genessia | [V i d e o]

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[V i d e o]

[A potion is brewing in a large cauldron, filling the room with questionable scents. Gellert has opened a window to help matters, but this is a price all potion brewers must pay. Sometimes you are forced to work with unpleasant ingredients.]

I've shared one fairy-tale from my world with some of you, so I thought why not share another?

[And thus Gellert recites, from memory, The Wizard and The Hopping Pot.]

"There was once a kindly old wizard who used his magic generously and wisely for the benefit of his neighbors. Rather than reveal the true source of his power, he pretended that his potions, charms and antidotes sprang ready-made from the little cauldron he called his lucky cooking pot. From miles around people came to him with their troubles, and the wizard was pleased to give his pot a stir and put things right.

This well-beloved wizard lived to a goodly age, then died, leaving all his chatells to his only son. This son was of a very different disposition to his gentle father. Those who could not work magic were, to the son’s mind, worthless, and he had often quarreled with his father’s habit of dispensing magical aid to their neighbours.

Upon the father’s death, the son found hidden inside the old cooking pot a small package bearing his name. He opened it, hoping for gold, but found instead a soft, thick slipper, much to small to wear, and with no pair. A fragment of parchment within the slipper bore the words “In the fond hope, my son, that you will never need it.”

The son cursed his father’s age-softened mind, then threw the slipper back into the cauldron resolving to use it henceforth as a rubbish pail. That very night a peasant woman knocked on the front door.

“My granddaughter is afflicted by a crop of warts, sir,” she told him. “Your father used to mix a special poultice in that old cooking pot -”

“Begone!” cried the son. “What care I for you brat’s warts?”

And he slammed the door in the old woman’s face.
At once there came a loud clanging and banging from his kitchen. The wizard lit his wand and opened the door, and there, to his amazement, he saw his father’s old cooking pot: it had sprouted a single foot of brass, and was hopping on the spot, in the middle of the floor, making a fearful noise upon the flagstones. The wizard approached it in wonder, but fell back hurriedly when he saw that the whole of the pot’s surface was covered in warts.

“Disgusting object!” he cried, and he tried firstly to Vanish the pot, then to clean it by magic, and finally to force it out of the house. None of his spells worked, however, and he was unable to prevent the pot hopping after him out of the kitchen, and then following him up to bed, clanging and banging loudly on every wooden stair.
The wizard could not sleep all night for the banging of the warty old pot by his bedside, and next morning the pot insisted upon hopping after him to the breakfast table. Clang, clang, clang, went the brass-footed pot, and the wizard had not even started his porridge when there came another knock on the door. An old man stood on the doorstep.

” ‘Tis my old donkey, sir,” he explained. “Lost she is, or stolen and without her I cannot take my wares to market, and my family will go hungry tonight.”

“And I am hungry now!” roared the wizard, and slammed the door upon the old man.

Clang, clang, clang, went the cooking pot’s single brass foot upon the floor, but now its clamour was mixed with the brays of a donkey and human groans of hunger, echoing from the depths of the pot.

“Be still. Be silent!” shrieked the wizard, but not all his magical powers could quieten the warty pot, which hopped at his heels all day, braying and groaning and clanging, no matter where he went or what he did.

That evening there came a third knock upon the door, and there on the threshold sood a young woman sobbing as though her heart would break.

“My baby is grievously ill,” she said. “Won’t you help us? Your father bade me come if troubled-”

But the wizard slammed the door on her. And now the tormenting pot filled to the brim with salt water, and slopped tears all over the floor as it hopped, and brayed, and groaned, and sprouted more warts. Though no more villagers came to seek help at the wizard’s cottage for the rest of the week, the pot kept him informed of their many ills. Within a few days, it was not only braying and groaning and slopping and hopping and sprouting warts, it was also choking and retching, crying like a baby, whining like a dog, and spewing out bad cheese and sour milk and a plague of hungry slugs.

The wizard could not sleep or eat with the pot beside him, but the pot refused to leave and he could not silence it or force it to be still.

At last the wizard could bear it no more. “Bring me all your problems, all your troubles and your woes!” he screamed, fleeing into the night, with the pot hopping behind him along the road into the village. “Come! Let me cure you, mend you and comfort you! I have my father’s cooking pot, and I shall make you well!”
And with the foul pot still bounding along behind him, he ran up the street, casting spells in every direction.

Inside one house the little girl’s warts vanished as she slept; the lost donkey was Summoned from a distant briar patch and set down softly in its stable; the sick baby was doused in dittany and woke, well and rosy. At every house of sickness and sorrow, the wizard did his best, and gradually the cooking pot beside him stopped groaning and retching, and became quiet, shiny and clean.

