Filed To Story: Spit or Swallow: Kiss Of The Basilisk
Caspen looked up, following her gaze. “That…” He trailed off, and Tem finished for him.
“That’s Kora.”
“Yes. It is.”
Tem stared up at the statue numbly. It was the largest depiction of Kora she had ever seen, carved from a stone that looked like marble, with delicate threads of gold laced throughout it. The goddess was in a seated position, cross-legged, her elaborately braided hair nearly touching the arched ceiling.
“Where-” Tem started, but the question died on her tongue. There was only one obvious place the ritual could occur. Kora’s hands were resting palm up in her lap, splayed open to form a perfect level surface, right in the center of her legs. An altar.
“Her hands,” Caspen said, even though Tem already knew.
“And you expect me to-“
“I do not expect you to do anything.”
“You know that’s not what I mean. This is…”
But there were no words.
Caspen walked her all the way down to the altar, his arm still around her waist. They stood in front of the statue, looking up at Kora’s peaceful face.
“She’s beautiful,” Tem said, almost despite herself.
“Like you.”
Just then, the double doors opened, and people began to file in.
Caspen pulled her closer. “I love you,” he murmured in her ear. “You do not have to do this.”
“Please stop saying that.”
Caspen didn’t reply. He only held her tighter as the auditorium filled. Tem had expected a crowd full of snakes, but all the basilisks wore their human forms.
It is so that no one accidentally kills you.
Tem supposed that made sense. Still, it was unnerving to see so many naked people at once-it wasn’t something Tem was used to. And they were so beautiful. The women all had soft curves, and the men were all tall, imposing presences. It was hard not to feel woefully inferior when she was surrounded by so many stunning bodies.
Tem looked up at Caspen. His eyes were narrowed; she had never seen him so tense. She had no idea what to do when he was like this. Usually he was the calm one; it was always Tem who was spiraling about something. Now he was holding on to her like she was the last person alive, his fingers twisting into her skin so tightly that she winced. He couldn’t continue like this. The last thing she needed was for him to snap at his father when his energy was so unpredictable.
“Caspen,” she said softly, pressing her lips to his chest, then his collarbone, then his jaw. “Calm me down.”
He leaned into her touch, relaxing his grip ever so slightly. “As you wish.”
A soothing wave flowed from his mind to hers, slowing her scattered heart rate. Somewhere along the way, their lips touched. They kissed slowly, and Tem knew everyone would be watching.
“I love you,” Caspen whispered when Tem finally pulled away. “You do not have to do this.”
The problem was she loved him too. And in order to be with him, she had to do this.
A sudden hush fell over the crowd. Tem followed their gaze to the double doors, where a tall figure was standing.
The Serpent King had arrived.
Tem had thought that Caspen was formidable.
All the hard lines on him were even harder on his father. They had the same proud posture, the same rigid musculature in their torsos. But where Caspen’s face had an ethereal quality to it, his father’s beauty was intimidating and harsh. His eyes were fully black, with none of the gold of Caspen’s. They roamed over the auditorium, taking in first the crowd, then his son, then finally Tem. She flinched as his gaze met hers. Beside her, Caspen’s entire body went rigid. He was holding her so tightly she could barely breathe, yet she wished he would hold her even tighter. He whispered in her ear:
“He will not harm you. He knows I will never forgive him if he does.”
Tem could only nod.
“If at any point you change your mind and you wish to stop, you need only look at me, and I will put an end to this.”
“And how will you put an end to it?”
His answer was a single word: “Quickly.”
“I’d really rather you didn’t kill your own father because of me.”
The king began to walk toward them. Something flared within Tem-a familiar sensation, something she’d felt many times before with Caspen. Perhaps it was the king’s resemblance to his son that made her feel warm. Or perhaps it was something independent of Caspen entirely. The king was naked, just like everyone else, and Tem couldn’t help but flush at the sight of his cock. It was the same perfect shape as Caspen’s, only slightly thicker at the base. He was already hard, which was no surprise.
At this point, Tem was no stranger to rigid cocks.
The basilisks knelt as the king made his way through the crowd. Time slowed with every step he took, and by the time he was right in front of them, it had stopped altogether.
For an endless moment, father and son stared at each other. Tem could only imagine what they were thinking. Then the king held out his hand. With a jolt, Tem realized she was meant to take it. Caspen’s lips dipped to her ear.
“You do not have to do this.”
Tem didn’t reply.
Instead, she took the king’s hand. It was enormous; his palm swallowed her fingers as he led her up the steps of the statue. A hiss rippled through the crowd as they ascended, and Tem resisted the urge to cover her ears against the deafening noise. When they were standing right in front of Kora’s hands, the king turned to face her.
The soothing wave of calm slowly dissipated. But Tem didn’t look at Caspen. Instead, she looked at the king, seeing everything she was about to touch. She knew she shouldn’t be turned on. She shouldn’t be.
But she was.
Tem couldn’t help it. The warmth she’d felt when the king first walked in had only increased the longer he was naked in front of her. She would understand if it was merely a physical sensation-she was looking at a beautiful body after all. But Tem felt an odd, magnetic pull toward him that she couldn’t explain. The king was tilting his head just as Caspen always did, considering her in that familiar, reptilian way. His expression was inscrutable. But Tem recognized a spark of heat in his eyes, identical to the fire that burned perpetually within Caspen’s. Something else stirred within her: a familiar stubbornness that was welded into her bones. She wanted to do this. And she wanted to do it well.
“What is your name?”
The king’s voice was rough, like gravel. Tem heard echoes of Caspen’s voice in it-they shared the same deep cadence and cavernous tone.
“Temperance.”
The parallels to her first night in the cave were undeniable. She’d stood before Caspen in the same way and introduced herself just as she was doing now.
“Temperance,” the king said slowly, testing it out. His black eyes bore into hers, and Tem had the distinct impression he was looking straight into her mind.
She squared her shoulders, tilting her chin upward. “And yours?”
The king’s eyebrows rose a quarter of an inch. Then he said smoothly, “I am Bastian.”
Now that they knew each other’s names, Tem felt oddly calm. The king was no longer some nebulous, unknown force. Bastian was just a man like any other, and Tem was a woman who had been trained to seduce him.
“Do you understand your purpose here?” Bastian asked.
Purpose. Somehow, the question felt bigger than the ritual.
Did Tem understand her purpose?