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War changes men, leaves them physically and emotionally scarred to the point of being unrecognizable, turns a boy with lofty hopes of being a musician into a man who’s most proficient with an instrument of destruction. Of course, all that training and all that brainwashing kinda go out the window as soon as you’re no longer useful, a missing eye and shaky conscious and suddenly you’re slapped with a Medical Discharge and shoved back into society like they expect you to just go back to being normal.
This why one Cronus “Dualscar” Ampora finds himself dragging all 6’8” of himself into the office of Aranea Serket every Saturday at nine sharp. She’s here to help him, at least that’s what she tells him, to get him used to civilian life and how to better deal with his more private scars. In all actuality, he thinks she just likes to hear herself talk, thinks she just likes wringing people dry of their money while she tells them how she’s going to fix them like they’re just broken furniture. He stares at the clock with his good eye, just barely resisting the urge to drum his fingers as she continues to drone on until time is finally, blessedly up and she waves him out with that stupidly fake cheery ‘See you again soon and keep up the good work!’ she does every time he leaves.
The only good thing about Serket, as far as Cronus is concerned, is the fact that her office is within walking distance of his apartment. There’s no point in wasting gas to drive a mile and the air is good for him and sometimes if he’s lucky he’ll catch Meulin out jogging with her practically dog-sized cat, Pounce de Leon. Except for today, it would seem, because when he gets three and a half blocks back the way he came he finds his path blocked due police dealing with an overturned eighteen-wheeler. Cronus flinches away from the shards of glass and twisted metal and turns away. Wracking his brain he remembers a dirt path a block back and decides to head that way. At best it would lead him to a backroad he could take home, at worst it leads to someone’s home at which he could at least ask if they knew another way around.
As he walks down the path Cronus notices the treeline getting thicker, the foliage starting to block out the midday sun and begins to wonder if he hasn’t made a mistake before he spots a speck of white a ways off. He breaks into a jog and as he gets closer he realizes it’s a tiny church sitting in the middle of a clearing made. It’s old and worn, the white paint slightly discolored and peeling in some places and there’s a small graveyard just to the left of it and sitting on its steps is a priest feeding crows while smoking. Cronus slows down as he gets closer and the priest lifts his head and gives him a warm smile.
He snubs the cigarette on the ground and pockets the stub as he stands which seems to not so much startle the crows as signal that lunch is over, the corvids doing little hops around him before flying off.
“My, it’s been a very long time since I’ve had any visitors out here; it’s a pleasure to meet you Mister..?,” he greets Cronus as he holds out a hand. Cronus shakes his hand and gives the other man a once over. He’s handsome, just bordering on pretty, and rather young looking for a man of the cloth in Cronus’ opinion. Granted, he wasn’t exactly the foremost expert on the Christian church. The priest is albino from the looks of it, his skin pale to the point of almost being white though his eyes were a rather startling shade of red instead of the soft blue common to most humans; contacts maybe? His hair was short, curly, and a little untamed though his beard was neatly trimmed and as his eyes move down, well further down considering he had a good foot over him, Cronus notices that he’s curvier than most priests he knew of. Luckily for both of them, Cronus is older and wiser now so instead of blurting out a rather rude and intrusive question he answers with:
“Ampora, but you can call me Cronus. Not to be rude but aren’t clergymen supposed to be above worldly temptations, Father..?”
His brows shoot up a little when Cronus speaks and he can’t help but grin. His accent’s lost its edge since he was younger but it’s still pretty heavy, something that wouldn’t be too surprising if it weren’t for the fact that most people aren’t prepared for a Scott’s accent coming from a decidedly Chinese face. Caught, the younger man blushes and makes an apologetic little noise as he lets go of Cronus’ hand but he simply waves it off.
“Don’t sweat it, catches everyone off guard the first time. At least you didn’t try talkin’ to me in Japanese,” he chuckles. Rufioh, the college kid two floors bellow his, had turned such a deep shade of red in embarrassment when Cronus had told him his family was from Glasgow that he was surprised the kid didn’t pass out. The priest puts his hands over his mouth, eyes wide in shock but shoulders shaking in silent laughter.
