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It was a quiet afternoon in the writing room. Vessel had set up his home office with minimal furniture, pieces borrowed and bought from second hand vintage stores, the walls painted a sumptuous hue of veridian, framed records hinting at his life’s work and a persian rug on the floor which looked like it belonged in his nan’s house. The space was a little cluttered, but clean, and mostly calm, which is what its purpose was. He had a separate space in the flat for his instruments, but often found himself carrying a keyboard back and forth down the corridor every other day he was off from tour, or not actively recording. Just existing, working quietly. The sun pushed against the glass of the windows but was held back by blackout curtains, the only sign of daytime being the small analog clock hung on the wall above his desk. Its hands moved slowly, ticking along like a metronome.
As Vessel was writing, he felt a slight tingle through his body. Nothing new, he was used to this after years of offering his body as a vessel to the ancient god. Usually, all thoughts of Sleep could be pushed to the end of the day, when the sun had gone down and he’d open the curtains to let the moonlight wash over his bare skin. It was his evening ritual, saying hello to the moon before slipping under the covers and letting Sleep dictate his dreams.
For weeks now, Sleep had been quiet, allowing Vessel to rest. Aside from the agonising phone calls he’d had to make to his management, some ridiculous situation with an AI algorithm falsely flagging his fan’s beautiful artwork as copyright infringement, he hadn’t spoken to another soul in days. It felt like bliss, being allowed to take space in his own mind, but the sensation fluttering under his skin meant his time was up, and he’d be handing his mind back into the hands of Sleep. Soon all semblance of self-autonomy would collapse into an all too real dreamscape littered with ancient creatures and cosmic horrors, licking his skull.
Sleep wasn’t actually all that bad, not really. He’d been much more volatile in the beginning, when Vessel used to argue back. He’d moved through the stages of grief, giving up on bargaining with something which couldn’t fully understand the human condition and accepting his position as a vessel. In some ways, it had transformed his life and given him a divine purpose, if not peace. In others, it had brought comfort, companionship. His younger self would think it strange to be on friendly terms with the god.
The young man who had stood on the cliffs and cried as his legs locked up, his body taking over when his mind had said “jump”, only to sit in silence and watch the moon rise over the horizon of the water and reflect light on the waves below. The college student who had begged and bargained with his lovers before they left, they always left. He’d seek comfort in substance abuse, only to have the sobering experience of waking up one night to watch the moon crack open and reveal divine truth. The child who had sung in church choir, with questions of who or what he was supposed to be in service to unanswered by an incomprehensible false god. He’d shared adult Vessel’s fascination with fantasy monsters, even before understanding just how real, and needy, they could be.
Vessel shook his head, goosebumps on his arms. He could write for a few more hours, make the day count towards something. He’d offer his god something later, a ritual of worship, in gratitude for giving him some time to just be. Time stretched and the sun folded back behind buildings, and the tingles Vessel felt sunk deeper, into his muscle. The sensation became stronger, as if something corporeal was lightly touching him. It only increased as time passed, a shot of desire surging through him as he felt a light caress against his inner thigh.
“Now now, patience, darling.” He muttered, half laughing, but Sleep was getting harder to ignore. A gentle touch down his spine sent a jolt of pleasure through him, distracting him from his writing. He had been staring at the same verse for at least twenty minutes and hadn’t picked up his pencil once, closing his eyes and leaning back against the armchair.
“You’re doing it again. Teasing me.” Vessel could no longer pretend the phantom touches weren’t working him up, feeling more and more tangible as invisible limbs rubbed against him. It was no secret between them that the arousal was as much mental as it was physical. Teasing touches were something Sleep used sparingly, usually when he wanted something. Their recent time apart had been unexplained, but Vessel assumed they’d share his body first, before properly catching up overnight.
Sleep had broken the veil numerous times, mostly in the beginning. The rare sight of his raw form in the real world, brief and horrifying before Vessel would slip into unconsciousness and collapse in the arms of Sleep’s angelic form, soothed into subjugation again.
Vessel let out a small whimper as he felt Sleep slip into his head all the way. The feeling was all too familiar, but his energy felt charged, erratic. Sleep had only ever wanted two things from Vessel. Stay alive, and worship. But for some reason, as Vessel felt his mind being pulled and prodded around, a secret third thing seemed to seep into their shared conscious.
