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"Pick a God and Pray."
You wondered just how much of your life you were going to lose. Just how much of the world you were going to miss out on seeing and- in one last hope to have some familiar company under the smoke-stained ceiling and the cracked walls before you died, you followed their advice.
His name was soft on your lips and your head bowed forward, eyes falling closed. You didn't ask for anything.
You'd always had nice dreams, you could remember running through a glade of flowers and trees, away from him to fall into the water of the fountain. You could remember learning how to whittle with that man, the one who wore all shades of tan and black sunglasses. You could remember slow dancing under a ceiling of Stars with him.
What you hadn't expected was for the room to fill with that familiar voice.
"Well now, What have we here?" His voice was always so comforting to you, after a long day at school, or work and now, here, when you knew you were awake, his voice was even more comforting.
"Think you found something of mine, boys." His hand buried into your short hair as you tried to look up, to look at him, keeping your head down, blinded to what he was going to do. You knew he was dangerous, even if he never was with you- then again, you were never scared of him.
"Who the fuck are you?" One of your captors snapped and you could hear the click of a gun being cocked- a revolver.
"Your worst Nightmare."
The next few moments were a blur- he'd pushed you to the floor as he'd lunged for your assailants, you could hear their screams and gunshots as you shielded your head with your arms.
You didn't remember moving but when the dust settled you were curled up on the other side of the wall to the door, back pressed against the cracked white plaster.
"Little love…" His voice was low and soothing, as he walked around the corner and dropped to a crouch in front of you. His clothes were surprisingly immaculate, even as he wiped the blood off of his knife, his head turning down a little to watch what he was doing before he tucked the blade away.
Your hand moved to his face and he didn't move, his face only pausing, like he was buffering, even as you wiped the few specs of blood off his face with your thumb, pulling your hand away. In hindsight, you should have borrowed his cloth to wipe them away because now you had blood on your hands and nowhere to-
His hands enveloped yours and his tongue pressed against your thumb, dragging the blood from your skin before he pulled your thumb into his mouth. You couldn't tell what he was thinking, and you couldn't control the shiver that ran through your body.
"We need to leave." He said then as he pulled away, kissing your knuckles before he stood and pulled you to your feet, "Because we have a lot to talk about, and not a lot of time."
—
The hotel the two of you booked into was way too nice for the funds you had, but then again, he'd insisted that he'd pay for it. You didn't want to ask how he made his money when he'd just killed for you.
He'd killed for you.
That was more of a shock than you think it should have been, especially when he was only ever nice to you, and it seemed that even in the waking world, he was still nice to you, giving you clothes to change into, ordering your favourite food- he remembered from one of the dreams he'd invaded to see you- and assuring you that, should you need him, he was right there.
You felt safe with him and you knew, deep in your bones that he was probably the last person you were going to trust. One way or another.
The bathroom door didn't get locked, simply because, in your shock-ridden state of mind, you'd forgotten. Your sweats and t-shirt had been discarded on the tile floor, before you moved into the shower, pulling the glass door closed, turning on the water and sitting on the floor.
You weren't too grimy, which was surprising, given the state of the place your captors had held you, but you felt disgusting. You could feel every particle of dust on your skin, the smoke filling your lungs at their near-constant smoking. You felt broken in a way that made so very little sense to you.
You were a man, you were supposed to be strong, right? That's what you'd been told your entire life and yet at that moment- No, from the minute they'd wrestled you into the back of their car, thinking you were someone you really weren't, to that moment, sat on the floor of a hotel shower- you felt nothing but weak.
Your chest felt weak where it ached and your hands were shaking at the end of weak, heavy arms.
Your head thumped back against the tile wall and your eyes turned to the door. There he was. Stood in the doorway to the bathroom, he simply was, in all his glory, Tan suit, light brown shirt, blonde hair pushed back from his face.
"You alright in there, love?"
"Lonely." You hadn't thought your statement out ahead of time, but it was true. You were lonely and scared and you needed him.
Your dreams of him had never been intimate, had only been friendly, in sharing hobbies or dancing to cheesy songs that he said he hated but still mouthed the lyrics of when he thought you weren't looking.
"Ah, I see." His voice was a little stilted like he wasn't entirely certain how to go about this before he seemed to come to a steady conclusion and started to undress.
You didn't know why you looked away, knowing he'd be joining you in a moment but you did. Your eyes had moved from him to the floor between your feet. You were fascinated now, by the slightly uneven grouting and the way your toenail bent against the tile as you pushed against it.
There was the click of the shower door opening, then closing again behind him before he pushed you over on the tile, opting to sit next to you, and your breath was gone as you tried your hardest not to think about his body pressed up against yours, or the warmth coming from his skin against yours.