“I see, though I apologize all the same; it’s rude to make assumptions even if to one’s self. I am Father Vantas, and as for your question there are no rules forbidding smoking, it’s just preferred that it not be done in the church.” Seems fair enough.
“So has this always been here, or?” It seems like a pretty dumb question considering the state of the church but Father Vantas simply smiles at him in a way that makes him feel a little softer inside.
“Indeed, the Church of Our Lord and Savior has been here for over seventy years. It’s no surprise you wouldn’t know of her, though, she’s no grand cathedral and our faithful have almost always been on the more reserved side. That said, the church and the grounds she stands on are rather special. People who need her most always seem to find their way.” There’s a look on his face that’s not quite knowing but just close enough and something in Cronus twists a little. There were two placed soldiers often turned to when the battlefield no longer welcomed them and that was to faith or to distraction. Cronus had turned to neither, the latter of which he was thankful for. Kurloz, who lived a floor up and three doors over from him, had been Dishonorably Discharged and had taken to hard drugs and some butchered form of voodoo to quell his inner demons and it has done him no favors. While the former wasn’t nearly as dramatic there was just something about how easily people seemed to get swept in, about how much of themselves that change to move with the flow of things that is just a bit too familiar.
“Well, the only thing I really need right now is directions on how to get to Outglut Apartments because the road I usually take is blocked off ‘cause of an accident.” Admittedly, Cronus expected at least a frown considering he basically indirectly told the other where he could stick it but if anything Father Vantas looks a little sad in the way one gets when something they’ve enjoyed is coming to an end, almost as if he’s sad to see Cronus go, and that twists Cronus up a little more in an entirely different way.
“There’s a path by the graveyard, take it until there’s a fork and then take the left path. It’ll lead you back to the road and the apartments should be just a block and a half from there. Safe travels, Cronus; I do hope I get to see you again.” His voice is so sincere that it almost makes Cronus feel guilty for leaving. Almost.
“We’ll see, chief.” Cronus waves his goodbye and takes the path the other had told him and as promised it leads just a block away from his apartment complex. Outglut wasn’t the worst complex in the city, Hell, in the general area, but it wasn’t exactly a gated community, either. Cronus checks his mail before making his way up to his apartment and despite only being around two-thirty he finds himself suddenly exhausted. It’s a little irritating, he feels like he should still be in well enough shape that a slightly longer walk shouldn’t leave him clammering for a nap but ultimately shrugs it off; he asked for Saturdays off, might as well make use of it. As he kicks off his boots and tosses his jacket on the couch Cronus feels his mind wander back to Vantas and his little church in the woods. See him again? Not very likely, he thinks as he climbs into bed and curls up in the sheets. He ignores the pang of sadness that hits him in favor of drifting off into a dreamless sleep.
For the next week Cronus simply goes on with his life; he goes to work, pays his bills, ignores Rufioh fighting with his girlfriend in the stairwell for the hundredth time, buys groceries, but every time he passes that little path by the road he can’t help but feel like he should stop, should go down and see if Vantas is still there. He ignores it the best he can, they’re both adults and he’s sure Father Vantas has his own life to live outside of the church, but by the next Saturday its near impossible. He waffles by the trail on his way to his appointment so long he’s actually late for once, something Serket notes with a critical eye, and he’s fidgety the entire session to the point that he all but runs out the minute his time is up.
It’s just curiosity, he tells himself, just wants to see what the priest has been up to the past few days which is why when he sees the chipped white of the Church of Our Lord and Savior he most definitely does not speed up. Just like last Saturday, Vantas is sitting on the stairs of the old church and when he spots Cronus his face brightens in a way that makes the older man’s chest feel tight.
“Cronus! It’s good to see hale and hearty,” Father Vantas chirps happily as he stands and brushes dust off his cassock. That soft feeling returns and Cronus can’t help the small smile that tugs at his face.
“There hasn’t been another accident, has there?”
“Nah, no accident, I just figured I’d come see how you were doin’,” he admits. Vantas beams, his cheeks a soft pink. That smile, Cronus feels, is what ultimately does him in. He and Vantas end talking for two hours before Cronus can bring himself to go home and despite the fact that he once again finds himself utterly exhausted by the time he reaches his apartment he feels...good, almost light, like a weight had been lifted from him.
