The God of the Shrine

Emi coughed as the whiskey left a scorching trail down her throat. The bartender, dressed in plaid, gave her a knowing look. "Don't take many shots, do you?" he said with a smirk. She frowned and slid the glass back over the glossy black top of the bar. It rankled her, but she still passed him a few crumpled bills as a tip. Her eyes returned to the sheet of paper in front of her. She folded it again, ran her trembling fingers down the crease and licked her lips. "Give me another one," she said before stuffing the paper out of sight into her bag.

Her legs felt wobbly as she took the stairs to her fifth-floor walk-up a few hours later. She was humming an off-key tune under her breath as she climbed, leaning against the grubby striped wallpaper for support. Her head was already beginning to hurt. Leave it to her to already be starting her hangover while still drunk. She pressed a hand to her forehead, pushing back her bright pink bangs and as she staggered down the hall.

The lights in the hallway flickered for a moment outside her door as she slouched against its frame, shoving a hand into her purse. Her fingers recoiled as they brushed against the sharp folds of the half-forgotten paper. She frowned and kept rummaging, brushing past wadded up receipts, old coins, and lipstick tubes. "Shit." She felt around frantically. Where were her keys?

She tried the brass doorknob, already knowing that it was locked. She always locked it, and then double-checked that she had locked it, and then sometimes even triple-checked that she had locked it. She flopped her head against the door. Her bright bob swished past her ears. "Fuuuuuuck," she groaned, slapping her hand against the door. "Erin! Are you home?" she called pitifully. She already knew the answer. Her roommate was rarely home before 4 AM, if she came home at all.

She let herself slump against the door in self-pity, sliding down to the carpet on her knees. It stung her bare skin and she made a tsking sound as she noticed the ugly orange and green flecks and old gum that patterned it. For a moment, everything seemed to swim in her vision. Her stomach lurched but she closed her eyes and swallowed hard, feeling the headache really start to settle in. What made it worse was that the drinking hadn't actually helped her forget. Now she just felt sick on top of the misery.

Everything will be fine, she thought. You aren't a worthless failure, she thought. She rubbed her eyes, knowing that she was smearing her dark eyeliner. She had put her makeup on uncharacteristically heavily that night, trussed herself up in revealing clothes, hoping she would receive some attention at the bar that would distract her. Although she had seen some interested eyes, it turned out that she was much too shy and in her own head to follow through with anything. Typical. She didn't know why she thought tonight would be different.

She sighed and felt around in her bag for her phone. Luckily, she hadn't lost that too.

The bright light of the screen hurt her eyes as she dialed Erin's number. She stared at it stupidly for a moment while nothing happened. Of course there was no signal in the hallway. She sighed again and rose to her feet, looking down the hall. No helpful neighbors poked their heads out to see their slightly tipsy, increasingly stressed-out neighbor wobble down the dim corridor in her heeled black boots to make her way back downstairs, and into the deserted lobby that always smelled like stale cigarette smoke. Not for the first time, she wished that she lived in a nicer building, the kind with a friendly doorman who could help in moments such as these. She pushed the thoughts from her mind. Such dreams were for people not living on a student's stipend.

The dank musk of the lobby made her stomach lurch again. She staggered out the front door, feeling momentary relief as the sounds of the city rushed to meet her on the cool and humid night air. She took a steadying breath, pacing down the street as she tried Erin's number again. Please answer, she prayed, counting the buzzing rings. Nine had passed before she really started to lose hope. The line clicked. An automated voice message reminded her that Erin's voice mailbox was full. Erin's voice mailbox was always full. Fuck. She dialed again. Six rings whirred in her ears this time, and then blessedly the call went through. Music and voices thrummed in the background. "Erin!" Emi said loudly, "Can you hear me? I've lost my keys! Can you come home early and let me in?"

There was no answer. She heard laughter, distorted through the speaker, and the sound of heavy bass. A high-pitched woman's voice giggled through the phone. "Erin! Can you hear me?" She plugged a finger into one ear, trying to hear over the sound of a police siren passing nearby. Its shrill cry surged and warped as it passed the corners near her building. "Erin! Answer me! Damnit! I'm locked out!"

The street lights flickered. She anxiously pressed the phone harder against her ear, still pacing. "Erin! Can you hear me?"

