
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/277135.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Original_Work
  Additional Tags:
      Cliche, Community:_smut_fest
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-01-01 Words: 2217
****** Echoes ******
by kkscatnip_(autohaptic)
Summary
     A young person needs the assistance of one of the Wonders to save
     their sick mother. The 'Wonders' are personifications of those
     constructions of Ancient History.
Notes
     Written for smut_fest's fantasy round.
In the heart of the city called Babylon, there lived a boy-- a Wonder-- called
Babylon. He did not live as you or I might, but existed outside of life, an
exception to the rule. There were other cities and other Wonders, but this was
my city, my Wonder, and hopefully my salvation.
It took nearly six months for me to be granted an audience with Babylon, during
which time my mother's health went from bad to worse. My younger-brother Nasir
promised to care for her in my absence, for all that he was only ten he was the
only option; we had no money for an asus to tell us what herbs to use or an
ashipus to banish the demons in her lungs.
"Go," mother wheezed when she saw my hesitation.
Nasir smiled, although I could see weariness around the edges of it; the
wheezing was not easy to sleep through. "We'll be fine, Enki."
I left for the palace and the Wonder it held unsure whether she would be alive
by the time I had my audience, but determined to help her either way. The
Wonder could help her spirit on to the next world or cure her, and I would
spend the rest of my days a slave to pay for the service.
Trying not to think about it was an exercise in impossibility, but I attempted
it anyway. It was not too high a price to pay, to make Nasir not lose his
mother at such an age. (To have myself not lose her either; sixteen was not so
old as it once had been.)
The only thing I had with me was a letter that stated that I had been granted
an audience-- or that was what I had been told it said, anyhow, and when waving
it at the guards granted me entrance and directions inside the palace I
supposed that I had not been lied to.
I had come expecting waiting, but there seemed to be none. I could not bring
myself to speculate what had caused the six-month waiting period to begin with,
if it was this easy once I got inside. I dared not ask questions for fear of
the answer being that I was not worthy because I had asked a question.
"State your purpose clearly, and the Wonder will make his decision," the guard
outside the door said, with the air of one repeating ritual words. "He will
also pronounce your payment."
That was all I needed to know, but it was precious little information, and the
lack of knowledge made me feel clumsy and inept as I stepped into the beautiful
room. There were plants everywhere, growing thickly around a path that was made
of bricks composed of some sort of material that looked like gold. Perhaps gold
itself, but that seemed... unlikely.
"Babylon?" I called into the jungle of trees and vines. Water trickled
somewhere in the background, but I could see none as I continued along the path
that wound its way through the garden that grew in the middle of a palace.
Keep walking, a voice whispered in my mind, sounding not much older than my own
and at the same time as old as the stars themselves.
A gazebo had been constructed where the path ended, and there were benches all
around the edges of the circle and a stone pedestal in the center. Babylon
hovered a few inches above the pedestal.
He was beautiful in the strangest way imaginable, completely naked and
unashamed of it. I was not normally attracted to men, but his features were
androgynous enough to make me pay attention: something about the thickness of
his lips, his cheekbones, and the gentle curve of his jawline. His skin was
especially dark, with perhaps more of an olive undertone than was strictly
normal. His hair was like leaves in the shade, and hung to his chin in
dreadlocks that resembled tiny vines and moved in an unseen breeze as he looked
at me. It seemed impossible that he was older than me, and yet I knew that he
must be. But it was the way of Wonders, being outside of time as they were.
"Enki," the Wonder-- Babylon-- said. I heard his voice in my head as well as
aloud, like an echo.
"Sir," I said respectfully and bowed. It didn't even occur to me to think it
strange that he knew my name.
He shifted, standing and hopping off of the pedestal, though he was still
inches off the ground. He walked on air the way that the rest of us might walk
on sand, though, and touched my shoulder with the utmost gentleness. "Call me
Bylo."
"Bylo." I bowed again, then straightened when his fingers came to rest on my
shoulder again. "I have come because-- my mother, she is very sick. There are
demons in her lungs, and they steal her breath away."
For long moments, Bylo said nothing. He simply looked at me, his hair floating
as strangely as his body, and then tilted his head and smiled.
For all the world, he appeared to be a carefree boy, but I knew better than
that. "Will you help me, sir? Bylo. I-- whatever your price is, I will pay it
gladly."
"You would surrender yourself to me?"
I could feel Bylo's amusement as if it were my own, but I knew it was not. It
was separate, another's, but there in my head none the less. And alongside it
was a dimly shining beacon of hope. "If that is what pleases you, yes, I would
surrender myself to you."
Bylo raised one eyebrow, disbelief written on his features clearly. "Surrender
your body?"
"Yes," I breathed, for I would, and willingly too. He was beautiful; fate could
conjure worse things for me than to engage in lovemaking with Bylo.
"And what of your soul? Would you offer that to me as well?" That dim light of
hope seemed to be growing brighter. I could hear and feel it in his voice.
A life of servitude had been what I came here expecting, so offering it cost me
nothing. I nodded. "Yes."
Bylo smiled. I felt his joy washing over me, felt the pure glory of it like a
physical thing. "I thank you for your gift, Enki." And he kissed me, cupping
one hand over the back of my neck and drawing me closer to him.
