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It was the end of the world, and Makoto stood alone.
He dodged to the side of a gigantic dark wing that swept across the roof of Tartarus, panting heavily and trying to contain his panic. His opponent was massive and incomparably powerful –– almost impossibly tall and capable of ripping the very world Makoto inhabited apart. Every instinct within him screamed at him to run, to find somewhere safe and quiet to die, but he refused. He made a promise to Ryoji that he would face Nyx head-on and fight. He just hadn’t expected Nyx to be wearing his friend’s face.
Nyx’s avatar swung his sword down, and Makoto only barely held up his own blade to block the blow before he was cleaved right in half. He couldn’t go down. Not yet. The others, who were fighting the hoards of shadows and the remaining members of Strega in the lower floors of Tartarus were counting on him to stay alive until they could join him.
But dodging and defending wasn’t enough. Makoto needed to go on the offensive. If he wanted to cover his eyes from the universal truth that was the end of all things, he would have forfeited his memories and taken a blade to the throat of the boy he was falling in love with.
Ryoji wouldn’t want Makoto to fight if he thought that would mean Makoto would suffer, but Makoto had to show whatever was left of him inside the avatar that he would stick by his decision. Makoto set his sights on the bone-white mask that covered Nyx’s avatar’s face, took a moment to plan out his path, and then charged forward. He summoned Norn to give him a boost, its wind magic flinging him into the air, higher and higher, until he was face to face with the avatar.
Then, with a hearty cry, Makoto bore down with his blade, forcing all of his might into the action. From where he’d pierced it, the mask cracked, lines stretching across its surface like many branches of a tree. Makoto watched the display, feeling a bit of pride that he’d made a mark on Death, even if he wouldn’t be the victor. He had proved the avatar could be hurt –– if he kept it up…maybe there was a chance, however small, that he could create a miracle.
Then, Makoto heard a loud whooshing noise behind him, and in a second, his entire body was bound. Something large and dark had wrapped itself around Makoto’s body, laying him flat on its surface before uncurling to reveal the sickly green sky overhead. Dazed and confused, Makoto stared up at the sky above him, squinting at the full moon. It seemed to be getting closer and closer to Earth, taking up more of the sky as it approached.
When Makoto finally dared to look up, he was staring right into the empty dead-eyed expression of Nyx’s avatar, who had snatched Makoto up and laid him out in the palm of his hand as if to study him. Makoto felt like a butterfly, pinned down and put on display. Makoto struggled to find his breath. He attempted to sit up, but as soon as he did, Nyx’s avatar brought his other hand up and with only his pointer finger, pressed down on Makoto’s chest to force him to lay back.
Makoto couldn’t do anything but lay helplessly in the hand of the god who was toying with him. At any moment, if Death desired, he could crush Makoto in his hand, reducing him to blood and bone. But the touch was…strangely curious. Almost delicate, if a beast the size of a two story building could be called anything like that.
After a second, Death retracted his hand, and Makoto felt his throat sealing up when he saw the avatar shaking off his gigantic black glove, revealing a pale hand adorned with sharp black claw-like nails. Each digit on Death’s hand was as deadly as his sword, and Makoto was at his mercy. He was going to have his skin pierced and be pinned down, perhaps made into Ryoji’s little keepsake for whatever eternity would come after the end.
The thought of it sent a rush of heat through Makoto’s body.
Death’s pointer finger was approaching Makoto’s chest again, and Makoto tensed, preparing himself to experience being stabbed straight through the heart. But the feeling never came. Instead, Death’s sharp fingernail slipped beneath Makoto’s school uniform, sneaking between the fabric and Makoto’s soft flesh. Then, Makoto heard a faint tearing sound, which was nearly lost under the howling wind.
“H-Hey!” Makoto shouted reflexively, forgetting his situation and who he was talking to for the briefest of moments as his chest was exposed. His shirt was ripped into two jagged pieces –– it was unsalvageable, not that Makoto would have to worry about getting written up for his school uniform ever again. He was just glad his headphones remained unharmed.
The avatar growled –– it was a devilish and hungry sort of noise.
Makoto watched as the avatar’s finger approached him again. Makoto squeezed his eyes shut, but forced them open when he felt something cold and smooth running up and down his chest. When he was able to look, he saw Death stroking his stomach with the pad of his finger, pressing down ever so lightly, that action alone stalling Makoto’s breath.
Makoto had never felt so exposed…so tiny in his entire life. He was being handled like a small doll that could be undressed at will and…touched endlessly. When Death let up the pressure on Makoto’s stomach, his breath came out almost as a whine.
