The Sons of Memory - 8. Poseidon's Game

Naxos was a small island, usually visited by ships to gather water, food and fruits, so the island had a harbour, a small town and lots of gardens where the inhabitants grew fruits and vegetables.

Nowadays there spread a rumour among them. About wild men, shoulders draped with fawn skins, with goat feet, carrying swords and serpents. They were flushed with wine and scared Naxos' people to death.

They had gathered in a new palace that had appeared there amid a little olive grove from one day to the other and the people whispered about a God's miracle. They knew that Dionysos had selected their island as his favourite place but he always had come alone - just now and then accompanied by his old mentor Silenus, an extremely fat man, clumsy and always drunken; the nose a red chunk from all the wine he consumed.

The whole crowd sang delirious verses and accompanied themselves with cymbals and flutes. The citizens locked up their sons for some of them had vanished and those who returned were hardly alive. They prayed to Apollo to take this plague away, but the master of the Muses, of singing and joy, seemed not to listen.

When Theseus' ship arrived they were pleased and honoured Attica's prince highest, the more when they learnt that Theseus had beat another monster and freed Athens from its horrid tribute.

Dionysos, propped upon his thyrsus - his ivy twined staff - bit into a bunch of blue grapes. He chewed while the juice ran down his chin and soiled his green tunic.

"Now, Silenus, is the time. Arian has arrived - my promised man. I will make him happy. Make him my slave."

"Slave?" Silenus croaked. He was slumped on a settee and fondled the tame panther behind the ear. Loud, deep purring filled the atrium of Dionysos' new palace. He drank from a golden goblet. "I thought you had fallen in love with him since you saw him years ago."

"I have," Dionysos answered. "I meant, I will show him my divine love so that he will lay at my feet and never want to go away."

"Show him your divine spear', Silenus giggled drunkenly. A tent built under his tunic. When he was filled with wine he was incredible horny but nobody wanted to fuck with him, so Dionysos brought him the caught youths from Naxos' village. He used them and handed them over to the entourage - their wild man - who certainly had fun with them.

Silenus still giggled and rubbed his pole under the clothes. Dionysos looked disgusted at him and turned to a table where a big portion of rosey Ambrosia waited for him in a silver bowl. Young Ganymede had provided him with this because he needed it double for he wanted to look young and healthy and firm for his lover to be.

"Stop that foolish giggling, Silenus," he said sharply. "And spare me the look of your old, used tool. If you need it that badly ask Pandrosis if he would lick it." He looked at the black panther, and another outburst of giggling followed. Silenus rose groaning from the settee and Pandrosis followed him into the palace.

Dionysos emptied the bowl noisily. This brew was an uncooked mixture of honey, water, fruits, olive oil, cheese and barley - and a special "pink dust," prepared by Ganymede, that turned this rather unappetizing dish to a really divine tasting meal. Oh yes, he could feel it already: his skin taut, the wrinkles straightened, his flabby flesh got firm and he felt five hundred years younger. Then he took his thyrsus and another bunch of grapes and went out to the shore to watch Arian's arrival.

Hidden behind a building he watched the arrival of a vessel. His cock enlarged almost against his will. Arian's light coloured braid fought with the sun's brightness and his body had his cock leaking like mad. Tonight, he thought. Tonight you are mine. He followed them carefully, watched them ask for a meal, for water and groceries.

The sun was setting already when they had everything they needed. "I'll be back soon," Theseus promised, "and then we'll enjoy an evening on land." He twinkled at Arian who twinkled back. "Hurry up."

Together with Lykos and Sandokos, Theseus stepped into the vessel and shipped back. Arian, meanwhile, strolled through the village, over the agora and was greeted with recognition. Of course they knew Crete's prince. They marvelled over his colourful clothes, the skirt and the broad, golden arm rings.

Dionysos remained at a deserted shore, afar from the harbour and spread his arms.

"Poseidon!," he called. "Poseidon! Your nephew Dionysos is calling you!"

Silence. Little waves leaped at the sand. They they licked at his golden sandals. Later they played with his ankles.

"Poseidon!"

