Chapter 268.5 - Communion (Patreon)

It took me a few weeks longer than expected, but here we be, babes! It turned out pretty good methinks! I'm gonna flip a coin to see if I do Viscerae or another RfR chapter tonight, so I'll see y'all later!

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Breath, hot and warm. 

Touch, burning like electric fire up and along nerves. 

The wetness of intimacy, magnified across a range of nerves and senses past anything human.

Raika lets herself feel.

There is so very, very much of her. Even now, she is moving through the city, interacting with its peoples, planning, building- but she lets herself be here. Present. Now.

Many-Grasping kisses her, and she kisses back.

And she lets herself be.

The room closes in, transforming from an open chamber into something more like a passage. It takes only moments for body-heat to waft into the space, enclosed by walls of flesh, and she feels her priestess begin to sweat.

The tightening of the chamber has a reaction. The way it fills with musk and pheromones, even more so. And yet, listening to the snap and crackle of synapse, to the twitching of eyes and the patterns of breath, Many-Grasping does not think of herself. Her own self is left forgotten as she turns her focus exclusively on Raika, and on the act of worship.

Long arms wrap around her, additional joints cocooning her like a relic in safe hands, the tips of claws running down the back of her shoulders. Kisses roam from her mouth down to her throat, to her collar, to her breasts, and each one is as slow and reverent as the last. Raika feels Many-Grasping’s long limbs reach their hands all the way up to her antlers, running through the contours of freshly-grown bone and horn- and taking hold of them, using the leverage to arc Raika’s head back.

And yet, there is no fear. Not from either of them. There is the hesitance of intimacy, to be sure, Raika’s own curiosity about what this will entail stronger than her arousal, but at least on Many-Grasping’s behalf, she doesn’t scent even a hint of adrenal panic. Raika, at least for now, knows intimately that there is nothing that Many-Grasping can do to hurt her. She could tear out her throat, tear her avatar apart limb from limb, climb into its ribs and nest there- and it would be no more than a brief moment of pain for Raika. Many-Grasping, for all her insider-knowledge on the fourth ring and her devotion, isn’t powerful enough to be a physical threat, even if she chooses to enact pain, and that makes the idea of intimacy at this level… somehow feel safer. More comfortable. More freeing.

And on the other hand, if betrayal does raise its head, however unlikely… there is nowhere for Many-Grasping to go. Raika can taste in the air the awareness her beastkin priestess has for how easily she could be crushed here, the ways in which every wall surrounding them is alive and more than capable of pulping her Qi-Gathering realm body.

Raika can’t help but cock an eyebrow and huff out a mixture of affection and amusement at the little trickle of arousal that thought apparently elicits.

The room closes in further, skin as firm and unyielding as wood softening and growing wetter, all the better to pen them into a mutual cocoon. Many-Grasping shivers at the touch, at the ways that the walls close in on her, and responds in kind, opening her legs and grinding them against Raika’s thigh, pulling their bodies ever-closer.

Her eyes open, looking up at Raika, and her goddess looks back.

A tail, long and sinuous, wraps around the beastkin woman, the inhuman limbs of her god reciprocating her touch. Skin like richest wood and starry night slides against fur and all-too-mortal heat, and Many-Graspings breath gets just a bit faster, her heart beating adorably to Raika’s senses.

The whole time, her priestess holds Raika’s antlers, arcing their bodies together. Five eyes glow from an inhuman skull, joining neural fibers in illuminating the space, and in that twilight, between sunrise-glow and deepest night, two bodies intertwine.

In the sound of her little gasps, in how she grinds against Raika’s thigh, in the way her arms wrap around her so tight and pull back on her halo, Many-Grasping speaks in a language without words. It is a mess of concepts, the warmth and pressing touch of the room making it all the harder to parse, adding to it in sequence, but the meaning is clear enough.

Worship.

Tinged, of course, with a heady dose of lust, meaning-behind-meaning leaving no question as to how Many-Grasping feels towards her idol in this moment. 