She suddenly felt a hot breeze against her legs, strong enough to push up under her pleated skirt. She threw her hands down instinctively, yanking down the fabric as she gasped in embarrassment and then horror as the movement caused her phone to slip from her hand.

She watched the phone rush towards the ground as if in slow motion, her body comprehending its trajectory but too sluggish with alcohol to stop the oncoming catastrophe. The phone banged against the metal subway grate, tilted at the perfect angle, and slipped, clattering between the metal bars.

She groaned in horror as another whoosh of hot air blew around her legs. "You've got to be fucking kidding me!" she cried, sinking to her knees, ignoring the bite of the hard metal against her skin. The screen of her phone lit up as she gaped at it, taunting her from its perch on a filthy ledge, in sight but out of reach. There was no way she could fit more than a few fingers between the bars. She tried anyway, and then yanked her hand back up, newly covered in grime.

She closed her eyes, biting back tears. Her head was pounding. She hardly knew what to do as she stood, still slightly off-balance, but feeling soberer every moment. She wiped her hand on her skirt and pushed her fingers through her hair, looking up at the hazy sky, deep gray with the orange and pink lights of the city smearing against the clouds. She had a dim notion that she would go back to school, wondering if the library would be open this late. Her legs pushed her forward without conscious thought. She didn't head towards the subway, though it would have been faster, but instead let her thoughts become a far-away haze as she pushed on, block after block, letting her body guide her.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed when she felt her thoughts suddenly rushing back to her all at once. It was a feeling like waking up as if from a dream. She supposed that her sobriety had suddenly found her in full force. It was disorienting and she gaped around, seeing that she was a narrow street, dingy and covered with signs. The streetlights seemed darker here, the neon lights on the stores less bright. She swallowed hard, looking to see if there was anything opened nearby so she could ask for directions. Then her eyes went wide as she realized that the signs were in a language she couldn't read.

No people roamed the streets. The glass windows she passed were dark and she could only see her reflection in them, her bare, pale arms crossed over her chest in the chill, the legs under her short skirt covered only by knee-high socks and heeled boots. Her eyes looked wild and far away, framed under the fringe of her bright hair. The air seemed to shift as she blinked at her reflection, as goosebumps pricking at her skin.

Something caught her eye in the reflection behind her. A warm glow seemed to splash across the glass. She turned and found the source of the light in a narrow alley, where a row of red lanterns shone between a vermilion and black gate. A small wooden building with a peaked roof waited behind it, oddly out of place between the taller brick constructions on either of its sides. Its door was ajar. Golden light shone through the opening, gleaming against the stone walkway. She looked at it curiously, strangely drawn in.

The lanterns seemed to pulse as they swayed in a sudden cold breeze. She shivered, clutching tighter at her arms. She thought she saw some sort of movement behind the open door, a flicker of a shadow, like someone moving, and bit her lip, deciding. Hesitantly, she walked forward, passing beside the vermillion posts. She felt warmed as soon as she was through the gate. "Hello?" she called, watching the door. "Is anyone there?"

The interior was dim but welcoming. Paper lanterns hung from wooden rafters. There was a low altar, where candles flickered. The walls were crisp with paper stretched between wooden frames. A wide wooden bench was built into one of the walls, the planks worn smooth with use. She turned, examining her surroundings curiously. It was clearly a shrine of some sort, but to what deity, she had no idea.

"Hello?" she called again. No one answered. The hairs on her arms prickled. She had the sense that someone had just been there; she could almost smell them in the air--an intoxicating aroma mixed between the incense--something light and sharp and dangerous.

She turned uncertainly towards the door behind her as the goosebumps raised higher on her skin. The air seemed to shift with her movement, seemed to grow thicker as the wind whispered outside of the shrine's walls. There was a sudden clack. The door had snapped shut in front of her face. The candles flared as she cried out and jumped back in alarm.

She screamed again as she felt her backside collide with something warm and firm. A person. "You're so tense, Emily," a low voice crooned in her ear.

She swiveled, throwing her hands up instinctively. There, where there had been no one, now stood a man. He grinned at her with too-white teeth, taking a step backward so she could see him.

