Wholly Molü

November 28, 2001

A big thanks goes out to MB and Shamenka for the beta and to the fine, fine people at Taco Bell who supplied me with the Soft Taco Supremes and large Dr. Pepper I gorged myself on in a PMS-induced frenzy the night I had the nightmare that inspired this tale.

Molü /mo-lee/ n. Mythical plant consisting of a black root and a white milky flower that negates the enchantments of sorceresses as well as the manipulations of the gods. RELATED WORKS: The Odyssey. SEE ALSO: Aiaia, Circe, Odysseus, and Adulterers, Legendary.

Sure, anyone who's ever picked up a scroll or listened to a cheap bard knows that if a mortal eats molü they're instantly immune to potions, magicks, subliminal suggestions, and just about any other type of immortal interference. But few people realize that with gods it does the exact opposite, it's like an aphrodisiac and a hypnotic suggestion all rolled into one. Slip it into someone's nectar and they're all yours for a night of drunken hedonism. Which is exactly why it's so hard for either race to get their hands on.

It had seemed like such a good idea at the time: steal it, stick it in the drink of an unsuspecting minor goddess, nymph, or sprite, and wave bye-bye to my good pal perpetual virginity. But stupid me decides he should test it on himself first, make sure all the rumors are true. How could I know it was possible to OD on plant matter?

So now here I am, too weak to move, bundled up in bed, alternating between sweating, shivering, and wanting to shove my fingers into my belly to tear my innards out. To make matters even worse my mind is so clear that I'm thinking with words I didn't even know existed.

A goblet is pushed against my mouth and, despite the queasiness I feel lurking, I swallow, hoping it will stop the awful burning in the back of my throat. It's smooth and flavorless, but still hurts going down.

Somebody gives my hair a ruffle and then a bit of a yank. There's just one being I know of who considers that to be a sign of affection, and we aren't exactly on the best of terms at the moment, so I open my eyes a bit to see what's going on.

"Good boy," she says quietly, taking the empty goblet away from my lips and setting it down by a pitcher on a side table. She seems unusually subdued.

"Yes, well." Mirth refills the goblet slowly, noticeably avoiding my eyes. "I figured waking up to that face was only bound to make you worse so I got her to switch off."

"It's no good me ignoring you if you're too sick for either you to realize it or me to enjoy it. So I'm calling a temporary truce." I try to respond but my throat tenses up before I can get a noise out and I wince.

"Here, have some more water." She presses the goblet back to my lips. I can't get over how bizarre it to see her like this, so quiet and still with absolutely no squirming. She must know how much bright color hurts my eyes in this state because her hair's pulled back into two tight little sprigs and she's even cinched her tunic shut so no red peeks out. Somebody should tell her that solid green makes her look chubby around the edges, but I value my life too much.

"I figure straight nectar's not exactly going to be agreeing with you in this state."

"Somebody's left a get-well ambrosia tart as well," she nods her head over at the table, "I'm guessing you're not going to be wanting that any time soon either?"

"Don't kick a God when he's down Mirth," I mutter crossly. She's trying hard to be mean but I can tell her heart's not in it.

Things have been like this between us for a month or so. First it was cold indifference, then dirty looks, now I'm lucky if she brushes past me somewhere and bothers to acknowledge my existence. I can see her being mad, I mean she thought Deimos and I out and out conspired to get her to show us her chest, not that I ever tried all that hard to correct that little misconception. But every time I approached her to sort it out all I could think of was how she'd looked without her tunic on and I'd end up stuttering and staring and stopping in frustration. I avoided her for weeks, which only made her madder. Well I'm sorry, but how exactly are you supposed to hash things out with someone when all you can think about was how they looked nearly naked to the point where you find yourself becoming inappropriately aroused?

And the worst part of it is I'm pretty sure she's punishing me because she thinks I've been getting off on this the whole time. No offense to her, but trying to jerk off to Mirth is like trying to masturbate to a fantasy threesome involving your sister and a buddy from work. I've been alternating between feelings of guilt, indignation, and self-loathing all while Deimos has been able to wank to his perverted heart's content. Lucky bastard.

She's sneaking a taste of tart while she thinks I'm not looking when a very moody goddess comes storming loudly into the room. "Ow," Mirth curses irritably, giving the finger she's just bitten in surprise a shake. She immediately turns on Discord. "I thought we had a deal."