Her priestess begins to move a bit faster, rubbing herself long and slow up Raika’s thigh. Her own heat touches the wetness that Many-Grasping is leaving behind, and she gives a sound a bit like a chuckle and a lot like a gasp. Unsatisfied with being idle, Raika reaches her own hands down to Many-Grasping’s body, wrapping her up in turn. One hand runs a long line down the middle of the woman’s furry head, between tall ears that twitch and shudder at the movement, and the other goes down, grabbing at her ass and lifting her a bit. Many-Grasping isn’t much larger than a conventional human, and it takes some help to reach up to a point where eye-contact can be made.

Raika leans forward, but in the end, her priestess takes the initiative. As her antlers are caressed, her body left with trails of dripping wetness, Raika accepts a kiss, enjoying the way that Many-Grasping focuses on the moment entirely. There is no hesitation, no embarrassment- there is only desire, reflected and magnified. 

Lips part, and Raika lets their tongues touch, dance- and then pushes forward, extending a long, wet tendril into Many-Grasping’s mouth, and then further back, touching on her throat. Many-Grasping’s eyes widen for a moment, but only in surprise- she takes in a deep breath through her nostrils, and relaxes her throat for easier access.

Now, Raika takes back some of the initiative, not content with holding still. Many-Grasping’s intent might be to show her worship, but there isn’t any meaning if the exchange isn’t mutual, and Raika’s not what one might call a “pillow princess”. Her hand wraps around the back of Many-Grasping’s head, holding her firm and massaging along her scalp as her tongue dances down her priestesses’ throat, further and further down, accepted willingly. Even as Many-Grasping keeps her eyes open, her gaze wandering over everything of Raika that she can see, her eyelids flutter. Hard to hold focus when you’re being throat-fucked, even if only gently, and soon, her grip on Raika’s antlers goes from a guide to an anchor.

She grinds closer, gyrating her hips against Raika, pressing her breasts against her goddesses’- and her goddess replies, and shows her understanding.

The walls finally finish closing in, dripping with moisture and pressing tight, until both of them are wrapped inside of Raika’s very flesh, held tight like a throat mid-swallow, like a cunt tightening in arousal, and at last, Many-Grasping lets out a whimper. Raika’s hand wanders down to her devotee’s wetness, running long fingers through her lips and smiling at the heat- and sending a shiver down her tongue into Many-Grasping’s throat, eliciting a shiver in return.

In the dark and wet and warm, illuminated by the light of impossible radiance and beautiful shadows, Many-Grasping cums.

It is a quiet thing, unsurprisingly. She’s a woman of few words, even considering her lack of human-centric vocal cords, but even still, it is a near-silent affair. One moment her hands are caressing Raika’s antlers, her hips gyrating slowly, their sweat mingling- and then she is frozen, held still in a moment of terrible tension. She shivers like a rabbit, like a newborn thing experiences something altogether blinding, and a fresh gush of wetness dribbles from her.

She coughs, just once, restraining the reflex- but Raika takes mercy anyways, pulling her tongue back from her worshipper’s throat, letting it lol and wrap around her neck instead. Raika could taste her scent from across a crowded room, but there is something more to tasting so viscerally, to running a long organ full of nerves across the hollow of a neck and tasting the sweat and musk there. Raika savors it, tasting with her whole body, feeling the scent of arousal and devotion through touch in clenching cocoon made of her, and gives Many-Grasping the time to recover.

It only takes another moment, but then-

Gratitude. Gratitude.

Raika huffs out a breath, but such earnest thanks deserve a response.

You’re Welcome. Worthy.

The statement sends a shudder through Many-Grasping’s whole body. The recognition of worth, the idea that someone so above her would consider her worth anything- Raika can taste the way it dances through her mind, adding to a… slightly worrying mythology of worship. 

The nuance of it… that’s personal, and, frankly, open to change.

In this moment, Raika enjoys the thrill that the idea sends through her aspirant, and wraps her closer.

Many-Grasping’s hands wrap around her in a new configuration, sliding across walls of skin and the shape of their shared union. It reflects, in and back- desire, want, the heat of it, and Raika bends into the grasp, entwining them further, kissing again. Many-Grasping lets out a little gasp, but then pulls Raika’s tongue into her throat eagerly, breathing in long and slow and letting her god’s organ go deep down her throat.

But what was offered was worship of the whole, worship of everything that Raika is. 

Raika makes the choice to trust the conviction her priestess has shown.

