Written Wonderland

Philip's hands ached to return to the goddess' skin, but he also ached to be rid of these pants. He didn't rush to undo those buttons - no sense in fumbling about it - but he also certainly wasted no time. Once the buttons were undone, he slid his pants and the underwear beneath them down just far enough to free his length from their cloth, and then... hesitated, now having run out of instinctive scripts to follow.

He shook off that hesitation quickly, though. He'd decided to go through with this already, he just had to figure out what that looked like, and to some extent he acknowledged he could probably let his body lead rather than trying to strategize about it. It made him rather nervous to do, but he resolved to get out of his body's way. As soon as that decision sank in, the lieutenant leaned down to lick and kiss the goddess' breast again, and his hand reached down to first lightly brush against the goddess' length, and then to grasp it and gently move up and down just slightly, his own hips absent-mindedly swaying in a similar rhythm as he did so.

Gods, yes. He was finally, finally touching her cock. Though she was a little amused that Philip did not take his pants off all the way, the view of just his own length coming out of them thoroughly pleased her, especially as he moved his hips forward and back with the rhythm of his stroking. The goddess could not help but lean into both the sensation of his mouth against her breast and the feeling of his hand around her cock, but she kept it under control. With Philip so close to being completely at the mercy of his body, and therefore, at her mercy, she had to act carefully, but gods, it felt good, and she wanted more. 

She ached for Philip to be within her, and his swaying cock was already so close. Pressing her length further into his hand inched her body ever closer to receiving him, but then something behind Philip caught her eye. There was a faint shift in the dreamscape, as though it were warbling or unraveling at the edges. The goddess knew what that meant and needed to quicken the pace if she was going to succeed. The dream was becoming unstable, which shouldn't really have surprised her given all the layers she had gone through. She could suddenly feel that she had less control of the dream, and it was then that the part of her affected by Philip's tender fantasies erupted through her awareness and uttered a single word using the goddess' lips. 

"Philip..." It was certainly not her voice. It was higher pitched, softer, sweeter, an acquiescent, gentle voice. And before the goddess could assess what the fuck was going on, the voice spoke again. "Philip, I'm here, too. I'm with you. I forgive you. Please... don't stop." The voice also attempted to force a whine out of the goddess' mouth, but Dehaljadrun got enough of control over the dream and the situation to make sure at least that didn't happen, but in suppressing that, her body was free to lurch forward toward Philip such that the tip of his cock rested against the moisture that had been collecting between the goddess' legs, and the goddess cried out in her own voice briefly, frustrated at the loss of control but momentarily distracted by the sensation and anticipation of what was to come. 

Pleasant, elated tingles danced down from Philip's scalp all across his back as he heard the goddess utter his name. The sweet gentleness of her forgiveness and her plead not to stop drew a faint moan from the man's throat, the sound vibrating softly against the breast his lips still caressed. Then the goddess' body lurched towards him, and a fiery warmth swelled in the lieutenant's gut as he felt his length make contact with the goddess' warm, moistened thigh.

Before his mind even had time to be confused, his knees repositioned themselves just slightly so his hips could thrust gently forward, his body just instinctively at this point following where the goddess' wetness lead it. The feeling of entering her sent a warm, hot shudder all through his body, and forced his lips to pull back slightly from the goddess' skin to draw in a soft, sharp gasp. Confusion finally caught up somewhere in his mind, but it wasn't as though it had much of a way to express itself. His body was just chasing pleasure now, and even amidst his confusion he felt that pleasure potently.

His hips rolled slowly out and back in again, his entire being savoring every subtle change in friction and pressure that happened along the way. The hand on the goddess' length left it to run over the side of her hip and down her thigh, the firm electric pressure of his touch practically begging her leg to wrap around him. Meanwhile his lips returned to the goddess' breast, placing kisses there and trailing them down the side of her rib cage as his hips slowly began to pick up their pace.

The goddess relished delightedly in the sensations of Philip's length as it pressed into her, widening her entrance as it slid in and out. Philip's gasp filled her with a moment of satisfaction followed by a fierce longing for more. He was going slow enough as to build a substantial amount of arousal. She wanted to scrape her nails against his softening skin, but her fingers would not so much as make an indent. The goddess was frustrated but distracted by Philip's methodical motions, sensing into his enjoyment of the subtleties of the experience. 

