How do you think gods fuck? Do you think they ever crave the satisfaction of another, the sensation of hands in your hair? Do you think they burn with passion and need, sitting in their castles and mountains and clouds and moons, desperate for the touch of another? Is omnipotence worth it?
Do you think they take each other the way we do? Giants loving and holding each other, swaying with motion. They drink their fine wines and their musicians sing their songs and they pound each other, slipping in and out, a repetitive rhythm, the sight so powerful it would reduce any mortal to dust?
Perhaps they would do so in disguise. Perhaps the gods would assume forms more suited to the carnal pleasures of the flesh, of which having flesh is surely a prerequisite. Perhaps the gods fuck as animals do, as animals. Perhaps they would be rabbits, dear, lions, humans. Perhaps they are all of us, always redoing the trace of fingertips on skin, the scent of another on you. Their tongue is in yours and it's okay because you are them, you are all the same. We are all the same.
Perhaps it's more abstract. What is more sensitive, more romantic, than the trace of dewdrops on a leaf? How needy must these gods be, to perform constantly like this? Perhaps the rustling of the wind in the leaves is foreplay. Perhaps the shivers of forests are shivers of anticipation, of want. And oh, how they want.
Perhaps they are mountains, great avalanches marking their thrusts. Perhaps they are oceans, soaking and spilling and brimming with salty lust, lapping at the great shores, quivering with tides of anticipation. Perhaps the movements of the sun and moon are a sultry striptease for each other. Perhaps all of humanity is a drawn out encounter, our cities but great toys in this game.
And oh, how violently they fuck, every earthquake, every forest fire, every scream of pain a reflection of the emotion they feel. They desire to be hurt and they fill the gaps in spades, each taking and being taken, a delicate dance of power. Power is all, and they trade it around. Humanity is on top sometimes and on the bottom others, as they scrabble and struggle and kiss and bind and take and wound.
I should like you to fuck me like this. I should like you to fuck me as though we are rivers over mountains, intertwining roots in the great forest, falling leaves in the autumn, the great chase of light and dark. Take me as though we were hunted, as though we were lost, as though we were everything, as though we've already won. Show me how to feel. I would like to be yours the way all of us are the planet and the planet is all of us. I want you to hurt me the way we hurt the world. I want you to love me the way the world loves us. I want you the way the air tastes on my breath. I want you the way I see you.
Fuck me as though we're gods. Fuck me as though we deserve it. Fuck me as though it matters. And in the quiet moments, in the gaps between, in the stolen seconds before the grinding of the cosmic orgy, know this. Know that I love you. Know that I will always love you. Know this.