Cronus ends up coming back every Saturday after his sessions, Vantas waiting each and every time with a warm smile and its nice in a way he can’t really describe. The fact that there’s someone so genuinely happy to see him, who’s waiting for him fills a dark, jagged place in him he hadn’t even noticed or maybe had and just ignored. As such it probably shouldn’t surprise him that when he wakes up in a cold sweat Tuesday night with a phantom pain in his side and flashes of suffering behind his eyelids he grabs his coat and slips on his shoes before stumbling his way to the now-familiar dirt trail. What should surprise him is that Vantas is there waiting on the steps, his ghostly white hair slightly illuminated by the laps above the church doors and his eyes a little too bright in the dark of night, waiting like he would any other day. It should surprise him, should worry him, and yet with the distant thunder of destruction in his ears and the tacky feeling of blood long since washed away on him all Cronus can do and practically crawl to the man before him. Vantas takes him in strong arms and pets him gently, soft hands combing through his hair and stroking his back while he clings to him. Guilt, sorrow, and anger well up inside Cronus as he buries his face in the smaller man’s chest.
“If there’s a God, where the fuck is he?” he chokes out, tears burning his eyes. “Why isn’t he doin’ anythin’, haven’t we all suffered enough? Where is he when suits come marchin’ into schools promisin’ money and honor only to pay with blood? Where is he when people are stuck watching their homes and family and friends get trampled under boot just because some fat-cat said so? Why...why does he get to decide my worth..?” He’s never really been a spiritual person but when you march to death’s drumbeat one cannot help but wonder what, if anything, waits on the other side. When the time finally came, would he be allowed to rest, to escape the blood and pain, or would he be punished for allowing himself to be the weapon with which others wage war? Vantas pulls him closer, all but pulling Cronus on his lap.
“That’s a good question,” he replies quietly. There’s a part of Cronus; small, quiet, and subdued compared to the storm raging inside him that finds Vantas’ answer startling, almost concerning, but it’s quickly smothered as he feels a kiss pressed against the top of his head.
“Vantas..?”
“Kankri. You can call me Kankri, Cronus.”
It feels strange, almost intimate, knowing his first name, almost like he’s told him an important secret.
“Kankri…” It feels nice on his tongue.
After that night Cronus starts visiting more often, starts staying longer and Kankri seems more than happy to have him if the way he gently touches him, whether it be a hand on his shoulder or Kankri gently pressing his knee against his, is anything to go by. It’s when his touch leaves a warmth that seems to spread and linger long after Cronus has gone home that he realizes he’s in trouble.
Cronus walks up the aisle as Kankri stands at the pulpit. He’s pretending not to notice him, Cronus can tell because of the small smile that tugs at Kankri’s lips, and he can’t help but grin in turn. In spending time with the priest he’s learned that there’s more to him than gentle smiles and a smoking habit. As it turns out Kankri can be rather playful and somewhat smug when he wants to be, traits Cronus found made him all the more attractive. Once Cronus reaches the dais he kneels down and it is then and only then that Kankri gives him his full attention. He descends from the pulpit and stands before Cronus, his voice gentle and teasing.
“Have you come to take communion, Cronus?”
He gives Kankri a shark’s grin and lets his hands wander up the other man’s legs, fingers pushing under his cassock to brush over his belt and fly.
“Maybe but it’s not wine or bread I’m after,” Cronus growls. Kankri sighs, face tinged pink as he holds up the hem of his cassock so Cronus can focus on undoing his belt and fly. He slides Kankri’s slacks down his thighs just enough to reveal him before licking his lips and nudging the other man’s legs apart as much as the slacks would allow. Kankri whines and bites his lip as he leans back against the communion table, the hand still holding up his cassock shaking. He’s slick, the crotch of his slacks stained, and a part of Cronus wants to tease him, make him beg for it; maybe next time, he thinks, as he presses his lips against Kankri’s sex in a soft kiss before getting to work. Kankri bites his lip but Cronus can hear the way he whimpers and his breath hitches as he works him over, the hand keeping him up on the table gripping the tablecloth. By now Kankri’s face is flushed red and his legs are shaking, hips rolling with each swipe of Cronus’ tongue only to let out a startled moan when he sucks at his clit. Cronus practically purrs as he watches Kankri fall apart above him, his movement getting more desperate as he pants and whines his name.