A water whirlpool built and among the swirling water appeared wild, white horses. Blue dolphins sprang. An ugly head appeared with hair from seaweed. Sea horses were glued in them. Poseidon heaved his mighty body out of the water, his long beard green, blue and dripping, his trident in one big hand.

Dionysos bowed. "Dearest uncle." He tried a smile but was a little scared of his grudged uncle. He could never be sure about his moods.

"What is your wish?" Poseidon roared; he had to over cry the splashing of his horses, that reared up around him. "Or do you want to hold small talk?" He swung his trident.

"Oh ... no!" Dionysos shrunk back. "You now about the Prince of Crete."

Poseidon laughed. Dolphins sprang. "Your beloved and adored Arian? Of course I know him. Me and his father still bear an old grudge. And Theseus caught and killed my white bull."

"Right. Now I beg you to help me out. It seems as if Theseus wants to steal my promised one. But he belongs to me. How can we play a trick on him?"

"Get him out of the way? Noting easier than this." Poseidon - like all Gods always up for a little joke - turned and faced the ship, anchored a mile from the harbour. He dove his finger into the sea and sprinkled water into the wind.

It started as a rolling of waves. More wild horses shook their manes and kicked with their hooves. The waves rolled strangely from the shore to the wide sea, directly to Theseus' ship. It started to sway, then fiercely, until it rode on the crests of the waves for the anchor had broken. They heard scared cried from deck and now and again a shadow appeared, frantically trying to strike the sails for the ship drifting off to the high seas.

Poseidon laughed and Dionysos joined him. "This will keep him away a while. Use your time, nephew." He submerged into the sea, the trident was the last to vanish into the whirlpool. The storm was still on, but the land didn't know about it.

Dionysos grinned and wiped his hands. "Now, my beauty, just one thing to do and I'm coming." He pursed his lips and started to whistle - a deceptive imitation to a bird - until night swallows answered him. Dionysos went on, entered the village, the birds following, twittering away in the night.

Wherever he passed, the people closed their eyes and started a stupid smile for Morpheus had sent them sweet dreams. He followed his father - Hypnos - from tree to tree until half the town was asleep, including Arian under an olive tree.

The swallows sat beside him and changed into their usually human appearance. Young Morpheus with rainbow hair, colourful like all dreams; one side of his face smooth and calm the other side a nasty nightmare. He and Hypnos - the God of sleep - wore back robes to their ankles with silvery star dust. Hypnos - black wings on his shoulders - was more of a grey pulsating shadow, sometimes bright, then pale, in the rhythm of a steady, sleep drunken breath.

Dionysos bowed once more. "Thanks for coming from Lemnos. I hope I didn't interrupt important things."

"No damages if you make it short," Hypnos answered with gentle voice. Dionysos had the impression he heard it from afar, an echo of dreams, sand instead of water that ran through a clepsydra.

Whenever he passed, the people closed their eyes and started a stupid smile for Morpheus had sent them sweet dreams. He followed his father - Hypnos from tree to tree until half the town was asleep, including Arian under an olive tree.

The swallows sat beside him and changed into their usual human appearance. Black wings flapped around them silently. Young Morpheus with rainbow hair, colourful like all dreams; one side of his face smooth and calm, the other side a nasty nightmare. He and Hypnos - the God of sleep - wore black robes to their ankles with silvery star dust. Hypnos - black wings on his shoulders - was more of a grey pulsating shadow, sometime bright, then pale, in the rhythm of a steady sleep drunken breath.

Dionysos bowed once more. "Lord over all mortal men and all gods . . . I'm thankful you came from lemnos. I hope I didn't interrupt important things."

No damages if you make it short," Hypnos answered with gentle voice. Dionysos had the impression he was hearing it from afar, an echo of dreams, sand instead of water that ran through a clepsydra.

Dionysos didn't have to tell him what he was pleading for. Unaffected he lifted the branch he was carrying. Honey coloured water dripped off it. It was the dew of Lethe, the river of oblivion.

He lifted Arian's eyelids and sprinkled them. Arian's eyes didn't close again and Dionysos laughed joyfully. "You do it like with Endymion, your beloved one?"

