The Book of the Blue House

The Priests

As Lorne lay back in the great, cushioned bed and the young man rode him, he rejoiced, moaning in his low voice, “Sometimes….”

Sometimes it was easy. Sometimes it was a young boy like this one, in his first year, sweat dripping down his body, his blond hair plastered to his head, his hands pressing down on your brown broad chest as he churned himself like butter on your cock and you bounced him up and down growling to his groaning.

“That’s it, my lad. That’s it,” Lorne urged him, holding onto the boy’s hips and thrusting into him. “That’s it. Do you love it?”

“I love it!” Brian wailed, “I love it. I love it when you fuck me!”

“Ah,” Lorne groaned, “you’re the one whose fucking me.”

“That’s right.” Brian looked down, his wet and dripping. Drunk with fuck, he ground against Lorne wonderfully, clenching him and pulling up and down on his ever hardening shaft.

“That’s right, I,” Brian repeated, moving up and down, “I am fucking you. Let me make you come,” he continued in rhythm to his thrusts on Lorne, “That’s right. I’m fucking you, I am. I am,” he declared as he bounced up and down, his penis heavy and swinging, slapping against Lorne’s stomach. Brian’s head was arched back and he was shouting to the ceiling, “I__ am!”

When Brian had first come to the Temple he was a quiet boy, and he was quiet outside of this room. What you were in sex was usually not what you were out of it. It brought things out, and now Lorne, overcome by his own desire, rose and turned Brian around and the boy with his reedy voice, on his hands and knees demanded, “Take me. Take me now, take me like the bear you are!”

“I am a bear,” Lorne declared, giving in to his lust.

“I,” he slammed into Brian, “am—a goddamned—fucking bear!”

He plowed Brian while Brian shouted, both of them delighting in the loudness of their sex. It was as the light was turning from grey to the first hints of yellow that Lorne called out triumphantly, Brian groaned and Lorne’s head rolled back to look at the ceiling. Gripping Brian’s hips so he didn’t fall over, he ejaculated. It came in jerks that rocked his large body and pulled the seed out of him. Brian groaned in what sounded like defeat, but was joyful surrender, receiving Lorne, and then L:orne collapsed on top of him, and Brian rejoieed in being crushed.

Brian Attabara was in his novice year, not even initiated, and he had asked Lorne to come to him the night before as Lorne had been singing.

So when Lorne had gone to bed, he knew he would rise to meet this delightful boy who had joined them on the roof that night, and who would join them for lunch later on. It had been in the summer that Brian had come to the House, not a waif off the street, but a college lad like Derek had been, young and curious and from a northern family. He had come to Lorne at first as a supplicant who wanted to learn about himself, and only later had he shown up at the Red Door asking for admission to the order.

Lorne always and ever slept like a rock, and when he had awaken this morning, he was surprised to see that Conn was in the bed with Derek and they were holding each other. Well, that was something. Cal and Gabriel had been in the kitchen giggling and naked, getting some type of breakfast, and apparently they had spent the night together as well.

Lorne only said, “I’m showering. You and the girls get on out of here and find something to do with yourselves. Derek and Conn are going to get some time to themselves.”

“Derek and—” Gabriel began, and then Cal said, “Oh, that is sweet.”

“We’ve got you, Lorne,” Gabriel assured him. “We’ll all clear the hell out.”

Lorne had bathed, and was on his way to Brian, an appointment he was never tired of, never tired of the little white body so unlike his own, almost like a boy’s still, but wth an ass muscular as an athlete’s and round as a peach, and an insatiable man’s desire. Now he was stroking the pale boy’s cock, pulling the orgasm out, listening to Brian’s laughter that accompanied his groan as his semen, like hot rain, jetted out over both of them.

In admiration he watched Brian on the other side of the large bed. Most novices had a twin bed, but Brian had boldly told the Abbot that for his purposes he would need a large one, and the Abbot had accepted this without question. The boy was curled up like a comma, one leg lifted higher than the other, his wonderful ass ripe to be admired by Lorne. Now, even as a novice, he was a formidable lover. What kind of men would come to him? Those assured of themselves who thought they knew everything, who needed a boylike creature with manly powers to humble them. He would be matched with them.

Brian turned over and his voice was deeper now, He looked thoughtful and said, “It must still be early. It can’t even be eight o’ clock yet.”

“It is. Just,” Lorne said.

“I am scheduled to be in the Sanctuary to assist Kiersson Prynne in the Offering Rooms,” he said. “I’ve done it twice before, and each time I think I need to train myself to go to the Gorgon rooms.”

“What for?”

“So I can learn to be with people I don’t know, and men I didn’t choose. I attend classes. I pay attention. I know why I’m here.”

“The Gorgon Rooms are for those who are facing their deepest desires and want to learn from them,” Lorne said. “They aren’t a punishment. Sometimes they’re a relief. But no one has to go to them. And for that matter, you don’t have to do the Service in the sanctuary.”

“But I do have to learn to be with strangers not of my choosing. I know that much.”

Brian sat up.

“And I want to. I know I look like some shallow idiot.”

“No one would say that about you.”

