John squinted against the sharp glare of the setting sun as he climbed the jagged cliff face. His bare feet found purchase in the familiar crevices, and the salty scent of the ocean filled his nostrils as the wind danced through his shaggy hair as he stood naked after his morning swim in the sea. The small coastal cottage afforded him and his son, Cermait, a place to hide from the prying eyes of the world and he liked where they lived with the sea providing peace.
He noticed a figure in the distance, sitting on the stony beach. It was a boy, no more than twelve years old he guessed, his skin a pale contrast against the dark basalt. The tide was coming in, the waves growing more insistent with each pass, yet the boy remained unmoved. Intrigued, John picked his way down the treacherous slope and the closer he got, the more the scene took his breath away. The boy sat cross-legged, his eyes closed, his body seemingly untouched by the icy kiss of the sea and John could also see that the boy was naked.
As the waves grew bolder, reaching up to caress the boy’s ankles, they began to take on a curious quality. The water didn’t just break against the rock, it curled around him, almost as if in a gentle embrace. The sight was eerie and mesmerising as the waves grew taller, their crests frothy with the promise of power, yet they never toppled the child. Instead, they parted and flowed around him, retreating to the sea as if he were a sacred monument they dared not disturb.
The boy’s skin shimmered with an ethereal light, hinting at an otherworldly presence. It was a spectacle that defied the very laws of nature, yet there it was, playing out before his very eyes. The boy’s aura was primal and ancient. It spoke of a deep connection to the ocean that transcended the ordinary, but John Stirling had grown to understand what ordinary could mean. John had left the Isles of Scilly eighteen years ago with his son Cermait after an event that still left John wondering if it had been one huge dream or just an ordinary event in a mad world.
He approached the boy cautiously as the child’s aura grew more intense with each step, a vibration that resonated through John’s very bones. As the waves retreated, they left behind a trail of shimmering foam that danced around the boy’s legs like a living necklace. John could feel the power radiating from the child, a force so potent it seemed to charge the very air around him.
The boy turned and looked at John, a smile beaming across his face from ear to ear. “Hello father,” he said, stopping John in his tracks. John stared at the boy, lost for words. My name is Óengus, but you already know this.”
John fell backwards onto the pebbles and stones on the beach, managing to preserve his dignity by landing on his bottom in a state of shock and bewilderment. “Not again?” John croaked; his voice barely audible above the whisper of the retreating waves.
“Fear not, Dagda,” the boy said, his voice soothing as the sea breeze. “I am a child of the very waters you once called home. I am your son by a different mother but still your son.”
John’s mouth remained open as he searched for words, remembering the name Dagda from eighteen years ago when Danu and Macan Óc had both called him that. No one had called him that since including Cermait his son and now as he looked at the young boy, the memories returned in an emotional flood of trepidation.
“I don’t know what to say Óengus, I’m shocked and overwhelmed and this was certainly not what I expected when I got up today to go for a swim,” John stated. “If I remember my history, you are my son, born of Boann whom I never met. How did you come about because I was only ever with Macan Óc?”
“Macan Óc was a child of the earth and when Cermait was born, a balance had to be created and Macan Óc bonded with Boann to create me as a balance and to bring youth and love into the world of men.”
“But you are a child, I guess maybe twelve or thirteen,” John answered as he just sat there, taking it all in as Óengus continued.
“I might look youthful, but I am not as young as I appear, being the god of youth and love that you John, The Dagda, created. You and Macan Óc created me with love and I share the same birthday as Cermait.”
The boy’s eyes sparkled with a wisdom beyond his apparent years, and John could feel the truth in his words, despite the impossible situation.
John’s gaze took in the youth’s form. Óengus’s skin was flawless, marble-smooth, and glowing with the soft light of early evening. His body was a sculpture of divine beauty, muscles defined yet not overly so, a perfect balance of strength and grace. His chest was broad, and his abs were a series of gentle rises leading down to a narrow waist that curved out to powerful hips. His cock was semi-erect, a testament to his sexual maturity and the promise of his godly heritage, a size that would make any mortal envious. It was clear that he was not just a child, but a being of unrivalled beauty and allure who it appears was the same age as Cermait.