"Enjoy the novelty did you?" she retorts impatiently, which is funny because I was thinking practically the same thing. Sometimes I can't help but love that girl.

"Watch it little red ragamuffin or the deal's off." Discord glares. "I figure since you're getting the better end of this bargain and I'm the one who's going to take the heat if we're caught you should sweeten the pot."

"You bribed Discord into to doing something she was just going to do anyway?" I hack out in disbelief. I take back that love thing. "You idiot."

"Stay out of this," Mirth insists. She grabs Discord by the arm, hauls her over to the other end of the room and pulls her down onto the chairs there. Their conversation becomes heated and hushed; I can't make out anything being said no matter how hard I try. I'm trying to read their lips when it happens.

I can't be sure, but I could swear I see Mirth's hand on Discord's knee. Then she leans forward to say something more and I see her tongue brush against Discord's ear and her hand actually slides *up* the other goddess's leg and *under* her skirt.

"Ares caught Discord shirking off and sent her back here to take care of you. It didn't take an awful lot of bargaining on my part to get her to leave again."

"Oh." Okay, there was no way I just saw what I think I did. No freakin' way. There has to be a reasonable explanation, and I think I know what it is: I've driven myself insane.

Apparently feeling wretched has made me Mr. Popularity because almost immediately there's a knock on the outer door frame and a blond head pokes into the room. "You up for visitors?" He walks in without waiting for an answer; sometimes I don't know why he even bothers.

"Hey M," Deimos says cordially, "haven't seen you around these parts in a while. I was starting to think you didn't like me." I can't see what he does to her, but it makes Mirth jump a little, then stiffen.

He arches his eyebrows at me, then towards her, like he's proud of himself for being clever enough to get a rise out of her.

"You couldn't make a child smile on solstice, unless maybe you jumped in front of an oncoming chariot," Mirth says snidely, glaring at him from the end of the bed.

His eyes flick over at her and he scrunches his face up so only his two front teeth show in a demented smirk. "Is that a new outfit? I hardly recognize you without your..." he twirls a hand in her direction as he maliciously searches for the right word, "*red* showing." She seethes, but bites her tongue and crosses her arms self-consciously over her chest. One of these days they're going to kill one another, I just know it.

"What am I, an idiot? I left enough so that I could slip it to somebody else." Yeah, like I can't see where this dialogue is going.

"Well I thought, I mean since you're stuck in here and all, if maybe I could take it off your hands? Just because you're laid up doesn't mean someone shouldn't be getting laid, right?"

"Don't be stupid, they confiscated it once they realized what was wrong with me. And even if they hadn't, I sure as Hades wouldn't give it up to you."

More out of wanting to irk Deimos than actual concern, I'm sure, Mirth hurriedly pushes him aside and lifts my head to give me more water. If she has her way I'm going to be so bloated by the time I'm well that they'll be confusing me with Fatuus.

When she straightens up I see him sliding a hand around her waist and know something must be wrong. Deimos can't possibly be that spiteful and stupid, can he? But apparently he can because he leans down and calmly licks the side of her neck, then presses a kiss to it. Why the hell is she ignoring him? To Deimos exhalation is a sign of consent; she's only encouraging him. He's slowly kissing upward, nipping at her skin and nuzzling her earlobe. As he starts to bite the top of her ear she turns and I gleefully wait for her smash the tart into his face or empty the pitcher over his head but instead she fastens her nails into the back of his neck and slides her tongue against his. Sick.

They're kissing roughly now; I actually see Mirth bite him a few times and I wonder when that queasiness is going to come back and rescue me from the bile I feel building up. Deimos pushes her up against the wall and starts fumbling with her tunic and I find myself torn between reminding them that I'm still in the room and watching them go at it like a live action illustration on a dirty scroll. Mirth's head is tilted back and she's letting out dark little giggles as Deimos teasingly nibbles at her throat and rubs his thumb against the nipple of the breast he's managed to get free. I'm starting to think maybe she got her thieving little hands onto some molü of her own; why else would she be letting an inept, lascivious creep like him even touch her?

