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It’s been this way for as long as these two incarnations have existed. The Blade, the axe, the brute, the Blood God. Across every battlefield, every notable clash his will was there. When it was not, he himself was. Betusked, bedecked, and braced for battle, the massive warrior strode forward, cleaving through mortal men, the crimson smears of those left behind a testament to his divinity. And of course, in his wake, was death. Dark, sometimes gentle, sometimes cruel, but always welcoming. The black feathers whisking all away to their fated eternity. The Angel. Face obscured, talons sharp, and wrapped in grim duty. The duty that so often put him in the trail of that other incarnation. They rarely spoke to one another, both of them caught up in their respective reaping. Some said that the Blade took this place to see the blond, some said the Angel bound himself to follow in the boar’s wake. Forever entwined. Such as now.
This duty was a bit different, the Blade assessed as he rose out of the pool of viscera. Corpses lined the fountain, a massive sacrifice to the Blood God. The slow drip of the vitae, pumps likely slowed by the thicker liquid, was the only sound that rung out through the underground hall. A huff pressed past the lips, and he turned. A sacrifice without meaning. There was no valor in this, no struggle. He was preparing to sink back down under the gently lapping dark waves, when a wing blew through the chamber. Two clicks, claws hitting tile, and the brute turned. Of course the Angel looked good, even in the hazy lantern light. A white smile contrasted the black feathers, and a flash of blue meeting green as their eyes met. The warrior supposed he could linger a little longer.
“Damn mate, did all this yourself?” The blond towed one of the red robed priests, a knife clattering onto the steps that led up to the fountain. The body crumpling
“Hah. As if, Feathers.” The axe was set down, laying in the place formerly occupied. “Some sacrifice with just enough devotion to draw me forth.”
“Aah yes. Folly of mortals. No one alive to enjoy. Happened a fair few times with me but it’s usually poison or some sort. Nasty business but hey.” The bird man stepped forward, voice dropping a little as he leaned in. His talons brushed against cloven hooves. “I can’t complain about the results.”
“Mmm. Nor I.” a powerful hand reached up, and around, cupping the back of the other’s head. The pig man bought him forward, into a deep kiss, tasting. Sweet mint, cool, on his tongue as it pressed pass the lips. The avian wasted no time plunging in himself, an appreciative rumble going through him as he got the familiar, but achingly rare coppery taste. The other hand wrapped around the thin waist, and squeezed. If it were anyone else, let alone an avian, with their thin, hollow bones, he wouldn’t take such a risk. But the Angel was the only one the Blade could embrace without breaking. The only one who could take, everything he had, and love it.
The reaper’s cold hands wrapped around as well, sneaking under the armor ion well known places. The icy digits buried themselves in the fur, warming. Immortals were the only ones he could touch and heavens knows there were few enough of those. The warmth, of the hug, of the fur, of their mouths pressed together, gave the incarnate of death the only fleeting reminisces of life he was allowed.
Pressed together so close however, another source of warmth was clear, both of them never able to take other partners, so in these rare moments, biological instincts stirred in the deities. The blond let his hands warm up more against the warrior’s skin for a few more moments, before they slipped down, to undo the armor. The pieces of divine mail fizzled into nothingness under the eager undressing. For his part, the boar’s hand supporting the Angel’s back slipped down, into both the pants and underneath, cupping the shapely ass that only he got to touch. There was a pride in that, knowing not only was he the only one who had, but the only one who could enjoy such a prize. Fingers circled the hole, a nail running over the tight bud, which only made the stripping off all that bit more desperate. In seconds, the Blade was unarmored, vulnerable, and the Angel broke the kiss to pant. His sapphires flicked away from the larger man’s emerald eyes, and down, to the sizable bulge. Refocusing. Thin fingers pressed, cupping and running along the boar’s clothed hog. He swallowed. Their infrequent meetings over the centuries always left him so surprised at truly how big the other was.