Cermait, John’s son, grew in his mind’s eye as he compared the two boys. Cermait had inherited John’s tall, robust frame, his shoulders broad and strong from years of arduous work and the sea’s embrace. Cermait’s hair was darker, a stark contrast to the fiery locks of the godling before him, and his eyes held a depth that spoke of the quiet strength and resilience that John had seen in him since birth. Their bond was unbreakable, forged in the fires of shared pain and isolation. The comparison was inevitable; they were two sides of the same coin, yet worlds apart in their very essence.
John stood feeling inadequate physically, his age taking its toll being sixty-one years old, but his growing arousal defied normal ageing as John could feel the youthfulness of Óengus touching his very soul and revitalising his physical body.
“Óengus, let me take you to meet your brother for the first time,” John suggested as they headed up the beach towards the place John and Cermait called home.
The cottage came into view, smoke curling from the chimney like a greeting, a warm light spilling from the windows. As they approached, Cermait emerged from the door, his eyes widening in surprise and delight at the sight of the naked boy and his father sexually aroused, a physical pleasantry he had not witnessed in quite a while. With the presence of the young boy, Cermait immediately understood.
“Greetings Brother,” Cermait said to Óengus, “I was wondering when you would come. Can’t believe you were cutting it so fine a week before we turn Eighteen. John looked from his son to Óengus, his expression a blend of disbelief and awe.
“Greetings Brother,” Óengus responded, as the boys embraced for the first time. John noticed that Óengus was still aroused as he kissed his brother with a loving embrace that was stunning to behold, a stunning contrast to the clothed form of Cermait.
Cermait stepped back, his gaze lingering on the divine form of his sibling, a cocktail of emotions playing across his features.
“How do you know about him?” John managed to ask Cermait, still struggling to piece together the puzzle laid before him.
Cermait grinned a sparkle in his eye. “The whispers of the sea, Father. It tells me many things and many times I have spoken with my brother, our words carried on the tops of the waves.
“Oh,” John replied, still puzzled but sort of getting it. “And what about my constant arousal, it this your brother’s influence because it’s beginning to annoy me?”
“Sorry Father,” Óengus muttered. “It’s an effect I have on people and it’s totally out of my control I’m afraid. A complication from being near me.”
“Oh, I see,” John responded. “Enough of this and that, let’s get you both inside for some dinner and I need to put some clothes on,” he said, leading them towards the cottage.
“Before we enter, brother, let me see you free from metals and physical possessions.” Óengus requested Cermait.
Cermait looked at his brother, understanding the symbolism of shedding the material world. Cermait complied, peeling off his shirt and shorts, leaving him in only his tighty whities. John couldn’t help but notice the resemblance in their physiques, as his son lowered his tighty whities and stood before his brother fully aroused.
“John hadn’t seen Cermait so aroused before and understood that even his son was being affected by Óengus’s presence.”
“I love you my brother as the Ancients said I would. You are uniquely beautiful as I,” Óengus spoke, breaking the silence of the moment.
John felt a warmth in his chest, a warmth that seemed to spread from his heart, but at the same time he felt fear of an impending event that was outside of his control the view before him of the two naked boys was too wonderful to ignore as John suggested, “Cermait, find some clothes for your brother and put some underwear on, it chilly and let’s go and eat.”
Cermait nodded, disappearing into the cottage before re-emerging with some tighty whities for his father and Óengus having put on a pair himself. The sight of the two boys together, now dressed identically, was a surreal yet heartwarming sight. The resemblance was undeniable, and John felt a strange mix of emotions swell within him as he too looked the same as they sat down to eat.
The table was laid with a simple meal of freshly caught fish and crusty bread, a feast that seemed almost mundane compared to the otherworldly presence in their midst. The candles flickered in the gentle breeze that had followed them inside, casting shadows that danced on the wooden walls, hinting at secrets yet to be revealed. They sat in silence for a moment, the crackling fire the only sound to break the stillness, as they took in the gravity of the situation and then they tucked into the meal chatting and laughing as a family should.
After dinner, the dishes were cleared, and John handed the brothers a blanket each before they stepped outside into the cool embrace of the night. Cermait had built a small fire pit in the sand, the flames licking at the dark sky, casting a warm glow across their faces as they sat cross-legged beside it. The ocean whispered sweet nothings to the shore, its gentle melody a soothing backdrop to their conversation.