Sex.
“Now, here?” Vessel asked out loud, finding it easier to separate himself by verbalising his own thoughts, the ones which belonged to just him, the questions Sleep would answer in his head. Had he really just heard Sleep’s response, a resounding yes and a distinct lack of communication around consent. They’d have to have that argument again, wouldn’t they? How many times would Sleep manipulate him with the promise of sex, only to leave him wanting more, desperately clinging to some false notion that one day he’d get to fuck a god?
Vessel sighed. “My love, you can’t here. Your physical form, it’s not possible.”
The lamp flickered, Sleep reminding him that as much as it was far easier to shift his form in the dreamworld, he still had some ability to manipulate space and time in the here and now.
Vessel let out a startled yelp as a something like a finger nudged into his hole. The feeling was so familiar, a lot like when he fingered himself in the shower, but it felt weirdly long and wet. He shifted uncomfortable on his armchair, pulling at his boxers, the phantom thing slowly slipping in and out, strangely cold. Vessel blinked his eyes open, half expecting to be met with Sleep, how he appeared in his dreams, ethereal and glowing, oozing attractiveness, but the room was empty. He gasped as the digit fucked him, his hole slowly stretching to accommodate the way it filled and curled inside him, rubbing against his nerves. A small moan fell out of his mouth as the pleasure coursed through his whole body, a second slim tentacle pushing into him.
“My God, wait!” Vessel squeaked out, the tentacles starting to thrust in and out of him impatiently as he tried to talk, as he tried to settle the impatient immortal being in the back of his mind. He winced slightly as the cold tentacles scissored apart, slowly stretching him, the sensation antagonising. He was almost mad at how good it felt, how real, how raw.
In his dreams when Sleep touched him he felt like he was floating, waves and waves of soft pleasure coursing through his mind, Sleep gently caressing his skin with careful strokes. But this felt too much, almost sore, his muscles tensing up as he tightened and clamped down around the tentacles inside him, pinching them.
“Enough.”
The tentacles retracted quickly and Vessel let out a yelp of discomfort. His body felt cold, wet in areas which were never touched like this, not on Sleep’s time. He searched his eyes around the room but found nothing, Sleep growling at the back of his mind quietly.
“Don’t be pissed.” Vessel grunted, shifting his seating position. “I just, wasn’t expecting that”. He needed to face him, in person, and quickly. Damage control. He closed his eyes tightly, and begged Sleep to take him swiftly.
He fell into his dream, but things didn’t look the same. Arcadia was burning, the scent of smoke heavy in the air, he felt his eyelids grow heavy, his armour heavy where it sat on his shoulders. He searched around, but couldn’t see Sleep, only red billowing smoke which resembled blossom in the distance. A stone rolled under his foot, before crumbling.
Vessel sat up with a start in a cold sweat, back in the room. The curtains had been pulled open and the moon sat high in the sky, clouds masking its full glow. Hours had passed while feeling like minutes, which was wrong. He could spend days in his dreams with Sleep before waking up in the morning after just one night.
He could feel metal on his tongue, the taste of iron settling uncomfortably in his stomach as he swallowed. “Something’s wrong, I can’t find you. You’re here, but not there?”
A grunt came from the corner of the room. Vessel stood immediately, his hands clammy as he tugged the cord of the lamp, just barely illumining the room.
Sleep curled in on himself, six eyes wincing as if adjusting to the low light. Vessel just stood there, staring, his mouth dry. He still felt wet, and he hated himself for liking it. Sleep curled two small tentacles towards himself, as if beckoning Vessel over.
“Can you speak? Through me?” Vessel knelt before the creature and reached out a hand. He barely recognised Sleep, his mind never quite comprehending this form. It was terrifying. Monstrous. And yet, this was his god. He’d saved him.
Vessel flinched as Sleep reached out to him, his skin cold. For a moment, they both stayed perfectly still, Vessel watching in quiet comprehension as Sleep weaved his tentacle between his fingers, mimicking the way their hands would usually interlock when they met. “My love,” Vessel whispered, before gasping as his knees slid on the rug, the underlay soaked with blood. He looked up to the walls, the paintwork blistering and cracking as if the room was burning from within. “You can’t be here like this, I don’t think it’s safe for you.”
