One could not technically call it meditation, given her attentiveness to the muffled noises floating out of the innermost shrine. Cinna sat cross-legged outside the curtains and the door to the sacred space, assuming the posture and serenity of a meditative effort. She remained in place for hours. At a glance, no one would have suspected otherwise, and in fact she felt calm and peaceful. She also felt pleased, and more than a little aroused.
The moans and whimpers of the high priestess were music to her ears. Ariella had a way of reducing all of her partners to helpless wrecks. Cinna thought—lovingly—that it was about time her mentor had a taste of her own medicine.
The acolyte hoped she might experience such a treatment, too.
Footsteps approaching from the other side of the main chamber pulled her from her reverie. Cinna's head lifted, just barely, to greet Zenobia as the other acolyte's sandaled feet brought her to a halt before her. The younger acolyte had not run, but a sense of urgency was plain in the pretty brunette's expression. "Prince Alaric is at the entrance," she announced softly.
"He is not to enter," said Cinna.
"He understands," nodded Zenobia. "The prince did not come alone. There are a pair of Companions with him, and one and two of the royal servants."
"Then we can expect some semblance of diplomacy from him this time," Cinna frowned as she rose. "Your hood, Zenobia," she reminded gently.
Zenobia blinked and then blushed, tugging the hood of her robes further down her forehead to cover the eyes. Strictly speaking, the hoods were not entirely necessary or required, but they offered a measure of distance between the acolytes and the laypeople of the city. An acolyte could pursue lovers all she wanted in her free time, but Zenobia's duties of the day made her a face of the temple and the goddess, and not her own personal interests.
The matter did not lead to further reproach. Among the comforts and rewards of service to the goddess was an almost palpable affection shared by those who lived and served in the temples. Romance, intimacy and passion rose and fell like the tides within Aphrodite's temples. Even at their lowest ebb that context of frequent intimacy colored all matters between them. The only limit seemed to be that of the individual priest or acolyte's natural attractions... though when it came to her acolytes and priesthood, the goddess seemed to generally select those attracted to both sexes.
The younger acolyte walked beside Cinna, though deliberately falling a step behind. "No one has ever told me of the prince's offenses," she said quietly. "I know that he is unwanted here, and that he has laid insult, but not the details."
"Alaric suffers from common delusions and failings of ego," Cinna explained in flat, matter-of-fact tones. She walked with purpose, but did not hurry. "That we have not told you of his 'highness' should tell you how much thought and attention he deserves. Suffice it to say that he takes us all for whores—and he thinks whores are beneath him. Neither of these opinions endear him to the goddess or her servants.
"He has petitioned the temple more than once, seeking to experience the sacred rites and to learn the arts, always offering some flimsy reasoning for his requests. Each time, we have found him without a shred of humility or honesty or piety. He seeks only a night's pleasure, and thinks his royal blood and wealth should earn him special consideration. Naturally, he has grown frustrated, and has difficulty keeping his resentment in check. As with all petitions, we keep his secret," she added meaningfully.
"He also longs for Ariella," Cinna frowned, "but only in the basest manner. She would at best be a pretty trinket on his arm. He seems to believe this would be an honor."
Zenobia blinked soberly. "Such a shame," she said. "He has a pleasant body."
"You may find grander bodies of humbler origins," predicted Cinna. "None would blame you or criticize if you wanted to give the prince a chance, but not one of the other acolytes has seen fit despite his physical appeal."
"No," Zenobia replied, "I hear your warnings. If a man does not want to give as much as he receives, I think he is a waste of my time... sacred rites or no."
She didn't see the faint smile of approval on Cinna's lips. "I will do the talking with the prince. Thank you for summoning me." Their steps and their conversation carried them to the foyer of the temple, and then to the grand doors beyond. While those doors were closed, a simpler side entrance behind the tall marble columns of the entrance allowed for subtler exit and entry. Cinna moved to that smaller door and stepped outside into bright sunlight.
Repairs to the Plaza of the Divines would take months to complete, but many were already underway. Across Cinna's field of vision, she could see stonecutters taking measurements for broken blocks that had to be replaced and other workers carving out the most damaged pieces of the walkways. Burned and withered plants had mostly been cleared away. She saw a horse-drawn cart loaded with new greenery waiting to be settled into its new homes.