A loud, shrill sound blares and Cronus finds himself startled awake by his alarm. He barely resists the urge to toss the damn thing but does smack the off button a little harder than necessary. Speaking of hard, he can’t help but groan as his cock twitches against the fabric of his boxers. Despite the underlying guilt he feels about having such thoughts he can’t help but let his mind wander back to his dream. It’s fine, isn’t it? So long as it doesn’t leave the confines of his room? He reaches down and takes himself in hand while imagining pushing Kankri up onto the communion table and pulling one leg out of his slacks completely so he can get between them. Kankri kisses him, desperate and hungry as he grinds against Cronus’ still clothed erection, a hand in his hair and the other tugging at Cronus’ belt.
“Don’t make me wait,” he demands, nipping Cronus’ lip. It pulls a gasping moan from the taller man and spurs him into getting the belt off and his fly down with Kankri’s help. Cronus shutters as a soft hand grabs his cock and helps guide him inside, both of them letting out a low moan.
“Fuck, Kanny,” Cronus sighs as their hips press together earning him a soft laugh from the smaller man.
“You would be if you actually moved.” Cronus huffs a laugh as he uses one hand to lift Kankri’s left leg up and outward to give him more room while the other gropes and squeezes at the smaller man’s breast through his clothes.
“Maybe if you say please.”
“Fuck you.”
“I’m tryin’.” Kankri gently smacks his arm but they’re both grinning something stupid.
“Please, Cronus,” he mewls, finally giving in as he clenches around him. It’s all Cronus needs for him to start fucking Kankri proper, thrusts hard and fast. He doesn’t last long, how could he with how handsome, how perfect Kankri is under him.
“Kanny, I-” is the only warning he manages before he’s pushed over the edge.
Cronus lets out a pathetic, punched out moan as he spills over his stomach. Fuck, he’s got it bad. It takes him a minute to catch his breath before shuffling out of his boxers and using them to wipe himself off before tossing them in the hamper and stepping into the shower. He’s going to be late for his session with Serket again but he doesn’t particularly care. When he checks his phone after drying off, however, he finds a text from her notifying him that she’ll be missing today’s session and the next two due to a family emergency. A part of him is a little annoyed, he was basically woken for no good reason, but figured since he was already up he might as well go ahead and visit Kankri even if it is earlier than usual.
He’s halfway to the first floor when he suddenly finds himself pinned to the wall.
“Ampora.” Kurloz Makara had him pressed against the wall of the stairwell, hair a matted mess and face smeared in some kind of make-up.
“Makara? Let go of-” A large hand clamps around Cronus’ mouth.
“Shut the fuck up. Normally I don’t give a rat’s ass what you do but lately you’ve been up and commin’ in here wreaking of the most heinous magic. I could care less if your bitch ass gets eaten or mauled or whatever the fuck it wants with you but I ain’t lettin’ your stupidity doom the rest of us. Whatever you’re doin’, wherever you’re going, quit that shit!” Cronus glares at the other man and gives him a harsh shove, only slightly surprised when Kurloz lets go.
“Christ, Makara, do you even hear yourself when you talk? Go back to your apartment and watch paint dry or whatever the fuck it is you do, you’re high as fuck and if anyone’s a danger to rest of us, it’s you.” Kurloz stares him down for a beat before shoving past him up the stairs. Cronus glares at his back until he’s out of view before heading out again, quickly running across the street and finding the path back to the church. Kankri is sitting on the steps as he always does, though this time he has one of his little friends in his lap: a crow lays in his arms as Kankri pets it.
“Hey, Kan.”
“Cronus, we’ve talked about this, my name is Kankr-” Kankri shoots up, the crow in his lap flying off, which startles Cronus.
“Kankri, what’s wrong?” Cronus tries to take a step closer but Kankri takes a step back, his back ramrod straight and eyes trained on him. He pats himself down, doing a half-turn to see if maybe something was on him only for Kankri to suddenly snatch his jacket right off him.
