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“Oh Angel above, Your name holy as could be, may You absolve me of all my sins. Bring us out of temptation, and lead us to Your light.”
“Forgive me, for siding with temptation.”
Spamton clasped his hands shut in prayer, harsh until his knuckles cold and pale. The church’s altar looked down at him, on his knees, silent and judging. As he slowly peered his eyes open, the first sunrise began bleeding through the stained glass windows; a supposedly orange glow split into rays of yellow and pink. It blinded his eyes, wincing a little, but his sins were too heavy. The early morning was the only time the church was empty, where he could freely confess to all his sins without anyone else knowing.
This was between him and the Angel above.
After contemplating for a while longer, he grabbed his cloak and headed out, though his heart was still heavy with doubt. As quiet as he could be, Spamton snuck off to the other side of town, where no human would dare to go. Now, a dangerous game has begun.
From under the willow tree, in the middle of winter, its white leaves almost looked like thin strands of fishing line threaded through the nest of white silver—ethereal curtains hiding whatever scandalous secrets. Even the trunk, standing mighty strong with its contrasting dark brown, could only shield itself from the outside world. Under a large branch stood a bug-like creature, with similar snowy white fur with the slightest hint of lavender to distinguish himself from his surroundings. Six limbs—two pairs of arms and a set of legs, crossing two meters in height not even counting his antennae, a face with sharp fangs jutting out his mouth but without eyes to match, yet dressed in glorious a suit of armour clocked underneath a red cape; a bride in a veil of dormant foliage. Angel be damned, it was as if heaven was staring him in the face.
Spamton approached, slow and steady.
“Hey Tenna…I’m here.”
The bug turned his head to the human’s direction and reached his hand out. Spamton took them in his, and they shared a quick kiss.
“My darling, you are safe.”
Tenderly, Tenna brought his hand up to Spamton’s cheek, his thumb rubbing the spot. His smile grew just a little wider, but Spamton didn’t have the heart to look up.
“How are you feeling today?”
“Not bad…just a little tired.”
Tenna held him closer. He could feel everything about Spamton, how his breathing seemed to falter for a moment before speeding up, his stiffened shoulders and spine, his trembling body—it pains Tenna to know that in their current time, there would be no happy ending for either of them.
“From the orders of the King of All Monsters, the war may end in about less than a week. He is considering a peace treaty with the humans, as we have lost too many on our side.”
Spamton thought for a moment, before burying himself closer to Tenna’s chest.
“You know it’s not possible. As if thousands of you died just for some fucking paper signed in 10 seconds.”
Tenna pulled Spamton away from himself, but his hands stayed firm on his shoulders, his face expressed a warm smile filled with hope.
“What would you like to do afterwards?”
“Wha–?”
Spamton was shocked—to think in midst of a war, that had lasted almost a year, that had almost all of Tenna’s species dead—that he would be thinking about a future together. With Spamton, a monster and a human coexisting?
“Would you like to finally be married? We have talked about this before, haven’t we?”
“Tenna—stop.”
“We could finally move in together, you can escape from your family and be free. That has been your dream for the longest time, no?”
“Are you hearing your fucking self?”
His elevated heart rate, how it was contracting and beating, the way his blood rushed faster—Tenna could feel it all.
“Even if we are unable to have our own children, I would still like to—”
Smack.
Spamton had slapped Tenna. Even if he anticipated it, he still let it happen, his hand reacting suit as it reached up and soothed the reddened area. It almost felt humiliating, how a human two heads shorter than him could bring him to tears with such a light hit.
“You’re saying shit as if you wouldn’t die any moment right now, I mean—fuck, I thought you knew damn well it’s either you’re dead, or both of us are!”
Tenna swallowed his emotions down, appearing as calm as he has always been taught.
“Sweetheart—”
“It takes just one person who just so happened to be ‘round the corner for the two of us to be burnt alive.”