Across the Plaza, clerics of the god Frey performed their work in front of the ruins of their burnt-out temple for a flock of farmers and other supplicants while workers hauled away wreckage. Frey's temple received the most attention of all the aspects of the Plaza. Cinna couldn't argue with that, even knowing that Aphrodite's temple would not have received as much attention had their fortunes been reversed. The world needed love, but people needed to eat. The god of the harvest had to be honored.
The Temple of Aphrodite gave generously to the cause of rebuilding Frey's longhouse. Aphrodite's servants in the city had given generously to other shrines as well. The shrine to Athena might well be rebuilt largely through that support.
Unfortunately, Cinna's duty here was not to survey the reconstruction, but instead to attend to the least interesting matter present in the Plaza. She'd have preferred to haul out broken bricks with the workers.
The visitors waited on the steps of the temple: four of his Companions, two men and two women in a mixture of chain mail and leather, along with an attendant in fine clothes and a long coat that marked him as one of the royal household servants, and Alaric himself.
"Your highness," she said with her clear, deliberately flat voice as she bowed, "you grace us with your visit. How may I help you?"
He wore no shining armor today, but rather something like casual finery: a silk black shirt under a fine leather vest, with dark breeches and high boots. Naturally, it was all festooned with gold and silver studs, embroidery and jewelry. His broad and feathered felt hat could shelter the egos of any three ordinary men. Prince Alaric inclined his head ever so slightly in response to her bow. "I am on the town today," he declared. "I thought to look in on the... hero of our recent battle. I am told that Davos came to the temple this morning with one of the acolytes. Is he still here?"
"He is, your highness," Cinna confirmed.
"Fetch him for me," said the prince. "I much desire to speak with him."
"My lord prince, I beg your forgiveness," Cinna replied, though her flat tone carried no semblance of begging, "but the high priestess meets now with him in private. It is forbidden for anyone to interrupt."
Alaric's brow furrowed. "Indeed," he frowned. "This Davos is one of the faithful of Aphrodite?"
"His reverence and devotion has been ascertained," Cinna nodded deeply. "Of all the gods and goddesses, Davos of Murried holds Aphrodite most dear. He and the high priestess had much to discuss. She guides him in worship as we speak."
"Worship," Alaric repeated, tactfully keeping the sour tone out of his voice.
"Yes, your highness. I assure you, with all respect that you are due, that Davos is deeply embedded in sacred matters."
* * *
Many folk would think this perverse,
thought Davos,
but I doubt many men could resist.
"Tell me if this hurts," he whispered into her ear from behind Ariella on the bed.
The naked beauty on her hands and knees before him simply gasped and pushed back at his hips and his cock with that wonderful ass. "Take me," she moaned in sincere need. "I want this."
He kept her spread with his hands, slowly pushing up into her tight flesh with his cock as hard as ever—if not more so. The oils slathered on his shaft and down the crack of her ass were almost as arousing as the reality of the act they now committed. No act of lust was forbidden or foul in this space and if done with consent... but as Ariella had said, the presumed taboo that so many others held against this act enhanced the excitement for both of them.
They'd shared over an hour of intimate touching, probing and preparation of her body. Thorough attention to cleanliness had been assured before they even met, but Davos and Ariella saw to every aspect of readiness just the same. Tenderness and reassurance were just as important as naughty desire, though now that the moment was upon them the latter dominated all their other emotions.
Davos penetrated into her warm, tight hole slowly but relentlessly. Ariella let out a low moan and arched her back. He couldn't read anything from that tone--it could come from discomfort, or fear, or from pleasure--but the way her ass pushed back against his intruding cockhead made the surest statement.
"Goddess, yes,
please
," Ariella groaned as Davos worked his way slowly into her, "let me have all of this man!"
He pushed in another tight, warm inch, loving the constricting feeling on his cock and reveling in the beautiful view. This new intimacy left him feeling intoxicated and powerful. He'd heard before that such acts caused discomfort at first, and sometimes pain and even bleeding, but he and Ariella had been quite careful and now shared only intense pleasure. Perhaps all that lengthy preparation made all the difference, or maybe it was simply the blessing of Aphrodite at work. Maybe it was both.
Regardless, Davos continued his slow and relentless penetration of Ariella's ass to their mutual delight. "Oooh, Davos," Ariella moaned loudly when her ass was fully up against his groin and he'd invaded as deeply as he could, "it's so good."
"Yes," he growled, leaning over her possessively. He couldn't embrace her like he wanted—couldn't seize her breasts and also support himself, not with everything at and below his hips charged with electric ripples of pleasure—but he could still get close to her ear and emphasize their union. "So good."