She was momentarily disappointed by the fact that Philip's hand left her cock, but then his hands put pressure all along the side of her body, and an airy sound escaped her lips. Ughh... she didn't sound like herself at all. It was as though the potency of Philip's fantasy of this soft, gentle woman were forcing the goddess to morph, and it felt as though this other woman, at present, was winning. But, there was certainly one thing the two of them agreed upon--neither of them wanted this to stop. 

As Philip pulled up on one of the goddess' legs, she meant to resist him, to pull him in and start moving him at her pace, but her body gave no resistance, and her leg wrapped around him almost warmly. What. The. Fuck. What thing was stripping away her agency? She closed her eyes for a moment, reaching inside herself toward the interfering entity. An image of the woman arose in the goddess' mind: she was blonde with a bright, vibrant smile. Manipulative little bitch. Fine, this might even work in the goddess' favor. After all, the dream was becoming unstable. 

The goddess allowed her body to morph into the blonde woman, someone from Philip's past, assuredly, and concentrated behind Philip, imagining that she was, in fact, over there and free of the woman's influence. In a moment, it happened. The goddess saw that the blonde woman was still underneath Philip with both her legs around him now. Separate now from the sensations of Philip's movement, the goddess quickly grew jealous and angry. Coming up behind Philip, the goddess let her hand stroke down the side of Philip's face and laughed almost menacingly. 

"Reunited at last..." Dehaljadrun said. 

She then bent down, poised to thrust into Philip from behind. 

Philip hummed softly against the skin his lips caressed and his hips gently picked up their pace as he sank into the sensation of his partner's legs wrapped warmly around him. His hand stroked back up his partner's leg, her hip, and her side on its way to run over her breast, his touch firm and deep and affectionate. He felt warm and accepted, and like he was exactly where he belonged. He didn't even question the additional presence he felt behind him, and let the excited tingles that spilled into him from the touch of the fingers on his face swirl together with the sensations already brimming inside of him, urging his motions faster and deeper as he gasped his beloved's name hotly against her skin.

But then came the laugh from behind him, which sent a sharp spike of fear up his spine, and forced his attention to acknowledge that the situation wasn't the wholesome embrace he'd momentarily let himself believe that it was. He drew his lips away from his partner's skin enough to cast his eyes over the woman beneath him, confirming she at least was who he'd thought that she was, which... brewed an unsettling mixture of feelings in his gut. His expression was subtle, but the woman who loved him would easily see apology and worry written all over his furrowed brow. There was longing, too, though, pooled in his eyes and escaping in shallow breaths from his lips, keeping his body full and in motion. He was glad Miranda was here, relishing her legs wrapped around him and the comforting warmth of her skin and her embrace, but he was mortified to have somehow brought her into this - of what she would see of him, what she experiences might be subject to - but he couldn't bring himself to stop any of it. As ashamed as he felt, some part of him was glad the goddess was still here, still touching him, and that part of him yearned for her to come closer.

He shuddered visibly as she did. Disgust and shame and fear boiled in his chest as he felt her length press against him, but he couldn't deny he also felt excitement. He may not understand it, but... this was a thing that men did together, so surely it would be pleasurable, right? Especially... especially with her. The lieutenant groaned and opened to her, his hips begging her deeper, while he lowered his forehead onto Miranda's chest, too ashamed to still show her his face. He thought about how she had said she forgave him earlier, but even so, he couldn't help but whisper a shaky apology.

"I'm so sorry."

Even though the goddess had successfully managed to physically separate herself from the construct that had been meddling with her volition, Dehaljadrun could not fully remove herself from the sensations the woman underneath Philip experienced. She felt the compassion and warmth spring up in the woman's chest as Philip gasped her name. She felt the woman relishing the feel of Philip's touch all down her legs. She understood each catch of the man's breath with a depth the goddess did not know was possible. 

The goddess gritted her teeth, frustrated that the sensations were swimming in her mind, distracting her from her purpose. But then Philip glanced back at the her, and so much more plain on his face was his fear, his longing, his confusion, and his delicious, ever-present guilt. Maybe the tiny wraith was useful for something. 

Dehaljadrun felt Philip reach to the corners of his mind for some way to protect the woman he so dearly loved and watched him lose that battle completely to the motions of his body and desire. And as if that wasn't enough, the goddess swore Philip leaned his hips back into her, aching once again for the goddess' touch even though he was still inside his beloved wraith of a girl. Perfect. 

