The Englishman and the god

The restless sea subsided after a storm had shaken the heavens. The green cliffs tumbled into the cerulean deep blue sea. The gulls sang a somber song, soaring and swooping along the beach. The body of a man lay out on the serf. Salty water washed over his pant legs as he laid flat on his stomach. His fingertips clawed at the wet sand, trying to shift into a sitting position. Nathaniel Porter, a tradesman for the Royal Army had embarked on a mission for her majesty to deliver the rarest of gold and silver vessels from the islands off of Greece.

A storm had struck pushing them off course, a strike of lightening had set the mast and sails on fire and there by sinking the ship. Now the only survivor looked disoriented, his senses mingled with fear. A man of five and twenty years he was the most sought out in the Queen’s court. Twice married and twice widowed with no children he felt he was cursed to be alone. In the gray half-light before dawn, the cold had crept into his soaked clothing, chilling him to the bone.

Forcing himself to his feet he stumbled like a child first learning to walk. The taste of salt clung to his lips as he exhaled a deep breath trying to reawaken his system. He was a medium height, slender with beautifully shaped arms, hands, and legs. Having inherited his Spanish grandmother’s color, he had glorious long raven hair, and sky-blue eyes. He was clean shaven with a shadow skittering across his face. After awakening on the shore his fair skin was now worn and pale. His handsome face with its long, straight nose and full lips were contorted as he huffed well walking toward the rippling jungle that connected with the beach where he landed. The leaves and brambles smacked against his face and cheek as he stumbled half blind through the brush.

A tinkling of water filled his ears as he came to a clearing. His eyes widened, finding himself inside a beautiful garden before a large white marble temple. Large, flourishing flowers of orange, reds, and blues overwhelmed his senses. Running his fingertips along his lips and chin he tried to come to terms with what was before him. Then for the first time Nathaniel’s blue eyes fell upon a man sitting upon a silver and gold throne. The man was not unlike the sanctuary itself in its breathtaking beauty. Even he could do nothing, but stare at the solitary being. This man’s skin was bronze, more golden then dark. Dressed in a simple white tunic, his almost bare chest gleaming in the sunlight.

"Welcome to my garden, lost one" The man declared, his voice a soft tenor passing through the warm air like a note of music.
"Who are you? Where am I?" Nathaniel demanded his voice weak and cracking very slightly. The majestic figure merely smiled at the distraught man before him, eyes flickering playfully and almost childlike.

"You are in my gardened. I whole heartedly welcome you. It has been quite some time that I have had a visitor." The man stated them continued on in his low lyrical voice. "I am Bacchus, god of wine and merriment" he introduced in grandly. In the logical world that Nathanial came from such illogical things were not possible. In his monotheist world where the Church of England had power in its iron fist, such day dreams were myth or heresy.

"So you’re claiming to be a god?" The question hung in the air and seemed to be a part of the whispering winds after it came forth from the tradesman’s mouth. Bacchus stood there not taking his eyes off the chilled man. With an unspoken cue a young boy with white blonde hair materialized from the shadows, a pitcher of wine in his hand. The boy was stepping carefully trying not to spill the contents of the vessel. The heady wine was poured causing a new scent to mingle in the already fragrant air. After the refreshment was poured the young boy scampered off to where he had materialized.

"Drink! It will put warmth in your stomach and relax your body" Bacchus said holding the cup for Nathaniel to drink from. The Englishman quickly drained it in tough rough mouthfuls. The earthly being seemed pleased by this and finally raised him from the stone throne and with slow graceful steps he approached the other man like a panther stalking its prey.

Nathaniel felt cautious by nature but mulled by the wine and dizzy from otherworldliness he could barely ignore the pulse in his Adam’s apple. He stood shaking in his wet clothing as the god of wine approached him and stopped mere inches from him.

"You must get out of those wet clothing. I fear you might catch ill" Bacchus murmured, his breath warm against the Englishman’s lips. The deity raised his hands, putting his palms together in front of him looking at Nathaniel with a wicked twinkle in his deep green eyes. The sandy colored specter spread his hands again and a fluttering sound came forth. Nathaniel could scarcely breathe as his clothing fluttered to the ground. The slightest breeze caressed his bare flesh causing goose bumps to rise on his skin, but the situation in a whole heightened his senses. Bacchus walked forward closing the gap between them.

"Do not fear me. You will not be harmed. I will open your eyes and your flesh to a new horizon" he murmured softly, hot breath against the Englishman’s moist lips. The god of wine traced his fingertips along the other man’s cheekbone. Nathanial found himself trembling in the wake of this natural being. The kiss was blazing hot as Bacchus lowered his head, claiming Nathaniel’s lips as his own. The soaked and stunned Englishman stood still captured in the touch and musky scent, his mouth being invaded, tongue being tasted and lowers lip being nibbled on. Nathaniel let out an audible groan of surprise as his body relaxed and surrendered.

The god of wine wrapped his arms around the other man and led the other man to a bed of sweet smelling green grass and lay with him. Nathaniel found himself grimacing as the blades of grass tickled his back and thighs. He looked up at the sun kissed god as soft lips rolled down his sea soaked chest awakening the muscles in his stomach. His thighs twitched as fingertips caressed his swelling cock as the god leaned forward, drawing close and running his clever tongue along not the cock, but the scrotum. He licked underneath, pushing the balls with his tongue pushing the balls with his tongue. Nathaniel gave a soft sigh and groaned again, reverberating from the base of his throat.

"Please" the tradesman whispered, voice coming in short gasping breaths. Bacchus heard what he had been waiting for and opened his mouth, pushing himself down, against the roof of his mouth. He sucked it in long powerful strokes, running his tongue along the length his teeth scraping lightly. The god of wine felt the tension in the other man’s thighs and drew him into a kneeling position. He continued to push the other man’s aching and swollen cock into his mouth, taking him in slowly then pulling back. Nathaniel’s head was swimming with desire being driven to the pinnacle of passion.

Before the desire could be driven to the pinnacle and satisfied the god drew back leaving the mortal man gasping for breath. Bacchus sat down in the grass and drew Nathaniel into his lap causing his cock to bob. He groped the cock gently, sliding his fingertips along the tip collecting the small droplets coming forth. It was smeared along the Englishman’s anus before the god went into him slowly yet deeply. Nathaniel chocked back a groan as the god went deeper through the ring of tight muscle before going deeper. Trailing hot kisses along Nathaniel’s back and shoulders he plunged forward and out again.

They were both breathing faster and faster, eyes closed and sweat mingling together. It was Nathaniel who came first with a loud outcry of culmination, his seed drenching down his own thigh and scrotum. Bacchus continued to drive on and own and slid his hands along Nathaniel’s thighs till he too found his climax. The orgasm felt experienced by both obliterated and overpowered them both. Nathaniel felt a great calm wash over him as the god’s seed emptied into him. After the tremor had passed they laid together in the warm embracing grass. The sun danced along their sweat glistening bodies as they lay intoxicated by sensation.

To the Englishman’s shock and bemusement he realized how at peace he felt in the true and unbridled freedom of the other man’s arms. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever imagined himself with another man. It almost terrified him that he had given in so easily to the handsome god. All of his preoccupation and childlike terror melted away though when he realized the other man was smiling at him. Nathaniel raised his head a little and found himself smiling.

"I have been waiting for you for a long time, my dark handsome prince from the North" Bacchus murmured and pulled him into another deep Earth shattering kiss. "And here you will stay" he continued after breaking the kiss. Suddenly Nathaniel felt overcome with the need to slumber. Shutting his eyes he laid his head down and drifted off into a sleep, dreaming dreams that would make reality fanciful.