It isn't often that he will leave the depths of the underworld to walk on human soil. He's found himself in a congested forest, trees tall and plenty. From his home he could hear the old wives' tales about how dangerous it is, how people who go in there never come out. But he is a god, and he didn't believe in old wives' tales. Humans knew who they should fear more: him, the inevitable time where he gets to cart them off to their personal oblivion.
Grass dies under his feet as he walks through the enchanting forest. The further he walks in, the more tree trunks seem to curl in on themselves, forming an arching path. Light is beaming through the informal structure and his eyes sting for a moment. Tightly, he closes them to soothe the ache, and once his eyes open again he has a laser-like focus.
Flowers begin to pepper the area as he's approaching; he can see that he is heading somewhere different. The grass is slowly overtaken by a sea of colorful flowers, and he stands in the beauty, with his black clothes and white hair; a scarecrow in a field. Wilted petals surround his toes, he sees a flower half crushed beneath the sole of his boot.
A faint hum reaches his pointed ears and he is alarmed. The sound is soft and whimsical and he is surprised he feels drawn to it. He can barely hear the noise but it causes a vibrating warmth in his chest that causes him to blindly follow the melody. It grows louder and louder, he is inordinately pleased to get closer to that hypnotic melody. He gets close enough to finally decipher that it is a lone woman, not a band or instrument, just her own vocal chords creating a bell-like harmony that is ensnaring him so.
A woman.
He's brushed off many courtesans, outright refused proposals, and given harsh glares to nymphs who attempt to seduce him. But this woman's voice has managed to pull him towards her, and she is completely unaware.
He should stay away from her.
Burning curiosity gets the better of him. He has lacked the euphoria of childlike wonder for so long that he is swept away by it all, and he is walking at a faster pace. A figure finally appears in front of him, and it's just her back: long hair like his, but pure black. She wears a peasant's attire and sits dead center of the meadow.
She's looking up at the sky and singing.
He takes another step and she turns to look at her intruder.
"Oh, hello!"
Anchored in place and mesmerized by her face, he merely stared. The gauzy fabric she wears is bunched along her bare shoulders, and he finds himself licking his lips.
"Do you want to sit down with me?"
"Mm."
And he does. His clawed fingers lace through the flowers as he sets his palm down on the ground. They dry out instantly, turning a muddy brown and crunch.
"I see," she whispers and looks up at him. Their faces are much closer now, and he can smell just her, not the musk of a million flowers under his nose. Her eyes are sharp and playful looking, tilting upward, her mouth puckers on its own and her nose slopes into a charming upturn, much like the rest of her features. She covers her hand with his.
"Me too."
Looking down at their hands, he watches the remains of nature regain its color. The flowers he withered with his morbid touch are alive and fragrant again, petals splayed out on his fingers.
He can hardly speak now, utterly beguiled by her aura and wishing to be closer. He remembers berating his obsessed siblings, those who tattoo love on their very soul all for the sake of another person who can disappoint them. He thought he didn't have that soul, he assumed he was immune, meant to be a subject of ire and grief and that alone. But here this woman is.
His head dips down towards her, she is petite and he can tower beside her. Her breath flutters on his lips and her face comes a centimeter closer.
He just met this woman. He should handle this meeting with care.
He doesn't really know what he's doing.
She invades the space on her own, touching his lips with hers without warning. He's the one who jumps, looking at her with a startled expression. He suppresses how unbecoming it is for the lord of the underworld to be so squeamish.
Something inside him cracks, like fine porcelain.
"I'm sorry, I..." she stutters and curls her body away from him to look at the flowers to the right of her. His gaze follows, and he sees that she's been collecting them into a bouquet.
"I couldn't help myself. I wanted to. I don't even know you yet and I'm over here kissing you!" She hasn't turned back to him and he is becoming restless without looking at her. All he sees is her hair folded behind her ear, the expanse of her neck, an inviting earlobe...
He leans down and kisses her bare shoulder. "It's okay."
She shoots around and his face is suddenly met with her collarbone, which he kisses as well. She tastes heavenly, though he knows heaven doesn't exist, but if it did... it would be her. She seems to put blood in his veins, gives him a heart to pump quickly at each one of her hesitant ministrations, the tickle of the tips of her fingers making him dizzy.
"Oh..." She moans, putting her small hands on the crown of his head. "I guess you feel this way too."
His tongue comes out to lick the dip where her neck is and she pulls him closer.
"I've never done this before," she says quickly.
His head comes up to meet her gaze. He soaks in her entire visage, from her delicate hairline to her toes curled in the grass.
"Neither have I."
She smiles so brightly he almost feels the same sting the sun gave him earlier, but this time the beam is penetrating him deeper. He leans forward to claim her lips again and she obliges with newfound energy, the shame of inexperience leaving her as both of them lay themselves bare for one another.
As her tongue opens up his mouth, he feels light bloom within him like it never has before. Sunlight has found its way inside of him, the crack she created in him moments before becoming a fissure, then a void, one that fit her perfectly. In desperation he lifts her into his lap and she giggles melodiously. He can feel their mere energies fighting one another, his inclination to destroy being overgrown by her immense power of life. Her laugh elicits one of his own, a deep and bellowy chuckle he's never heard before.
Their energies are cycling together in such a pleasant thrum that they effortlessly find themselves face to face, him watching her from above. She's framed by all of the flowers peeking around her thick hair, flowers she brought to life. Pollen and perfume floats to his nostrils and he is overcome with hunger, with an insatiable love that couldn't be contained in just one roll in nature's garden.
Her garden.