The walls mix and move, the flesh behind them shifting and CHANGing, and Many-Grasping pulls her grip tighter and squirms ever so much as something new presses in against her. Long lines of flesh transform out from the walls, and Raika ensures that they are rich with nerves, densely packed with patterns similar to those of a human cock. She’s only experienced one a few times, but frankly, she can smell the pattern of veins in a body from across a room- she can copy the tissues in a dick. 

With some… modifications. No reason to bother with the inefficient and the boring, not when she can make something better. 

Thick tendrils wrap tight around Many-Grasping’s legs, her arms, her torso, caressing up and down her breasts and joining Raika’s conventional arms and legs and tail. In moments, her priestess is wrapped tight, the room and the tendrils doubling up on the proximity- at this point, Raika needs start pumping air into the pocket of flesh they’re in just so no one gets short of breath.

But they don’t stop. As they wind and writhe and wrap around the pair of them, focusing on Many-Grasping and groping, caressing, rubbing against all they can reach- Many-Grasping tenses slightly as something other than fingers touches against her lower lips.

Again, the delay exists only in surprise, not hesitance. As soon as she knows what is there, what is asking permission for entry, she arcs her back, cocking her hips open as much as she can in the tight space, presses into the flesh. An invitation in all but word, and manifested through a language without words at all.

Raika enters her, and for a moment, there is only the warmth, and the tension, and the heat. And then there is a gasp, loud, as Raika pushes deeper. Soon she is spread open on a long and sinuous thing, feeling every ridge and bump, the sensation of arousal and electric pleasure running through the room and tasting like lightning and ambrosia, heat and flesh. 

And then Raika begins to move. In and out, letting leak out wetness and pre-cum, sliding and shaping itself to run along every bundle of nerves inside her priestess. Who, in turn, reciprocates entirely, pushing back and into the movements, spreading herself wide, grinding and leaking and panting against Raika with every motion. She swallows around Raika’s tongue, sucking on it and wrapping her own tongue around it, inviting her in further.

A second tendril, slightly slimmer than the first, more awash in lubrication, presses in against Many-Grasping’s ass, and again, there is only eagerness there.

And Worship.

Wrapped in coils of flesh, trapped in a pocket of heat and wetness, wrapped tight in the arms of a lover and something like a deity, Many-Grasping cums again, harder than last time. By a lot. 

And then again.

And then again.

Fucked in every hole, wrapped tight and stretched and pinned and grasping and awash in heat, Many-Grasping takes what breaths she can, when she is allowed to, when she asks for it. There is warmth and meaning, and in all of it, outside of dizzying, half-conscious lust and very conscious pleasure, Many-Grasping says only one thing. 

Worship.

The offering of the self. The acceptance of the divine. The willingness, eagerness, joy at experiencing something and offering oneself to be experienced.

And into that want, that need, there is such pleasure. Such freedom, in that acceptance. 

It’s not intentional. That part surprises her. The sudden feeling of nerves going from smolder to a blaze, the experience of climbing towards a peak- it arrives without being commanded. Considering just how much Raika does, or needs to do, consciously with her biology, it’s a pleasant surprise, and one that she decides to just let be.

Though she does prepare a few more modifications. As a fun little treat.

As Many-Grasping makes every kind of sound that her throat can make, eagerly twisting and grinding and cumming her brains out, every part of her body turned to embracing Raika, Raika reaches a peak.

Her tendrils expand, knotting up the inside of her priestess and dragging along every nerve and bump. She cums, explosively, dousing Many-Graspind’s insides with a close-equivalent to cum, hot, sticky, heavy, filling her enough that a bulge forms between them. It can’t flood back out, trapped by the knots and pumping deep inside her, filling her up as the whole room tenses, as Raika’s avatar spasms and holds her priest closer.

They hold like that for a few moments, letting things sit in stillness. The sound of breathing, heavy, half-exhausted, reaching around the tongue down her throat- and matched by Raika, even though breathing so directly is more optional than not. 

Raika lets her rest. Lets her breathe. Lets the room relax itself ever so slightly, the tension and pressure quieting ever so slightly. 

And then- 

Again?

Raika can’t help but laugh. 

But if her first and only devotee is so willing to continue their communion, who is she to deny her?