“Kankri what the fuck!?” He turns back around and immediately freezes. From his jacket pocket Kankri pulls out some kind of weird talisman though he’s more focused on Kankri himself, who’s face is twisted in a snarl. Cronus has never seen Kankri angry; he’s seen him forlorn, seen him excited, but never like this.
“What is that..?” Cronus finally manages after a moment. Kankri startles as if having forgotten Cronus was there and gives him a strained smile aimed at comforting.
“It’s nothing, just a-a silly little trinket, probably meant to scare you into thinking it was cursed.” Cronus would believe it if it weren’t for the fact that Kankri was holding it as little as possible by pinching a corner of it with his nails. That being said-
“Fucking Makara.”
“Who?”
“One of the other tenants in my complex, he’s an addict with some fascination with occult and voodoo shit. He stopped me in the stairway today spouting some bullshit about bad magic and getting mauled. He probably shoved it in my pocket when he shoved me.” Kankri sucks his teeth.
“He sounds like a brute. Give me a moment to take care of this and then we can talk.” He hands Cronus his jacket back and quickly slips into the church. For something that’s supposed to be ‘just a trinket’ it sure does seem to have Kankri jumpy. Then again, he is a priest so one could assume that anything dealing with the occult, fake or otherwise, would have him on edge.
Cronus sits on the steps and waits patiently for Kankri to return which leaves him time to think. His mind briefly wanders to his dream and his face turns a deep red. Here and now is not the time for those kinds of thoughts, it does, however, remind him that he’s...actually never seen the inside of the church. He has a general idea of what a church looks like, his dad dragged him to one every Sunday until he was thirteen, but not once in all the times he’s visited has Kankri invited him inside. He’s always met him on the steps. Curiosity getting the best of him, Cronus stands and reaches for the door handle only for it to open.
“Oh, I’m so sorry Cronus! I didn’t hit you, did I?” Kankri asked as he stepped out and shut the door behind him.
“I’m fine, promise, just wanted to check on you. Are you sure you’re alright?”
“I-I...I may be feeling under the weather. I just really wanted to see you and I didn’t want you to have come all this way just for me to send you home.”
“Hey, it’s fine,” Cronus gently grabs his shoulders, “If you’re not feeling well, you’re not feeling well. We can always catch up tomorrow, right?”
“No, please!” Kankri grabs his wrists though he makes no move to remove Cronus’ hands from his person, “Just...just a little bit longer?” Cronus’ heart twists in knots and his breath catches in his chest as he looks into those red eyes.
“I-yeah...yeah I can stick around a little longer.”
‘A little longer’ ends up being four hours of them talking on the steps with Kankri curled up against Cronus’ side and drawing nonsensical shapes on his thigh with his finger. He gives the younger man a side-eye once he realizes the time but Kankri just gives him this soft, content smile and he melts.
“So much for a little. I better get going before it turns dark. You stay safe Kanny.”
“That’s Kan kri ,” he huffs though there’s a smile on his face. For a brief moment they just stand there a breath away and Cronus can’t help but feel pulled to him. Time seems to stop as he leans down and Kankri reaches up, eyes closing and lips barely touching-
A flock of birds startles from the trees and startles them in turn.
“I-goodnight, Cronus. Please be safe,” Kankri says quietly before disappearing back into the church.
“Goodnight, Kankri…”
When Cronus gets back Kurloz is nowhere to be seen and while he’d like to confront him about the little stunt he pulled, he’s too tired to deal with it now so he shuffles off to his apartment and only manages to get his shoes off before he lays down and sleep takes him.
When Cronus wakes its the dead of night. He blinks blearily at the clock on the nightstand: twelve forty-five. Why in the fuck-
A scream cuts through the air and Cronus immediately bolts up in bed. At first, he thinks it might be one of his auditory hallucinations but then he hears again followed by loud crashing and a strange rumbling sound he can’t quite place. Despite his better judgment, Cronus bolts out of his apartment and makes his way towards the sounds in question. His stomach starts to sink as he finds smears of blood on the walls of the stairwell as well as bloody handprints on the rails. What the fuck is going on? Another scream, louder this time and angrier. Is that? Is that Makara? Cronus is half tempted to go back to his apartment and call the cops; if Makara is getting attacked over some drug bullshit he’s not getting involved and yet...he doesn’t hear anyone else. There’s no one else shouting, no gunfire.