“Silence.” Sleep begged, his throat burning from projecting his voice. It was a strange discomfort, usually Vessel was his mouthpiece but he couldn’t quite face sinking back into Vessel’s mind in this moment. He knew what he’d find there. Vessel was scared, his eyes wide, a bead of sweat on his brow. Sleep didn’t much want to hear his inside thoughts now.
“You can, talk? Like this? What is happening?”
Sleep stopped Vessel talking with a swift push of a spare tentacle inside his mouth. Vessel frowned as his lips were forced apart, taking the makeshift tentacle gag perfectly, but pissed off by it all the same. “I said, SILENCE.” Sleep hissed, narrowing his eyes at his vessel.
He pulsed his tentacle once and Vessel’s eyes went wide, inhaling sharply through his nostrils as the static shock on his tongue smarted, Sleep’s slick immediately cooling the flare of pain. Vessel could taste blood again and he felt bile rise in his throat, relaxing his jaw in an attempt to appease Sleep, who smiled cruelly, showing too many teeth, saliva dripping from his maw.
“Your body, now. Words later.”
Vessel tried to shake his head, screaming against the tentacle wedged inside his mouth. It forced further down his throat, and Vessel’s eyes teared up, his ears ringing as he tried to reconcile with what was happening. Sleep unfurled himself, cracking his neck as he shook out his limbs. He clawed at Vessel’s legs, growling as his grip slipped against his skin.
Vessel pulled his boxers off with shaking hands, his mouth still stuffed full. He wasn’t sure if this could be considered consent, but in the back of his mind, as much as he was scared, he craved closeness, intimacy too. Sleep’s aggression could be understood as fear, searching for comfort, maybe. Or a show of his strength, a display of defiance to the greater pantheon of gods Sleep had been rejected by so many millennia ago.
How many years had he been in service to Sleep, and not gone all the way?
Vessel remained knelt before him, placing his hands neatly on the top of his thighs, keeping still as Sleep played with his mouth, pushing and prodding at his tongue with his tentacle, imitating oral sex. Vessel couldn’t help but wonder if this felt good for him, as he flicked his tongue over the top of the tentacle, meeting Sleeps eyes before wrapping his lips around the appendage and sucking. The resounding hum from Sleep was confirmation enough, and Vessel worked in earnest, bobbing his head back and forth, his eyes not straying from Sleep’s.
Sleep slowly wrapped himself around Vessel, coating his bare legs in his slick and sucking at his flesh with thicker tentacles. Vessel couldn’t count how many there were now, his eyes watering as Sleep guided the tentacle in his mouth further, filling him all the way down to his throat. He wrapped a limb around Vessel’s neck, feeling the way his pulse quickened under his study.
“It burns.” Sleep calmly explained, his mouth adjusting to human speech. “But the battle continues. I must take my leave shortly, and my place will be there for a time, yours here.”
Vessel nodded, not quite understanding, his mouth still full, sucking gently and humming in agreement. Sleep continued, “I must have you, it has been too long my first.”
Swallowing, his mouth full with thick slick, half choking on the tentacle, Vessel’s eyes creased, his lips pulling up in an open smile. He was petrified, but he trusted Sleep. Finally.
The rug was pulled from under him, literally. Sleep surrounding him, rising above him and hovering over like a looming threat. Vessel rose on his knees, reaching his arms forward before they were pulled back, tentacles wrapping around his limbs as the room filled with fog.
Six eyes shone in the darkness, the lightest touch of a tendon brushing against Vessel’s calf, behind his knee, travelling up the back of his thigh and circling his hole. He closed his eyes, willing his body to finally relax into it.
This was happening, here and now, and he didn’t want it to hurt. Or maybe, some sick part of him did, if he was left bruised and broken by Sleep’s brief apparition in the real world, would that make it better?
The tentacle wiggled inside, its path carved for it by the phantom prep from hours earlier, burrowing deep and pressing. Vessel keened into it, as Sleep brushed against his prostate, pausing there as a second, slightly wider tentacle nudged at his entrance.