“R-Ryo…”
He couldn’t even get the name out. Nyx’s avatar wouldn’t answer to it before, but it was clear enough to Makoto that he was looking at the same being he slowly but surely fell for and shared a shaky kiss with on New Year’s Eve. But he was so different then Makoto remembered him. He was something unknowable, something terrifying.
Ryoji had been flirty, impulsive, and endlessly curious, but also considerate. Hesitant. Afraid. But Makoto wasn’t at Ryoji’s mercy. He was Death ’s plaything, and Death had no reservations about embracing his desire –– using a mortal as he pleased before the end of everything.
Death’s fingernail began to descend on Makoto again, headed for something very important. Makoto only had a second to be horrified that there was a small tent growing in his pants before his bottoms were ripped off of his entirely, reduced to shreds as if by a hungry mammal. Makoto flushed red as Death used his thumb to caress Makoto’s cheek, messing up his hair in the process. It was an action a lover might take to calm their partner down, but it felt like an assertion of power, a physical reminder that Makoto was so, so small and fragile.
He was naked in Death’s hand, trembling from the cold, but even so, his cock stood erect, seemingly unaware that it too was tiny and fragile. His pleasure was not a priority to Death, or even a consideration at all. Makoto was about to be used –– and the whole world would be watching from below.
It’s the end of the fucking world , Makoto thought miserably. Who cares?
Makoto squirmed in Death’s hand, shrugging off the remaining scraps of his clothing that clung to his skin. It was hardly a striptease, but Makoto could have sworn he saw Death lean in a little closer to watch. Swallowing any last instincts he had to scream for help, Makoto spread his legs open, leaning back his head to stare at the swirling emerald clouds overhead. He was powerless in his situation, so why not lie down and enjoy it? Why not look directly into the void and invite it closer?
Death’s long, bony digit descended upon Makoto again, pressing lightly on Makoto’s cock and massaging his balls. Makoto gasped at the touch, his eyes flickering closed as he let the feeling overwhelm his lingering fear. Death was absolutely massive, but its hands had been carefully crafted by a being who loved humans, who knew them inside and out. As a consequence, Death’s fingertips had the ridges of fingerprints, which gave texture to the giant appendage getting Makoto off and made his breath catch as he felt every little detail of that cold skin brushing up against him.
Precum was leaking out of Makoto’s dick, sullying Death’s finger. Makoto could feel that dampness being spread across the tip of his cock as Death toyed with him. His tiny body was reacting enthusiastically to being handled in such a way, his natural processes unaware of the fact that he wasn’t being pleasured by an equal.
Death’s finger began to rub tiny circles on Makoto’s dick, unable to grab it properly due to the difference in their sizes. Every time that finger pressed down, Makoto got the wind knocked out of him from the force of it, but every time, the heat in his stomach bubbled and churned, his body begging to be used however Death damn well pleased.
After a few seconds, Death pulled away, and Makoto opened his eyes again, wondering what had happened. He was certainly worked up, and he would be upset if the god who had gone through the trouble to snatch him up didn’t intend to finish what it started. But when he dared to sit half-up in Death’s hold and look it in the eye again, his heart skipped several beats and fear once more ran through him, freezing every nerve in his body.
From the vacant, open smile in the bottom of the mask, a long-forked tongue had snaked its way out and was headed straight for Makoto. He didn’t have a chance to brace himself before a hot, damp tongue made contact between his legs, licking him from his hole to the base of his dick.
Makoto snapped his hips up eagerly, desperate for more friction, and was rewarded with a flick of Death’s tongue against the head of his cock.
“Ahh…Hahh…” Makoto gasped. “R-Ryo––”
Death’s tongue whipped around like a long, thin snake, wrapping around the base of Makoto’s dick and stroking the tip. It was so rough, yet tender, an utter paradox just like the being it belonged to. The sensation was overwhelming, and it was quickly becoming too much to handle.
Makoto threw his head back as his back arched off of Death’s hand and his hands clenched at nothing. His orgasm ripped through him like a bullet, leaking out of his tip and dripping down his hips, staining his thighs with sticky warm liquid. There were tears in the corners of Makoto’s eyes. He didn’t have the strength to wipe them away, or do much of anything. He savored his moment of bliss, rolled his head as he nuzzled into Death’s palm, and laughed openly at the absurdity of the situation.
How long ago was it that he’d stared at the back of the new transfer student’s head, wondering where he’d seen him before and wishing rather selfishly that their mutual spark of interest might develop into something more? Had it really only been a few months ago?
