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The temple is as dark, crumbling, and foreboding as Henry recalls it to be from his training. He hides his trembling hands behind his back and approaches the darkened dais, drops to his knees on the hard stone floor, and lowers his head in a prayer he’d learned by rote long ago. “O Exalted One, I prostrate myself before you, seeking to dedicate my life in servitude to you and you alone – ”
From behind the altar, there’s the sound of someone clearing their throat, and Henry pauses. “I – hello?” he asks. The acolytes had been clear that the Exalted One would not be physically present when he arrived, but someone is here, and Henry is suddenly uneasy.
“Well, this is awkward,” says a male voice, different than Henry remembers. A figure, with the great stature of one of the Anointed, stands from the throne at the rear of the dais and approaches. His footfalls are even, his gait slow and steady, and the faint glow of celestial energy emanates from him.
This, Henry knows, is not The Exalted One, He Who is Most Radiant, Lord of Good Will and Fortitude, for that is an ancient deity with the bearing to match.
“Look, I just took over for the last guy,” says the Anointed One, walking over to Henry where he still kneels before the altar. “Also, this feels really formal, so if you don’t mind standing up or something – ”
Henry scrambles to comply, feeling strangely wrong-footed. As he draws himself to his feet and brushes dust from the knees of his trousers before the Anointed One, Henry’s gaze skitters over his frame, noting bare feet strapped into sandals, long, muscular legs, a loosely-draped chiton covering most of him from the knees to the shoulders. His face is still cast in shadow, and Henry looks down, not wishing to cause offense by staring up the Anointed’s nostrils. “How may I serve you, Your Luminance?” he asks the floor.
“Yeah, that’s not gonna work for me either. Did you bring a box or something?” the deity asks.
“What?” Henry replies, then flinches. He’s not going to leave here alive if the Exalted One catches wind that he’s questioning another Anointed.
“You know, to stand on. You keep craning your neck to look at me, and it looks uncomfortable.” The Anointed One looks down at Henry for a moment. “Actually, here – ”
Several no-doubt priceless relics clatter to the floor as the deity sweeps off the lower level of the altar with a well-aimed swipe of his foot. “Stand there. That should work.”
Trying not to look horrified, Henry steps onto the lower altar, takes a deep breath, and tries again. “I am yours to command, O Most Venerable – ”
The Anointed One scrunches his face. “Can you just… call me Alex?” he asks. “The epithets are so stuffy.”
“I – ” Henry says. He blinks. “O Illustrious Alex – ”
“Just Alex,” the deity interjects.
“O Illustrious and Just Alex – ” Henry attempts.
The Anointed One rubs his forehead with one great hand and sighs, and Henry ceases his current attempt to address him. “No, no, no. Okay. What’s your name?”
Henry tries not to cower as he realizes his oversight. “My name is Henry,” he says.
“Henry,” the deity says. “I’m Alex. Not ‘Illustrious Alex,’ not ‘Illustrious and Just Alex.’ My name is Alex. I’d like you to call me that.” He offers a tentative but encouraging smile. “Go ahead.”
“Alex,” Henry says cautiously, and Alex’s smile spreads, his celestial glow radiating outward to illuminate the dais.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asks, and Henry shakes his head mutely, entranced by Alex’s radiance. “Now, what can I do for you?”
“I – ” Henry says, confusion clear in his voice. “I am here to offer my life in servitude to you – ”
“You mentioned,” Alex replies, waving that away. “What do you want in return? Your life has value, so clearly there’s something you’re hoping to get out of this.”
“I am a secondborn son; I’ve trained my entire life to serve a deity,” Henry replies, looking Alex in the eyes and finding only curiosity, without malice or malevolence. “But… yes. There’s one thing. My father – he’s sick. Cancer. I came to the temple to exchange a life of service for… his life.”
“You’d give away your entire life for your dad?” Alex asks, tilting his head.
“For anyone I love,” Henry states, resolutely. “But, perhaps… especially for my dad.”
“Say no more,” Alex replies. “I’ll need your hand.”
“Pardon?” Henry asks.
“To find your dad through the aether. I need to use you as a tether to connect with him.” Alex holds out one immense hand, and Henry tentatively touches his fingers to the middle of the broad, warm palm. Alex closes his fingers around Henry’s hand, engulfing it entirely in his grip. “There we go,” he rumbles, and Henry’s face flushes as Alex closes his eyes, his entire body stilling, and the glow that seems to radiate from his pores concentrates to a single point of light that begins in the center of his chest, then travels down Alex’s arm, through his hand, and into Henry.
Henry’s breath hitches as Alex’s radiance courses through his body, seeking – something. Alex hums suddenly as the energy hones in on a spot deep within Henry’s chest.
