky wished he could feel the same way. Instead, he felt like a prisoner. Like an object selected by the gods to play their game.
Help these people? Who were they kidding? Shouldn’t they have chosen more wisely? Shouldn’t they have picked someone with the talents to help these people, a man with military genius, or even someone who could be a leader. Instead, it seemed as if they just took the first urchin off the street they came across and stuffed the him into this world. What did Jacky have to offer? The ability to read and speak their language? Fat load of good that was going to do.
He wiped his hand over his eyes and finally found that he could breath. His stomach rumbled and suddenly nothing mattered but the display of food before him. He sat up, closer to the table, and popped those grapes into his mouth. They burst with a splash of flavor and Jacky felt like moaning in pleasure, but he didn’t, for fear that the god inside him would turn that moan into something far more indecent than Jacky’s intent.
Once the small dish of grapes was empty, Jacky peered over his shoulder at Mata’ka’ala. The man was standing stiffly, his head turned toward the dark doorway leading back outside. His hands were fisted at his side and his eyes were glowing an odd shade of red. With his heart pounding in his ears, Jacky stood. He dusted off his knees and slowly walked closer.
“Mata’ka’ala?” he whispered, hesitant. With a jerk, Mata’ka’ala turned toward him and the red in his eyes seemed brighter, more vivid. Jacky flinched back, but the god inside him felt no fear for the wild look. “What is happening to you?”
“Our people are hungry for the sight of us,” he said, his voice much lower than usual. It sent tingles down Jacky’s spine and the lustful god inside him shivered, trying to take control, to make Jacky throw himself at the god king. With will alone, Jacky stood his ground.
“Do we have to go back out to that mob?”
A wicked, sly smile curved Mata’ka’ala’s lips and sent Jacky’s mind straight to the gutter. That mouth was so wide and mobile, Jacky couldn’t help but wonder what tricks the man could do with it.
“No,” he said, striding forward, reaching out for Jacky’s waist, and Jacky couldn’t control his body enough to make it move out of reach. He shivered when the arm slipped around him. “We give them a show.”
Fandom: Original
Prompt: Urchin
Warnings: hints of m/m
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Just moving the plot along…
As always, Mata’ka’ala rescued him. When the crowd became too overbearing, Mata’ka’ala made a path through them and pulled him along toward the temple. He shut out the people, leaving just the two of them alone in the cool darkness. Jacky broke away from him and drifted further into the temple, allowing himself to just breath.
The god inside him throbbed and was making it hard to breath. He stumbled and fell to his knees near the altar and stared at the offerings on top. “I’m frightened,” he murmured.
Mata’ka’ala moved close enough that Jacky could feel the warmth of his body at his back. “I’ll protect you,” he said, his voice low in the calm tranquility of the temple.
“I don’t want to be here,” Jacky continued as if Mata’ka’ala hadn’t spoken. There was sweat beading on his brow, and his chest heaved with every breath. His hands shook when he reached out to the bowel of grapes on the altar. “They just plucked me out of my time and brought me here without even asking how I felt about it.” Distantly, he realized he was speaking English, but it didn’t matter. He had a feeling Mata’ka’ala wouldn’t understand his feeling on this subject.
Mata’ka’ala was a proud man, and having the god inside him made him even more so. Jacky wished he could feel the same way. Instead, he felt like a prisoner. Like an object selected by the gods to play their game.
Help these people? Who were they kidding? Shouldn’t they have chosen more wisely? Shouldn’t they have picked someone with the talents to help these people, a man with military genius, or even someone who could be a leader. Instead, it seemed as if they just took the first urchin off the street they came across and stuffed the him into this world. What did Jacky have to offer? The ability to read and speak their language? Fat load of good that was going to do.
He wiped his hand over his eyes and finally found that he could breath. His stomach rumbled and suddenly nothing mattered but the display of food before him. He sat up, closer to the table, and popped those grapes into his mouth. They burst with a splash of flavor and Jacky felt like moaning in pleasure, but he didn’t, for fear that the god inside him would turn that moan into something far more indecent than Jacky’s intent.
Once the small dish of grapes was empty, Jacky peered over his shoulder at Mata’ka’ala. The man was standing stiffly, his head turned toward the dark doorway leading back outside. His hands were fisted at his side and his eyes were glowing an odd shade of red. With his heart pounding in his ears, Jacky stood. He dusted off his knees and slowly walked closer.
“Mata’ka’ala?” he whispered, hesitant. With a jerk, Mata’ka’ala turned toward him and the red in his eyes seemed brighter, more vivid. Jacky flinched back, but the god inside him felt no fear for the wild look. “What is happening to you?”
“Our people are hungry for the sight of us,” he said, his voice much lower than usual. It sent tingles down Jacky’s spine and the lustful god inside him shivered, trying to take control, to make Jacky throw himself at the god king. With will alone, Jacky stood his ground.
“Do we have to go back out to that mob?”
A wicked, sly smile curved Mata’ka’ala’s lips and sent Jacky’s mind straight to the gutter. That mouth was so wide and mobile, Jacky couldn’t help but wonder what tricks the man could do with it.
“No,” he said, striding forward, reaching out for Jacky’s waist, and Jacky couldn’t control his body enough to make it move out of reach. He shivered when the arm slipped around him. “We give them a show.”