John’s eyes grew heavy with exhaustion as he sat with the boys by the fire, the revelation of the day taking its toll. He lay back, his eyes fluttering shut, the crackling fire and the rhythmic sigh of the waves lulling him into a doze. When he awoke with a start, he found the boys lying together in front of the fire, their heads resting on one another’s shoulders, their breaths synchronized like the pulse of the tides.
The sight before him was nothing short of a divine tableau. Cermait’s hand was wrapped around his brother’s waist, while Óengus’s arm lay protectively across his chest. The flickering firelight danced across their bare skin as they lay there naked having lost their tighty whities, revealing the gentle curve of muscle and bone, the softness of youth and the promise of a bond that had been forged in myth and destiny.
John felt his cock stir as the boys grew more comfortable with each other’s touch. The warmth from the fire was a stark contrast to the coolness of the night air, yet it was the warmth of the moment that truly suffused him. He watched as Óengus’s hand moved down, fingers brushing against the pubic hair of Cermait, tracing the contours of Cermait’s stomach before reaching his cock. He held his breath as Óengus moved over his brother until his tongue started to lick his tip taking in the pre-cum that was flowing from his cock as his hand took hold of his shaft of pure beauty that stood proudly against his thigh whilst his mouth had enveloped Cermait.
Óengus’s eyes remained closed, lost in the intimacy of the moment, as his head bobbed rhythmically up and down Cermait’s cock. John’s eyes widened as he watched his son’s act of worship and love for his brother. Óengus’s eyes remained closed, his cheeks hollowed as he took in the full length of Cermait’s divine member as Cermait’s hands found their way into Óengus’s hair, guiding him with gentle urgency.
John felt the heat of the moment wash over him, his arousal growing as he watched the tender exchange. He could see the love and longing in Cermait’s eyes, a mirror of his feelings for Macan Óc from so long ago. The thought of his son experiencing such profound intimacy with his sibling stirred something deep within him, something primal and beautiful as he lowered his tighty whities, kicking them into the sand and started to masturbate.
The tension grew as Óengus’s ministrations became more fervent, his movements quickening as he worked to bring Cermait to climax. The god of youth’s breath grew ragged, his body taut with the building storm of pleasure. John could almost feel the power coiling within his son’s throat, the ancient bond between them resonating through every touch and caress.
Finally, with a guttural moan that seemed to resonate with the very earth beneath them, Cermait released his seed into Óengus’s eager mouth. Óengus swallowed, savouring the taste of his brother’s essence, a silent declaration of his acceptance and love. John’s climax followed, his body spasming with a force that matched the intensity of the moment as he shot his seed onto his chest.
The two boys lay there for a time, the fire crackling and popping as it slowly burned down to embers John got up from his chair and threw more wood on the fire. As he did, Óengus got up behind John and embraced his naked form.
John felt the warmth of his son’s breath against the back of his neck as he whispered, “I’ve longed for this moment, Father.” The words sent a shiver down John’s spine, a mix of fear and excitement coursing through his veins. He knew that he could not deny his son’s desires, especially not one that had been born of his love even though he shared a different mother.
“I am ready,” John murmured, turning to face Óengus. He stepped closer, his arousal evident, the fire casting a warm glow on their naked forms. They embraced, their bodies melding as if they were two halves of a whole. The touch was electric, sending waves of pleasure through John’s body that he hadn’t felt in a long time.
Óengus’s soft, delicate hands began to explore John’s body, tracing the lines of age and experience that mapped out his life’s journey. John felt his cock throb in response, his body aching for more than just the gentle caress of fingertips.
Their kiss was deep and passionate, a dance of tongues that mirrored the ebb and flow of the tides. John could feel the youthful vitality of Óengus seeping into his very pores, rejuvenating him in a way that defied mortal understanding. The taste of the ocean lingered on Óengus’s lips, a tantalising promise of the pleasures that awaited them.
They sank to the sand as John settled himself on all fours allowing Óengus access to take him.
The decisive moment was upon them as John felt the tip of his son’s divine cock press against his entrance, the coldness of the evening air a stark contrast to the heat of their bodies. He took a deep breath as the youthful god pushed forward, the pressure building until John felt himself open to accept the gift of love and life.
