Chapter Nineteen: Psyche Rediscovered
Gwendolyn
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"As much as I want... *very* much... to stay in bed with you all day," Eros sighed, long fingers still languidly stroking small circles around my right nipple, watching it harden as they ventured closer and closer to its sensitive peak. "I actually came for a reason."
Evangeline had rescinded her control over our body after she had well and truly fucked Eros in all the best ways. I have definitely enjoyed being a voyeur in our mind, watching, and lusting just as much to join in the play. While it was true that I wasn't as much into women as Evvy was (she deeply enjoyed dominating them), and I wasn't the biggest fan of eating pussy like she was... that it was our Eros seemed to make all the difference. It was his body... no, I thought, kicking myself little. *Their* body. Eros had confessed to me that while the bulk of humanity saw the God of Love as a "he", and thus that was how the form they wore most often was shaped, that they were, in fact, born both a man and a woman. Like the Norse trickster god, Loki, who routinely changed gender in the oldest tales, modern incarnations had trapped them in one or another gender, creating a gender dysphoria that was hard to quantify. And because Eros had feared losing Evangeline and especially me... they had embraced that masculine role, because they saw what my other lovers looked like, and assumed that was what I wanted.
It frankly broke my heart.
"I want you to be *you*," I had said softly, tears brimming on my lower lashes. "Not my ideal, not anyone else's. I want you to be only your own ideal."
A look of worry shattered Eros's violet gaze and then their whole expression changed into one of stern resolve. They knelt before me on the bed and took both of my hands, looking almost uncomfortably deep into my eyes with the lavender-blue depths of their own. "Worship me. I have never asked you to, not really. When you have invoked me for spells you do only on a very small scale. You are still allowing others to shape me for you. We don't have that... that *bond*... that a Priestess and her God have."
I am sure my gaze looked stricken. "But Herne..."
"You will always belong to Herne. You'll always be in love with your Sean... and Lucifer. I don't want to replace them. Just, for this moment, close your eyes, touch me, see me in your mind as you know me to truly be and *believe* in me. Love me." Eros brought one of my hands to their soft, gently curved face, wrought with such beauty. Such full, sensuous lips, made for kissing. Made for so many other, far filthier things, as well. Cheekbones models would die for. Golden brows with a perfect, graceful arch. They didn't need make up to look flawless... they simply were. They had looks that made people stare endlessly, such as those borne by David Bowie and Tilda Swinton, just marveling at the beauty, careless of the gender associated with it. Gender was irrelevant; beauty was beauty.
My other hand was lazily coaxed down Eros's flat, well sculpted chest, across small, tight nipples that were rock hard, down a well formed six pack, and finally wrapped around a very hard cock. These parts spoke of their masculine nature, to be certain, and definitely were a glory unto themselves, but they did not define the person in front of me exclusively, as now I understood the hidden wonders of their form, and the heart that beat in that beautiful chest.
Eros winked at me, joy and anticipation alight in those now-familiar Elisabeth Taylor purple eyes as they said again: "Close your eyes, Gwenny. Please." I did as told and felt the soft heat of breath across my cheek and shoulder as Eros leaned close and murmured into my ear softly: "And darling, I'm the motherfucking God of Love... seven inches is insulting. I think we can do better."
I almost barked out a startled laugh of shocked delight and the open my eyes. "Excuse me?" At the stern look on their face, I closed them again.
They started moving my hand over that smooth, well-known member and I couldn't help but think that an Eros with a larger cock would be absolutely irresistible. I mean, they were perfect in my opinion, but if they liked the idea, and wanted such a thing... I had to admit that it made me ache a little to think of that already wonderful cock reaching farther into my body.... stretching me wider....
Eros moaned aloud and rocked their hips against our hands, theirs atop mine and both wrapped around that pulsating arousal and I felt it throb as they thrust harder into our hands.... lengthening... widening... like they had never really been completely hard for me in the past. "Fuck," they murmured, and I couldn't help peeking through my lashes to see their mouth falling open a little as they slowly thrust another time, and another, until I was holding one of the largest cocks I'd ever seen in real life, just over ten inches and easily an inch and a half in diameter. Pre-cum oozed out of the tip, and I *wanted* to worship them, as I did Herne.
And why shouldn't I? Herne had given me permission to invoke Eros, which meant doing this very thing, but... but it usually didn't mean opening my heart and mind the way worship did. Worship meant so much more than just sex.
But I loved Eros. It was impossible not to. They were simply *lovable*. They were patient, thoughtful, kind, forgiving... I had to laugh a little as that cliche wedding Bible verse came to mind: "Love is patient, love is kind..."