“Some humans enjoy this part.” Sleep stated, and Vessel’s eyes opened impossibly wider as he took in the sight of the mess of tentacles swarming him, his eyes opened to the idea that he wasn’t Sleep’s first. Not truly. Ten years of worship and only now was Sleep using him like he’d begged him to for so long. He tried to not take it too personally, Sleep had existed for all of time, after all.
Sleep wrapped around Vessel’s shaft, squeezing him and pulsing, working him up and down in a way which made his spine tingle. His balls tightened with each pass, Sleep working him faster and faster as he pushed the second, wider tentacle inside.
The stretch was almost unbearable, filling his walls out entirely, but instead of working in and out, it slithered deeper, cramping Vessel’s muscles as he felt his organs being crushed. A narrow tentacle worked at his tip, seemingly finding a path down his urethra, the sensation startling and alien. Vessel blinked blindly, his throat full, his arms pinned while he was choked, Sleep winding around his length and working him faster and harder as the tentacles inside him brutally assaulted his prostate. His balls clenched and he shivered as he almost came, the narrow rod fed down his dick hole blocking the fluid from exiting.
It was painful, and terrifying, but exquisite. He felt so full, so whole, so entirely unhuman as Sleep reached into the cavities of his ears, pounding the delicate tissue of his brain with waves and waves of shock pleasure.
He wanted to cry, but he couldn’t. He wanted to cum, maybe he already had, but as the tentacles retreated back, slowly working their way out of his orifices, he reached his peak, ribbons of white spooling from his cock as Sleep brushed past his prostate on more time on his way out leaving him shaking.
The tentacle filling his mouth stroked his cheeks, the slick cool and calming the redness of his flush. Vessel slowly took breaths, sinking back onto his heels and rubbing his palms into his eyes. “Gods, Sleep, you’re fucking insane.”
An audible crack sounded, the noise reaching Vessel before pain smarted across his face where Sleep had slapped him.
“Filthy language. I shall plug your holes again.” Sleep raised his dominant tentacle like a weapon, pausing as Vessel held his hands out and shook his head back and forth.
“Nonononono my god, my love. I’m sorry, I’m still a bit shaken up. It’s a lot, this form. Please don’t leave, don’t go. Just let me rest a while, I still want to make you feel good.”
Sleep huffed a sound of satisfaction, leaning back against the wall. The fog dissipated as he sat in silence, watching Vessel catch his breath. He felt battered, bruised, his hole still so open and begging to be filled again, but his dick hurt and he wasn’t sure if it was healthy to have sex with a god more than once in one day.
Vessel wiped his face, his nose scrunching as he looked at the black goo on his fingers.
“You’ve done well, my first.”
“Am I truly your first, sir?”
“I shall smite thee.”
“Sorry,” Vessel sniffed, wrapping his arms around himself. “I just mean, I’d hoped I would be your first human at least?”
Sleep shrugged. “First human not to die on me.”
Vessel stared at him, wide eyed, his brow furrowing in a concerned frown.
Sleep continued, “Many died of shock, their feeble minds unable to contain me in this form. Few fared better, but the physical toll took their lives. Truthfully, there is no greater ick than a lover dropping dead on one before one can sow their seed.”
Vessel hacked a laugh, his throat still thick with blue black sludge. “Ick? Did you pluck that word from my head?”
Sleep smirked, “Perhaps.”
Vessel shook his head rubbing his aching legs with his arms, settling against the tentacle Sleep wrapped behind him supporting his back comfortably. After a while, Sleep’s raw form wasn’t scaring him anymore. His size alone was intimidating, sure, and at first he could barely meet his gaze, but as he looked deep into the six eyes glowing back at him, he settled on something Sleep had said.
“Circling back, and don’t think I’m ignoring you fucking and dumping corpses across time, but that aside my love, what do you mean – your seed?”
Sleep shot him an unearthly grin. “Think you can take me?”
Vessel swallowed, giving him an unsure nod. The tentacle supporting his back slowly leaned him back, until he was laid across the floor, Sleep gently tucking his legs out and spreading them, bending his knees into a comfortable position with his feet on the floor.
