Ecstatic Communion: Stories from the Passionate Pantheon

By Eunice Hung and Franklin Veaux

Return to the erotic vistas of the far-future, post-scarcity City!Set fourteen years after the events of The Brazen Altar and one year after Divine Burdens, this collection of short stories revisits the lives of some of your favorite characters from the first two Passionate Pantheon novels. In these five stories of love, loss, heartbreak, change, and renewal, you can explore the City again from a different point of view. These quiet tales of tragedy and triumph offer a new perspective on the first two novels.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Luminastra Press
• Release date: Jan 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9798986063737

Book preview

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Praise for

The Brazen Altar

"The Brazen Altar is a gratifying example of what could happen if we allow technology to heal our deepest wounds, and shift our focus to more carnal aspirations. Kink happens, and it happens to be the main event, as we witness society delve into the realm of extreme pleasure in service to their deities. The Brazen Altar is groundbreaking in the world of erotic romance. Brave and bold, this book takes no prisoners, demands our attention, and opens up an entirely new playground for fantasy and ecstasy."

—Melanie Nicholson

Praise for

Divine Burdens

"I had to keep putting the book down in order to think about my own self and reactions and reconcile them in my own head.

This is one of the few books I’ve ever read that forced me to do that sort of self-examination that I did not find ultimately annoying or preachy or otherwise frustrating."

— Christine Gilbert

Praise for

The Hallowed Covenant

One might think that living in a post-scarcity society with access to all the mind-altering drugs and kinky sex one could possibly desire would be paradise. One would be wrong. Eunice and Franklin bring us three dramatic, deeply human stories that will arouse your libido, your empathy and your intellect in equal measure.

— Nobilis Reed, The Nobilis Erotica Podcast

Stories from the Passionate Pantheon

Eunice Hung & Franklin Veaux

Ecstatic Communion

Copyright ©2023 by Eunice Hung and Franklin Veaux

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Luminastra Press, LLC

5305 River Rd N Suite B

Keizer, OR 97303

[e-mail]

Cover illustration ©2022 by Franklin Veaux

Cover and interior design by Franklin Veaux

ISBN: 979-8-9860637-3-7

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022949185

eBook version 1.0

To our fans for their generous support as we dragged this ridiculous idea into reality on absurdly short notice.

A World of

Fragile Things

1.1

The Archivist swept into the small, bright room, drawing her gossamer robe of translucent red around her with a practiced motion. Her petitioners were already there, two high-ranking researchers at the Temple of the Fiery One, both wearing identical nervous expressions. She nodded curtly to each of them. Good afternoon, Priest Irmalka, Priestess Yannimas. A pleasure to see you again. And so soon after your last visit! Now, to what do I owe this honor?

Archivist. Priestess Yannimas, a tall, muscular woman in an identical translucent robe of red and gold, bowed low, one hand to her forehead. Allow me to apologize for dragging you into this mess. I am sorry Priest Irmalka’s stubbornness has caused you—

What the priestess is trying to say, Irmalka interjected smoothly, is that this matter is not worth your time. He shot a sideways glance at Yannimas. There is no need to bother her with such a trivial thing. The priestess need only move her research location by a couple of kilometers, scarcely a hardship at all, and this can be resolved with no further fuss.

I’m sure that’s what we’re all interested in, the Archivist said

Yannimas and Irmalka both inclined their heads. Of course, Archivist, Irmalka said.

Good. Please, sit. She seated herself in a comfortable chair in the opulent office deep beneath the great ziggurat of the Fiery One and gestured to the couch across from her. With that in mind, what is your dispute?

Priestess Yannimas jabbed her finger at her rival. As you know, Archivist, I’ve spent the last several years doing a population genetics study of wild valpas in the Wastelands, specifically in the Kannimar Canyon Fault in the Centas region. It’s an ideal place to study genetic drift in small herbivore populations, because the canyon’s features provide… The archivist raised her hand. Ahem. Yes. Well, anyway, Yannimas went on, Priest Irmalka thinks the Kannimar faultline is a good place to dig up fossils, and—

I don’t think it, I know it! Irmalka said. The canyon sits on a thrust fault. Weathering along the southern edge has revealed a rich fossil layer. This whole area was once underwater, millions of years ago, and so—

—so he wants to go tromping around and completely spoil my research! There’s no reason for it! All he has to do is wait a couple of years—

—while Priestess Janda catalogs fossils from the same period, and gets credit—

—while I finish my study—

—for no reason, since there’s another isolated population of valpas not fifteen kilometers away—

—I was there first! Yannimas finished. The two scientists glared at each other.