The goddess' eyes widened briefly in triumph before she smirked and cast a knowing look over Philip's shoulder toward the girl. The blonde thing looked at once terrified and full of gratitude, glowing with what the goddess could only imagine was love while radiating an air of protection. Ha. As if.

With an eyebrow raised and her eyes firmly locked on the blonde piece of nothing, the goddess pushed Philip's pants down further so more of his ass was exposed. She then pulled her teasing length away from him briefly and felt the emptiness it left in him, knowing the girl underneath him would never make him feel this much longing. The goddess then ran a finger down Philip's spine, following it all the way down to where it parted, and lithely slipped a finger inside him. 

Meanwhile, Miranda glared back at Dehaljadrun, fully aware of what the goddess was doing and angry on Philip's behalf. She knew he... he couldn't help himself. And it wasn't as though the goddess was giving him an option. She cradled his head as he rested on her naked chest, aching to be alone with him, to hold him and for him to hold her in the sweetest of embraces, all past worries and frustrations and apologies set aside. 

Of course she forgave him. Of course she had waited for him. He was here, with her, and that was all that mattered. 

Dehaljadrun rolled her eyes as Miranda's thoughts passed through her mind and pressed her finger deeper inside Philip, moving it in and out, exactly the opposite of Philip's rhythm. Had this happened before? Not this strongly, at least in the goddess' memory. Yes, sometimes the dreams got out of her control, but Miranda was such a potent representation of Philip's desires, and Dehaljadrun could not do anything to make her leave. The blonde stick of a girl was practically autonomous. 

The situation continued to flare Dehaljadrun's anger as she refused to consider that Miranda was also a representation of her. No. This was Philip's fault; he brought her here. Still, an electric, purple glow fanned out around the goddess' skin and hair, making every place that touched Philip even more sensitive to her presence. 

Finally tearing her angry gaze from the girl, the goddess pulled her finger out completely and meant to push her cock inside the man's opening this time, but some barrier stopped her. Looking up at Philip's fantasy, the goddess saw the girl with her arms wrapped around Philip's head, an angry and determined pout on her lips. She was doing this?!

Stop this, now, the goddess demanded of the girl, knowing that the two of them, linked as they were, could hear each other's thoughts. You're not real. You're a figment of his imagination. 

I'm exactly as real as you are, the blonde creature retorted. You're a reflection, a wish, a fading, wanton ghost of your godhood. 

The goddess audibly growled with a scathing, teeth-gritted grimace on her face. She pounded against the barrier Miranda had erected somehow with the dream fabric, pressing into it with her hands, her cock, her body, frustrated that nothing she did seemed to affect it. 

You can't deny that he wants this. He wants more than just you! The goddess screamed within the blonde's mind.

And who are you to make that choice? 

Dehaljadrun's hands made fists of lightning as she looked over the two of them, still coupled, still clinging to one another. After letting out another frustrated sound, she placed both her glowing hands onto the space between herself and Philip, finding where the barrier was and electrified it, pouring out the lightning in her body to break the blonde's will. 

Dehaljadrun, the blonde said in a slow, gently mocking voice, you're only fighting yourself.

But, at last, the barrier shattered, though only the two women felt it, and Dehaljadrun thrust herself deeply into Philip's ass, not paying any attention to whatever cries of pain or lust or guilt or despair he might utter but only moving her own body faster and faster, feeling into the ways it forced Philip to thrust deeper into Miranda as well, Philip's pleasure, Miranda's pleasure, and the goddess' own swirling into a dizzying whirlwind of lust and desire. Dehaljadrun began to feel the pull, the draw, the desire to bring Philip completely under her control, and somewhere in her mind, she knew that he was falling too deeply for her to take control of him, but she didn't care, couldn't care. She was furious and pounded her fist on the left side of Philip's back, sending shocks all the way through his body and into Miranda's, and still, she did not stop. The blonde could not even beg on Philip's behalf for she, too, was so overcome by the sensations flooding the three of them, but she clung to him, held him, caressed him every way she knew how so that at least, in the midst of all this, he felt the love she had for him.  

((OOC: Ah-hem. *cough cough* *scratches head* Well, then. Uh... I guess, in the event that Philip does try to intervene, I can change any of this. Heart!))

