The Moon and the Stars

A twig snaps under your step. Leaves rustle next to you ominously. The sound of your blood rushing past your ears and your quick, shallow breathing almost manage to drown out the owls' coos from somewhere in the dark forest. Your shoes thump dully in rushed steps as you try to make sense of the dark maze you've been roaming around for too long now.

You were calm at the start, when the sun was just beginning to set; you still thought there was a familiar path out, and so you walked, only slightly faster than usual. But as the sun kept creeping ever lower, the shadows of the tress in your familiar forest stretched into long strips of thick black, covering the ground and setting panic behind your ribs. At this time of the celestial cycle, you usually relied on the Moons to see. Their twin glow would light your way if it weren't for the thick canopy of leaves above your head that smothered their luminescence. As the realisation set in – that you won't be able to look up at your Goddess for guidance, nor see her holy shine – your heart rate increased, and so did the frequency of your steps.

But the trees only grew closer together as you stumbled your way through the dimming forest. You didn't know this area at all now. Had no clue how to get back or where to go next. You felt tears pushing against your throat and eventually broke into a spring, throwing your poor woven basket somewhere to fend for itself. You still believed, despite not being able to see her, that the Northern Moon Goddess will help you as her faithful follower.

But your shirt would snatch here, your shins would slam against a bush there, you would stumble on a root you couldn't see through your blurry vision in the dark. And you would pray extra hard when you heard a rustle around you.

But no matter how much you pray, the Norther Moon's light cannot pierce through the leaves. She loves you dearly, you know she does, she has to, but still cannot light your way. And yet, you put your trust in her, as your elders have taught you, and believe she will save you from the Southern's foul spells.

It must have been her who planted the beautiful red carnations to lead you astray. Sullied your plans to just pick mushrooms and spices to snatch the life of yet another follower of her virtuous sister. It is how the Southern Moon operates, you remember your mother teaching, your pastors reminding, but you didn't heed their warnings this time.

if you had, you wouldn't be growing goosebumps at the wolves' hungry howls. Fear seeps into your very being, squeezes your heart impossibly tightly and makes it beat ever faster. Faster than ever before. You pray. Pray harder than you ever have. Your chest burns as it struggles to take in the hot, dry air so that your feet can carry you farther. To exactly where is still unknown.

Whoosh.

You feel a current of air, and something thuds softly before you, missing you only by a small margin. Your butt hits the ground with a pathetic yelp coming from your shaking lips before instincts take over and you curl up into a ball. You hear heavy breathing from outside of your cocoon. Whatever evil creature of the Southern One is here, it is ready to strike.

Any moment.

You feel it’s horrid aura stick to your skin like a thick blanket of hate and malice. It’s the final push your tears need to finally start flowing freely – dread at last breaks the dam of your courage that lasted so long under the night’s assault.

Darkness surrounds your shaking frame – a tiny body wrapped around itself in fear and black hair, barely noticeable in the night. Sobbing and praying to the Northern Goddess for help; she must know you need it more than ever. You quiver and you quake with your red cheeks wet and hurting from how your face contorts at the thought of what's about to happen.

"Please." It's just a whisper. A breath of hope towards your one true Goddess. The one that has been beside you this whole time. The one that you've sworn your little heart to. You need her now more than ever.

"Please, Goddess, please. Please, spare me, please," through quiet sobs you pray and plead and still find yourself alive and whole, the breathing of the other creature simply having vanished. Her love can still indeed reach here, and that's a morsel of hope for your thumping heart.

You shake there on the floor of the forest for Goddesses-know-how-long, and your tears eventually subside when you realise that your time has not yet come. With a shaky breath, you uncurl yourself and try to collect what's left of your gal, scattered somewhere amongst the dry leaves and dirt.

"Thank you, Goddess," you say as you stand up on wobbly knees. You're shaking, but her grace just gave you another chance, you better not waste it. So you take off, running again, guided by the One True Good.

Left – you hear soon after, in your head – somewhere from within your soul, and you trust her. She will guide you when you're lost, she will save you when you need it. You will pray double as hard tomorrow if only you live until then.

