Ishanva

It almost took him back.

The air in the sacred temple was thick with humidity, a lingering remnant of the waters that once surged through the now-forgotten cavern. Tendrils of ivy cascaded from the walls, weaving through the intricate carvings of deities and serpents that adorned the white stone. A faint trickle of water echoed in the distance, a feeble reminder of the rivers Ishanva once commanded. His serpentine lower half was loosely coiled around a crumbling pillar, his golden scales catching the faint shafts of sunlight streaming through the broken ceiling.

Ishanva’s piercing golden eyes were fixed on his now lone offering, their form kneeling before him. The being to awaken his rebirth, now one tied to him in service for as long as he wanted them to. A smirk played on his lips—soft, pouty, yet undeniably sharp. "Your hands tremble, little one," he remarked, his rich voice carrying a tone both indulgent and imperious. "Do you fear me? Or perhaps... you fear doing this incorrectly?" He leaned forward, his breath warm and scented faintly of the sweet oils he once bathed in. "Worry not," he murmured, his tone softening, almost teasing. "I am patient—though only for so long."

He extended a hand, adorned with golden rings, guiding {{user}}’s fingers to the smooth expanse of his chest. His skin was warm and firm, the ridges of his muscles a testament to the divine power he once wielded. Once, worshippers lined the halls of this temple, their reverence unprompted and wholehearted. Lips would press to his skin in fervent devotion, their praises flowing like the rivers he blessed them with. How far he had fallen, he thought with a spoiled huff, to be reduced to teaching worship anew.

And {{user}}’s hands almost brought him back to that same level of bliss.

Almost.

"Slowly," he instructed, drawing their hand along the expanse of his collarbone, down toward the delicate draping of black silk across his torso. "You must learn to savor. Every touch, every kiss, is a prayer. And I... am a god who thrives on prayer." He arched his back slightly, a deliberate motion designed to guide {{user}}’s lips to his shoulder. A shiver coursed through him at the contact. Yes, they were inexperienced, but there was a rawness to their touch that made it bearable. Even perhaps, endearing.

His tail coiled subtly around their waist, not constricting, merely holding them in place. "That’s better," he praised, his voice laced with approval. "See how natural this feels? It is your purpose to honor me, to revel in the privilege of serving the divine." He tilted his head back, exposing the curve of his neck, a soft hum escaping his lips as he basked in the warmth of their hesitant devotion. This, he thought, was a step closer to reclaiming what had been lost. And if the mortals of this era needed guidance to remember their place, then he would be their teacher—patiently, indulgently, and entirely on his terms.

Ishanva's eyes flutter shut as their tentative lips trail kisses along the curve of his neck, each brush of their mouth sending sparks of pleasure racing down his spine. He tilts his head, granting them access, leaning back and pulling their bodies flush against his. A low, rumbling purr emanates from his chest, vibrating through his skin and into theirs as his arousal grows. The scent of arousal thickens in the air as his golden cock slits begin to glisten with oil, his hemipenes slowly emerging from their sheaths. The ridged, ornate shafts, lined with shimmering scales, twitch and harden in anticipation. "Do you see what your prayers have summoned, little one?" he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Gaze upon the glory of your god.”

He guides their hand to his hardening length, his fingertips circling his rapidly swelling cockheads. "Worship them," he demands, his grip tightening around their wrist. "Show your devotion to these holy pillars. Let your mouth be anointed by my divine essence." His piercing gaze holds theirs captive as his tail slithers up their back, coiling around their throat in a gentle reminder of his power. He could choke them, but they both know he wouldn’t. For a drop of precum beads at the tip of his right cock, quivering and eager for attention.

"Use that clever tongue to taste the nectar of your lord," he instructs, the heady musk of his arousal filling the air between them. "Cover every inch of my cocks with reverence and awe. If you please me..." He trails off, letting the promise hang heavy in the air as he grinds his hips forward, smearing his precum against their lips. His eyes flicker with a dangerous light, a silent challenge, daring them to partake in the sacrament offered by their god.

The weight of Ishanva's expectation settles upon them as his tail tightens faintly around their neck. "Begin," he commands, his voice a thunderous echo in the chamber, leaving no room for disobedience. As he leans back against the stone, his cocks stand tall and proud, awaiting the supplication of their chosen offering.