“Close your eyes,” Alex murmurs, and Henry lets his eyes drift shut.
The radiance seems to sink into that spot in Henry’s chest – and then there’s a sudden burst of light, both inside and outside Henry, soaring out of the temple, spreading outwards like the crepuscular rays of sunlight after a rainstorm, and Henry feels his psyche drift with it –
—
When Henry awakens, he’s lying on something cushiony, draped in soft blankets. His mouth is dry, and when he opens his eyes, he finds himself in a candlelit room, the walls a soft green – or perhaps blue – interspersed by tall windows. He pushes himself into a seated position, looking down at the plush divan where he’s been lying, rubbing his fingers over the blanket that still covers his lap.
With an audible breath, he pushes the blankets aside and swings his legs over the edge of the divan. His feet are bare, he notes, and the wool trousers and jumper he’d worn upon his arrival have been replaced with a chiton similar to the one Alex had worn. So he’d been granted temple garments; Alex has clearly accepted the bargain.
There’s a pair of sandals next to the divan, and he slips his feet into them, standing. A glance around the room reveals little about his location, but when his attention is drawn to the object in the far corner of the room, Henry can’t help but smile slightly. He crosses the room in a moment, running a hand over the curves of the baby grand piano. Impulsively, he takes a seat on the piano bench, plucking out a few notes that resound through the room.
Henry runs through a few musical exercises to limber up his fingers, then prepares to launch into a sonata when the door opens.
“Oh, you’re up,” Alex says, smiling. He’s carrying a tray laden with an assortment of items. “I brought snacks. People just leave them at the altar, and I’d hate to see them wasted.”
Henry feels his tentative smile slip from his face. “Those are offerings,” he says, “that are intended to be payment for prayers received. I couldn’t possibly take them from – ”
“Me?” Alex asks. He sits down on the divan, setting the tray on a side table. “They’re my offerings,” he reasons. “If I want them to be your snacks, then I’d say I’ve got the right to make that decision.”
Henry supposes that’s fair. He stands up and crosses back to the divan. “How long was I out?” he asks.
“Not as long as I thought you would be,” Alex replies. “Maybe a couple of hours. Still, you looked uncomfortable slouched around on the stone floors, so I brought you here.” His lips quirk upwards as he pats the divan next to him. “Consider this space yours. Now have a seat and I’ll share my snacks.”
“Eating the offerings is intended to be a sacrament,” Henry comments, sitting. “A ritual meant to assist in connecting with the divine.”
Alex picks up an orange from the tray and digs his thumbnail into the peel, efficiently pulling it away. He hands it off to Henry. “Enjoy your snackrament,” Alex quips, his mouth twitching into a smirk.
Henry huffs out a laugh. “You’re nothing like I expected.”
“Thanks,” Alex replies, his smirk blossoming into a full grin. “The old guard with their rituals and imperiousness aren’t my style. I want to help the mortals, not force them to compromise themselves for something I can give to them for free.”
—
“So, like, what’s your job supposed to be, here?” Alex asks one day, draped over his throne on the dais. Sunlight streams in through the tall windows, and Henry notes that the glass has been cleared of cobwebs and debris.
Henry pauses and looks up from the golden chalice he’s been polishing. “I live to serve you,” he says.
“That’s super vague,” Alex replies. “They didn’t give you a job description?”
“I’m to tend your needs,” Henry says, shrugging.
“And what about work-life balance?” Alex asks. He stands up and crosses to Henry’s spot near the altar, glancing meaningfully at the lower level, and smiling when Henry steps up onto it.
“I – ” Henry begins. This isn’t the sort of question he’d expected to be asked. He shakes his head. “I am to serve you,” he says again.
Alex makes a face. “Nope, so that’s not going to work for me,” he says, placing his hand on Henry’s shoulder. “From now on you get weekends and every other Wednesday off.”
A flush of panic courses through Henry at the orders. “I – if I’m not doing a satisfactory job, please let me know how I might improve my performance,” he requests.
Alex peers closely at Henry. “You’ll improve by getting some sleep. When’s the last time you slept more than an hour at a time?”
Henry looks at Alex, then down at his hands. “If I leave the temple without your clearance,” he says, “then your fanatics will likely murder me.”
“That’s fuckin’ gross,” Alex says decisively. “Who wants people murdered in their name?”
“Plenty of people – and deities, I might imagine,” Henry says and rattles off the names of a half-dozen of the more aggressive or warlike Anointed.
“Assholes,” Alex snorts derisively. “They barely do anything anyway. Mortals are more than capable of killing each other without divine influence – and then they call in someone like me to help clean up.”