“Fucking Hell…” Cronus waffles for a moment before going the rest of the way down to the lobby. If Makara is having some kind of bad trip and hurt himself someone needs to help him. He only makes it two steps before he dodging a machete.
“YOU!” Kurloz roars and swings at him wildly, managing to cut his arm. He’s bloodied, body covered in several lacerations and bruises.
“YOU SON OF A BITCH, I KNOW I SHOULD HAVE MOTHERFUCKIN’ KILLED YOU WHEN I HAD THE CHANCE!”
“Kurloz, calm the fuck down! What the hell is going on?!” Cronus narrowly doges another swipe.
“YOU DID THIS! YOU BROUGHT IT HERE! YOU-” Makara’s tangent is cut short by what Cronus can only describe as a large pincer impaling him through the chest, it’s white carapace stained red. His breath catches in his throat as his heart skips a beat before he breaks off in a sprint, Kurloz’s screams and the roar of something following him. Cronus makes a mad dash across the street and through the trees, mind racing and heart pounding. The church, he had to get to the church, he had to warn Kankri! He barely avoids tripping over some of the headstones as he cuts through the graveyard and up the stairs two at a time before slamming open the doors.
Kankri’s name catches in his throat as he looks at the scene before him. The inside of the church is decrepit with age and disuse, the carpet worn and the pews warped, the stand at the pulpit is shattered and the dais bare. Cronus walks in, his breathing short, quiet, like if he’s too loud something will happen. As he squints in the dark he thinks he sees the outline of something or someone in one of the pews. Thinking it might be Kankri Cronus quickly but quietly makes his way over only for him to stop dead in his tracks. It’s a skeleton, several actually, all slumped over in rattle clothes as if they’d been sitting there for mass. As his eyes adjusted and he looked around he realized that almost all the pews were occupied by them. He jumps as the doors slam shut and engulfs him in complete darkness save for the faint flittering of moonlight through the stained glass windows.
“You’re not supposed to be in here.” It’s Kankri’s voice but it sounds different, weird, like his throat’s gunked up and there’s something in his chest.
“Kankri what the fuck is going on..?”
“You can go home, Cronus. You can forget about all of this like its a bad dream.”
Forget? Forget what? That the guy he’s been seeing every day, the one he’s all but been courting might be some kind of serial killer moonlighting as a priest.
“Are you gonna kill me, too, Kanny? Is that why you wanted me to keep comin’ every day?” Cronus’ fists ball at his side despite the pain he feels from the gash on his arm; the pain of betrayal cuts him worse . “Cause, I mean, it would work, right? Just a military reject with no family and no real friends who’s out in the boonies, who would even notice, right?” he asks through clenched teeth.
“I would never!”
“Then what the fuck is going on!? I want answers, damn it!” Cronus kicks one of the pews and the lights flicker on as if to answer his demands. He pants, eyes stinging before whirling around to face Kankri only to find a monster in the most literal sense. It’s huge, possibly seven or eight feet tall with three sets of arms: the top coming from its back and ending in a pair of large pincers, the second sitting at its shoulders and ending in humanly shaped hands that ended in wicked claws, and the last sitting lower ending in hands with only two fingers and a thumb. It’s not mammalian, whatever it is, since it’s covered in thick white carapace that darkens to a pitch-black at the end of its claws and the ends of the spikes protruding from its back. It stands on two digigrade legs that end in bug-like feet and its head has a short snout and a large broad crown with four piercing red eyes. His breath catches and he stumbles back.
“Cronus…”
Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. He must be having one of the worst hallucinations he’s ever had, he has to be because there’s no explanation for whatever the fuck he’s seeing right now having Kankri’s voice.
“I’m hallucinatin’ or-or dreamin’ or somethin’ cause this isn’t real,” he says more to himself than the crab monster in front of him but despite his words the pain in his arm is still very present and very real. “What the fuck are you…?”