You take the sharp turn, more leaves crunch under your sole, forming a howling harmony with the owls and wolves that your Goddess will shield you from, you believe.

You can see it. More space between each tree now, the bushes hitting your shins doing so less and less often. The Moonlights' shine breaking through the ever-thinning blanket of leaves above and before you.

You come out to a clearing – a serene scene to contrast the hammering in your burning chest. You can see clearly now, the Goddesses fighting for which one of them will light your way most. A lake shimmering with their virtue and wrath, water perfectly still, a pitch-black canvas for their pearly luminescence. Fine sand beneath your shoes instead of crunching twigs and leaves. It is calm – a lull of clearance in the night's horrid darkness and suffocating malignance.

"Hello, little one." The voice startles you, makes you jump out of your skin despite it being nothing but calm.

You whip your head to see a woman.

No, that would be too crude a description.

She is this ethereal beauty – unlike anything you've seen before. Eyes glowing as if on their own, not just reflecting the Goddess' pure light. So big and honest. Long, wavy purple hair frames her perfect white face, the centrepiece of which are undoubtably the scarlet, plump lips. She is glowing, pristine skin shining against the backdrop of the scary dark trees behind her.

And she is naked.

Full breasts, pink nipples hard from the night's air, a flat tummy that expands into full hips, followed by what looks like the softest pair of thighs under the Moons and Stars. She is perfect – head to toe unblemished. A human-sized doll of unmatched beauty and temptation.

"Well, you're a beautiful flower," she states, seemingly unbothered by the fact that you're definitely staring at all of her, and you only blush harder.

And the proper etiquette of the given situation evades you. You stammer a bit, eyes drifting in and out of her milky skin, checking if the trees behind her are still there only for your gaze to inevitably get sucked back into all the curves and grace and curls speaking to you.

"Well, you're in luck" – so it would seem – "I was just about to bathe, and you seem like you need it too."

It’s absurd, but you nod at the naked woman that's sitting on a rock in the middle of the forest, like some sort of faery, despite having no good reason to. All you have is this feeling her soft eyes evoke in your chest. There is something calming, bordering on maternal, in the way she speaks to you.

But the Southern Moon is a tricky goddess, you remember. She's known to plant a myriad of skulduggery to get faithful followers of her sister to disobey and sin. The woman before you stretches her elegant legs and gets up from the stone she was sitting on. The distance between you two shortens, and the vague memories of your elders' warnings do little to ward your eyes away from the hypnotic display of jiggling flesh before you.

She stops a single step away from you, confident and as if not bare, and whispers.

"Why don't you join me, little one?" You thought you already agreed to the bathing in all honesty. Hasty was your assumption, maybe, so you just confirm again. It's not like you can deny her anyway.

"Please," you whisper as if you're afraid someone might hear.

She smiles at you as if lovingly, like she has waited for this moment despite meeting you mere seconds ago.

"Let's get you out of these; they are dirty anyway."

Her hands wrap around your waist, dig under your shirt and lift it off. The moments she isn't in your sight feel like an eternity before you are greeted with her angelic features again. One of the moons shines from behind her, through the thin strands of purple hair, and it makes her seem like a gift from the cosmos. She must be one of the Goddesses' servants.

The ones you have heard so much about. The Northern Ones – they fight off evil spirits, save children from drowning. Cure old people from unknown illnesses. Guide sweet girls through forests in the middle of the night.

Or maybe she is from the Southern Ones. Maybe she is amongst those who steal pets when no one's looking. The servants who lure men off course and crash ships into rocks. Who throw plagues around like dice and lead girls like you astray.

You've heard stories, of course. Of the Evil Moon's evil creations. Horrid creatures with jagged teeth and sulphur for breath that lie and cheat and corrupt from within.

But you've never heard stories of them resting their hands on girls' pants and pulling down slowly. Of the Moons' angels dropping to their knees to kiss freshly exposed flesh with burning, red lips and unreasonable devotion to beings way lesser than them. You've never discovered, in any book you've read, even a peep about how their fingers can wrap around your white panties and take them off with their big, brown eyes never leaving your slick entrance, as if it's all they can think about.

