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For many, a domestic life would be their lifelong goal. Go to school, find a girl, get married, settle down, and wear out your days in comfortable leisure. Surrounded by your loved ones and the knowledge that you lived a worthwhile life, right?
Gilgamesh had no intentions of such an existence.
So why was he living with Kirei?
By all means, he had worn out his welcome. Even a common man would be weary of wine by now.
But he came to bed each night, even when the priest wasn’t there. Taking in the scent of him, of their activities, of their admirations. Many times messy, many times sloppy.
He needed no other man but himself, he thought. He could have anyone his whim desired, he thought.
So why was he living with Kirei?
He had less than no interest in what church Kirei served. Gods only mattered to humans when they wanted to feel better about themselves. If anything, he himself was the only deity that the priest should follow.
He had even said so, between breathy gasps and mutual worship. And Kirei had agreed, in his own groaning way. But still that damned priest kept leaving for false gods!
So why was he living with Kirei?
Gilgamesh had gotten himself into another of fit of frustration, pacing back and forth in their apartment with a familiar scowl. He didn’t mind taking it out on Kirei later, and he was sure that the ‘pious’ man himself wouldn’t mind either. Both of them would rather it be rough, anyway, if the marks they had left on each other were any indication.
The only heaven either of them would be looking for would be in the bedroom, to experience purity through sin,
ah.
There he is.
Time to experience divinity itself.
Their time together was neither short nor sweet. Not that either of them wanted it to be.
Kirei, hot off his last excursion as Executor, was looking to return to a familiar sort of pleasure. He could only look at the broken faces of heretics for so long before even that stopped making the blood flow.
Gilgamesh, simmering in his passion, had no qualms about giving such pleasure, to let the priest enjoy the privilege of a night with the King of Kings.
But first he’d need a sacrifice or two.
So he nibbled at the tender flesh offered forth, with a vigor unknown to all but the sinner in front of him. Drawing blood from the well of sacrifice, Gilgamesh made sure that Kirei knew that he was in the hands of a very angry god.
Kirei knew he was a wicked man. That, at any moment, he could be cast into Hell. But the divine influence inside told him otherwise. It told him to revel in the wickedness, to embrace it, kiss it, sing its praises for all to hear.
And as he felt himself tighten and release into a another level of Hell, he did. His worship sounded, low and primal, in hymns of forbidden approval.
Another thrust. Another verse.
Each step down the halls to Hell. Each moment closer to that deathless death.
Until he returned to enlightenment-
a messy nirvana in an empty church in Fuyuki.
In his sinful bliss he realized that even gods had boundaries- every cut merely skin deep, every bottoming out fleetingly painful. He looked upon himself, seeing his divine favor and noticing one thing:
That he had found another person- no, ‘god’, that had stake in his well-being. This would not just not do.
Once upon a time, a different Kotomine Kirei would despair at the emptiness that it gave him. That Kirei would tear himself apart, agonizing over his inability to care for the emotions of others.
But this Kirei did. He cared very much, about how low he could bring another man. And even better, this Kirei knew the desolation that could arise from trusting another with your own heart.
Some men just want to watch the world burn. What some men don’t realize, is it requires tearing down everything you’ve ever loved. Some men delude themselves, keeping the things they hold dear like an oh-so precious child in the night.
Kotomine Kirei had no such delusions.
“How would you feel if I died?”
The shirtless man merely smirked. “That’s an awfully pitiful attempt at my sympathy.” He went back to sipping at his glass.
The priest looked down at the smug man lying in a familiar pose on the red couch, Extending his arm, he held his wrist over the wine glass on his bare chest. Taking out the dagger Tokiomi had given him, Kirei painted the once-smirking man’s chest with his essence, the spray bursting onto naked skin, blending into the couch, mixing with the liquor of the no-longer-amused Gilgamesh.
“How would you feel if I bled out here?”
The wine glass shattered on the wall behind Kirei. With a tight grip on the clergyman’s collar, Gilgamesh spoke.
“No.”
“No?” Raising his palm, limp from the crimson-covered glass cutting its tendons, Kirei felt a twisted thrill bubbling inside him. “You don’t seem to be helping.”
The priest held out his own goblet, catching the sticky ichor of life inside. Sheer sacrilege boiled out from his perfectly immoral hands and filled the blasphemous font.
Once the unholy liquid came to the tip, he spilled it onto the already bloodied Gilgamesh’s stomach, baptizing him in a cupful of his fluids.
Gilgamesh felt his chest tighten in a way unknown to him for millennia.
“You dare throw your life away like this?!”
Kirei’s heart pounded as he was thrown onto the couch, swapping positions as if Gilgamesh had any say in the matter. His crooked smile grew only more wicked as he was pinned down with almost murderous force. Furious fingers began clawing at his suit, poking him like adrenaline needles and giving him a high that surpassed what any human drug could accomplish.
“You dare disrespect the life I’ve-”
Cuts. Holes. Punctures. He was used to the ‘horrors’ of war, but on Kirei?
“Hah!”
Laughter. He was laughing. That sinful mongrel dared to laugh in his face. Fury bubbled within him, like a stagnant wine brought back to life.
“You’ve lost your edge, Gilgamesh.”
Two blood red irises caged their rage, moments away from removing the last thing he truly enjoyed in the world. Kirei raised his glass-impaled hand, cupping the King’s hand with as much force as his severed nerves would allow.
“You know how I am. You made me, shaped my soul, into what it is now.“
His heart stilled in realization, of the monster he helped bloom the moment the contract between the two was sealed.
“Do you regret doing this to me?”
So that was it.
Now it was Gilgamesh’s turn to laugh. Slow to start, quick to escalate. That was how he was, in laughter and in bed.
“No. Not at all.”
And he shut Kirei’s mouth with his.