It has the gall to make a wounded sounded and Cronus’ heart has the gall to actually feel guilty for it.
“This isn’t what I wanted, this wasn’t supposed to happen.” That weird wet sound coming from him is blood. There’s blood on his muzzle and his claws and oh god, Makara.
“You haven’t answered any of my questions Kankri and I’d like to think that you owe me that at the very least.”
“You wouldn’t believe me.”
“Try me.”
“A demon.”
“A demon...in a church..?” It- he seems to chuckle at that.
“A common misconception humans have is that it is the place that makes the grounds holy when in reality it is the people themselves. There is no God here, there never was, just a bunch of people who wagged their tongues to a formless idea in hopes of bettering themselves while crawling over the bodies of others to do it.” Cronus swallows around a lump in his throat, his legs threatening to give out from under him.
“So that’s it, then. You just strolled right on in and murdered everyone?”
“You think so little of me,” he sounds genuinely wounded, “I did no such thing, I simply stayed and I talked and I gave them the path to betterment but they wouldn’t take it, no, they didn’t want it because it would involve the uplifting of more than just themselves.” He steps closer with each word, surprisingly quiet despite his size.
“‘People who need her most always seem to find their way’, that’s what you said right? But it was never the church that was leading them here, was it?” He looks guilty, head hung low and tail swaying dejectedly. Cronus mouth moves but it fails to form words until finally, “What do you want from me..?”
Kankri moves fast, far to fast for something his size, and Cronus finds himself pinned to the chapel floor. Large pincers keep his arms up and out while both sets of hands rest against his chest.
“I want you…” It’s soft, quiet, a confession if he’s heard one and it makes his chest ache. “You were so lonely, so jaded and dejected, I...I don’t know what I was going to do with you. But you talked to me and you were so sweet and I just...I just…” Kankri nuzzles against his face and Cronus feels like he should be disgusted, he should be sick and angry, but the way Kankri pours his heart out for him-
“You killed Kurloz.”
“He was going to hurt you, anyway, when he realized the talisman didn’t work.” The talisman. No wonder Kankri was freaking out about it, it wasn’t cursed it was meant to hurt him.
“Kankri-”
“You want me, too, don’t you Cronus? That kiss earlier today, you smelled like want and lust. Even now…” Kankri sits back on his haunches, practically sitting on Cronus’ lap or more accurately sitting on the erection straining his pants. He shutters. Does he want him? Cronus looks at Kankri with his good eye, really looks at him and the longer he does the more he sees the cute little priest that would wait faithfully on the steps for him every day.
“Cronus.”
“Kankri?”
“I can’t do anything unless you let me. I won’t do anything unless you tell me.” For some reason Cronus finds the idea of a demon asking for consent absurd and amusing and yet-
“Please, Kanny.” Kankri doesn’t correct him this time, instead claiming his mouth in a kiss, though Cronus would use the term loosely. There’s no meeting of lips, just a large maw open around his and a far too large tongue invading his mouth. He whines into it as Kankri practically face fucks him with his tongue while grinding against his lap. Kankri makes a deep rumbling noise that sounds like a mix between a purr and a growl as he pulls away so Cronus can breathe.
“I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted this,” Kankri soothes, his hands running over Cronus’ chest before tearing his shirt to shreds. Cronus pants, face red as red eyes stare him down and a large tongue swipes at his chest. It’s warm and wet and a part of him thinks he should probably find it gross but it leaves his skin tingling as Kankri moves down, down until he’s licking and nuzzling him through his jeans.
“Fuck, Kanny, please,” Cronus whines and the fucker has the gall to chuckle. He considers softly kneeing him in response but the thought quickly leaves him when Kankri’s first set of hands snaps his belt while his second set pop the button and pulls down the fly with both working in tandem to pull his jeans off altogether. He shutters as Kankri’s warm breath brushes over his cock before letting out a low moan as Kankri drags his tongue over it.