He felt real enough under my fingertips, against my lips. Wet and firm and a
little bit wild in the way that cities were not. I kissed back as best I could,
but felt woefully inadequate next to his apparent experience. He did not appear
dissatisfied when we broke apart, however, and that beacon of hope was wide and
growing, the lightness of it overtaking other emotions.
"You haven't done this before," Bylo murmured against my lips when he broke the
kiss.
I shivered at the feeling of the words, the utter approval in my mind. "I-- I
have looked after my mother, these past three years-- there was no time for a
wife."
He nodded, expression well-pleased. "It is a good thing. It is what I needed."
The words didn't make sense, but that, I thought, was the way of Wonders. And
besides that, Bylo was kissing me again, deep and with his hands working at my
belt. He removed it easily and let it fall to the ground, then slid his hands
into the bottom of my tunic up and up until he was pushing the coarse, undyed
material over my head and letting it fall to the bricks.
I whimpered at the feeling of his fingers on my nipples, at the twin sensations
as he squeezed and rubbed. Bylo smiled broadly. "You like it. Good. That makes
this enjoyable."
Having sex with someone who didn't enjoy it didn't seem like fun, so I could
see the purpose to his words. I opened my mouth to respond, though I had no
idea what to say in all honesty, but the only thing that came out was a moan
when Bylo cupped one hand around my cock. Which was very very hard.
"Give yourself to me, Enki." Bylo whispered the words aloud, but in my head
they were loud, drawing all my attention, demanding that I do exactly as I
asked.
So I did. I let him push me toward one of the benches and unfasten my trousers
and lower himself down onto my prick. The urge to touch him was too strong to
ignore, too strong to resist. I found my hands gripping his hips, doing to his
nipples as he had done to mine, cupping his neck, tugging at his hair.
All the while he rode me, dark and beautiful and wild, a hand on the back of
the bench to steady himself as his back arched more, more. (I said it, over and
over: "More, more.") The pace was indescribable, fast but slow, hard but
gentle, and desperate all the while. I could feel it in my head warring with
the hope, such need that it nearly felt cruel, felt like agony.
"Say that you are mine," Bylo ordered, with the tone of one accustomed to being
obeyed.
I hesitated, not because I didn't want to but because it was difficult to find
my breath, difficult to find my wits with him still riding me the way he was.
Up and down, slick and tight and hot. And over it all was that relentless,
frantic need.
"Do it, Enki, say you are mine."
"I am," I gasped, and my hands returned to his waist and I pulled him close to
me. I felt infused with that recklessness; made bold, able to do anything and
get away with it.
He did not argue and in fact moved with my urging, pressing his chest to mine.
Insistently his fingers pulled the small hairs at the back of my neck and he
kissed me, deep and hard and possessive.
I might have come; I might have shouted. I had no idea either way, because
everything went suddenly quite black and I was no longer aware of anything
except for the deep, sated sort of pleasure in my mind.
Bylo's pleasure.
The black thread snapped suddenly, and the world was there once more. I was
sitting on the pedestal for some reason, only I wasn't quite sitting on it; I
was floating above it.
"I'm glad you survived," Bylo said.
I looked to my left and there he was. But he was me; he was honey-skinned
rather than olive and his dark hair hung in loose curls to his ears, and his
eyes were black and he was me.
"You tricked me!" I shouted, and we both winced. The echoes with Bylo's voice
had been pleasant; when I shouted it was anything but, instead it was jarring
and made tears come to my eyes.
Bylo shook his head. "First, do not speak any louder than I am speaking now.
Ever. Your displeasure will be known in other ways, so there is no need."
I scowled, but said nothing.
"Second, I did not trick you. You are the Wonder now; you may heal your mother,
or not, as you please. And I am mortal once more, in a body freely given."
"How do I heal her?" I asked, speaking barely above a whisper. The echo was not
unpleasant this time.
"Will it so, and it shall be." Bylo stood, tilting his head to the side a
little. He wore my body like a set of clothes; his mannerisms in my form. The
end product was somewhat disconcerting, but he did not seem to notice any such
thing. "You can check up on her, if you open your consciousness up to the city,
but I cannot in any way recommend such a thing. Send a letter to your little
brother instead, if you wish, but I cannot recommend that either. Keeping in
contact makes it more painful when they die."
"Thank you for telling me." I struggled to be polite, to act as I always had,
but it felt empty, when we could both feel what I truly thought of the entire
thing.
Bylo bowed to me. "I am leaving now. The guards can answer any further
questions you have."
And just like that, he left, walking down the gold-brick path. I followed him
for a way, walking on air as easily as I walked on the ground. It felt a little
odd, but I would adjust to that I supposed.
He did not stop at the door to converse with the guards, instead walking
straight out like he owned the place. I walked unhappily back to the gazebo and
the pedestal and climbed into my seat.
I wondered, as I began to will my mother better-- the press of the demons on my
mind was insistent and unpleasant and made me feel like a bath would need to
happen soon, from whatever water source I had heard earlier-- how long it would
be before I could bring myself to do as Bylo had done.
Never, I vowed.
A lifetime of servitude was fair; an eternity of servitude was not.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