As much as he tried to control himself, Spamton couldn’t help but yell at the top of his lungs and lecture Tenna about the reality of the situation they were living in. Sure, both of them could be idealists at times, stubborn to their own ideas of freedom and choice—Spamton himself always felt disgusted in his own skin, his old identity, the soul of a man born into the body of a woman. Tenna would dream of being a stage performer, acting and hosting with children he so wishes to have one of his own someday—but Spamton had a harsher upbringing, how he knew there were only select wishes that could come true, and how to pick those battles. He was hesitant to admit how much more comfortable it is to be a man and not a woman, hesitant to say he was still attracted to men instead of being the traditional breadwinner of a nuclear family, hesitant to be with Tenna, knowing they were of different species and biology. He won with some parts of those, and lost devastatingly with the others. How to cope and move on, that this was life’s natural cruelty.
Tears welled up in Spamton’s eyes. As much as he wished for a happy fairy-tale ending, there was no way the Angel would allow for this to happen.
“Spamton darling, why are we not allowed to dream just once more? Should we not leave with happy memories?”
“Y-you’d know…it’ll just hurt more…wh–when you—”
“If we know our love is not written in fate, then should we not have the parts we can control go our way? Or would you rather follow like sheep to our destined futures?”
As Spamton fell to the ground, Tenna held him softly, encapsulating him in his own body warmth.
“I have told you time and time again, that your perseverance to defy the norm was what I loved most about you. Your confidence, your boldness, your fighting spirit, I would hate to see them all go.”
At that, Tenna began shaking as well, knowing it would either be death or separation, both options that meant not knowing what would happen to this beloved’s safety at wellbeing, it too came crashing down upon him. A pair of lovers cried underneath the snowfall of whitened leaves, clouds of heaven surrounded by the hells of reality.
“Maybe…it’d be really nice if we can get married and…and then—”
A swift kiss stole Spamton’s voice, while tears continued falling and small hiccups were still apparent between the two. Taking the chance, Tenna’s tongue snaked into Spamton’s mouth, making him even more dizzy than before. Drool slipped through their mouths, hands clawing at the clothes they wore, the scent of the minty forest suffocated their noses. It wasn’t the most romantic situation right now, but it isn't as if there would be a chance they would even breathe the same air in the ever approaching future.
Both of their souls appeared out of their bodies at the same time. Tenna’s was a pure white, upside down heart, pulsating quickly and desperately nudged itself against Spamton’s free hand on the grass. He held it gently, a light brush of his rough fingers sent it practically spasming. Tenna himself pulled back, panting heavily and red all over. He unclasped his cape with shaking hands and brought it behind Spamton. He then pushed him back, onto the huge piece of fabric, and reached for his soul next. It was purple—perseverance—and brought it to his lips, almost biting it but never going through. Spamton felt the sharp teeth graze across his entire body, almost threatening his fight or flight response. Nevertheless, he wanted more, letting himself be helpless in front of a monster. Now, he was tugging against his own clothing, sweat pooling in every area of his body. His thick coat and wool sweater felt unbearable during the late winter, salty dampness in every crevice where skin met.
It was filthy, disgusting, and he would’ve been vomiting his guts out while his heart burned if it weren’t for the heat pooling down in his gut and between his legs.
“Tens…”
It was barely a whisper, as he reached his other hand out, trying to grab at something in order to ground himself. He was met with Tenna’s antennae brushing themselves all over his face, from his hair to his temple, then his forehead, nose, and cheeks. It felt like a million kisses all over him, yet at the same time, it didn’t feel enough. But his mouth was already busy enough with his irregularly beating heart-shaped object.
For a moment, his mind cleared—it should have been obvious; how the monster’s mouth was dripping with saliva in anticipation, but the sharp canines that grazed it wouldn’t move one millimeter—almost as if waiting. Cupping and staring down at Tenna’s soul in his, it just felt wrong to show it so much care, knowing who he was kneeling on top of him, waiting and panting like an obedient puppy. He kissed it once, before locking gazes with the monster it belonged to. In perfect harmony, they closed the distance until the warmth melted any logic or worry left in their minds. The hearts beat in sync, rubbing against each other and Spamton and Tenna bit down at the same time.
Crack.
