Title: Nativity in Green
Author: Kitty Ramone
Fandom: H.P. Lovecraft/Cthulhu Mythos
Pairing: Cthulhu/Gustaf Johansen
Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em, no profit, suing is futile!
Word Count: 1, 281
Warnings: Tentacle sex, religious imagery, decidedly non-human/inhuman standards of morality, mild D/s, mpreg (sort of, but not quite – nothing squicky, I swear to Cthulhu!). And a little profanity, just a bit!
A/N: For grondfic, a belated gift – sorry it’s taken so long! A sequel to “Star of Wonder, Star of Night.” And it is going to be part of a series, by the looks of things! Johansen’s R’lyehian name comes from the Seventh Sanctum Lovecraftian Name Generator.
He knew that he was once dead, but now would be forever deathless. The breath of life which stirred and animated him was not that of mortal men, but he had awakened at the first sounds of scratching on his coffin lid, and the grave would never again be able to restrain him. No longer was he the frail, prematurely ancient corpse that had been buried in this place so long ago – he was filled with a strength that Nature alone could not have bestowed on him.
Clawed hands tore him from his narrow bed of decades, from the earth where he had slept and communed in fearsome and wondrous dreams with the Great One, that monstrous god-beast who had claimed him for eternity, body and soul. The beings that brought him again into the sun’s light were alien in their appearance, and yet they were more familiar to the person once known as Gustaf Johansen than the blood in his veins.
From the very first, he loved them utterly.
Their minds could touch his in the same manner that only Great Cthulhu’s had before. It was with respect that their thoughts spoke to him, calling him the Sacred One, their Father from the Realm of Earth. And he remembered them from the dreams that the Lord of R’lyeh had sent him. He had seen them growing in their cocoons, enfolded by his beloved’s wings, watched them fondly as they were born and swam towards the ocean’s surface to conquer the world above in Cthulhu’s name, and in his own.
For they were his very own spawn, formed from his essence and from that of the demonic and divine one he adored.
Towering above him already, although he knew them to be youthful still, they formed an honour guard for the former human as they led him from the graveyard where his ancestors still lay and would lie for all of time. Spreading wings almost as magnificent as those of Cthulhu, one swept him up into careful, tenderly cradling arms as the whole contingent of beautiful but terrifying hybrid creatures took to the skies en masse. It was exhilarating to fly, to be able to reach out and touch the cold vapour of the clouds as they swept through the heavens towards their destination. But it was even more thrilling to contemplate what would occur when they arrived. The being once called Johansen, he who was now known by the name Cthulhu Himself had given him, Danatlith, knew that he was to be prepared for reunion with Earth’s new Master, and would never be parted from the Mighty One again.
Below, the world was in chaos and ruins, humanity either devoured, driven mad or enslaved by Cthulhu’s minions. In the past, the very thought of such horrors would have enraged and saddened Gustaf Johansen. But the one now named Danatlith could no longer feel such emotions well up inside him. He was a man no longer, but something greater and more terrible. He was an exquisite abomination, the most valued thing that Great Cthulhu possessed, and his only thoughts were of how he longed to feel the touch of massive tentacles embracing him again after so many long years of the dead but dreaming state.
The spawn brought him to the surging ocean, to a coral reef where dwelt a nest of Deep Ones, the sons and daughters of Dagon. The curious fish-frog creatures, with their unblinking eyes and croaking voices, treated Danatlith with complete deference and respect, displaying the same awe in his presence as did his own young. Their hands were deft and gentle as they stripped and cleansed Danatlith. Ornaments forged by the Deep Ones, those most skilled of metal-workers, were brought to adorn him. Made from the strange and gorgeous gold-like substance with its preternatural lustre that the Deep Ones were renowned for, the ornaments had carved upon them mystic symbols, splendid and unearthly hieroglyphics proclaiming Danatlith the spouse and property of Great Cthulhu, forever to be loved and owned by He who now dominated Heaven, Earth and the eternal sea. A collar was fastened around Danatlith’s neck, thick bracelets almost like a warrior’s gauntlets were clasped upon his strong forearms, and a chain that resembled a spiralling tentacle was bound above his hipbones.
“He awaits you, beautiful one. He is craving you already – it has been too long, and His need is growing by the hour,” the Deep Ones told him, and Danatlith felt no shame at becoming aroused before them and his spawn, as what they spoke of was something holy and not profane.
At long last the offspring of Danatlith and Cthulhu brought their earthly father to the cliff-top where he would wait for his adored one, and with reverential glances and promises to return when he should require them, they left him there.
Naked but for his bright, burnished adornments, Danatlith stood tall and proud amongst the storm-lashed rocks of the cliff’s apex. He almost resembled a Viking of old with his shining golden locks of hair and his rippling muscles, a sheen of sweat already bedewing his skin as the heat of the rising sun fell upon him. And with the sun rose Great Cthulhu from the depths, catching the former mortal up in one clawed hand as He had done on that fateful day decades ago. A cry escaped Danatlith’s lips as he felt the slickness of those divine tentacles that formed the beard of the Great One upon his bare and needing flesh. The sensitive limbs coiled around him, caressing him everywhere, but none yet thrust within him as they had done the first time. Cthulhu was teasing his beloved, stoking the fire of lust and anger within him. The terrible god of R’lyeh loved Danatlith’s wild courage, the fury that could strike like lightning with such devastation and scorch even the mightiest. It was that quality, that burning rage, which had first attracted Cthulhu to the sailor Gustaf Johansen, and the Great One wanted to see that rage again. And, as always, Cthulhu got what He desired. Danatlith’s blue eyes flashed with frenzied wrath as he snarled and struggled, futilely straining for the delicious touch of writhing feelers.
“Don’t you dare do this to me! Fuck me, you beast!” he roared aloud, and inside his mind he heard Cthulhu’s rumbling laughter, the amusement of a loving tormentor intent on frustrating him.
“That’s no way to speak to a deity, Danatlith. Remember the tokens of subjugation you wear, the trinkets I ordered to be made for you. If you want my affections, my precious little Earth-creature, you must show the proper devotion. For I gave you immortality, beautiful Danatlith, re-named you and claimed you as my own. I could have devoured you in an instant all those years ago, but I chose not to. Beg for me, Danatlith. Worship me, and perhaps I shall bring you the pleasure you long for.”
Danatlith moaned and ceased his thrashing around. He gasped as one smooth tentacle ensnared his swollen cock and began to stroke it exquisitely.
“Please, Cthulhu – I want You inside me! I want to show You that I’m Yours – forever Yours!”
The huge red eyes of Cthulhu looked down upon Danatlith with unmistakable approval and love. “You are so irresistible when you are aroused, my Danatlith. Shall we make more spawn together now? Will you let me merge my essence with yours again, creating armies of our young to conquer other worlds?”
“Anything for You, my Lord, my love!” Danatlith cried as at last one of those glorious tentacles found his tender opening and pushed its way deep into him.