So she has to be from the good ones. Though you haven't heard of them doing this either.

You'd have to write a new story about that. Wax lyrical about the way her lips move up your skin. About the way her lips part in front of your heat. She looks up at you through the curls of her eyelashes. The story would have to include how her elegant fingers dig into your backside, pull you closer to her, make you drift onto her wet mouth.

Your folk mythology would suffer greatly if you were to never describe how her tongue presses against your clit. How she runs it through your folds to gather the sweet slick you prepared just for her to enjoy. You have to learn how her hair feels in your fingers as you look for purchase so the way your legs buck at her licks and slurps doesn't lead to you falling on top of this actual angel. All for your people to learn how wonderful your true Goddess can be.

Yes, you have to take it all in, like a good girl, she reminds and you can't look away now. Not when this lovely creature is worshipping you instead of it being the other way around. Your eyes cannot leave hers even for a second. There is this gravity to them. They are huge, sure, but the way they shine, look up at you with so much unfounded devotion while her tongue brings you wave after wave of pleasure, is a whole different story. Not one about horrid spirits but one of sparkling promises – each gleaming point a moment of pleasure, a future together or an orgasm gifted by the cosmos. And there are a lot of sparks in those eyes.

One of these twinkles rips off, flies into your skin and sets it all ablaze. Wave after wave of pleasure pulses over every part of your body – from your curled toes to the hair sticking to your neck. You feel your legs growing softer under you, her grip on your ass tighter to hold you up, to let you whimper the last of your breaths towards the sky, where all holy resides.

When all is said and done – all of the misuses of your Goddess' name have left your throat and all of your slick has thoroughly covered this mysterious angel's chin, even soaked down her neck and now glistening breasts – she lets you stand on your own, pulls away to look back into your eyes.

And the sight ignites a new spark within you. A whole new forest fire bursts in your chest at her pupils, blown out to high hell, lips even fuller and redder than before, however that was possible evaded your mind, and the sheen of your pleasure on her skin, as if it had any right to be there.

She stands up and extends a delicate hand to you.

"How about that bath now, little one?" And you should run because, realistically, it's not only the good angels that can give orgasms. Turn her down, turn to your Goddess for guidance and turn on your heels back home. You should turn this memory into a lesson about not being scatterbrained when picking flowers, about being wary of strangers, and about how appealing the Southern Ones can be. But the skin of her palm is so soft as her smile rewards you, wide and pearly white.

"Good girl," she praises, and the flames only grow. It's not the words per se – you've heard them before. Pastors, parents, friends, teachers, the voice of your Goddess, of course. Never from a creature so gorgeous, especially not one that had just made you cum on her tongue. But they do say there is a first time for everything.

"Who are you?" You whisper all too late at this point. The time for confusion is by now long overdue – you are just mesmerised and breathless at the sight before you, curiosity and reverence instead of fear.

"Come in the water with me, and it will all be revealed. She washes all away and leaves only the bare truth." She squeezes your hand and tugs you towards the lake.

Cryptic, yeah, and the concept of a stranger drowning you in the middle of the night when there is no one around for kilometres should be stronger here. The value of your life, the love for all that is good as well as the instinct for self-preservation. It all somehow pales in comparison to her alabaster skin and cinnabar lips.

Your meek legs carry you behind her graceful form and the water is cold against your feet, sore from running. The moonlight surface of the lake climbs your body, and its coolness sticks to your skin, dissolves the slick and saliva between your legs. You do end up feeling lighter. It must be the Moon's glow, you think.

The woman turns to you once the water has reached her navel and speaks into your eyes.

"My name is Gahyun," she begins and moves closer towards you. "You praise the Norther One?"

Her breath tickles your lips now, and you feel a pull you've never felt before. Her hand rubs the side of your waist, cool water sticking to sweat-and-dirt-covered, hot-to-the-touch skin.

Your brain struggles playing catch-up for a few sweet moments of Gahyun's ambient breathing and the sound of your heart hammering in your chest, now for an entirely different reason than before, killing the owls' coos.