The Archivist listened to them argue with an expression of polite interest frozen on her face. The priestess seemed adamant that the priest’s excavation would disturb the population she was studying; for his part, Irmalka felt that her insistence on sticking with that particular group of small scurrying things, rather than some other group of small scurrying things some ways away from his fossil bed, was born more of malevolent enmity than scientific necessity.

As the discussion raged, she held her head in her hands. When at last the adversarial scientists ran out of steam, she took a deep breath and counted silently to ten before she spoke. Priestess Yannimas. How long do you need to collect the data for your population study?

I’m gathering information about genetic drift in geographically isolated populations of valpas, and—

How long, Priestess?

I would like at least two more years of data. Preferably three.

Priest Irmalka. When did you want to start?

I’m ready to begin a survey immediately, as soon as Priestess Yannimas quits being so stubborn—

She raised her hand. Have you finished mapping the area you hope to explore?

Yes, Archivist.

Have you performed a high-resolution subterranean sensor analysis, to identify fossils of greatest priority?

No, Archivist, I—

Ha! You see? Yannimas said. He’s not even ready yet!

The Archivist held up her hand once more. Okay. Here is my ruling. Priest Irmalka, have a utility drone accompany you to the site with high-resolution scanners. You will carry out a complete subsurface millimeter-resolution scan of the entire fossil bed you hope to catalog before you dig anything up. While you’re doing this, the priestess will be able to finish her genetic survey. Ach! she said as Irmalka opened his mouth to speak. If you identify any fossil species in the scan that are later confirmed, your claim will take precedence over Priestess Janda’s, provided you can document your claim. And I better not hear of so much as a single startled valpa. Got it?

Of course, Archivist, he said.

Thank you, Archivist. Yannimas shot a smug look at Irmalka, who glared daggers back at her as the two of them left.

The moment they’d gone, two more feuding researchers took their place. She mediated their dispute, a tricky matter centering on who had first identified, and therefore got the right to name, a new subspecies of small semi-aquatic lizard-like animal. With that sorted, she fled her office for the peace of the Temple’s library, tucked between the Hall of Memory and the Hall of Recitation deep beneath the ziggurat, where she spent the rest of the day classifying data logged in by other priests and priestesses. A drone could do the same job more efficiently, but she enjoyed the work, lost in a holographic space that stretched on forever, all of the City’s knowledge at her fingertips. More data came in every day from the worshippers of the Fiery One, the god of knowledge and learning. She’d been introduced to the Temple on the liturgical side, but it was on the research side, in the shepherding of the City’s history and knowledge, she’d truly found her home.

With the coming of evening, she found her way to her quarters, across the tranquil park seven stories below the great ziggurat. Above her, tiny people—Potentials, from the look of their robes—moved to and fro along the balconies looking down over the garden, with its trees and footpaths and bubbling fountains. She closed her eyes for a moment, lost in the memory of the first time she’d walked through this magnificent underground park, the first time she’d attended service in the great vaulted chapel carved from the rock, the first time she’d been summoned to Grand High Priestess’s opulent living quarters at the far end of the cavernous space.

The red light of sunset, channeled into the underground space by cunningly mirrored skylights along the ziggurat’s stepped sides, filled the enormous chamber with a magical glow. She paused halfway across the garden to take in the gentle radiance. These few moments, just before the sun passed beneath the rim of the world, never ceased to fill her heart with bittersweet sorrow. She closed her eyes, exhaled, then set off once more across the garden.

Two women wearing nothing but thin, translucent robes draped over their shoulders, Potentials from the most recent group, bowed as she passed. She saw in their faces the same dazzled, wide-eyed wonder that had once been on hers, and shivered. At the far wall of the underground chamber, a door opened silently for her to admit her to the quarters where she’d lived since her promotion to Archivist more than seven years ago.

Janaié, my darling! Welcome home!

Ranna! Janaié threw her arms tight around the short, raven-haired woman.

Ranna raised an eyebrow. Excuse me?

Ranna, Queen of the Sands, empress of my heart, good evening. Janaié gave her a low, sweeping bow. Though I don’t know what ‘queen of the sands’ even means.

Yeah, well, you try inventing a new title every week for your lover to remember. After a while it starts getting tricky. Ranna slipped the gossamer robe from Janaié’s shoulders, then turned her to face the wall. How was your day?

Frustrating.

Let me guess. Ranna nudged Janaié’s legs apart with her foot. Priest Irmalka and Priestess Yannimas again?

How’d you know?

The look on your face when you got home. Ranna bent Janaié forward to place her hands on the wall. What is it with those two, anyway? She stood behind Janaié, sliding one hand up to cup her breast, slipping the other down between her legs.