"Better?" His voice was teasing, as his arm wrapped around your shoulders and you could have died there. You'd have died a happy man and could have 'Cause of Death: Embarrassment' scrawled on the Death record.
"Better." Your voice was lower than you'd have liked and drier, even with the water running over your lips. You looked at him and you had to laugh. The sunglasses were still on.
"Did you super glue them to your head, Cori?"
With an indignant huff, he kicked the door open and took them off, setting them down on the floor just outside, before he closed the door again. You noticed he was keeping his eyes closed now and it took you a moment to realize there was something about the way his eyelids slanted and the plane from his cheekbone to his eyebrow was just a little too flat.
"Can I see them?"
"I don't think that's a wise idea, Darlin'." He chuckled and his head tilted towards you, and if his eyes had been open, you were sure he'd be looking into your eyes.
There was a little courage in knowing his eyes were closed and you- as stupid as you were- pushed forward to press your lips to his. You didn't wait for him to kiss back before you pulled away. He seemed stunned before his eyes fell open. Teeth. Mouths.
"Oh- that's hot." Your voice- again- came without your forethought but the shocked laugh it pulled from The Corinthian beside you was enough to make your blunder worth it.
"Oh yeah, you think so?" He teased and his smirk was to die for, especially as he pushed himself against your side a little further, hand on your shoulder moving to stroke the back of his fingers over your jaw, and for a moment you scolded yourself for not shaving first, your stubble rubbing against his fingers.
"I mean- Yeah." You paused for a moment to gather your courage, "Brings a whole new level to 'Skull-fuck'." His laughter was lower this time and his hand moved from your jaw, over your shoulder and down your side slowly, his fingers tracings over your ribs, down, like a ladder.
"Is that what you want?" He breathed, his voice a mixture of a cat-like purr and a snake's hiss, "Would that make you feel better?"
What were you meant to say to that? Your golden knight, your saviour and bright light in darkness asking if you wanted to fuck his face like the two of you weren't sitting in the shower, crammed up against each other.
There was no answer to that question- it was hard to tell if it was even a question, as your lips pressed against his again, sweeter this time, slower, careful as your thumb slid up his cheek to pull the lower lid of one of his mouths, a gasp granting him entrance for a little more when one of his tongues darted across your thumb and then he was moving- his tongue against yours, his hands easing you onto your back on the floor of the shower and if you had a second of sanity you'd have pushed him away.
This was wrong. It was sick and twisted and unsanitary and yet your hands found his hair and pulled him firmer against you, trying to ignore- at least for the moment- how his hands had moved, running down your thighs then as he lowered his kisses from your lips to your throat, teeth grazing dangerously against the thrumming point of your heartbeat under your skin.
"Is this what you want?" His voice came again, "This what you want, sweetheart?" Sweetheart. It was such a sweet nickname, one you'd never thought you'd hear for you and never from his lips but now as they drew marks from your neck and chest, you relished in it. Being his sweetheart.
"Yes." Your voice came out so breathy and rough on your thought that you wondered if he'd understand the vague hiss of a word but the breathless chuckle it drew from him seems to be proof that he understood and that he found your already mounting desperation to be Funny.
"Please, Corinthian-" His lips paused and you felt his gasp drawn against your skin, "Please, I need it." And you weren't lying- or exaggerating. There was no hyperbole, no dramatics, you simply needed him. Needed his touch, needed the pleasure.
"I think-" His lips dragged now, against your stomach, down your hip until he was speaking, in a hushed voice, against the nook between your thigh and your hard cock, "I can tell." He whispered and you hated how you could hear his smirk, but you loved how it looked against your skin as you propped yourself up on your elbows to better see him.
You loved and loathed how everything about him was golden. His hair, his skin, and even the way he dressed- not that that mattered now he was bared before you. He was perfect- not Ripped, but muscular enough to be something to enjoy staring at, especially now, as his biceps flexed against the outside of your thighs and his flat stomach tensed to keep himself folded over as he was. It couldn't be comfortable.
All thought left you.
His tongue ran so slowly up the length of you, one hand moving to hold your cock for him to better reach and your moan came out a shuddered breath as you watched the redistribution of weight- watched his hips sway as he moved on his knees, before his mouth was on you and you almost brained yourself on the tile as you let your head fall back, one arm moving so you could tangle your hand in his dripping wet hair.
His mouth felt like heaven as he sucked at you, as he lapped at the sensitive crease just under the head and as he dragged his teeth- ever so gently- over you before he took you back down his throat. You almost choked on your cry when you felt his swallow. His through contracting and squeezing and half spasming around you as he gagged on you.
Your hips jerked up and he gagged again, the hand that had been holding your cock for him to start his assault moved, almost slapping against your skin as he pushed your hips back down. He pulled off and you feared- for a moment- that you'd overstepped, that he was the nightmare you knew him to be and that he'd leave you like this.