The white of the wall is unnaturally bright against the green of Mirth's clothes and it almost seems that she's sinking into it and being absorbed by the marble. The black veins of it bleed out onto her in syrupy drizzles and the liquid slowly slithers down over her shoulders and becomes tiny undulating snakes, and the snakes swirl in patterns like pulsating tattoos on her skin. She appears oblivious to all of this, but Deimos is taking the heads of the creatures between his teeth and sucking them down as casually as if they were sentient strings of licorice.

Black ivy pulls itself free of the confines of the marble and dances and sways like a transfixed cobra until it's twisted around Mirth's neck, arms, and wrists and pulls the ties out her hair as it caresses her ear with flat, arrow-headed leaves.

She pulls herself away, totally clueless to the danger she's in, and shoves Deimos roughly onto the mattress, which would be the final straw for me if only I had the strength to kick at them or yell 'hey, I'm lyin' here!' I mean voyeurism is fun and all, but not when the activities being watched are taking place on *my* bed with *me* in it. Besides, if seeing her breasts once turns me into a quivering mass of jelly, imagine what watching her have hot, sweaty sex with one of my relatives will do.

I must have zoned out for a minute because suddenly the action has jumped forward and the two of them are going at like crazy, or at least Mirth is. After some initial groping, butt grabbing and rough bitey kisses, Deimos settles back and just enjoys the ride he's getting, about as active a participant as a dildo strapped onto one of Apollo's surfboards. It's nice to see he's appreciative of the rare treat he's getting. Up until now Mirth seemed the most sexually ambiguous creature I'd ever met; all flirtation from her one moment and frustration for you the next.

For some reason it doesn't strike me as odd that both of them still have their respective pants on. I'm sort of busy dividing my focus between the tunic that's slipped down and given me a great view of Mirth's bouncing breasts with their pink burnished nipples and the marble wall behind them which has seen fit to turn deep red and start melting.

The desperately screwing pair couldn't care less. Mirth's got her eyes half closed and her neck arched, alternating between little gaspy moans and 'ohs' as her hips grind against Deimos'.

It's at this moment that Discord decides to put in a return appearance, and for once I'm glad to see her. If anyone can put a damper on a libido faster than a bucket of ice down the pants it's her, and I want these two to get the fuck off my bed. Literally.

Mirth licks some sweat off her lip and calmly swings off Deimos' erection, which I'm only assuming is there because it still looks to me like his shorts are securely belted on. She strides across the room with an amazing amount of confidence for a gal who's topless and just been caught jumping the terror god like he's an extra springy mattress.

Before Discord can open her mouth and spew forth some bitchy commentary Mirth grabs her by the bodice straps and hauls her over for some serious face smooshing, which I find scary and strangely sexy all at the same time. Apparently Mir can be quite the little kink muffin when she wants to.

Black hair contrasts nicely with bright red and the lower half of my leathers gets uncomfortably tight as it looks like I'm finally gonna get to see what's so exciting about lesbians that satyrs won't shut up about them. I also find myself jealously wondering why she never seems to get these twinges of nymphomania around me. Us second in commands need mindless physical love too, you know.

Discord and Mirth are pressed breast to breast, grabbing at each other's backside and kissing wildly when Deimos takes them both by the hip and yanks them back onto the bed. The next thing I know, Mirth's got her tongue down my cousin's throat and Discord's copping a serious feel while sandwiched between the two of them and I realize that if I don't do something soon I'm going to be stuck watching the most disturbingly incestuous threesome imaginable.

With a lot of effort I manage to ignore the orgy in progress at my feet and reach over to the side table. It takes a lot of finger wiggling and about three good prods but the pitcher finally goes over, smashing loudly on the floor tiles.

When I look up, Mirth is sitting cross-legged and alone at the base of the bed with her shirt on and her hair still tied back. Deimos is leaning against the wall, which is back to its normal mottled white color, and flicking annoyed looks in Discord's direction as she drums her fingernails loudly on the doorframe across the room.

"I think maybe Strife shouldn't have any company right now," Mir says haltingly, getting to her feet and gesturing the other two towards the door. As she shoos them out I close my eyes and squirm, trying to will away the almost painful activity in my pants.