To be honest, I think…unh! Janasie’s knees buckled. I think they just need to spend a week in…oh! In a room having whatever sex they need to get it out…uh! Of their systems. She shuddered as Ranna’s expert fingers worked their magic, melting the day’s frustrations in a firestorm of need. She ground backward against Ranna, panting.

Mmm, there it is. Ranna kissed the back of her neck. Let the cares of the day slip away. Are you hungry?

For you? Always, Janaié sighed.

Ranna’s finger slid lightly over her clit. Do you want me?

I do.

Position three, if you please. Janaié turned to face her, legs apart, shoulders back, hands together behind her back. Ranna looked her up and down. I think you’re almost ready. She touched a Provider on the wall. Blessing of Fire, please.

So it’s to be that kind of evening, is it?

Ranna smirked. Yes. She accepted the small vial from the dark rectangle. Position seven, darling.

Janaié descended to her knees, hands still behind her back. She opened her mouth, tongue extended, as Ranna uncapped the vial. A glittering drop fell on Janaié’s tongue.

It slammed through her, hot and heavy, a familiar need so intense Janaié shook from the force of it. Ranna touched her face lightly. Breathe, darling. You can do it. In and out. There, yes, like that. She stayed there, caressing Janaié with gentle fingertips, while Janaié struggled to control her voracious, fiery need. One of the rules of the game was that Janaié could not show any sign of the desperate hunger that raged within her. Are you ready, darling? Ranna said when Janaié’s breathing calmed.

Yes, my love, Janaié said, proud of the control that kept the quaver from her voice.

Very well. You may tend to me.

Janaié slipped the form-hugging white dress from Ranna’s body, suppressing a small whimper as she revealed bronze skin. She took Ranna’s hand, the small touch sending tingles through her body, and led her to the bath. Ranna relaxed against her in the warm water, sighing as Janaié massaged her shoulders. Janaié’s body trembled with longing, sending little ripples through the water.

When Ranna rose, Janaié conjured a large towel from the Provider. Ranna purred as she dried her. Janaié led her into the bedroom, where she summoned a small flask of oil and gave Ranna a massage, skin warm under her hands, expertly finding and smoothing away all the tension from her body. Mm, however did I manage to find you? Ranna said.

As I remember it, Janaié said, you were going up the float tube from the garden, I was going down, and we met somewhere around the novice Potentials’ level.

Ah, yes, that’s right! You were so flustered, I couldn’t help but be charmed. When you asked me if there was anything you could do to make it up to me…

I didn’t imagine you’d take me quite so literally.

Ranna rolled over on her back beneath Janaié. Janaié straddled her hips and leaned forward to massage her breasts. You did make me drop what I was carrying, Ranna said.

Not that it matters in a float field.

True. But it’s the principle of the thing.

Principle? You were quite unprincipled that night, as I recall.

Is that what I was? Unprincipled? I don’t recall you objecting.

Maybe I’m unprincipled myself. Janaié tweaked Ranna’s nipple.

Ranna arched beneath her. Mmm. You know what I want?

With you, there’s no telling.

I want dessert. Perhaps berries dipped in chocolate.

I am yours to command. Janaié rose and summoned a golden bowl filled with plump, succulent berries from the Provider. Ranna called up a filmy translucent gown, draped it over her shoulders, then seated herself on the wide, comfortable couch. She pointed to the floor between her feet. Position seven, my love.

Janaié knelt, hands clasped behind her back. Ranna plucked one of the berries from the bowl. Mm, yes, this is exactly what I wanted. She grabbed Janaié’s hair with her other hand and forced her face between her legs. Heat flared in Janaié. Now then, my darling, Ranna said, if you make me come before I finish these berries, I will reward you. If you fail to do so, there will be consequences. She popped another berry into her mouth, one hand still on the back of Janaié’s head. You may begin.

Three hours later, Janaié snuggled against Ranna’s side in the bed, sweaty and exhausted. That was a lovely reward. Thank you.

Ranna ran her fingers through Janaié’s hair. You earned it. She kissed Janaié’s forehead. I still thank the gods every day that we met.

You should thank my carelessness with float tubes.

That too, but neither of us would be here were it not for service to the gods.

True.

Have you heard the news? Ranna’s voice turned serious. Grand High Priestess Miati has decided she’s had enough of being Grand High Priestess.

Janaié shook her head, eyes wide. What? No, I hadn’t heard. She’s stepping down?

Yes. She’s already started looking for her replacement. She’s called an assembly of former Sacrifices.

Oh. Janaié’s heart froze, a leaden lump within her chest. Oh! Is…

Yes.

Oh. Janaié rolled over on her side, her back to Ranna. The last lingering traces of warm afterglow faded. I’m surprised she didn’t tell me.