Down he goes, enveloping her mouth in a searing kiss that smears her joyful cry between them. She's clutching his garments, pulling apart the cloak that hides him from her. It snaps open with a satisfying pop, flung over and out of sight. His clothes were as loose as hers, they could get as close as they wanted, their garments feeling like mere blankets between their bodies.
She's hiking her legs up over his hips and grinds over his erection. Between her thighs is a warm oasis he desperately wants to explore, though he doesn't know how he will first. She's started to shiver against him slightly, hips bucking tentatively against his hardness, which he begins to reciprocate with fervor. Mewling, she begins to kick up her gown, rucking the fabric into an accordion bunch around the top of her hips.
Looking down at her pussy is a divine gift, and maybe there's a heaven, maybe they've been keeping it from him all this time. He may not be allowed to know. But it's here in front of him, as it should be, in the most beautiful presentations he could have conjured in his own mind. The thatch of hair between her thighs frames her pink slit perfectly. His clawed hand moves over to stroke the seam, a sticky string of wetness clinging to his finger once he pulls away.
"B-by myself, I have...but—"
"Me too." Their combined naivety strokes the flame that's started to roar inside of him. It wasn't the cold blue flames of the hellscape he inhabits, but a warm, fiery red, a vignette of the warm heat of her mouth on his.
"Have I been waiting for you?" She gasps out.
He leans down and strokes two steady fingers down the crux of her thighs and she trills in reply. Capturing her lips in a kiss, he tells her the truth, or at least, what is true to him.
"I've been waiting for you."
They are lost in each other's eyes for a moment, the pregnant silence feeling like seconds.
"Come here, then." She smiles softly and wraps around him. Their next moves happen seamlessly, his throbbing dick slicking against her wetness. He didn't think it would feel so overwhelming, so inviting. He rubbed himself against her, the head nudging her clitoris and taking a few shuddered breaths out of her.
"Mmm...I didn't know this could be so good." Her legs bow open further, hips canting downwards and brushing him closer to her entrance. "Ah!"
He can't take it anymore, he wishes to give her what she's given him, a gaping hole that only he'll be able to fill. He wishes to put a knot in the string that seems to have them tied together, as many as he can, just to forge the bond tighter so that it may never break. Brushing his member up and down her wetness, he strokes her juices along his length and bites the edge of his lip in anticipation.
Then he's pushing in, the walls of her pussy sucking him inward while she squeaks at the intrusion. He knows he should go slow, as he isn't a complete horny idiot like his other siblings, but suddenly he's empathizing with their recklessness. A pliant, gorgeous woman is panting beneath him, lips glossy and swollen from their shared indecency. There's a tight pussy hugging him and removing nearly every last rational thought he could have.
All there is the irrational need to possess her completely. He leans over and pushes in with small thrusts, inch by inch. She's whining then, gasping for air and pushing her hips upward to ease his cock in deeper.
"You need more?"
"I need it all," she gasps, "Can't you see?"
He thrusts in all at once and she shrieks with a mix of painful delight, tears streaking down her cheeks and creating more blooms beneath her once they touch the soil.
"You're beautiful," he says reverently, quietly. She repeats it after he says it, hand coming up to trail down his neck and pull on the loose fabric of his clothes to reveal a sculpted chest.
"Oh gods," she wails, "Yes, please—"
The slow canting of his hips becomes swift and punishing, their bodies slapping together with a blunt thud. He's fully seated inside her, a tremendous feat for such a small girl, but her glittering eyes and the sluicing of their combined fluids tells him not to worry. Her hips twirl slightly under him, and he's almost blinded by it, in love with the way her pussy grips his cock and how she doesn't stop talking, even if he doesn't say anything in return.
She says the filthiest things with such captivating flowers circling her head. He realizes they really are knotting together just like he hoped, the time they've spent with each other becoming a permanent imprint on his psyche. He needed her with him, he needed the gifts she has, her zest for life, her gorgeous pussy.
"Come with me, girl," he groans with his face in her throat and she hums. Their sweat mingles together on his forehead, causing him to slip down her nape slightly and smell the wildflowers underneath her hair. "Come live with me."
"Anything you want," she groans, her thighs locking around his hips and pushing him in all the way. "I don't think I can go on without you anymore."
He rears upward and looks her in the eye from above, brutal and fast thrusts making all of her assets jiggle and jump while she moans, the meadow's landscape rustling under the force of their carnal desires. It was music in his ears, a perfectly conducted harmony created by her cries and the steady rhythm of their coupling.
He's more lightheaded as the time goes on, feeling his spirit nearly exit his body when he finishes inside of her, which her pussy milks hungrily; hers to claim. She jerks in his embrace, holding tightly to his shoulders while she rides off her own precipice.
Somewhere around this world, it is aptly called a little death.
"Mmf." He struggles out a forceful exhale through his nostrils. He's never spent, never tired, never satisfied. But she's found a way to pull him all the way down to earth with a trail of lacy florets that led straight to her. Everything in him has been absorbed by her in that instant, a permanent link forming between them.
"You're beautiful," she repeats softly, hand coming to rest between their bodies, over where they've joined. "This is beautiful."
He knows he will never let her go now, even if she attempts to leave. Based on her hazy expression and her half-closed eyelids, he'd safely assume she's not planning to depart yet. Her body spasms around him, a pleasant vibration to feel while his spent cock soaks inside of her.
"I've never felt so alive," she says wondrously. "I think we've opened up a can of worms here."
"Pandora's box," he hedges.
"Or that," she giggles in return.
The two of them finally choose to untangle after spending an indiscernible amount of time basking in their afterglow. She marvels at the depths of the underworld with piqued curiosity instead of unbridled fear. Beneath her feet, grass manages to grow under every one of her steps.
He's warm, for once.