As Óengus began to move, his strokes gentle yet firm, John’s eyes locked onto Cermait’s, who watched with a mix of fascination and arousal. The bond between them grew stronger with each thrust, the very fabric of their existence entwining as they became one. The sensation was overwhelming, a symphony of pleasure that seemed to resonate through every cell of his being.
Cermait’s hand reached out, tentatively at first, but then with growing confidence, to touch the place where his brother was joined with his father. He marvelled at the sight, feeling the power of their union in a way he never had before. His cock grew harder at the sight, and he knew that he too wanted to be part of this divine dance.
Without a word, Cermait stepped closer, his eyes never leaving John’s as he positioned himself behind his brother. The anticipation was huge as he aligned himself with his brother’s inviting opening. John felt a thrill of excitement as he realised what was about to happen, his mind racing with thoughts of the ancient prophecy that had led them to this moment.
With a soft grunt, Cermait pushed into Óengus, the two of them fitting together as if they had been made for this very purpose. The sensation was unlike anything John had ever felt before, the love and passion of his sons becoming a tangible force that seemed to fill the very air around them. The three of them moved as one, their bodies undulating in a rhythm that was as old as the tides themselves.
John felt the energy build between them, a crescendo that threatened to consume them all. His mind swam with memories of Macan Óc and the love they had shared, the same love that had brought these two beautiful beings into the world. The fire cast a warm glow on their naked forms, painting them in hues of gold and shadow.
Their breath grew ragged, their movements more urgent as the waves crashed against the shore, echoing their passion. As the tension grew unbearable, John felt a sudden release, as he climaxed with a roar shooting his seed onto the sand in front of him. The force of it washed over them all, and for a moment, he felt as if he were one with the very earth itself. Cermait’s eyes widened as he too found release, filling the air with the scent of their love as he filled his brother full of seed whilst feeling the urgency of Óengus thrusting with more power and resolve as he reached his peak and felt his climax grow. Óengus groaned as he started to cum. Cermait could feel it and John was enjoying it as Óengus shot load after load into John in the most powerful orgasm the Cermait or his father had ever witnessed.
Cermait had removed himself from his brother and stood watching Óengus pumping into his father. As he stood watching, he realised that he had lost his virginity to his brother and that John had likewise lost his virginity that night by accepting Óengus’s. Cermait wanted to share that experience but knew he would have to wait as they remained there, bonded together in love.
Óengus eventually pulled out from John to find his brother’s kiss the reward he accepted as all three of them lay down on the warm sand to become entwined in each other’s arms. The stars above them twinkled like a thousand distant fires, their light a gentle benediction on the newfound bond of this unconventional family. They lay there for a while, spent but fulfilled until John broke away from the embrace of his sons and stood up. “You boys enjoy the night but I have to go to bed, I’m tired and overwhelmed and perhaps when ready, you should both come to bed and don’t leave it too late but knowing you two, I suspect you have lots to catch up on.”
John went into the cottage leaving Cermait and Óengus alone under the vast, unblinking sky. Cermait looked at his brother with a mix of awe and hunger in his eyes. “I have felt so alone, so lost without you,” Cermait confessed. “But now that you’re here, everything feels right.”
Óengus pulled Cermait into a tight embrace, whispering, “I am here now, and together, we will find our place in this world.” His hand slid down to caress Cermait’s still-hard cock, eliciting a gasp from his brother. Their kiss grew more intense, their bodies moving together in a silent promise of what was to come.
With a sudden surge of desire, Cermait pushed Óengus onto his back and straddled him, his cock standing tall and demanding. “I want you,” Cermait breathed, his voice thick with need. “I want to feel you inside me, to become one as Father did.”
Óengus’s eyes lit up with a knowing smile, his arousal evident. “And I want you, my brother,” he murmured, his hands moving to caress Cermait’s muscular thighs. “Together, we will complete the cycle of love and power that is our birthright.”
Guiding his cock to the divine entrance, Cermait hesitated for a moment, feeling a mix of anticipation and reverence. He took a deep breath and pushed in, feeling the warm embrace of his brother’s body. They both gasped at the sensation, their eyes locked in a silent promise of unity.