"You wanna fuck my throat, baby?" His voice was hoarse and god knows it killed you just a little more, pulled you dangerously close to that aching need, that undignified whine that had been pulled out of you on so few occasions.
"Yes." And there, under the hiss of the word as it had been since the beginning of this, was that whine, just a soft high tone that made your throat tighten and your cheeks flush. This man, this Dream, this Nightmare had pulled you apart so perfectly and you'd only just begun, really. You feared to look at a clock and see just how quickly you'd been pulled this close to ruin.
"Get up." He breathed out and his hands spread across your skin to pull you up, his hands tangling with yours as you stood on your feet before this kneeling man, though in your eyes, he'd never been a man, never been a nightmare or a dream.
As you slipped your cock back into his mouth, one of your hands freeing itself from his to tangle in his hair, you realised that this, this moment, this man, was the closest thing to divinity you'd ever experience. You'd go to hell and he'd be the salvation you'd pray for. Not Heaven, not freedom, not nothingness and blissful peace. Him.
"My god…" The words tumble from your lips and they're reverent. His hands tighten their holds, one on your hand, one on your thigh, and you're sure you'll have a pretty bruise there, under your jeans in the morning, but you don't care, not as your hips rock, and your cock slides perfectly between his slick lips, spit and water mixing on his mouth and down his chin.
Your head fell forward now, as you almost lost your balance, resting against the shower wall as you fuck him, in the only way he'll let you for the moment, and it felt good, the tension that settled under your sternum and between your hips, the heat that burned up under your skin, the burning of his skin against yours and there's something about the unable nature of your god's face that made this just a little hotter- just a little needier- for you at least.
"C-Close-" You managed out, trying to keep the whine from your voice now, but you failed so miserably when his hand moved, from your thigh to your balls, one finger pressing against the skin behind- just before your hole- as he massaged your balls and he sucked against you harder as you moved.
You didn't last another minute, crying out as you spilt down his throat and you shudder at the sensation of him swallowing around your spent cock, hand moving to grip your ass to keep you from moving for just a moment.
You might have blacked out, you're not entirely sure, because the next thing you fully remembered was him holding you under the water stream, your head resting against his collarbone, one of his golden arms around you and his other hand in your hair, as he whispered to you. Little assurances that this was okay, that you did so well for him, that he would always be there for you, like this or however you needed him.
When you got your voice back, you didn't know what to say at first, your hands moving from resting against his waist to rubbing over his chest, to tracing over his collarbones, "You're my God." You managed, your voice sounding so incredibly small and fragile, even to you and something about it seemed to have caught him by surprise because his hold on you tightened like he was afraid to let you go.
So you continued.
"I think you've always been my God… Even when, Even when I barely knew you, when you still chased me, I think I knew you were the closest thing I was going to get to Holiness."
"You're incredible." He said and his voice sounded like he wanted to be laughing at you like he pitied you and he hated himself. Like he wanted to run away and like he wanted to hold you to him forever. "I don't think I ever wanna leave you, Sweetheart."
"So don't." You think for a moment before pulling away to look up at him, to look into that smiling eyes, trying not to be concerned about the red around them, about how it threatened to dribble down, "Stay with me, Let me worship you with gifts and kisses and touches. Let me revere you in your work and let me learn how to better bow before you." You didn't know what you were saying at that point. You'd never had to beg a god to let you worship and love them before.
"I love you." You said, in the simplest words you could find for the emotion you were feeling and you watched him crack like he'd been trying to hold himself together and the red spills. Tears, you realized, the blood at the corner of those extra mouths, they were tears.
"How?" He sobbed, and you watched as the god became a man again, just a man, who'd held out hope for the longest time that someone could love him, even if his creator could not. "How can you love me?"
"Because I know you." You insisted, your hands cupped his face and wiped those tears away as best you could under the spray of the shower, "Because you've been the one fixed point in my life for as long as I care to remember, Corinthian. You helped me. You showed me affection in the simplest ways, and you showed me you, in dances and songs and knitting." You figured a little joke wouldn't hurt too much, not when you needed to see his smile. You needed to have him pulled back together enough to either reject you or hold you closer.
"I love you." He choked through a laugh and it sounded more like he was parroting your words, like he didn't know how to say it for himself, not yet. He didn't know the emotion that had burned in his chest at the thought of you for as long as he'd known you weren't scared of him.
"You are my Divinity, Corinthian."
"And you, my humanity, Sweetheart…"
—
"We should get out of the shower, my fingers are starting to turn into prunes."
His laugh was the sound of angels even as he pulled away from you to turn off the water and ever as he pulled his glasses back on alongside his towel, "Come on Prune."
"Hey!"