Hypnos raised one eyebrow, but then a smile scurried over his pulsating face. Hypnos' madness for the pretty shepherd boy was a source of gossip upon Olympus. He was that mad for him that Hypnos doesn't close Endymion's eyes even while he is sleeping, but lulled him to rest with eyes wide open, so that Hypnos may, without interruption, enjoy the pleasure of gazing into those brown pools.

Hypnos soft voice whispered: "Sleep come, embracing all his limbs and with my wings fold him to my loving breast."

"Hey, he is mine," Dionysos objected.

"Of course. Arian will not remember Theseus when he awakes."

Morpheus watched silently. Actually he should work his miracle now and give Arian sweet dreams, but he wasn't exactly pleased by this game. He looked scowling at the tent building under Dionysos' soiled green tunic. "Don't hurt him," he said, "he's a virgin."

But Dionysos didn't listen. He fell to his knees beside the Cretan prince and sniffed him like a dog. From the hair, he tried to untangle from its braid, down along the arms and finally he lifted Arian's skirt to stare at the resting manhood, sleeping like the prince himself. Dionysos licked his lips. Morpheus threw nervous glances at his father who returned the stares. A wink connoted him to leave but Morpheus hesitated. One last thing he wanted to do for him: give him back his memory in dreams. Morpheus closed his rainbow eyes and concentrated. A pale shadow embraced Arian's body very briefly, hardly noticed by the horny God of wine. Then Morpheus and his father had changed back in to night swallows.

Dionysos hardly noticed that the gods had left him, so concentrated he was on the things to come. But he didn't want Arian to be asleep when he would have the experience of his life. Dionysos snapped with his fingers in front of Arian's face and Arian awoke. The glass green eyes blinked, focused on a guy bent over him, lying almost between his legs. He noticed his skirt was turned back. He blinked once more. The long, brown curls were held by a ring of fresh wine leaves and his green tunic was rumpled. His face, though attractive, seemed a little unsteady, blurred, as if a second image lie over it. The eyes were lustful and the colour of amber wine.

"Hello precious," he said. His voice was full sounding, with a touch of an echo in it, as it was the characteristic feature of a God's voice.

"Look, everything is quiet. Just the night birds are singing their music to our celebration.

Arian came up to his elbows. "Celebration?"

"Yes, beloved," Dionysos cooed, his member expanding. Discretely he tugged at his tunic until his naked manhood lay exactly over Arian's. Arian crept over the feeling of something supernatural happening. Wasn't it the Gods who were supposed to have an echoing voice and sort of a golden aura around their bodies?

"Tonight is our night, my promised one," Dionysos continued. "I've waited for you so long."

"But . . ." Arian was stopped by Dionysos' long finger across his lips. "I brought you here for mutual pleasure. Look, the grass is soft and dry and here's a feather cover for us. I brought it with me from my homestead."

Arian looked dazed. Homestead? Mount Olympus? But why was he chosen to be beloved by a God? He surely had come here but . . . A flash of a ship entered his head and instantly he looked over to see a shore and the wide area of water behind, but he couldn't find it.

Dionysos turned his head around. "Look at me, beloved. You won't find anything else there." He started a slow moving, a rubbing over Arian's abdomen to sway his lust. Then he opened the felt to his skirt and cooed even more. Yes. If he really wanted to, he could be soft, although this didn't satisfy him. He didn't want to wait. Didn't want to take his time, wait for Arian until he was ready for him.

Out of the blue he conjured an amphora of wine and two chalices.

"Drink and relax."

"What is it?" Arian sniffed and drank finally, but before he could swallow he had another vision: A cave. Darkness, highlighted by torches. Animal smell. The flash of a dagger piercing warm flesh.

Arian coughed. Dionysos wiped spilled wine from his chin. He was worried. Somehow Arian seemed to be distracted. Did Hypnos drip too little water of oblivion into his eyes? He doubled his efforts. "You said we would throw a coin, do you remember?" And the amber eyes penetrated Arian's. He nodded slowly. Yes, he could remember. There was a night, no, an evening. A sexual encounter, full of promises. And he was so much in love . . . His heart started to pound painfully, but not without anticipation.