Blood-like fluid seeped into their teeth, both souls glowed as bright as they could. The purple from Spamton’s bled into Tenna’s, staining it in a lavender akin to his fur. The colour swirled around, not quite mixing in fully but leaving faint papercut thin scars instead. The couple continued panting, heavy magic emanating from one another. Normally in an official ceremony, the officiant would call for the souls to only be kissed, while the mating bond would be between closed doors of the married couple. There were no formalities, however, instead it was the December breeze underneath a hibernating willow tree, barely giving any privacy.
Tenna regained his bearings first, looking down where the two souls finally moved apart from one another. He looked over to Spamton, who was completely out of it, as if on the verge of passing out. Tenna held him close, almost afraid of losing him. With another tender kiss, a stroke over his face, a tug of his pants—it was harder to restrain himself from the pleasure of their newly connected souls. Slowly, Spamton eased his breathing, his vision and throat clear.
“I want you more than ever.”
And so, Spamton let himself succumb to his instincts. He guided Tenna’s finger in between his thighs, one at a time. The first one went in easy, but the second had hurt way beyond his imagination. Sure, it was very obvious that Tenna was much larger than himself, still, the desperation and haste clouded his judgement. The stretch wasn’t something he could get used to in just a couple of seconds, but what other time could they experience it again? Spamton could always ignore the physical pain, the true torture wuld be regret.
“Oh Angel, forgive me for my indecency…”
Tenna’s fingers continued on spreading themselves in Spamton, trying to move as carefully as possible so as to not hurt him. But he was a monster on borrowed time, and his overwhelmed brain just couldn’t afford to waste any more time. His dick, tentacle-shaped and jet black, was throbbing wildly. For the first time, Tenna let himself lose reign over himself, sliding his tendril in while his hand was still preparing Spamton. In an instant, Spamton’s mind went white, screaming as his voice gave out. Tenna muffled it with his own mouth, shoving his tongue down as deep as possible.
“Angel…above…holy a–as you—”
It was a brutal pace, quick and unrelenting. No time to be moving slow, every move was animalistic and unpredictable. Tenna’s hips shoved in and out as quick as he could, with Spamton following suit. No time to be thinking about what happens next. All that mattered was the current need to satisfy, tarnish the good with evil.
“And b–bring me…”
Spamton hugged Tenna as close as he could, both of his hands clasped shut together and his mind kept slipping. His curled, tied up hair loosening themselves with each passing second. His legs instinctively kicked at the air. Each inhale was a sharp twisting blade in his lungs.
“T–Tens…”
Encapsulated by a fevered heat, mouth-in-mouth, hand-in-hand, intertwined in a mind-numbingly painful, carnal urge; each involuntary twitch and strike was like taking a bite of forbidden fruit. No amount of prayer would forgive him, no amount of begging would allow him into heaven, no amount of playing pretend would erase the marks on his soul. The Angel who loomed over all would never turn a blind eye to the wickedness of his actions.
…
With a snap, the burn of each thrust turned bearable, his fire against his waist and stomach could be ignored, right as Tenna finally emptied himself into Spamton. The world felt clear, as if a heavy weight had been lifted. His dick retracted itself as his body collapsed on the grass beside Spamton. An arm wrapped itself around Spamton’s body, the one above guided the nearby souls back to their owners. Before passing out from exhaustion, his hand just managed to tug against a thin string, the previous liquid hardening into a physical thread tethering two souls forever.
“Spamton my dearest, you have stood stronger than I could have thought.”
…
If there was a time for God to speak to Spamton in his dreams, he must’ve been staring death right that moment. From his birth, he was a curse, but it might’ve just been his perseverance speaking. No matter where he went, it seemed a curse followed suit. The right thing to do would be to pray to the Angel for forgiveness, so that he could be cleansed from the sin of man and be removed of the evil and exceptional wickedness in his heart. Daily visits to church, the closed fists of prayer, desperation carved into the cross of his heart. It was strange, to worship a being you have never seen or touched before, no way of knowing if it truly existed and only going by ancient accounts wrapped neatly in a book or sermon. But it was like home, a place you couldn’t bring yourself to leave behind; a home was forever part of every memory of your childhood bliss.
