After the meal, they cleaned themselves with cloths soaked in a mild herbal infusion, and Medusa suggested that the next day they could try going to the Agora, but for tonight, she wanted to enjoy having a "boyfriend" for a while.
Derrick was led back to the garden, but rather than stopping there, she took him to a small building with an actual door that closed. There was a bed, of sorts: a stone slab that wasn't properly equipped as an altar, and on top of it, many layers of woven material, some of it apparently stuffed with feathers.
"Pegasus feathers," she said. "Horsefeathers take up a lot of space without much weight to them, so they make great cushion stuffing."
They didn't go to the bed yet. There was something else in the room: a sort of hammock made of heavy ropes wrapped around with softer cloth, stretched between three enormous wooden beams that were set up as an arch of sorts.
"This works better for when you find yourself becoming stone in the middle of things," Medusa said. Derrick looked at it a bit dubiously, but it seemed reasonable.
"Which is better, me lying in it or you?"
"Oh, you, but let us not forget that teasing that comes before the act," Medusa said.
Derrick nodded enthusiastically, and ... well, he was only 14 but he'd been an enthusiastic reader and his mother's romance novels were very explicit in places, so he knew something about how to start. He began by kissing her, gently, starting with the nape of her neck, finding her mouth, then down her throat again, stopping between her very well shaped breasts. They were neither large nor small, fitting into his cupped hand perfectly, and he found himself praising their beauty, "graceful alabaster orbs neither weighted down nor floating like balloons," and if Medusa wondered for a moment where this eloquence came from, she still found herself warming as he gently kissed, suckled, and gingerly bit at the nipple on the one, then the other.
Returning to kiss her again, he had to fight off a moment of being a statue as he held her in his embrace. Her body wasn't weak. She had muscle tone, and she wasn't a thin reed of a pre-teen girl. She wasn't masculine at all, though. But while she was in his arms he felt so manly that he'd frozen to stone, and then with an act of will, returned himself to flesh a second time, kissing her and then drifting down to the undulating curves of her belly. She had enough definition that he could see the faint lines that ran between her abdominals - but not the vaunted six-pack of the photo-obsessed. He admired her navel for a moment; being an immortal hadn't made that go away, in her case anyway, and then he moved lower. He froze up again for a second as he came to her pussy. There was so much he was seeing close for the first time, and he wanted to plan ahead. He forced back the pleasure once again, and took a tentative lick up her outer folds to circle the delicate nub of her clitoris. That got a gasp of pleasure from her, and a moment of rigidity as she pressed against him, hands wreathed in his hair. Another moment of stone, but he kept his tongue alive and moving, the rest of him hardened into marble.
Medusa was overwhelmed, babbling, her words coming out in the ancient language of her youth. She stroked his shoulders with the hand that wasn't trapped in the stone locks of his hair, and made unconscious changes to his body, clearing away the body hair, increasing his muscular size and improving their shape. His marble skin began to change and grow more translucent as he brought her closer and closer, and he forced himself to move enough to change position to an easier angle, and then returned to stone-like immobility except for the tongue that was gently, but so firmly, moving around her most sensitive parts, diving inside and then circling outside, until with a surge like the ocean after an offshore quake, she was overwhelmed with pleasure and began thrashing, then froze in place.
She was ... stuck in pleasure. She couldn't move, her body felt like it was transformed, but the flickering continued to drive her harder. She would break if he didn't stop soon, and let her slide down from this height.
Derrick didn't really notice. He was so deeply in his intent to bring her greater pleasure that he didn't notice that he had been transformed again. Not only his dick, his entire body was now the translucent-smokey color of diamond. Smooth arcs and planes of muscle that rivaled the heroes of Greece were now his, but they were also frozen in diamond, and he wasn't really breathing, just one part of him was still moving, and that part wasn't entirely flesh either.
The moment went on past the time the sun went down and continued until dawn, when he finally felt his tongue freeze as well. His dick was still an immovable bar of exquisite pleasure, of course, but that sensation had been slowly spreading out through his body as he pleasured the woman whose power had changed him. He could barely think of anything apart from how wonderful it felt.
Medusa was locked in stone. He could see that looking at her. He was aware that she was having the same orgasm, but building up on itself, over and over, with each passing hour. He was intensely happy that he could give her pleasure since she'd been giving him so much.
He would have to change back, to release her, but at the moment, the prolonged orgasm that throbbed through his body was far to intense and pervasive to overcome.