Their bodies rocked in harmony, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through their shared bond. The aura around them grew brighter, a beacon that seemed to pulse with the rhythm of their union. The sand beneath them grew warm, moulding to their forms as if the very earth itself approved of their sacred act.
Their love grew stronger with each passing moment, the waves crashing onto the shore in a crescendo that matched their passion. Cermait felt his climax building, a volcanic force that threatened to tear them apart if not channelled correctly. “Take me, brother,” he moaned, his hips bucking wildly against the godling beneath him.
Óengus responded in kind, his strokes becoming more erratic and desperate as he matched Cermait’s fervour. The energy between them grew to a fever pitch, a tangible force that seemed to light up the very air around them. The stars above looked down upon their union, their light shimmering in the boys’ eyes as they reached the peak of their shared ecstasy.
As Cermait felt his release approaching, he leaned down to kiss Óengus deeply, their tongues mingling as if they were one being. With a final, powerful thrust, Óengus emptied himself into his brother, the warmth of his seed filling the void between them. The waves of pleasure that washed over him were like nothing he had ever felt before, a catharsis that left him trembling and gasping for air as Cermait lost control and embraced his orgasm, spurting cum onto Óengus’s chest and head in multiple loads that Óengus started to lick as it dribbled into his mouth. Cermait bent forward to kiss Óengus again, this time tasting his cum for the first time as they held the kiss was such passion that time was lost for a moment.
Their breaths mingled as they lay there, their hearts beating as one, the afterglow of their love illuminating the beach. They knew that they had just experienced something that would change the course of their lives forever, a bond that was unshakeable and a destiny that was now intertwined.
The night grew late, and the chill of the ocean air began to bite at their bare skin. Reluctantly, they pulled apart, the reality of the world seeping back into their consciousness. Hand in hand, they walked back to the cottage, their steps slow and deliberate, the weight of their newfound kinship heavy yet comforting.
As they climbed into bed together, John could feel the warmth of their love suffusing the room. The three of them lay there, nestled together, their hearts beating in sync, a new chapter in their lives about to unfold as they drifted off to sleep, John in the middle protected by his boys.
John woke up late the next morning to the sound of seagulls outside and the faint smell of the sea. The sun was streaming in through the small window, casting a warm light on the wooden floor. He sat up, his body feeling both exhausted and revitalised at the same time and looked over to find the boys not there. After dressing, he stepped outside the cottage with a coffee in his hand to find the two brothers standing on the beach, the waves lapping at their feet. They were both naked, their skin kissed by the early morning light, and their eyes were fixed on the horizon as if they were contemplating the vastness of the ocean before them. It was a scene of tranquillity that belied the tumultuous emotions of the previous night.
“Father,” Cermait called out, turning to face John with a serious look on his face. “We must go to the stone circle. Our birthright calls us.”
John took a sip of his coffee, his mind still clouded with the haze of the night’s revelations. “The stone circle? For what?”
“On the night of our birth, when we come of age, we are to return there,” Cermait explained, his eyes shining with the excitement of a child sharing a secret. “It’s where our destinies will be made clear, where we will embrace our true forms.”
John felt a cold chill run down his spine as the gravity of the words sank in. The stone circle, a place of power and mystery that had haunted his dreams for so long, was now a tangible part of his sons’ futures. He knew that this was a path they had to walk, a rite of passage that would forever alter their lives.
The journey to the stone circle was a long one from the island he and Cermait had made their own for eighteen years, but they made it with two days spare as they set foot on the land, disembarking the ferry from Penzance. They were home and whilst things had changed with the modern world, the land itself looked unchanged and managed. John knew that this was a moment of transition, a pivot point from which there could be no return.
John and the boys made an initial trip to the stone circle, the air grew thick with anticipation. The circle stood tall and proud; the very essence of the earth seemingly concentrated within its confines. The stones hummed with a low vibration that resonated in their very bones, a call that could not be ignored as the boys took in the scene.
Cermait and Óengus looked at each other, their expressions a mix of excitement and trepidation. They had come so far, discovered so much about themselves and their lineage, and now they were to face the final test that would cement their places in the grand tapestry of fate.