“You would not say that about me,” Brian corrected. “But some would. And some have. I take this seriously. When I become a priest, Lorne, I’m going to be a real priest. Like Derek or Cal or like you. Or like the Abbot who accepts everyone with that same smile and that same grace and nothing sticks to him. That’s going to be me one day. I swear it.”

The sanctuary was always a surprise when Brian entered it. Of the three doors that led into the Temple, only the Red Door led directly into the Sanctuary, and so it was possible to never even see the heart of the temple until the morning one was initiated. The Blue House was so full of dormitories and pleasure rooms, the little chapels, the eating rooms and the gardens, that it was hard to remember that it was, above all, a temple, and that there was, in it, a great sanctuary. It’s size was a surprise, and its height. Brian came to it through a little hall that emptied to an anteroom and then from the anteroom entered by the north door which was was gilded in blue and stepped down into the Sanctuary whose height reached all seven stories of the Temple, and there were six balconies, one at the end of every floor looking down, though the first three floors were much further back. The sanctuary was tiled in great flat blue grey stones worn with time and warm to the touch, never cold, and on it were several carpets and several people, men and women, most dark and southern, but some white, some priests, but most not, their legs folded under them, eyes closed, prayer beads moving through their fingers.

Across from Brian was the other door with steps leading down into sanctuary from the south side, the east side, what corresponded with the White Door, and when Brian turned to his right he saw a greater gold gilded doorway, the only one with open red doors which led down to the Red Door by which priests and initiates entered the Temple.

He could hear the chant murmured:

Ta vlépei óla Ta xérei óla oli tin agapi

Káthe gios pou déchetai.

Se aftó to simeío to sýmplegma ólon

All along the walls were rich tempera murals of the ancient stories. There were Erkovan and Escovan, the Twins who were the Lords of the Sky. They had been made when the Lord Adaon the Lord, called Varayan, had divided himself and they came together in love. These were the Two Warriors of Heaven, the Princes, who had made love to each other until their sprayed seed had brought all life into being. Life that came not from man and woman, but from pleasure, the life that was still going on. Every time a Blue Priest lay with a man, he was participating in the First Creation. And there, part of the same story, or of a differing version, was Lord Varayan himself, between two Gods who were the Twins or sometimes they were Belmarine and Waylan, but always he had two lovers. There were the varying scenes of their love, their bodies twisting together in all shapes, the shapes made by the men of the Blue Temple, bringing the first world into being. Varayan was the Lord of All Places, the Shepherd, the Merciful One, the Master of Magic and all Mysteries.

Before men and women or God and Goddess brought the world into being, the pleasure the Gods had with the Gods did so, and the Goddesses Amana and Selu, Syr and Tevanu brought forth life from their own pleasure with the aid of no man. These were great mysteries, strange and to those uninitiated, possibly wicked pictures that contained deeper and deeper messages to one whose heart was open and who loved the Mysteries.

“Ton pragmáton eínai óla ta prágmata,

dínei ta pánta katéchoun óla.”

Along the walls were the great stone images of Amana, the Lady of Love and Pleasure and also the Lady ot the Seas, the shapely Goddess of the Red Tree that reminded all that even in here, one could not deny the mystery of the feminine and the presence of woman. Unlike the White Temples dedicated to celibacy, here women were essential even if they were not sexually served, and women would always be in the Blue Temple. And there were, n their armor, Erkovan and Eskovan, the Warriors of the Sky, the first two lovers and first two incarnations of Varayan. But, at the south wall, taking up the height of the first three stories, sitting calmly, legs folded beneath him, eyes closed in contemplation and his hand extended in blessing, was the Adaon himself.

About his head was a bronze disk, and carved into it in the ancient letters, like the rim of a halo was:

Ён усё бачыць

Ён усё ведае

Ён любіць усіх

ЯГО прымае ўсіх

Ён ахоплівае ўсіх

Ён усё

Brian was one of several novices in a blue hoodless robe, lighter than the darker smoke blue robe of the priests, standing slightly behind the nine priests on duty, and now, coming through the White Door arrived Marmoset Joe with his wide lambent eyes and his shock of hair, standing eagerly behind the priest Javan. Kierrson gave a little smile to Brian who whispered, “Sorry I’m late.”

Kierrson shrugged.

“It’s more a matter of us being early,” the handsome bronze haired priest murmured. He had glass bottle green eyes and deeply tanned skin. One of the devotees looked up from his prayers, and now Kierrson came to him, extending his hand.

He nodded. Every devotee was not here for this Brian understood now. This man must have said he was earlier. The man rose, trembling a little, Brian noticed, and Kiersson took his hand and they walked toward the image of Annar. Frankincense burned on a great brazier before him, and they each offered a spoonful more, Brian standing silently behind them. There was a door on either side of the great image and his altar, and these doors led to the Offering Rooms, different from the rooms where most men came. Here the devotee was offering himself to Adaon by being with a Blue Priest, and now, solemnly, the three of them traveled to the left door, blue lentiled, gilded in gold, A novice like Brian could only attend, could provide water, cloths, towels, could watch in order to learn, might be asked to stay outside the door, could not be touched by the devotee. As they walked slowly down the darker hallway lit only by small oil lamps and scented in lavender, Brian remembered what the writing about the halo of Annar’s head read:

God sees all

God knows all

God loves all

God accepts all

God is all

God embraces all