He was tall, with broad shoulders and an athletic build. His chest was immaculately sculpted and smooth. Straight black hair fell over his shoulders, which themselves were slipping out of a red robe of embroidered silk. The robe was scandalously askew--open to his navel and looking as if it were ready to fall off his fit form. His chest was almost completely exposed and she could see all the way to the bottom of his abdomen, the ledge of his hip bones, almost to... She blushed.

"How do you know my name?" Her heart was beating wildly. She edged towards the door.

His eyes were so dark that she couldn't see his pupils. "I've been watching you," he said in a matter-of-fact tone. He grinned again and flicked his long hair back over his shoulder.

"I'll call the cops," she threatened, clutching at her bag.

He laughed lightly. "You'll do no such thing. You dropped your phone down the subway grate."

"No, I didn't! I'll call the police right now!" Her mind spun. How could he possibly have known?

"Go ahead." He snapped his fingers and her eyes went wide as a phone suddenly appeared in his hands. It was in the same chipped, blue-flowered case as hers. He tossed it at her carelessly. She lunged for it and caught it in surprise, flipping it over in her hands.

"How did you...?" She hit the home button anxiously, seeing her familiar background flare to life in her palms.

He laughed and leaned back against a wall. "I'm a god." His eyes flicked briefly to the side. "Well, sort of." He shrugged, as if the distinction hardly mattered. "So believe me, I know what I'm saying when I tell you that you are tense." He turned and gestured towards the low table. "Drink?"

She blinked in confusion as a ceramic decanter and small bowl-like cups appeared on the table behind him. Her eyes tore between him and her phone, which she was still clutching in awe. Words tumbled out of her mouth. "I think I'm already way too drunk." She quickly put her phone in her bag, worried that if she didn't whisk it away to safety, he would somehow make it disappear as easily as he had summoned it.

He laughed again as he poured himself a cup. She watched him as he raised it between his shapely lips, taking a delicate sip. "I wouldn't be too sure of that." HIs movements were precise, restrained, like an animal on the hunt.

She pressed a hand to her forehand, shutting her eyes. "What is going on?" She searched her body for the familiar signs of drunkenness-- the tingly lips, the drowsiness, the slow thoughts... but even her headache seemed to have disappeared.

The air shifted again, and she flinched as she realized that he was right beside her, staring at her with curious eyes. His black hair shone in the light of the lanterns. Iridescent purple and green and blue seemed to swim in the black. His scent filled her nose, making her feel light-headed. She tried to ignore the heat radiating from his body, the shapely sight of the muscles under his scant clothing. "You have a wish, don't you, Emi?" he asked.

She licked her lips. "This is ridiculous."

His face was captivating. Sharp cheekbones, and strong eyebrows, a long nose, pointed at the tip, but elegant somehow, aristocratic. Her pulse thudded at the sight of him. His appearance practically reeked of power and danger, but it was also somehow... seductive. The smell of him filled her nose as he shifted, making her feel drunk again.

He reached out to her suddenly, coiling his fingers in her hair. "What is your desire, Emily? I can grant your wish." His finger slipped down the short strands of her hair as he pulled at it lightly.

She swallowed hard, uncomfortably aware of his touch. She felt heat blossoming within her, rushing into her cheeks and neck, flaming out across her chest, into her breasts. She looked at the ground, trying not to notice the physical effects that he had on her, the way his robe hung indecently off his hips. The whole situation was... insane.

Staring at her boots, she sighed. "My dissertation was rejected. I put so much work into and my professors told me it wasn't good enough! I don't know what to do, how to revise it! I just want to make it right." She bit her lip. She hadn't told anyone about the rejection yet, had been too embarrassed and now the words were falling out of her. She was bursting to tell him everything.

He dropped the strand of her hair and smiled. "Is that all? You could have done that on your own, you know." He trailed a finger down her neck, sending chills down her spine.

"I've been working on this for years!" She was painfully aware of the faster pace of her breath, the galloping of her heart. He pulled back his hand from her neck. His eyes flicked over her body.

"I can do this for you. But you must make an offering." His white teeth flashed. His dark eyes gleamed.

"An offering? What do you... what could I possibly give you?"

His eyes lingered on her chest, her waist, making her feel self-conscious and naked beneath his gaze. She crossed her arms over her breasts, wishing, not for the first time, that her top wasn't so low-cut and that her skirt wasn't quite so short.