John could see the power emanating from his sons, their auras blending and swirling together like the waters of a tempestuous sea. He knew that he could no longer protect them from the truth of their existence. It was time for them to stand on their own and embrace the destinies that had been woven into the fabric of their very beings as he suggested, “Boys, let’s go to my house and prepare ourselves for the big day,” as he led them away from the circle, the boys following behind, hand in hand.
The next two days passed in a blur of activity and quiet moments of reflection. Cermait and Óengus found themselves drawn to each other, their bond growing stronger as they explored the depths of their shared passion. John watched them from a distance, his heart both swelling with pride and heavy with the weight of his fears. The love between them was undeniable, a force that seemed to pulse through the very air around them as they kissed, touched, and made love more times than John could count. Óengus never seemed to get exhausted from his sexual activity and Cermait was happy to be the subject of his attention.
On the eve of their birthday, John sat the boys down in the living room, the fireplace crackling with the warmth of a thousand secrets as he spoke of the prophecy that had brought them to this moment, the ancient words of the Tuatha Dé Danann echoing through the ages.
“You are not just my sons, but the embodiments of love and power,” he began, his voice thick with emotion. “Tonight, you will transform, one that will reveal the true extent of your gifts. It is a journey that you must undertake together, as equals and as brothers.”
Their eyes met, the unspoken understanding passing between them as the night grew darker and the moon rose high. With trembling hands, John produced Lorg Mór and showed it to the boys remembering the old man’s voice that had spoken to him in the circle whilst he held Cermait his newborn son for the first time. “Lorg Mór is my gift to you but it is yours by right to wield in the protection of your children, the land and to maintain the balance. Its wielding requires a price you must be prepared to pay. Remember, the smooth end brings the dead back to life, but the rough end brings instant death.”
The scene was set, John had the staff of The Dagda, and the boys had each other as they left the house to meet their destinies. As they approached the ancient stones, their hearts raced with excitement and a touch of fear. The air grew colder, the very earth beneath their feet seeming to quiver in anticipation. The circle was alive with energy, the stones vibrating with the power of the universe as they stepped towards the sacred space.
John now transformed into The Dagda, took a deep breath, and began the incantation he just knew, his voice strong and sure as he called upon the gods and goddesses of old to witness and guide the transformation of his sons. Cermait and Óengus looked at each other, their eyes alight with the fire of their newfound understanding. They removed their clothes, standing before their father and the ancient stones as they were born, naked and unashamed. They kissed deeply, the love between them a beacon that pierced the darkness as the first drops of rain began to fall, signalling the start of their rebirth.
Cermait and Óengus approached the altar stone as John held the staff and likewise touched the keystone, instantly feeling the power of the Ancients as they acknowledged Dagda in his true form. The carvings on the rocks seemed to shift and pulse with an inner light as if the very essence of the ancient world were alive within them. The carvings on the stones grew clearer, the figures coming to life before his eyes as Óengus lifted Cermait onto the stone and laid him down.
John, The Dagda, could see the dancers now, their naked bodies painted with the same symbols that adorned the stones, moving in a frenzied rhythm that seemed to shake the very ground beneath his feet. He could feel the beat of the drums, the pounding of his own heart syncing with their ritual dance as Óengus climbed onto the altar.
The Ancients watched as Cermait’s legs wrapped around Óengus’s waist, drawing him closer, his hands tangling in Óengus’s hair as they kissed with an urgency that seemed to echo through the universe. The whispers grew into a crescendo, the figures in the stone joining their silent chant. Cermait accepted Óengus as he opened himself ready to take his brother’s pulsating cock.
Óengus’s erection slid into Cermait with ease. Their movements grew more frantic, their bodies slick with sweat as they became lost in the moment. The carvings on the stones around them seemed to pulse with every beat of their hearts, the air thick with the scent of arousal and earth. The whispers grew louder, the voices of the ancients urging them on, their breaths coming in gasps as they reached a peak of arousal.
Each thrust sent a jolt of energy through Cermait’s body. Óengus’s cries of pleasure echoed through the air, as the Ancients and John watched in approval. The energy grew to a crescendo, a maelstrom of power that seemed to envelop them both. Óengus could feel himself approaching the edge as Cermait’s eyes reflected fire, holding his gaze on his brother.