Are you, though?

As Archivist, I’m technically third in the hierarchy, after the High Priestess and the Avatar. I would think the High Priestess would tell me something so important.

Ranna took Janaié in her arms from behind. Janaié tensed, then relaxed against her. I can’t compete with your ghost, Ranna said.

You don’t have to.

I do. Not a day goes by that I’m not aware of the mark she made on you. No, wait, let me finish, she said when Janaié tensed again. I don’t mind. I’m not afraid of her. I do love you, and I know you love me. I am deeply grateful for you. We are who we are because of the experiences we’ve had. I love who you are, despite the bumps on the path that led you here. You’ve known for a long time this day was coming. Now it’s here. If there’s anything I can do to make it easier for you, I will. Just tell me what you need.

I… Janaié’s throat closed. I think…I think maybe I need to clear my head.

I will be here when you get back.

1.2

The park beneath the ziggurat lay shrouded in night, illuminated only by the gentle glow of the small pale flowers that lined the paths and the golden shimmer of the water in the fountains. A butterfly-shaped dronelight glided silently toward her. Janaié waved it away. A giggle floated to her on the calm still air. Two figures sat on a stone bench in the darkness beneath the shelter of a tree, caressing one another with slow, unhurried hands. She turned away, stomach twisted into knots.

She stood for a while staring at the glowing golden water rippling in a fountain, a stone man bound nude to a column overlooking a square basin. She spread her fingers wide. Her hand trembled, a tiny quiver that spread up her arm. She held her fingers just above the surface of the water, willing herself to touch its surface, to feel that familiar need slam through her, to welcome the tornado of hunger, then snatched her hand away as if burnt.

Archivist. You’re up late this evening.

Grand High Priestess! Janaié bowed to the tall, stately woman with skin like dark polished ebony. She wore a light translucent robe of shimmering white cloth woven through with threads of red and gold. Her hair fell around her shoulders in narrow plaits braided with thin glowing threads. She bowed again to the slight, wispy woman with golden hair and auburn skin beside her. High Priestess Kassida.

You look troubled, Grand High Priestess Miati said. Is everything okay?

I’m…no, Priestess. It’s nothing important. She glanced at Kassida. There’s no need to trouble yourself on my account.

Hmm. Miati stroked her chin. High Priestess, would you excuse us, please? Archivist, a moment of your time, if I may.

Kassida inclined her head briefly. Grand High Priestess. She nodded to Janaié. Archivist.

Janaié and Miati walked side by side for a time along a curving pathway lined with small flowering shrubs. Miati paused for a moment at a fountain of gray marble, three stylized figures embracing each other on the edge of a scalloped shell. She ran absent fingers through the water. Her body shuddered. The pupil in her left eye contracted to a thin horizontal slit. Her right eye had no pupil at all. She took a deep breath, blinking rapidly, before they continued down the path. Eventually, Miati broke the silence. I remember the first day I saw you, sitting with the other Potentials at the morning meal. You seemed distracted.

That was a long time ago, Grand High Priestess.

Miati.

Miati.

Fahren told me she found you quite bold. Do you remember the first night I brought you to my quarters?

Janaié shivered. You said you would break me.

I said you could be broken, but your training would forge you into something stronger. She paused for a moment at a place where a heavy tree limb covered with delicate fingernail-sized flowers hung low over the path. How many years have you been with us?

Fourteen, Gran—Miati.

Fourteen. Miati nodded to herself. Including the three years you spent on sabbatical in the Wastelands?

Yes.

"I read your dissertation on vocal mimicry in Pseudoavia xenoparvulus."

Janaié stopped short. You did? I didn’t think anyone read it. It wasn’t that good.

On the contrary, it was outstanding work. She turned to face Janaié. You surprised me with the course you took. I can usually tell, when I meet each new group of Potentials, what path they will take—who will stay, who will go, who is most likely to become Sacrifice. I had you figured for someone who would become a priestess, serve in the courtyard from time to time, perhaps try for Sacrifice again.

I’ve never done courtyard service.

I know. In fourteen years of Temple life, that’s quite unusual.

Janaié tilted her head. May I be bold?

You may.

This wasn’t an accidental meeting, was it?

Perceptive as always. No, it wasn’t. I asked the drones to let me know when you were out and about. I wanted to speak with you.

Why?

Miati examined her, eyes bright and incisive, until Janaié blushed. I feel I owe you an apology.

Janaié blinked in surprise. An apology? Me? For what?

"For something I did fourteen years ago. When you were still a Potential, I separated you from your training partner. At the time, I believed my reasons for doing so were sensible