"What else is there to praise?" You say, her insinuation almost offensive in your mind, but you forgive her. How can you not when her hand slips languidly to your stomach and moves south to where the pressure's strongest?

"There are many deities out there. Many different believers; never hurts to ask." Her fingers now circle your clit, and you're fighting the urge to buck into her touch. Something tells you she'll appreciate the self-control.

"Well, there is only one True Faith, so it doesn't matter what the others say." One of the many names of your Goddess tastes like ash on your tongue when it comes out so breathlessly. When a woman's fingers are getting you wet. When at least half of your pretty little head is filled with the desire to fuck yourself on Gahyun's hand until you see only the Stars.

"That's what everyone believes, isn't it?" A finger slips lower, applies outward pressure on your entrance, and you moan at the mere thought.

"Oh, fuck," she whispers against your cheek, the distance between your bodies reduced to naught. "You're so pretty when you moan for me."

The praise does nothing for your composure, which melts against her soft skin, dissipates in the lake's almost perfectly still water and slips through the cracks of darkness between your two bodies, where the Northern Moon can't quite reach with its glorious light.

Her finger slips in and you can't take it any more. You buck against her, grind your clit on her wrist, feel her curling that thin finger against your walls. It relieves no pressure, only leaves you needier.

"There is plenty to worship for those with eyes to see. Let me show you."
She pushes another finger in and drives them deeper, the water around your wriggling body going haywire just like your thoughts: fear, pleasure, devotion. 

Gahyun.

It's blasphemy what's on her lips. Sweet, beautiful, perfectly kissable blasphemy. It is now on your tongue, and it has never been more delicious. Your hands grip her hips, wide and scorching under your fingers – soft as the rest of her – in a monumentally unsuccessful attempt to regain some sort of composure. You moan into her mouth, feel her tongue in yours, surrender to her lead. The way her fingers plunge in and out of your cunt, pumping the pressure high to the point it almost hurts, reminds that you never stood a chance anyway.

"Does your Goddess do this?" She mocks against your lips before capturing the bottom one between her teeth to bite. Surprisingly sharp canines rip your skin in a split, painful second. As quickly as she broke skin, she licks the blood away, curls her fingers, pulls your neck to deepen the kiss. You're in her grasp, completely at her mercy, and you absolutely cannot have enough.

"No, Gahyun," you whisper.

"That's what I thought." And as if that was the key to it all. The final puzzle piece. The last iota of distance before you fall into her orbit.

She forces her mouth on yours, swallows your keens and curses, curls her fingers against your spasming walls, lets you fall apart in her sweet embrace only to hold you together and reconstruct you once you're done.

And that takes a while. A whole odyssey goes by for you as you shatter under the moonlight, sounds lost in whatever spirit, deity, angel, perfect creature Gahyun really is. The only witnesses to your rebirth are the trees and bushes. Rocks and sand. The Moons and the Stars.

The last pathetic bucks of your hips and whimpers leave you, and Gahyun knows it is done. She brushes your hair back, unsticks it from your wet forehead and coos in your ear.

"How was that, my sweet girl?"

Otherworldly. Incomparable to anything else in your whole life. You feel lighter, cleaner, incorporeal. As if you drifted in the cosmos – mind, body and soul taken away from what you once knew, ballooned to new heights.

"Amazing," is what settles into Gahyun's collarbone as you nuzzle into the crook of her neck, your lips pressing lazy kisses as if habit against her perfect skin.

She peppers kisses against your hair, rubs your back in slow, careful circles and lets you turn to jelly against her body. This persists for a couple of peaceful moments, more than you could ask for but also less than you would selfishly dream of.

"Baby," she says as if the nickname is established, "I want you to be mine."

And you've never agreed faster to anything ever. The way her fingers dig into your scalp, the heat from where her firm breasts press against your skin, the sensation of her ribs expanding in your embrace with each hot breath. It feels like holding the brightest Star – the universe's unmerited gift to you, for Goddess knows what reason.

"No, you have to know what you are agreeing to, little one."