The god loomed over, hovering above Vessel supporting himself as if on all fours, his mouth hungrily licking and mouthing at Vessel’s thighs, his abdomen, working up and pressing a wet, open-mouthed kiss to his throat, before sinking his teeth in. Sharp enough to send a wave of shivering pleasure through Vessel, but not firm enough to break skin.
Vessel couldn’t help but feel like this was an imitation of how they’d lay together in the gardens of Eden, of Arcadia, Sleep leaning over him and pressing kisses to his skin, never quite touching his lips, always skirting around any real display of affection, of true intimacy.
Vessel felt Sleep’s breath on his skin, fiery and burning where in Arcadia it would be cool and sweet, his angelic form glistening under the sun but always cold to the touch.
It was a startling contrast, to be under him now, Sleep finally giving him everything he had been asking for, begging for, for years, but it all felt too rushed. Too brutal, too fast, his body still aching from the onslaught of tentacles filling him from all directions.
Vessel bit his lip as Sleep pushed his legs up, pressing his thighs to his chest as something hard pressed against his hole. “When you leave, are you leaving for good? I can’t help feeling like this is your sick way of saying goodbye.”
Sleep shook his head, spittle flying off from his jaws. “The battle continues,” he repeated.
Vessel hummed in agreement, or acceptance, half understanding Sleep to mean he would return, when things were settled in the dreamworld. Maybe the gods were at each-others throats again? Maybe he’d never know, his role was to devote himself mind and soul to Sleep, and spread his worship.
Sleep used a narrow tentacle to tease Vessel’s hole open again, working it gently and avoiding any particularly sensitive nerves, stimulating preparation for something much larger. Vessel shivered as cool fluid flushed through him, Sleep producing more slick, the wetness dribbling down between Vessel’s cheeks, before Sleep loomed forward again, bringing his face closer, a large, firm appendage pressing against Vessel’s ass.
He blinked his eyes out of sync, almost as if he was glitching. “So good for me.”
Vessel opened his mouth in a gasp, the praise almost as shocking as the stretch as Sleep pushed in, working his length forward with a shunt, making Vessel choke a cough. Unlike the tentacles, which were slippery and flexible, Sleep’s cock was firm, ridged and impossibly wide, Vessel’s eyes streaming as he opened and closed his mouth dumbly, the breath practically knocked out of his lungs.
Sleep lurched back, and gave a short thrust, buying himself another inch. Vessel whimpered, the pleasure bordering on pain, his abdomen swelling as he took this huge thing inside him, bit by bit, Sleep carefully working him open.
For some bizarre reason, his face was beginning to itch, the sensation dulled by the distraction of Sleep slowly setting a paced rhythm of short thrusts, barely pulling out before burying forward, inch by cruel inch, until he bottomed out and Vessel shuddered in relief. He had to be at least a foot deep, wide by almost half, his cock pulsing inside him, its hard ridges rocking against his prostate.
Vessel scrunched his face, his cheeks burning and a sharp pinch of pain at his temples. No wonder people had died, taking the god on in this form. He had to endure, he had to see this through to the end, he felt impossibly full now and almost sick from it but afterwards, he’d be the first to suffer through Sleep’s torture and earn his love. It was his beginning, middle and end. All the pain, every impossibly difficult thing his life had thrown at him, would be worth it if he could feel the sweet satisfaction of getting ruined by his god, and survive it.
Sleep’s thrusts were unhurried, slow and brutally deep, his tentacles stroking down Vessel’s arms caressing his skin. Soothing him through any discomfort, guiding him towards his release. Sleep knew what would come next, he had planned for this. He’d always known, since he first met Vessel that fateful evening on the cliffs.
Vessel winced as the pain spreading across his cheekbones worsened, his brow furrowed as the headache pressed between his eyes. He blinked, blinding searching Sleep’s gaze for reason, meaning. Was it over? Had it begun? Vessel felt Sleep thrust his dick harder, speeding up, his body suddenly reminded of the huge thing stretched inside it.
A ringing sounded in his ears, and Vessel shook his head back and forth. He couldn’t lose himself now, he couldn’t die without knowing how good it would feel if Sleep just came inside him, filled him, worshipped him.
The thought felt like a lightbulb moment. Vessel opened his eyes, his vision much clearer now. Sleep leaned over, appearing as if in high definition, the fog barely registering now.