When I open them again Mirth is lounging across my knees, stretched out over me like a great boneless python, all length and curve, and looking at me in a way that could only be described as sultry. It's pretty damn disturbing. So disturbing, in fact, that it takes a minute for me to notice the bedspread is gone and my cock has somehow gotten out of my clothes. That can't be good.

She slinks forward and casually runs a finger down my chest, her eyes unusually dark and wild. This is *not* happening. This *cannot* be happening. Her lips are moist and only just barely parted but I can see the tip of her tongue as it brushes against the edges of her teeth. This is bad. Bad bad bad.

There's a growing ache in my ribs and I can feel myself starting to hyperventilate. That last act of a desperate being took a lot out of me and now even wiggling my toes seems impossible. I'm not going anywhere.

I squeeze my eyes shut again and start begging any god that comes to mind that when I open them she will not be doing what I think she was going to start doing. I'm trying so hard my head hurts from concentrating. It takes a while, but I finally get my breathing to return to normal and myself convinced that when I look again everything will be fine.

I gasp and quickly avert my attention towards the ceiling.

Obviously I wasn't trying hard enough.

But the important thing was that I tried, right? I mean, nobody could really fault me for resigning myself to my fate at this point. I did all I could to stop it, I'm sick bordering on paralyzed after all. Anyhow, I bet you'd do the same thing.

This time there's nothing to distract me; no melting, no bleeding, and no snakes. The picture's a bit murky and I can barely feel a thing because the lower half of my body seems a mile away, but I assure you, on a purely subconscious level I'm enjoying this immensely.

Mirth doesn't seem to have moved much during all this time, she's licking me with long wet strokes and behaving as though this was something that happened every day. Her tongue swirls over and around my skin until my cock is glistening slickly with saliva. I wish I was capable of moaning right now, but every time I try my throat tenses and sends darts of pain shooting down my esophagus. I'm so preoccupied right now I'm not even annoyed that polysyllables and anatomical terms keep rocketing through my brain.

She glances at me briefly through slitted eyes and scattered stray hairs and teasingly lets her teeth scrape across the head of my dick before flicking her tongue against it. Her lips brush over my skin so lightly I can only feel it in my mind. What I wouldn't give right now for a scrying pool with the ability to permanently record events. Her mouth takes me in slowly, pausing to suck and lap until I'm practically in agony before she finally slides me over her tongue and past her teeth.

A ragged pant manages to tear itself free as quite possibly the most glorious sensation ever imagined rushes through me. Gods it's like being engulfed in ambrosia!

I'm not even watching what she does anymore. I don't even care! Just as long as she doesn't stop doing whatever feels so fucking fantastic!

Wet and warmth and wonderful friction surrounds and caresses until all I want to do is thrash and thrust with it. I wish to Olympus I wasn't so doped up through my own stupidity that I could do all that and more. I want to tear her off me, pin her down, bite her shoulder, scratch her back, and more then anything else be thrusting against her, with her, inside her.

With a wonderfully intense rush the mental pictures flash through my brain, sharp, spicy and electric, speeding to a white strobe until I feel myself quivering in weak-kneed pleasure and they begin to recede as my head lolls sweatily back against the pillow. I'm hot all over and breathing has become much easier; when I flex my muscles this time my hand does what I tell it and closes around the sheets under it.

Lips gently touch my forehead. "Your fever's broken," Mirth says softly. Oh sure, I get a cuddle and a hummer and Deimos gets full body contact sports. I'd complain except I don't exactly feel I've been cheated.

My vision's blurred with sweat, but I can still make out her outline sitting beside my chest, one arm resting on the other side of me for support. The images of what she was doing to me, of what I wanted to do to her, are only dimly present and fading fast. It could have been any girl I'd been thinking about, lusting after.

"Now," she says, leaning down so are noses our touching. "I hope you don't think that just because I've been extra nice to you today that I've forgiven you."

Suddenly I'm seeing very clearly, and there's a definitely wicked glint in her eyes. "Course not," I say hoarsely, more than a little panicked and confused.

"Good." She squinches up her nose and gives mine a nuzzle. "I'd better be off then. You know how Deimos and Discord are with secrets; Ares will pitch a fit if he knows what I've been doing here."

Oh no. Oh shit. That was all just fevered hallucinations, right? None of it actually happened. I mean she wouldn't really have...