It took more willpower than Philip liked to admit to stay still as the goddess pulled her length away from him. He scrambled to focus on his beloved, on the warmth and comfort of her embrace, on how much he didn’t want to leave her, even as his body ached to pull away and chase the goddess’ touch.

It pulled taught a sick sort of twist in his gut, as the lieutenant faced the horror of the possibility that he even could-- no, actually, the reality that in fact he had abandoned Miranda for someone else, if not in this moment then at least in one very brutal and important other. How she could be so warm and welcoming to him now felt beyond his understanding. He felt guilty for so much in this moment, but felt his gut sink as he added the weight of enjoying her embrace when he felt he didn’t deserve it-- when he couldn’t even imagine deserving it from her.

He shuddered audibly as the goddess’ finger traced down his spine, each vertebrae along the way rising subtly to meet her and nearly singing as they vibrated with pleasure. At first he pushed his hips deeper into his beloved, and his arm slipped up under her so his hand could grasp fervently at her shoulder, desperately trying to keep him anchored to her. As the goddess’ finger entered him, though, his hips pulled out again, chasing that finger to beckon it deeper. The lieutenant’s cheeks burned with shame against Miranda’s chest. He was glad he had hidden his face, and deeply grateful that his beloved held him against her chest, even if it strengthened the weight of his guilt.

Goosebumps raised on his skin moment by moment the goddess’ touch seemed to get more potent. His fingers dug ever more deeply into Miranda’s shoulder as his hips lurched back and forth, pulling his attention between the goddess’ electric touch and his beloved’s warm embrace until the emotions and the sensations began to swirl together, confusing not only what Philip desired but also his understanding of what was even happening. He almost started to wonder whether it was somehow the goddess’ bosom his head rested against--or whether the goddess and his beloved were even different people at all--until the fingers withdrew from him and it became painfully clear that, no, in fact the goddess was suddenly not touching him anywhere.

A frustrated-- no, devastated-- gasp escaped Philip’s lips, perhaps subtle to some but plenty potent to ears that understood him. His hips rocked back, but, finding nothing, they thrusted nearly angrily forward in frustration and desperation for the pleasure he did have access to, and then repeated the process, their speed and ferocity picking up with each cycle. He worried he might be hurting Miranda, but he couldn’t stop. He was dizzy and lost in his desire, and his body was getting away from him. Even the hand which anchored him to his beloved was starting to get out of control, his grip getting so tight that his nails were threatening to bite into his partner’s skin.

Things only got worse once the goddess entered him. It was painful, but also moving and delectable and electrifying. He felt raw and open and vulnerable, in a way that was at once terrifying and pleasurable beyond belief. His body bucked and thrusted, overwhelmed with how much pleasure was now available to it. It chased after every drop, pulling soft gasps and shudders from the lieutenant’s lips as he couldn’t help but respond to it all. He began kissing his beloved’s chest, but then as the notion suddenly struck him he bit her, and then kissed and then bit her again… He felt all sorts of pangs of fear and guilt and worry, but his head was also swimming with the intoxication of thrill and excitement which were nearly drowning everything else.

Philip shifted his body to lean differently against the arm that was holding him up, so that his mouth was closer to Miranda’s neck than her breast, pushing firmly against her embrace if he had to to get there. He could feel her hands on him lovingly, soothingly, forgivingly, and some part of him wanted to weep. He did manage to softly, shakily whisper another heartbroken "I'm so sorry," into her ear, the hints of how distraught he was with this all breaking through in the sound.

But then the goddess struck him, and a quick, broken gasp escaped his lips as the resulting shock coursed through him and Miranda both, wracking their bodies and wrenching their motions all into a messy desperate tangle of sensation. His teeth bit down hard on Miranda’s neck-- something they’d been wanting to do for a while, and which Philip could no longer hold them back from. Tears were escaping his eyes and starting to wet his cheeks, but his body was thoroughly in motion, thrusting and writhing and searching and grasping and revelling. Despite all his protests, all his guilt and shame and heartache, he found himself thinking, as he tightened his jaw’s grip on his beloved’s neck and pushed himself back once more against the goddess: Please, please don’t stop.