"It's either me or you who will feel this." Dionysos' stiff cock poked Arian's belly.

The silver coin flew high in the air and landed into Dionysos' palm. He closed his hand. "Head or number?"

"Head," Arian said.

Dionysos showed him the coin. Athena's head was there with her helmet and her owl. "You won and have to receive it." Dionysos knew he couldn't have lost. He emptied another chalice and felt the alcohol running through his divine veins. His eyes sent out a magic beam, meeting Arian and the Cretan prince forgot his queasy feelings and the flashes didn't return. Instead of his whole being was in turmoil, every fibre of his body was on fire, and he stopped thinking and trying to remember anyway. There was a great looking man - a God perhaps - wanting him and he would do everything to please him.

Arian undressed him and saw what Dionysos wanted him to see: not the wine caused flabbiness of his body but one that matched Arian's firm warrior feature. Dionysos lay a hand over Arian's eyes, briefly, but long enough that his body relaxed and he was open and ready.

Arian felt feathers behind his back when he lay back and opened his legs for Dionysos.

Delighted the God bent over him and stroked over the prince's orifice, a magic wave, and then they were out of time. Cicadas chirped and nightingales sang so it seemed to Arian. But actually it was the wind in the trees around and voices from far away. He thought to see blue eyes instead of amber ones, but he could be mistaken. His aching penis vanished into a moist hole that was his lover's mouth, and at the same time he was filled with a bigness that stretched him well, gave him pain but that was just an underlying feeling washed away my music in his ears. He heard his lover talking to him but didn't understand the words. The stranger was moving in him, hitting a blissful spot while he had his legs wrapped around his lover's shoulders and he was doing it all at once: pounding him, licking his cock, biting his nipples, pulling out, turning, entering him again, shed his seed but remained hard and hard and hard again.

What started as lustful dance became now pain and soreness but Dionysos gave him more to drink. Arian forgot the pain and opened his legs once more; he wanted it all, and the pain was dull, soothed by the God's magic spell. He wanted the game out of control until the larks announced dawn.

Eos started her journey on her chariot and stared at the scenery beneath her on the isle of Naxos. She saw a white golden shimmering cloak of hair covering the back of a male straddling old Dionysos laying on the ground, enjoying the ride. She could hear the pants and uninhibited cries that sounded up to her. Her cheeks turned crimson from embarrassment and the morning dawn was exceptionally spectacular.

Arian soiled himself with white semen, spots that joined the old, brief ones from before but he felt, this was the last. He was empty.

In the near distance he saw a figure standing. Petrified, mouth half open. A shock of shiny half long, dark locks, a band around his forehead. Radiating blue eyes.

Arian's tongue formed a word. A name. Without thinking he lifted his body. Dionysos' cock came out with a soft plop but Arian barely noticed. He walked up to the man waiting; his body sweat and cum covered, the hair loose, wet, full of feathers and matted. Shortly before he reached the waiting man, he turned and went away. Arian finally was ready to spill out the name.

"Theseus!" Arian shouted. "Theseus," he whispered then. But Theseus moved on.

Theseus? Arian thought. Where did this name come from?

But then Dionysos was beside him and put his arm around his shoulder. "Come beloved. I promised you everlasting love. A place at my side. Never ending youth." Again he put his palm over Arian's eyes and Theseus' image vanished immediately. He looked at his lover, down his beautiful body, the long spent, drooling cock that had given him so much pleasure and so much pain.

Dionysos must have seen it in his eyes. He took Arian in his arms and roamed his hands over Arian's buttocks. His fingers brushed the wound and swollen orifice and the pain subsided.

"It will be healed when we have arrived at my home."

"Home. Here?"

"Sure. Naxos is my favourite isle. Come."

Weak willed Arian followed him. Part of him was afraid of the love of a God for he didn't know what was waiting for him. The other part was delighted, drunken for wine and happiness to have found a counterpart that loved to love; mighty, without reason, without an end.