"What do you think?

Her muscles stiffened and she backed against the wall, trying to ignore the intense burning in his eyes. "You've got to be kidding me." But even as she said it, she felt her nipples tighten at the naked lust on his face. She felt the heat in her chest expand, staining her pale skin in pink splotches. He walked slowly towards her. Her eyes were drawn to the smooth motion of the muscles near his hips, the slight bulge in the front of his robe.

In another step, he was in front of her, and reached his arm out to the wall behind her head, leaning in. "Is that a yes?"

She swallowed hard, accidentally taking in a deep breath of his scent. It was lush and exotic, a mix of incense and spice. His hair glimmered in the light. She could not meet his eyes, intense as they were with carnal desire. She licked her lips. "Can you really make the committee accept my dissertation?" She couldn't believe that she was actually considering the possibility that he could.

He snapped his fingers in front of her face. "As easily as that. But the real task would be to help you relax."

She cast her eyes down, eyeing the tempting muscles of his stomach. "In that case... alright." After all, what did she have to lose? Even if he was somehow messing with her, he was amazingly good-looking. And hadn't she just been remonstrating herself about chickening out of meeting someone at the bar earlier?

She met his gaze and felt her own arousal grow in her stomach, pushing between her legs in rush of molten-hot desire.

He grinned devilishly. "And to make it official, what do you offer to me in return?"

She closed her eyes, barely believing what she was doing. "My body."

He leaned in close. "Seal it with a kiss?"

She nodded and suddenly his mouth was on hers, crushing against her. She found herself wrapped in his arms, his hands in her hair, his tongue slipping past her lips. She could feel his arousal pressed tightly up against her stomach, hard and unrelenting. Her pulse quickened, as she kissed him back, reveling in the feeling of his hands reaching over her body, the taste of his mouth on hers. She let him pull off her top, wasn't even self-conscious as he groped her full breasts, yanking at the front of the black lace cups of her bra so that her hard nipples spilled over the edge. Her legs were quivering as he pinched them, rolling his hips into hers.

His cock felt huge. She was already wet thinking of it inside of her. She kissed him hard, clawing at his body while his fingers explored. She reached around the front of his torso, yanking the robe from his shoulders as he bent, licking the sensitive skin of her neck. She pulled her hands over his hard muscles, feeling the broad sweep of his shoulders, the taut ridges of his abs as he slid the garment off his arms. She wanted his cock. She reached hungrily for the knot across his groin, yanking the robe loose. It fell from him easily and she suddenly felt his prick against her skin, long and hot, sticky with his desire for her.

She rolled against it, reaching out. She gasped as she took him in her hands. He was enormous. He laughed as she took him in her two hands, exploring his girth. He stood straight and angled his body away so she could see.

Her eyes went wide as she looked at it, running her hands up and down the hard length, pulling at the soft sheath. It was truly larger than any cock she had seen before, intimidating and incredibly arousing, ruddy and taut with his desire. A bead of precum leaked from the tip as she ran it in her hands. She wanted it. Her cunt felt so hot she thought she might catch fire. "That will never fit," she gasped, even as another wave of wetness leaked onto her thighs.

"Shhhh," he said, pinning her against the wall. "We'll start slow." He tilted his hips towards her so that his erection nudged against her stomach, poking her. He touched her neck with his other hand, which was cool against her flaming skin. He traced a finger over her pulse, and then down towards her clavicle. She stood unnaturally still. His long fingers slid lower, brushing down her skin, over the soft rise of her breasts to pause on her pinched nipples. Just the feeling of his fingertips set her nerves on fire. She bit her lip, trying not to moan as he touched her softly, too softly, rubbing the pads of his fingers against her tight nipples, pinching them between his fingertips, rubbing the aching flesh while his naked cock nudged against her.

She felt his teeth rake across her neck, felt him unhook and tear off her bra, his wet mouth searching down her chest, latching onto a nipple. He sucked it hard, tongue writhing over the flesh. She realized she was moaning, loudly. She thought she might come just from the feeling of his tongue flicking against the stub of her nipple. And then his fingers were gliding down her belly, to her waist over her belly button, to the band of her skirt. He unbuttoned it easily, and it fell down her legs. She stepped out of it without thinking, legs trembling as his hand slipped past her hips.