“Well, Pot?” asked the trembling wizard, as the sun began to rise.
The pot burped out the single slipper he had thrown to it, and permitted him to fit it on to the brass foot. Together, they set off back to the wizard’s house, the pot’s footstep muffled at last. But from that day forward, the wizard helped the villagers like his father before him, lest the pot cast off its slipper, and begin to hop once more."

What do you think of it? Should Magic be available for all who could benefit from it? Or should the one so gifted be the one to choose who they aid and who goes wanting? Obviously one Witch or Wizard cannot save the world, so that leaves the question: should they still try?

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[Albus is free and generous with the sounds pouring out of his mouth, groans and keens coming forth freely from his throat. He feels like he's been captured in a tidal wave and carried out to sea. Everything is subsumed by pleasure and need, Gellert's body warming and delighting him while still creating a rising greed for more.

His fingers grip Gellert's back and hair tightly, firm enough to print small bruises into his skin, tiny marks to match the one on his neck. The strokes to his cock and the bursts of pleasure deep in him with each thrust are enough that he quakes and trembles with every movement, his body entirely enraptured by every inch of Gellert's.]

[Albus is free and generous no matter what they are doing. Even when the man is rejecting him, he doesn't lie to him. Gellert is so tired of cowardly lies. The whole world seems to be full of them - Genessia too - and that makes his dear Albus all the more precious. It's not as if Gellert doesn't know how to hurt others - he can do that easily - but he is choosing to give as much pleasure as possible this time. In gratitude, perhaps, though there is definitely something more to it. Dark Wizards do not often claim to love, but he is odd in that too.

His hips lose their tempo and he gives himself over to desire. Gasping against Albus's shoulder, he thrusts hard and fast, his brow furrowed and his golden hair mussed. His hand shakes on the other man's cock and he squeezes the base, groaning in his throat. He is beyond thought - beyond reason - and his body is pulled tight. Only a few more thrusts and...

Something within him will explode. He's sure of it.]

[Everything is so much and so good, all at once. He can feel the way Gellert's own body is overcome with desire, the way it drives him to quake and move in a frenzy. The beats of pleasure through him surge higher and faster when Gellert's hand and his thrusts grow faster and uncontrolled, each burst of sensation swelling until they blur together in overwhelming sensation.

It's perfect and too much to resist. Albus' entire body tightens as he climaxes, coming with a sharp cry and his muscles tensing in unison. His fingers grip Gellert's skin as he spills onto his hand, his head dizzy and his body shuddering as he starts to come down.]

[Small beads of sweat will make his skin hard to hold onto, but that struggle will add to his pleasure, at least. Gellert arches into the bite of Albus's fingernails, encouraging the crescent shaped bruises. While he spares the other man as much pain as possible, he greedily enjoys any that Albus gives him.]

Albus! [His eyes widen and he grins wildly at the sudden climax. Perfect! He feels everything uncoil within him so deliciously and the desperate thrust of his hips is quicker than ever. The squeeze of the spasming muscles is too much! The explosion comes at last and he moans so loud that it must be heard beyond the Magical barrier.]

[When Gellert comes, he digs his fingernails in and watches his a hazy delight as he peaks. He can feel Gellert spilling inside of him, his skin flush and warm when he comes, the sounds pouring out of him delicious and vibrant against their magical barrier.

For all his hesitances, this feels good, this moment of unity as they surge with pleasure at the feel of each other's bodies.

As Gellert finishes, he strokes his face, watching him with dazed eyes as he murmurs:] Ahh, Gellert...

[A strange feeling of awe overwhelms him as he, shivering, collapses. He is careful not to rest his entire weight on Albus and he supports himself on his forearms, the sand digging into his skin. As he pants for breath, he glances into the other man's eyes, at a loss for words.

The hand on his cheek helps break him from his wonder, thankfully, and he shifts to lay at Albus's side.]

That is how I feel.

[He smiles loosely and strokes Gellert's face, looking up at him with delight and affection on his eyes. At those words, he leans up to press a kiss to the corner of Gellert's mouth, his hands never leaving Gellert's skin.]

Is it now. You feel quite strongly, then.

[He slides his fingers into Albus's hair, sighing into the kiss. How can this man cause such conflicting emotions? It isn't fair and it doesn't make sense. Yet Gellert accepts that this is how he feels.]

You have no idea the strength of it. [His fingers curl against the other man's scalp.]