The hand entangled with the blond hairs pushed him down, which he allowed to happen, as the other had a single digit push in. With ever-rejuvenating bodies, the Angel was always tight, and the warrior always took care to never hurt him more than he liked. The reaper however, took to the task of freeing his own prize, peeling down the under armor padding, and letting that thick shaft out. He looked up at the tusked face as he moved forward, tongue running under the head. The pressed-closed eyes told him everything. He lapped up the veiny length, his own eyes closing to focus, and take in every sensation. The primary one being the heat on his tongue, and the finger buried up to the knuckle in him. It slowly withdrew, sunk in again, and hit. An involuntary moan pushed past the blond’s lips as pleasure coursed through him. It had been so long. He whined as it withdrew, drawing back, needing it.
“I gotcha little birdie…jes let me work.” The Blade lightly chided, smirking. He was eyeing that beautiful, needy look spread across his Angel of Death’s face. Spreading…yeah. Exactly. Another finger added in, and both sunk back in, bringing the blond back forward, as his hand guided the cock into the gaping mouth. It was his turn to moan as it was enveloped by that cool wetness. The lower immediately began to suck. “That’s,,yes perfect~ Fuck.” The vulgarities spilled forth as the two deities debased themselves. The Blade held his fingers still, and the reaper fucked himself on them, all too eager. The throat only tightened when the scissoring began. Vibrating around the length, sunk to the base, taking him fully and pleasuring, Dedicated, and perfect for him. When the fingers drew out, the hole thoroughly prepped, the Angel did as well, his own prep work done. The boar guided him up, and lifted him, the black wings flapping to stabilize before legs wrapped around, and hands gripped the shoulders, the Blade’s vision filled with his love, and the darkness of those familiar wings. He slowly lowered him, supportive, and gentle, in a way no mortal would ever know. Would ever think he could be.
It entered the thin male, and he trembled. It was so hot, inside his deathly cold body. His head sank onto the Blood Good’s shoulder, and the tusked male rumbled in his ear, the warm breath curling around the shell of the ear. Praising him, reassuring, telling him what a good little angel he was. The words filled his head, just as the shaft filling his hole, inch by inch sinking him lower. Heavens it was good. Pink bud stretched around pink cock, face buried in pink fur. When the Blade moved his head forward, tusks and teeth digging into mark up the blond, a plaintive cry tore out of his throat. As a bruise was worried into the collarbone, the cock bottomed out inside him. His thighs squeezed, sensation overwhelming, infrequency of the interaction leaving him sensitive and oh so needy. When his hips were drawn up he squirmed, until he was dropped back down. Hilted once again, hitting that deep, perfect spot. The Angel’s head was thrown back, pleasure flooding out of him in the form of noise.
With that cry, the boar’s smirk came back, and he began to pound the hole in earnest, using the delicate seeming death avatar as he craved. Stretching wide with the filling and fulfilling length. Knowing that pain in pleasure in equal measure was what he craved. The Blood God was only so eager to supply. Every thrust, every withdrawal, he left another mark along the male cold skin. He was so glad the blond was lively enough to turn lovely shades of purple and red under the ministrations. Claiming him, utterly. The brute panted, breath running over blond hairs, in between muttering out continued strings of praise, but they were getting more guttural. His focus unwinding, just as the Angel’s was. Both becoming less coherent, and more primal noises, perhaps unfit for gods. But there were no witnesses, and so the divine dicking continued with their voices mingling. Sharing and enjoying their pleasure.
The loudest, intermingled noise came as the final hilting happened. The thick dick spurting inside. Pure life seeded into death, warmth flooding into him. He one again collapsed into the warrior’s shoulder, grip faltering. The boar held him steady, lightly bouncing him, rubbing that spot inside him. That was enough, and the blond came over the edge himself, a smaller release leaking out onto his stomach and around the beginning of his thighs. They breathed like that, together, twin spillages slowing to a trickle. Their eyes met, both wide, and both aching. They, nor the heavens, knew when they would be able to do this next. But they both closed them, savoring the seconds they had together.