As they reached their peak, the stone beneath them vibrated with a force that seemed to shake the very earth. Óengus felt his climax erupt through him, a wave of pleasure so intense it was almost painful as he pumped his seed into Cermait, his body convulsing against his brother’s, his release a testament to the moment as Cermait’s body arched beneath him, his eyes wide with fire and ecstasy. The moment stretched on, an eternity of pleasure and understanding that transcended the confines of their mortal forms as Óengus continued to fill Cermait with his seed at a level that defied nature. His brother was also climaxing, shooting up and onto his chest as Óengus’s fingers played with the liquid in an act of devotion and love.
Cermait continued to lay on the altar, his erection not failing even though he had climaxed. Óengus’s influence makes their ritual last as Óengus straddle Cermait slipping onto his brother’s hard cock. They moved in perfect harmony, their bodies satisfying the Ancients and Dagda as the stones around them hummed in tune with the rhythm of the boys.
The whispers grew louder, the figures in the stone carvings coming to life to watch their sacred union. Their movements grew more frantic, their bodies slick with sweat as they approached the pinnacle of their shared ecstasy. Above them, the sky grew darker, the clouds gathering as if to witness the sacred rite below, the same as eighteen years previous.
As they reached their climax, the Ancients seemed to hold their breath as John, the Dagda, continued chanting the incantations of old lore. The lightning flashed, the thunder rolled, and the ancient stones trembled in recognition of their union. The whispers from the stones grew into a roar, the very essence of the ancient rites filling the air as Cermait emptied himself into Óengus who then collapsed and embraced his brother who continued to shoot his seed into him.
The boys embraced and kissed once more, never separating from their union as Cermait still pumped his seed into his brother. Óengus then turned to John, the Dagda, “Father it is done,” as he lifted himself off Cermait to stand in full view on the altar stone whilst Cermait still lay hugging his legs as if trying to retain his brother’s juice.
Cermait stood up next to his brother as John, the Dagda, lifted his staff and touched the keystone with the smooth end of his staff. The boy’s bodies instantly began to change, muscles rippling and skin glowing with an inner light. They grew taller, their forms shifting into the perfect embodiments of their divine heritage as John watched with a mix of awe and trepidation. Cermait’s antlers grew from his head, a crown of bone and fur that signified his bond with the natural world. Óengus’s cock grew even larger, the symbol of his power as the god of love and sexuality.
The rain grew heavier, soaking their bodies as they resumed kissing, the droplets of water melding with the magic that swirled around them. The thunder crashed in the distance, a drumbeat that matched the pounding of their hearts as they reached the crescendo of their transformation.
And then it was done. They were no longer just John’s sons, but beings of power and beauty that had stepped out of the pages of legend and into the modern world. The storm had passed, leaving only the soft patter of rain as they pulled away from each other, their eyes shining with a light that was not of this world.
John felt his power stir within him, the long-dormant spark of the divine that had lain hidden for so long. He knew that his role was to guide them, to help them navigate the treacherous waters of fate that lay ahead.
“Welcome to your new lives, my sons,” he said with a smile, his voice filled with pride and hope. “Together, we will face whatever the future holds.”
The three of them stood there, naked, and united, as the first rays of dawn broke over the horizon, a new day dawning on their eternal bond. They had faced the darkness of the night, and now they were ready to embrace the light of their destined futures as gods among men.
Unbeknownst to John and the boys, Druid witnesses had been gathering at the perimeter of the stone circle, all naked in respect for the circle and ritual they witnessed in awe as the young men grew in stature and power. Their whispers of disbelief and reverence grew to shouts of praise, hailing Cermait as the reborn Cernunnos and Óengus as the living embodiment of love and beauty. John felt his heart swell with pride, his transformation into The Dagda complete as he took his place beside them, the balance restored.
They were the gods of the Tuatha Dé Danann, reborn in the modern world, and nothing could shake the foundation of their unity. As they stood atop a hill overlooking the rolling green valleys below, John looked at his sons and knew that no matter what the future held, they would face it as gods and not mortal men. Their love was an eternal flame, a force that could not be contained or diminished, and as they descended the hill, the sun rising to greet them, they were ready to embrace whatever awaited them.
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