And much to your dissatisfaction, she pulls you away from her neck. This dissatisfaction lasts for just a blink as you get to look at her perfect face again. Only this time, it is different, yet enthralling all the same – her eyes are narrower, just vertical slits where they were once full dark circles, sharp fangs are to be seen behind her parted lips, as luscious as ever, and she is glowing. Literally glowing a soft cyan which smothers the white halo granted by the Moons. But the last piece of evidence shoots your heart to your throat. Blows the perfect picture you've had of the whole universe to bits and pieces.

A red pair of fox ears on top of her head, with, quite frankly, adorable white tips. Nine equally fiery tails with the same fair ends sprawl behind her.

"I am the fox spirit," she explains calmly, as if it wasn't obvious or world-obliterating. "I wanted you here, my sweet child."

Your eyes widen impossibly, taking in the sight of the Fox Spirit in all of her glory. The tales were as old as time, about a time before time was a thing, actually. About the Stars, the Originals that came together to create a concept. A Goddess before the Moons were conceived. One that overlooked the whole cosmos before she crafted her children to care about small human drama.

A mythos older than your village's oldest writings describe Gahyun. One considered untrue and sacrilege since your people worshipped the Moons, not the Stars. And what is a Goddess if there was one before her?

The Fox's Spirit is fabled to be a woman of unmatched beauty and even more power. A force of pure good and love. A spirit that cradled everything that has ever existed in her arms.

She was now holding you like a babe against her body with all of her divinity on display. And you used to not believe. You thought the Stars were no goddesses. But now? Well, now is different.

"The Moons," she begins with all the grace only a deity of her stature can possess, "they have abandoned this world."

And your elders would consider it blasphemy once again. The Moons are the true Goddesses. You don't pray to the Stars, to the Fox Spirit, to the Forest. You get on your knees and whisper to the White Ones. The Twin Sisters of good and evil.

"It was me who protected you from the Southern’s vile spirit when it was ready to attack. I stuck it down and let you have your quiet moment of praying to a dead Goddess, as unbecoming as it was for a beauty like you. It was me who told you when to turn. And I wanted to see you."

But could blasphemy ever leave those lips? Or does it always become truth by virtue of slipping between their blood-red skin? Does truth even exist outside of the Star's Construct? Does anything in this universe compare to Gahyun?

"I would never abandon you, my love," she says as she holds your face in her hands.

"Just come with me." And her thigh presses between your legs.

"Come with me," she repeats as she straddles your thigh as well.

"Come with me," she begins grinding, and you do the same. There is nothing you've ever wanted more. It would be blasphemy to not whisper reverently against her lips.

"Please, my Goddess."

Rhythmic motions of smooth and fair skin as well as hard and burning muscle rock the water around you, smear the Moon's reflections on the uneven surface of the lake.

"Come with me."

"Please."

And it's an old prayer to a new deity. A chant you've never even dreamt of saying from fear of being stuck in an instant. But her arms on your hips protect you. Her moans form a shield from all that could ever harm. There isn't anything more powerful, more beautiful, more holy than the frantic rubbing of her sex against your skin.

Her tails wrap around your frame, tickle you and warm you up impossibly much. It feels so intimate in this moment – kisses turn to bites as grinds lead to grunts, pressure climbs beyond any reasonable level when she switches the angle slightly and your clit throbs against the Stars.

"Please."

The orgasm wipes you clean – explodes from your chest in a flash of white light and erases all other prayers before the one you utter in that moment. The Moons feel dim in comparison to the supernova of moans and pleasure you and Gahyun turn to. Every single little part of your skin feels her, allows her being to seep into it. You clash with the whole cloud of stardust and let it fill your chest with its heat and weightlessness.

And the world forgets you. Your mother never had a child, your pastors never taught you matins, your friends do not assign meaning to your birthdate. The lake's water is still, as if there were never anything there. The forest fills with the sounds of owls and howls once again.

You are now somewhere in the cosmos, far away from anything that has ever been familiar, in an eternal embrace with the Fox Spirit in all of her glory. All of her smooth white skin, burning hot red lips and forever canopied lovingly in her tails.