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Rituals were draining him more than usual lately.
Vessel sighed and rested his head on the soft cushion of the sofa. He was somewhere, another city, another country, another venue, this time with a particularly small backstage area and a very bright light inside.
With closed eyes, he squinted, the light coming through, even the mask not enough to dim it at least a bit. Not a chance to even go out and enjoy ourselves. he thought, as he felt the familiar tug at the back of his mind, ears starting to ring, drowning out the cacophony of his bandmates’ voices.
And it was quite a strong tug tonight. Sleep caressing his insides, his brain, seeking attention and worship from his firstborn. Vessel, the perfect creation.
The light flickered and the room grew silent. The others knew what followed, hurrying out in the cramped corridor, leaving Vessel alone. It was his duty to face Him, a blessing and a curse, one might say, as Sleep was a powerful one, twisting and turning the beholder to his will.
Vessel’s eyes rolled back in his skull, the uncomfortable pressure building behind the eye sockets, threatening to sever the nerves. His nails dug in the fuzzy material of the sofa, the sweat running down his arms and body smearing the black paint on the cushions. He tried to steady his breathing and give in to the way too familiar feeling of being pulled through a cement wall by his spine.
His back arched, lips parted slightly, allowing the cold caress of the unknown to glide against them, thrust ghostly limbs against Vessel’s sculpted body, claiming. It was always so intimate, personal. And Vessel knew that he had power over Sleep, one that no mortal nor immortal dared to question and fight.
The God that fell in love with his creation.
Vessel felt bony fingers ruffle his hair, pulling back a bit. And he moaned in His lips, those beautiful pale lips. Six eyes of pure darkness swallowed him, vines wrapping around his naked torso.
Sleep spoke, warm breath against Vessel’s ear, calming the ringing in his head, taking his pain away and replacing it with pleasure instead. His neck stretched, paint separating from skin each time the entity’s fingers caressed him, leaving goosebumps in their stead.
He closed his eyes, surrendering to his God, an offering for his love.
Gentle hand slid down, tracing Vessel’s forms- his collarbones, almost peeking from the blackened skin, down to his sculpted chest, stomach, down, down, down to the waistband of his low-waisted jeans. He moved instinctively into the touch, desperate not to leave him, as fingers hooked onto his boxers, teasing.
A gasp escaped Vessel’s traitorous lips and he cursed under his breath of how impatient he appeared today in front of his God. It was only natural, though, the pull he felt when Sleep presented himself, when he lingered behind him during a ritual, invisible arms touching all over his body, Vessel’s voice trembling with passion during each melody. Oh how he gave life to every move, every word that escaped Vessel’s lips and got lost in the crowd.
Vessel threw his head back, saliva dripping down the side of his mouth, Sleep’s fingers wrapped around his thin neck, adam’s apple bobbing in need of air. The skin burned underneath, His grip so hard it would surely leave a bruise. The paint smeared onto his God and for a moment he cursed himself for dirtying the hands that gave him life.
Sleep’s face twisted in a wicked smile and licked his fingers, mouth clashing with Vessel’s shutting his whimper at the loss of touch. Snake- like tongue slithered between his lips, exploring, claiming. And the words came to him with each touch that burned on his skin.
We were tangled up like branches in a flood…
His mask fell on the cushion beside him, pale blue eyes shining with desire. He always felt so vulnerable without his mask, so naked and imperfect in the face of Holiness.
Sleep traced the sharp features of his face, his cheekbones, the small crook on his nose, finally stopping above his eyes. As if lulling him to sleep he closed his lids, the darkness embracing him.
So show me, that which I cannot see…
And he once again felt himself being pulled apart. His insides twisted, slowly and painfully, as Sleep’s fingers entered him, reaching for his heart, holding it in his hand as its rhythm quickened.
Even if it hurts me…
Sleep moaned, fingers wrapping around the pumping muscle, Vessel himself returning the incoherent sound, riding on pain and pleasure. His eyesight being taken away from him heightened his senses, some strange need for release pooling in his belly. He trembled under the touch of his God, his muscles tensed, almost cramping.
Vessel bared his teeth, biting on the plump lips hovering over his mouth, the metal taste of blood filling his mouth.
You’ve got me in a chokehold…
Sleep hissed in his ear, nails almost digging into Vessel’s heart and he wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, but his voice was taken away, his eyes were engulfed in darkness and he could only breathe as fast as he could, back arching, body colliding with silk skin. Needles pricked at his lips, where He touched, on his neck, down to his core.
He sank deeper into the darkness, lungs unable to keep up with his breathing. Sounds around him collided into one rhythmical hum, chanting that grew louder and louder until all that pleasure and all that pain exploded.
Vessel gasped for air, eyes shot open. His fingers clutched the sides of his thighs, knuckles almost turned white.
And He was gone, leaving behind only the taste of blood and the sticky, vile mess He made of Vessel.
Slowly, the room started to take shape again, the buzzing of the fan, the bright light above, all of the furniture that made the space between these four walls so damn cramped.
Vessel’s fingers went up to his chest- no sign of Sleep’s intrusion in him, only the rapid beat of his heart like a ticking bomb trapped in the cage of his ribs. No sign of him left whatsoever.
Only one more gift that Vessel couldn’t wait to perform in His name, mind sure to jump back to this moment of intimacy.
Even if I can't sleep
Show me the way