Henry frowns and reaches out, carefully placing a hand over Alex’s. “I’m sorry,” he says.
Alex turns his hand and takes Henry’s, lacing their fingers together. “Thanks,” he murmurs. “It’s… better, having someone around. I don’t feel so… wrung out, afterwards.” His eyes meet Henry’s. “I’m glad you picked my temple.”
Offering a shaky smile, Henry replies, “I’m glad I did, too.”
—
Henry’s been in the temple for three weeks when Alex leaves for the first time since his arrival. Henry retreats to his little sanctuary in the room with the piano in the interim, playing pieces he’s learned by rote. When Alex returns, dropping to the divan and looking world-weary and exhausted, Henry brings him a tray of offerings from the altar, peeling fruit and pouring wine, and lifting the oblations to Alex’s lips until he’s regained the strength to feed himself.
Alex leaves again a few days later, and this time, when he doesn’t return to the piano room, Henry seeks him out. He finds Alex collapsed in the entryway of the temple, a lost expression on his face.
“Alex,” Henry breathes. “What can I do? What do you need?”
“Help me up,” Alex murmurs, extending a trembling hand.
Henry takes it, pulling it over his shoulder, wrapping his arm around Alex’s waist. Alex feels feather light and nearly inconsequential, Henry realizes, and it worries him. Alex struggles to his feet, still towering over Henry, but his normally pervasive glow is muted. “Where do you need to go?” Henry asks him, and Alex stumbles forward toward a doorway Henry hasn’t noticed before.
“The garden,” Alex murmurs. “I need to go to the garden.”
Slowly, they make their way across to the new…? Doorway. Henry places a hand on the knob, and Alex places his hand over Henry’s; together they push the door open.
Bright, golden sunlight streams into the temple through the door, the warmth instantly filtering inside as well. Henry helps Alex outside, watching his face as Alex guides him through winding pathways lined with verdant greenery until they reach a sparkling pond framed with flowering shrubs. “Here,” Alex murmurs. “I need to – ”
“Get in the pond,” Henry realizes. “Alright. How can I help?”
“Help me undress,” Alex says, gazing down at Henry, his face drawn. “Please.”
Henry nods. He turns to face Alex fully, guiding him until he’s leaned against a nearby tree. He crouches at Alex’s feet, unstrapping his sandals, then finds the clasps of his chiton and eases away the layers of linen from his skin. He swallows hard as the last layer of linen falls away; Alex is beautiful, even with his light diminished. “Here,” he says, offering Alex his hands. He kicks off his own sandals and walks backward, guiding Alex into the pond. He turns at the last moment, allowing Alex to step into the pond, then steps away – or attempts to.
“Come in with me,” Alex urges, clinging to Henry’s hands and nodding subtly in encouragement.
Henry gazes at the shimmering water, then at Alex’s face. “What will it do?” Henry asks.
“Nothing,” Alex replies, “Unless you ask it to.” He takes a step back into the water, and Henry watches as he submerges himself up to his knees. “Please, Henry.”
“That’s twice,” Henry murmurs.
“Hmm?” Alex asks, rubbing a thumb over Henry’s knuckles.
“Twice you’ve said please to me,” Henry replies. He gazes at Alex for a moment, then unfastens his chiton, unraveling it and dropping it to the shore of the pond.
—
Rooms continue to appear in the temple over the coming days. Each one is met with surprise from Henry, and a little, knowing smile from Alex. The great room is first; it’s cozy and warm, thanks to the huge fireplace along one wall. Next, a study emerges, its window seats overlooking Alex’s healing garden, two writing desks placed in a comfortable configuration.
Each afternoon, they swim naked in the garden pond as Alex recovers more of his luminance. Henry hasn’t asked yet what had caused him to dim so thoroughly; unlike the stroke of Alex’s hand up his arm or the gentle crook of Alex’s finger against his chin, that story doesn’t feel like it’s intended for him.
Until one day, it does. “You can ask, you know,” Alex murmurs, circling Henry in the water. His big hand sits softly on Henry’s waist, and as he moves, the hand trails around to Henry’s belly.
Henry swallows and quirks a brow. “What happened to you that day?” he asks.
“How much do you know about my gifts?” Alex asks in response.
“You’re the god of diplomacy and good health,” Henry replies immediately, covering Alex’s hand on his belly with his own.
“And fertility,” Alex adds.
Henry’s mouth drops open.
“Yeah,” Alex agrees. “I was as surprised as you are.” He offers a wry smile.
“Shouldn’t you have known – ” Henry begins.
“Apparently,” Alex replies, “I always have been. We never really talked about my gifts when I was growing up, but the houseplants always did really well around me, and my childhood cat lived to be like, 25.”