Her body glowing in earnest now, the goddess' ferocity only increased and continued, pushing all three of their bodies toward the edge of their limitations. Dehaljadrun deepened her grimace, bending over Philip somewhat so the bitch couldn't see the goddess' face. The goddess was prepared to cry out, on the edge of her ability to withstand her own pleasure, and as such, she was losing control of the fabric of the dream. It swirled about them in opalescent purple shreds such that they were hardly in the cushioned room at all, but the goddess couldn't bring herself to care. She was too intent on pulling every ounce of pleasure, of confusion, of devotion from this man, and there was nothing any of them could do to stop her now. 

She wanted deeply inside his body. She wanted not only the pleasure of his physical body, but also everything he had ever even remotely imagined he wanted, letting it flood into her as she pressed more deeply into him, both physically and otherwise, beginning to break the threshold of what was dream and what was reality. Dehaljadrun started to see the inside of the man's tent through the purple shine that was quickly turning to fog. She didn't have much time. 

Knowing that entering into Philip's real and physical body would at least be a step closer to getting out of the bindings that held her, she grasped for her chance as the scales began to tip, keeping herself deeply inside Philip's body and his mind as the dream receded further, deeper into the folds of reality. 

And then she fell helplessly into the sensation of Philip biting fully into Miranda's neck, her own body and mind craving to be both assailant and victim such that she felt both acutely. She was Philip biting the neck of the love he abandoned for another. She was Miranda waiting day in and day out for some sign that Philip was coming home. She was Miranda's fear that it was somehow her fault that Philip left. She was Philip's whispered apology. She was begging herself not to stop. 

Philip's hips' movements further back into the goddess and his plea echoing through his mind shattered whatever little resistance the goddess had left, even as the moment arrived when Philip's consciousness would cross the threshold between waking and dream. She grasped at the possibility of inhabiting the man--scrabbling for it mentally--but was quickly losing ground as her own capacity for arousal and lust and love and desire and tension and reunion became challenged, tipping her into the red waters of orgasm, plummeting deeply into her internal sensation such that her voice and Philip's voice cried out in unison in a spine-shivering scream of pleasure and pain from the splitting of the worlds apart and the snapping force of a goddess trying to hold them together. 

Philip's body remained in his tent, yes, but his consciousness remained completely entangled with hers as the goddess and the blonde woman reunited underneath Philip inside a startlingly real ritual circle where all 12 torches had burned suddenly down as though they had massively flared or exploded, but Philip could not see any of it. Already, a clothlike fog began to wind its way around his head and eyes, completely obscuring his vision. The goddess inhaled to catch her breath and immediately pushed Philip off her, meeting no resistance, and quickly gathered herself to stand over him so she could slap him squarely and surely across the cheek and jaw. She slapped him again so hard his lip started bleeding, and she knew his eye might bruise. She thrust her arm underneath his back and lifted him halfway up then, intending to throw him down against the hard stones, but she saw that the covering over his eyes had stopped moving completely; it was finished. The fight left her.

She let Philip's chest and arms fall, and she walked to the edge of the circle, not quite ready to cross the threshold to the rest of her realm beyond. The impact from the snap into her realm severely shook her body, and red-hot pain seared through her such that she was tempted to double over, but she managed to stay upright. After a few moments, the pain began to fade, and one of her hands found itself in her hair as she surveyed the forested area behind her palace with more of an impulse to cry than she had felt in some time. Another attempt failed, and she had all the residual loss and anger from Philip's version of Miranda brimming within her body. Was it worth it? Putting herself through all this pain? What other choice was there? There was no fucking chance she would just sit around waiting for the king to come free her, even if she had to tear her very existence all but to shreds to escape. He was afraid of her--she knew he was--so he must know that there were possible ways out. 

Dehaljadrun turned around and looked at Philip. He was almost beautiful to her lying crumpled and spent and loyal on the ground, waiting for instructions. Inside his uncooperative body, she knew he ached for nothing but her touch and found the paralysis unbearable. Philip's mounting devotion for her did begin to lift her spirits some, and she walked over to him, knelt beside him, and whispered in his ear.

"You will say nothing except my name."

((OOC: It's possible that Dehaljadrun has basically suspended Philip psychologically a hair's breadth away from orgasming such that he never actually experienced it, but she said it could swing whichever way is more devastating. If the emptiness and lack of touch afterward would be worse, she wants that.))