[He smiles slightly.] I might be able to guess. [Because, for as conflicted as his feelings are, they are strong. And there is such delight in having Gellert there with him, close and warm and lovely. He leans up to kiss him full on the mouth this time, lingering on the press of their lips before pulling back.] There will be such sand in your hair by now.

[He wonders over those words, tucking them away to be mulled over extensively later.]

What a sad fate. [His lips twitch and he slips his arms around Albus, rolling them both against the sand so he can steal another kiss. The other man only has himself to blame!]

I may take a dip in the sea. Care to join me?

[He grins into the kiss, returning it with a delighted enthusiasm. For all his jests about the sand, he seems nothing short of enthralled as they roll across the beach, enjoying the warmth and the salty air in solitude.]

I think I could be persuaded.

How should I persuade you? [All of that is asked between kisses and Gellert pushes himself onto his knees, tugging Albus along with him.] It feels good, I promise, and if it's too cold, I can warm you.

[He smiles at that and lets himself be tugged, planting another kiss to Gellert's mouth as he's pulled onto his knees.] I think holding my hand as you wander into the water will be more than enough.

[He hums and returns the pressure, eyes half-lidded.] Consider it done. [Gellert grabs onto Albus's hand and rises, walking across the sun warmed sand to the cool surf.]

Do make sure I don't drown since that seems to be a concern.

[He lets out a small snort of a laugh as he lets himself be tugged, his fingers entwining with Gellert's.] I shall do my very best, but try not to agitate any kelpies while we swim and we should be fine.

[He kisses Albus's cheek before stepping into the water.] If I find any Kelpies, that will be fortuitous! But I promise not to rile them.

That is good. The kelpie you know already would probably be very displeased with you.

[He follows Gellert into the water, vaguely noting the warmth of the water. In truth, he scarcely pays attention, instead letting himself focus on the site of Gellert wading into it, taking in the site of him as if to savor it.]

What else is new? [He wades out far enough to dunk himself into the water. When he surfaces again, he is laughing.] Here, let me give you a hand...

[This is the perfect excuse for him to run his hands over Albus's bare skin, ridding the other of the pieces of sand.]

[He grins at the maneuver, feeling Gellert's hands move slick and wet across his skin. The droplets of water streaking his skin only serve to make him lovelier, especially as he laughs brightly and glows under the sun above them.]

Ah, you're too generous, assisting me like this. I'll have to repay you in some way.

[As Gellert strokes his palms across him, Albus dips his own hands under the water, soaking them before running his fingertips across Gellert in turn, tracing the lines of him and rubbing off any sand that he finds.]

[He cocks his head and runs his hands over Albus's chest and shoulders. Brushing off spare bits of sand shouldn't be a sensual task, yet he has made it into one. With the sun shining off the water and Albus not wearing a stitch, Gellert is quite content.]

Don't worry, this is a joy for me.

[His hands dip down and behind the other man to give his arse a cheeky squeeze. The warm, slick hands on him are lovely and he grins.]

Taking advantage of me?

[He chuckles at the squeeze, the pinch of it leaving a pleasant ache after Gellert's had his way with him. With a small grin, Albus matches the gesture by wrapping his hand around Gellert's hip, tugging him in closer and pressing their foreheads together.]

Mm, of course not. I'm merely helping you keep yourself clean. I have only the purest of motives.

Is that why your hand is... [He glances down for effect, one eyebrow raised.] ...there? That certainly doesn't feel innocent or pure.

[Not that he is pushing Albus away. Gellert rests his hands on the curve of Albus's - in his opinion - delicious backside and grins without shame.]

[He breathes another small laugh, leaning in closer, palming Gellert's face with his other hand.]

You're right. I'm a terrible liar.

[And at that, he punctuates the thought by pressing a kiss to Gellert's mouth, tasting the salt water on his lips as he deepens it.]

[The happiness in him swells to a dangerous level, but Gellert has no desire to proceed with caution. Albus hasn't looked at him like this in years.]

One of your best qualities.

[He murmurs, stepping closer still so that their skin is touching in a thousand places. His lips part, coaxing Albus's tongue into an intricate dance.]

[He smiles into the kiss and returns it with the same eagerness as Gellert. Albus lets himself envelop himself fully in the embrace, his body pressed in close to Gellert's, feeling every slick inch of skin against his. His tongue slides and tastes along Gellert's, matching his exploration with slow strokes.

Everything feels easier when he loses himself to thoughtlessness and the feel of Gellert in his arms. He cups Gellert's head in both of his hands, letting the water from his hair drip in rivulets across his knuckles, the two of them soaked in the scent of salt.]

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