…
Spamton woke up sore all over his body, yet his soul felt as light it has been in forever. Without investigating why, without turning back, he grabbed the cape on the ground and tied it to his cold body, running back to the church during the dead of night. To think, how would his brothers react, let alone his village? Disappeared from the crack of day until the silence of midnight, with an out of breath and deshuffled appearance? He already knew, the smell of a monster was rampant all over his body, marks over his body, vocal cords sore; he had been attacked and there would be no peace until he admitted so.
Right at the entrance, where the enormous, ever opened and welcoming door stood, he tripped over a step he walked over on a near daily basis.
He recognised a few faces from his village, a few from neighbouring towns, but most were blurry and unrecognizable. Immediately, a hand cold as ice cupped his face.
“Where have you been all day?”
It was his eldest brother, Pink. Seeing him first had his eyes shaking and almost streaming, but a new voice came about.
“Calm down, check up on him before you go jumping to conclusions!”
His second brother, Blue. Gentle as ever, he brushed the hair over strewned messily over his face and whispered about how much of a mess he was.
Slowly, a crowd gathered in front of him. Spamton had always felt small facing others, but this was a new level of humiliation. Some murmured how there was a suspicious scent, others talked about the scars on his arm.
“Tell us what happened.”
Pink’s voice was a little more gentle this time, affectionate from a long time ago that he was convinced he would never hear again. It wasn’t the same as before—completely fake and forced into an act of sincerity. Spamton would lie, to protect Tenna and continue their new promise of a family after the wedding. How he had always chosen his own path and that he could do it again. If he could be selfish for only once, this would be the only worthwhile instance.
…
But he had already accepted his fate long ago. One truth he could not go back on. One lie he could not unlearn. This future was a fantasy, and how picking your battles could mean hurt most days.
“A–a boss monster…the–there’s the tree. M–maybe near the lake, or the river. I–I think he could be there tomorrow or a–after—”
He pointed to the door in front of him, devoid of any living creatures in sight, only the faint gust of December breeze. But the people hear what they want to hear. Their rage was palpable, prejudice thicker than the winter air, and the goal was clear—a monster had just sealed his fate. A mob ran out to the general direction. Spamton had hoped he could be vague enough, that he could maybe reach Tenna first and warn him, maybe the connection between their souls could tell him just enough.
He was however, held back by Blue, with his two remaining brothers Yellow and Orange by his side.
“It’s fine, they’ll find the creature by themselves.”
“You’ve done enough for us already.”
“Pink will make sure the war can end if your account of a boss monster is correct.”
Spamton broke down completely, every muscle in his body giving way and his mind went empty. And he passed out right then and there.
…
The Lord…Cleaved Red…By Blade…
…
He woke up with a tug in his soul. The air was thick with dust and snow, making it hard to know where he was. He reached an arm up, but it felt numb as if it had been slashed. The pain shook him fully awake, spine jerking forwards. He was still in the church, lying down and covered by a large blanket he now recognized as Tenna’s, on the pew furthest from the front before being woken up. His body hurt all over, and he looked down in horror to his purple soul fading in colour. There was dust surrounding it, thin and wisping like ash in the wind. His feet moved on their own despite the ache, in the direction where the string pulled him to. The trip felt like forever, but two figures of a shadow soon became distinct. A man similar to himself looking down at an ant-like monster who was already halfway dust, with a dagger somewhere in between the two. Spamton wanted to faint again, but the pain barely kept him aware to the real world. The man made sure the monster’s body was fully gone before he turned away, leaving its soul alone—perhaps as a final means of mercy, as he did not have the heart to crush it. It felt like forever, but Spamton eventually made his way to the soul, barely hanging onto the twine of another living heart.
Spamton gently cupped it with both of his hands, and slowly, he settled himself in the grass. Guiding it to his forehead, carefully as if the line would snap from the slight of movement, tears dripping and mouth trembling.
"Ant…you keep talking about death like it’s a blessing, that it means you’ve finally seen your child grow old. You talk to me like I could give you that blessing.”
The soul grew smaller with every word shared, and Spamton clutched the every shrinking area between his palms, before his hands were clasped in the same praying position he had every day.
“Tenna, if you can be born again, can you also bring me so we can be free together?”
…
Somewhere, two souls stopped breathing. Somewhere, two souls had been born out of sheer determination.