“Fuck me harder.” Vessel gritted his teeth, grinning up at his god.
Sleep smirked, before spitting down in Vessel’s open mouth. “Foul language, six eyes.”
Vessel didn’t quite understand, or at least didn’t have a chance to, before Sleep started thrusting harder, meaner, pushing Vessel’s legs up and forcing him wider. The new angle meant Sleep hit Vessel’s prostate dead on with every brutal thrust, his ridges dragging over and over, punishingly delicious as Vessel started to laugh uncontrollably, his dick spilling precum over his chest.
Sleep used his telepathic connection to send words of affirmation, sentiments of devotion, adoration, achievement to Vessel, and as he reached his peak, he knew.
This was ascension.
Vessel barked an order at Sleep, and he recoiled, pulling out of Vessel just before he came, leaning back against the wall, his tentacles splaying out. Vessel hauled himself up and crawled onto Sleep’s lap, settling himself onto his cock and sinking down with a satisfied hum. “We can fight in Arcadia alongside each other, as equals now, can’t we?” He stroked his fingers across Sleep’s cheek, before gripping his chin firmly.
Sleep rolled his eyes back, giving a low growl of agreement. “That was always the plan, my vessel.”.
Vessel shook a laugh, hoisting himself up and slamming himself back down on Sleep’s cock. The dull burn was beyond satisfying, his spare hand reaching between them to stroke himself, his fingers wiping the precum from his tip and sliding it up and down.
“Am I still your Vessel?”
“Always.”
Vessel grinned, riding Sleep and grinding his hips back and forth. The pleasure was delicious, the pain completely subsiding now and replaced by an urgent need, his hand gripping his dick faster and working himself over and over, wanting to paint Sleep’s slick black form with his pretty pearlescent cum.
He caught a glint of light, and nearly froze when his gaze snapped to the mirror on the wall, perfectly framing them. Sleep’s corporeal form was a tangle of tentacles, some thicker resembling limbs, as if his body had once been human but had slowly dissolved into something other, his skin covered in tiny soft scales and spikes, blue and black with the unhinged face of a six eyed fanged Oni. Vessel stared into their reflection, his pale skin a stark contrast to Sleep’s, littered with red and blue bruises and black sludge, six blue eyes blinking back. He leaned forward and softly stroked one of Sleep’s horns, studying his face in the mirror a moment longer.
“I guess I’m used to wearing a mask, at least.” Vessel stuttered, reaching his fingers up to brush his lower lash line, a second and third pair of eyes settled in where the pain in his cheek bones had been.
Sleep laughed, and it rocked Vessel, who moaned in pleasure as he began to ride him again, Sleep slipping a tentacle between them to stroke Vessel. He was so close, his body producing its own slick now, sliding easily up and down Sleep’s cock until he felt it pulse inside him, electrifying and if anything, growing wider.
Vessel stared at him in a split second of panic, before Sleep shrugged. “Some deities have a knot, my apologies for any discomfort.”
His explanation shook a gentle laugh out of Vessel, who leaned back and rode up and down in earnest, clamping tightly down around Sleep as his eyes did that out of sync blinking thing and he came, fast and filling Vessel with hot, sticky fluid before holding him down with his tentacles, watching his new eyes widen at the feel of his knot forming and keeping him plugged. Vessel's cheeks pinked, his pretty flush positively adorable, along with the way his abdomen swelled.
As Sleep filled him entirely, Vessel spurted cum across his chest with such speed that some hit his face, and Sleep quickly slipped out a serpentine tongue to get a taste, smiling as the salt satisfied his love of seawater. Vessel felt incredibly heavy, so full from Sleep’s knot and cum but for some reason, he could barely keep his eyes open, blinking once, twice, before sinking into a gentle sleep laid across Sleep’s chest.
Sleep joined him in the dreamworld, small fires still blinking on the horizon. They were by the water, Vessel stepping down the shore to splash his face. “That’s nice and cool.”
Striding forward to meet him, Sleep slipped his hand into Vessel’s and squeezed. "My first, let us see to it that we lie together again, now.”
Vessel chuckled, “Insatiable.”
Giving a shrug, Sleep stroked Vessel’s wings and hummed, staring down at his tits. “Tell me, love, have you always had these?”
*