Like with the kiss, it’s not a proper blowjob but it gets Cronus worked up all the same as he lavishes him with attention, lapping at his erection like he’s a treat Kankri is excited to devour. Cronus pants and whines, writhing and arms tugging at the pincers holding him down but Kankri makes no move to release him. There’s a slick sound and Kankri starts to whimper and it takes Cronus a minute before he realizes that Kankri is fucking himself on his own tail and fuck if he wasn’t hard before he most definitely is now.
Just when Cronus thinks Kankri’s about to push him over the edge the demon backs off which causes Cronus to let out a distressed groan.
“N-not yet. I need you,” Kankri moans softly. He finally releases Cronus’ arms, his pincers folding behind his back like wings as he sits up and actually lets Cronus see what he’s been doing to himself. His tail thrusts into a slit above which sits a tentacle, both of which are a deep red. Slowly, almost unwillingly, Kankri pulls his tail out of his sex before hovering over Cronus.
“Hold on, wait-” Kankri startles and looks at Cronus, a desperate little whine in the back of his throat. “No, hey, it’s fine, just...I don’t think this is the best position is all.” Kankri tilts his head in thought for a moment before the spikes on his back fold against him and he lays down on his back, legs spread and tail wagging expectantly.
“Better?”
“Much better.” Cronus slides between his spread legs and lines himself up before slowly pushing inside. He doubts he could actually hurt Kankri like this but he’s not about to find out and it’s not like he isn’t a little overwhelmed himself. Kankri mewls and Cronus sucks in a breath as he presses into that slick heat until their hips meet.
“Cronus?”
“Just...just give me a sec. I don’t want to end this party too soon.” Kankri does his best to stay still but Cronus can tell he’s getting impatient, both sets of hands pawing and petting him.
Once he’s good Cronus slowly pulls back and then thrusts back in, taking on the rhythm Kankri had set with his tail. Kankri chirps and moans for him, head to the side and tongue lolled out as he pants. His warm, so fucking warm it’s unbelievable and so snug around Cronus despite his size and it’s taking his all not to just jackhammer into him but he really, really wants this to last. Kankri, however, seems to have other plans. His tail, still slick from fucking himself, gently presses at Cronus’ hole before slowly pushing in causing the human’s hips to stutter.
“K-Kankri!”
“Is this-”
“Yeah, just-just a little warning would be nice next time.” Cronus stops and lays against Kankri for a moment as the tip of his tail works it’s way inside, the two of them waiting impatiently for him to adjust. The minute Cronus relaxes enough he returns to fucking Kankri while Kankri’s tail fucks him in turn, the longe appendage curling and writhing inside him each thrust in.
Despite Cronus’ best efforts Kankri starts to unravel him, his tail finding that spot that makes him see stars while clenching down on him.
“Fuck, Kankri! I’m-”
“It’s okay, I’m-I’m close, too,” he chirps in reply, one set of hands gripping Cronus’ shoulders hard while the others rest on his hips. Cronus trades his slow, deep thrusts for a faster, harder tempo as he feels that all too familiar heat coil in the pit of his stomach. Kankri trills prettily for him, head thrown back and tail stuttering in its own thrusts but never stopping. As Kankri’s tail rubs and presses against that place Cronus can feel the coil get tighter and tighter until finally it snaps, his vision going hazy as he pushes as deep into Kankri as possible and fills him. Kankri locks up around him, claws digging in as he follows soon after, the tendril curling itself into actual knots as it spilled a translucent red all over Kankri’s stomach. Cronus moans softly as Kankri pulls his tail out of him and Cronus pulls out of Kankri in turn before practically collapsing on the demon. Kankri doesn’t seem to mind if the purring is anything to go by, his hands petting and soothing him as Cronus starts to drift into unconsciousness.
When Cronus wakes up he’s in his bed in his apartment. A dream, of course, it was a dream what else could it have been? He takes a deep breath only to catch the smell of sausage and eggs. Someone was in his apartment and making breakfast. Getting out of bed Cronus noticed the bandages around his arm and his heart fluttered in his chest. There, in the kitchenette wearing nothing but one of Cronus’ shirts, was one very human-looking Kankri Vantas. Cronus could almost believe he’d at least dreamt up the demon part if not for the fact that as soon as Kankri sees him he smiles softly and forms a tail to pull out the dining room chair.