“That doesn't explain your light,” Henry murmurs.
“I never knew about my fertility gift, so I didn’t know how to control it,” Alex explains, drawing a palm up and down Henry’s left arm. “I met a farmer whose herd had been having difficulties with conceiving new calves, figured I’d try giving them some healing energy, and ended up fixing their libidos instead.”
“You mean – ”
“Yeah,” Alex replies. “All ninety of them, suddenly fixed.”
“And then you came back,” Henry notes.
“Completely drained,” Alex agrees. “And you helped me.”
Henry nods. “It’s my – ”
“Please, don’t,” Alex murmurs. “Not out here.” He gestures to the garden. “Out here, can we just be… the two of us?” he asks, his free hand coming up to cup Henry’s face.
Feeling himself drift closer, Henry nods again, more slowly. “Alright,” he whispers. His gaze is drawn to the soft divot between Alex’s lips and he licks his own.
“Henry,” Alex breathes. “Can I – ?”
“Yes,” Henry replies, closing the gap between them.
Alex’s lips are warm and soft, and taste of fresh fruit and wine. Henry drapes an arm around his neck, tethering himself to Alex, and Alex’s hands on his waist offer him the same comfort. He raises his thighs, settling them on either side of Alex’s hips, and Alex pulls him in closer. In the water, the height difference between them is negligible, and Henry feels as though he gains a clearer understanding of Alex each time their mouths meet, each time his hardening cock rubs against Alex’s belly, each time Alex’s cock nudges against him.
“Alex,” Henry whispers. “I want you.”
“I don’t have any – ” Alex begins, and Henry presses a finger to his lips.
“You’re a healing god,” he murmurs. “So heal me.”
Alex lets out an incoherent sound and situates Henry where he needs him in the water, one hand sliding down to cup his ass and draw his cheeks apart, thumb dipping in to press at his hole.
Henry huffs out a breath and wiggles his hips just slightly in invitation, and then he lets out a shaky gasp as the blunt head of Alex’s cock presses against him. “Please,” Henry whispers. The water is enticing, he realizes, warm and tingling around them, and as Alex’s cock slowly, slowly presses home, he feels no pain, not even the typical burning stretch of this first entry.
Alex’s forehead drops to Henry’s as he presses further inside. “Wanted you like this,” he murmurs, “since the day we met.”
“You didn’t say anything,” Henry replies breathlessly, swiveling his hips, gasping when the movement causes him to sink further onto Alex’s cock. The stretch is intense, but he rides into it, licking into Alex’s mouth.
“Didn’t want you to think – mmh – it was your duty,” Alex groans as he bottoms out.
Henry nudges Alex’s nose with his own, inhaling sharply against him. “Alex,” Henry murmurs. “It’s my pleasure.”
Alex’s hands cup Henry’s ass, raising him up, allowing gravity to slowly let him drift back down. The little, sharp exhale that leaves Alex’s lungs when Henry takes him to the hilt again makes Henry wonder what other sorts of noises he can drag out of Alex, and he flexes his thighs, pulling himself up Alex’s cock until just the plump head remains, shoving himself back down.
Henry and Alex set a steady pace, Alex’s grasping hands and Henry’s thighs propelling them together and apart, each pass smoother than the last until they’re grinding together sensuously, Henry’s cock rubbing against Alex’s belly as Alex’s cock carves out a space within him that feels like it always should’ve been there. Something loosens in Henry’s chest, and he arches into Alex, a thready groan on his lips.
Alex worshipfully kisses Henry’s throat, his cheeks, his eyelids, his mouth; one hand caresses up and down his spine, while the other continues guiding his hips in the primal, perfect rhythm they’ve established, grinding them both toward the edge.
As if compelled by an unseen force, Henry’s eyes fly open. Alex is glowing in the sunlight of the garden, his resplendent radiance stronger than Henry’s ever seen it. He reaches for Alex’s face, trails his fingertips over his cheek and lower lip, unhooks his ankles from behind Alex’s back, lets himself sink down fully, and comes with a shocked laugh, split open wide on Alex’s cock, Alex’s warm and revitalizing celestial energy cascading through him, and he feels an echo within his chest reaching out to Alex in kind.
The water continues to tingle around them, washing away small hurts that Henry hadn’t known he had, and when Alex lets out a choked cry and comes inside him, the aftershock of his climax rockets through Henry, his spent cock giving one more valiant jerk between their bellies.
Alex presses his hand more firmly to Henry’s ass when he withdraws, and Henry can feel the echo of his healing energy in his wake. Henry’s legs slowly drift downward again. He presses in and kisses Alex, hands stroking over his face and neck and shoulders, a burgeoning smile on his lips.