But that was so true. In fact, when I thought of deities that embodied true, selfless love, Eros was the first that came to mind. Aphrodite was too self-centered. Hera too jealous. Cupid too weird because of his mixed incarnations, the man and the diapered baby. Despite Brigid being my patron Goddess, she was a distant goddess and as a result, I was not very acquainted with others of her pantheon, nor was I on close terms with the Asgardians, the Loa, or any of the hundreds of tribal love deities that I simply had never crossed paths with or had reason to call on. For me, if "Love" had a face and form... a personification... it was Eros.
How could I deny them?
"Worship me, my Priestess," their voice was husky and low, tightening my insides in response, and I opened my eyes and raised them, taking in the beloved face of my friend, my oldest companion... the first celestial lover I have ever had, when I thought back to the very beginning, when I was a girl. When I had read the story of Eros and Psyche for the first time, I became wet. I had not even really decided to become pagan yet... I just knew I was a shit Catholic and it wasn't for me. It felt wrong. We were learning about Greek myths in school. And I read about the girl Aphrodite had cursed, for others compared her beauty to the goddess's, and how the goddess has sent her child to deal with the girl. Eros ended up in love instead, and tried to keep the girl... I could never remember why but she was forbidden to look on her "husband", Eros, and had betrayed Eros's trust. In some stories they reconciled. In others, she was lost to him forever. Given that I was her reincarnation, I suppose I knew which it was.
Did some part of me know that? Did my innocent touching of my own body for the first time call to Eros because I was a young witch who needed her spells heard? Or was it because, somewhere deep down, part of me belonged with them? Part of me.... missed... them.
I gathered myself up, moved off the bed, ignoring the startled look of my lover as I slid out of the sheets, totally nude and shameless and knelt at Eros's feet, my gaze raised up to their face, letting them see in my eyes and expression how I saw them... the love that I bore them. I ran my fingertips from the tips of their toes, tickling the instep of their foot, up their toned and well formed legs and thighs. Raising myself up, I ran my nails along the well muscled buttocks as I leaned forward to envelop as much of that massive cock as I was able past my lips. I admit, my jaw ached! As I sucked, licked and stroked Eros's enlarged member, I kept my eyes upon their face, our eyes burning into the other's, as one of my hands found that molten center hidden behind the rigid phallus under my lips and tongue. I had the distinct pleasure of seeing Eros roll their eyes back as their breath caught in their chest and I felt that huge organ jerk between my lips spasmodically. I sank my fingers deep into the warm, wet crevasse of the deity to whom I now knelt before, and watched the flickers of passion and joy, pleasure and delighted agony flash across the face of my beloved friend, my lover... my god, for this moment. And I *saw* them, truly, golden-hued and gorgeous. The soft pale wings made them look angelic, as if Eros was closer kin to Lucifer than their own father, Hermes, who was gifted with speed, certainly, but not flight in the traditional sense. That chest which might well have been sculpted by a Renaissance master was beginning to heave a bit as Eros's breathing deepened, becoming small gasps and moans under my ministrations. Their hands delved deep into my red tresses, struggling not to take control of what I was doing, to not tangle in my hair, grip it painfully tight and start fucking my wet lips and hungry mouth. Instead, their fingers just flexed in my hair and they looked down into my eyes, their own lavender depths wild with need.
"I still want you as a man wants a woman," Eros moaned softly, drawing me off of the prize I was greedily licking on and raising me to stand before them, lifting my chin so that we were once more intimately connected by our gaze. "Never doubt that."
"I don't," I said, smiling, leaning forward to kiss the full, soft lips that honestly were my favorite to press my own against. Eros made kissing an artform, naturally, and making out with them was always as sensual as making love with them. Eros didn't mind the leather and chains of kink... they even reveled in the free expression of passion and lust. But where they were most gifted was the sensual dance of the act, the seduction, the helpless succumbing to passion and sensation. Eros was more a being of love and sensuality than pure carnal lust and sexuality... that was one of their brothers, actually.
"You don't need to change for me, either, Gwen," Eros said very gently, their fingers spreading through the crimson waves of hair at my temples, moving through drying ringlets damp from the sweat of earlier activities to the back of my neck. The fingers flexed, pulling, making my body respond instantly, like a cat being caught by its nape. My lips parted and raised to Eros's, wide in surprise. I think, because I had begun thinking of them differently now that I was acknowledging their gender queerness, I was making assumptions that Eros possessing a vagina would suddenly make them more... submissive? How narrow minded, I scolded myself. Knowing who Eros was physically changed absolutely nothing about what I knew about the heart of the God of Love. But I think I assumed that Eros had only played the Dominant man for me.
"Tell me," they said, looking at my expression. "Keep nothing from me, my priestess."
