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The Original Drabble
Jason reared up as his body flooded with lust and his arse ached as he was speared on the impressive ornamental phallus he had been holding in his dusty hands only a few minutes ago. They'd warned him about the temple, but he was an archaeologist, dammit, and the temptation of an unknown Egyptian sex god had been purely academic - until the hieroglyphs on the mummy's gold and ivory penis.
"God in heaven," he panted into the passionate demand.
'Your god is here,' slipped into his mind and he stared up at the handsome face revealed as bandages fell away.
Dark eyes locked Jason to their gaze, his heart skipping a beat as the depth there spoke to every desire he had ever repressed. His chest felt like it would explode with the need that took hold under his god's heated stare, but instead, only the buttons on his shirt echoed the pressure, scattering up and out as strong hands ripped the cloth apart. His shorts had gone the same way only a minute earlier and, bared to his god, Jason writhed against the nails that took full advantage of his naked flesh.
He flexed strongly again and grunted the overload as he was taken fully by the phallus, his muscles echoing every impossible inch in both girth and length. He had dreamed this, he had imagined, but only the gift of power flowing through his body saved his untutored arse and he reached up to its giver, pawing needily at his benefactor's chest.
The mummy wrappings of thousands of years were gone now; desiccation replaced with firm, glistening skin. The perfection of every Egyptian wall painting Jason had ever admired was nothing compared to the elegant, slender physique which had control of his body and his academic discipline withered under that erotic direction.
'Mine,' the possession filled his mind and he knew it was true.
"Yours," he promised, his voice a breathy whisper that quickly crescendoed into a yell when, god or monster, his owner slid out and then thrust back into him.
Jason saw stars and he reached wildly into the air, his fingers gripping reflexively at nothing. Yet, long digits entwined with those lost movements and he clung gratefully to the support. He went willingly when those grasps pushed his hands down either side of his head, lifting himself to wrap his legs around the torso that leant further over him and he smiled wantonly, lips open, breath coming fast, as he recognised approval of his accommodation.
'Blessed of Ages,' his possessor named him and then, giving Jason no time to take it in, he began to move in earnest.
With each thrust, came wave after wave of sex and power combined. Jason had no choice but to surrender to it and threw his head back, keening the passion that he knew like an old lover, but which he had never experienced before. As his body flooded with endorphins, it felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest and a tiny thought at the back of his lust-soaked brain wondered if he was about to die, but the rest of him did not care. Muscles straining, body willing, Jason gave everything he had.
Soon, his strangled gasps could not feed him enough air and Jason's world went silver, but still his god drove them on, beyond lust, out of his body and Dr Jason Granger, academic, archaeologist, sceptic, atheist, felt his soul for the first time as it entwined with the power drowning him with desire. If he was to die, it was to be in ecstasy and his whole being embraced the experience as suddenly, he ascended into white hot pleasure.
Body, soul, mind, all went away in the wiping bliss of what could have been a moment or eternity. Still, it came to an end.
The ascent, however steep it had been, was nothing compared to the descent out the other side of his lust and Jason came tumbling back to earth, his mind in freefall and his stomach lurching with the shock. Yet, that was not the worst of it, the worst was that Jason was so totally alone and his spirits descended as quickly as the sensations in his body. Still, it was the physical that grabbed his attention, because, as Jason slammed back into his body and collapsed flat onto the sarcophogus that had provided the surface on which he had been taken his movement pushed a now abandoned phallus further into his body. That was something that his over-sensitised flesh could not take and he immediately flexed away from the decorated stone. Rolling onto his side, Jason reached desperately round himself, taking hold of the intrusion that threatened to make him pass out. He shuddered helplessly, a long, low groan his only recourse for the horrible mess of loss and pain as he slowly extracted his penetrator, the power gone and his pleasure no more than an echo on his tested muscles.
Eventually empty, Jason flexed his relief rather too strongly for his precarious position. He lurched forward, co-ordination non-existent and he had no hope of stopping himself as he fell off the side of the sarcophogus. It was several feet to the hard stone floor and Jason landed heavily, his whole body jarring. Yet, the pain was far away compared to the power in his memory and, all his energy used up, Jason closed his eyes and gave in to isolated oblivion.
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