“Is that…” Makoto mumbled under the caws of the fleeing crows all around him. “All you got?”
As if incensed by Makoto’s challenge, Death reached for Makoto and grabbed him roughly, turning him over in his palm without giving him a second to catch his breath.
Makoto’s face was pressed down into Death’s hands, and through the small crack in his fingers, he could see the empty battlefield on top of Tartarus. The others…his friends…where were they? Surely, they hadn’t fallen to Strega and the hoards of shadows below. They were strong, and more importantly, they were supposed to be at Makoto’s side, so all of them could face the end together.
Where are you? Makoto wanted to call. Why am I all alone?
Something else was glittering on the dark stone roof of Tarturus, reflecting the light of the moon. It was his sword, which had fallen from his hand when Death had caught him. He was supposed to be fighting –– and there he was, letting himself be used like a toy.
Filled with a new resolve to break free and fight, Makoto thrashed in Death’s hold, inching to the edge of the large pale hand that held him and staring at the drop beneath him. There would be no way to survive the drop, but he also wouldn’t survive in Death’s hold for any longer than he ceased to be fun to touch. And neither of those options really mattered at all because the Fall was in progress and Nyx was unbeatable.
Makoto felt something constricting around his waist, finding himself locked in the hold of a finger, wrapping around him and squeezing him as a warning. Makoto cried out in pain as he felt his bones ache under the pressure and lungs set to burst. He couldn’t get out a single breath as he braced himself there, so sure he would be reduced to nothing when Death applied a little more pressure. But the hold stayed, and Makoto felt the pad of a finger prodding at his ass impatiently.
“C-Can’t…” Makoto bit out. “Breathe…”
Death loosened its grip and Makoto collapsed flat in Death’s palm, coughing and wheezing as he felt Death's fingertip working into him, stretching him out. Makoto felt his body constrict on impulse, something innate within him rejecting the touch. But Death simply chased him, leveraging Makoto’s thighs apart with no effort at all.
Death’s tongue once again began to prod around, licking over Makoto’s hole and wetting it inside and out. Makoto was overspent, his dick still oversensitive and aching from his first orgasm. But it was perking up more out of necessity than anything. Death wasn’t done with him, so Makoto had to be ready. And more than anything…he wanted everything he could get from Death. He wasn’t just some object for that god to mess around with. They were so much more to each other than that.
They weren’t given the luxury of being born into the same circumstances. They’d been doomed from the very start –– Makoto could never love a god like a god loved him, no matter how hard he tried. But he would readily take that love if he could. He wanted to make the boy he loved, the boy who had disappeared into a concept, enjoy their final moments together, if he could.
“M-More…” Makoto moaned out. “Stop teasing me, Ryoji. I need you inside.”
“...that was my temporary name, ” Nyx’s avatar finally spoke after being quiet for a very long time. “I didn’t mind it.”
Makoto looked over his shoulder and managed a shaky smile.
“It was a nice name,” Makoto said. “But, so is Thanatos. And so is Death. ”
Death bent a finger, keeping its long sharp fingernail away from Makoto’s fragile skin, rubbing a knuckle up against his hole. Makoto huffed in frustration as he realized that there was no way Death could fuck him. The disparity in their sizes was too great, and the being holding him was…strangely hesitant to actually harm him. It probably wouldn’t be convinced to penetrate Makoto with its sharp nail.
But it seemed that both Death and Makoto had the same desire to not leave things between them unfinished. Makoto’s eyes went wide and his cheeks flushed as he saw Death uncurl its tongue again, letting it slither between Makoto’s legs and prod inside of him. As thin as it was, it was still huge inside of Makoto –– too hot and wide and barely fitting inside of him. As Death began to press its tongue against his walls, Makoto bit down on his lip, half expecting to be ripped in half as he was fucked into.
Death moved deeper and deeper into Makoto’s body, piercing right through to his core where it had resided for so long, curled up and warm next to Makoto’s heart. And even as Makoto screamed and thrashed around from the agonizing pleasure, it felt right to be connected in such a way.
Makoto tried to hold it together, to draw out their time for a little further, but the urgency with which Death was fucking him with its mouth was proof that they did not have long. So, when Makoto felt his orgasm building, he didn’t fight it, letting a warm wave of ecstasy wash over him, turning his limbs to jelly and relaxing his muscles, as if he were in a gentle, soothing hold, being lulled into a final sleep.
Makoto was wrecked. His legs were splattered with his own cum, he had an ugly red ring of bruises around his waist from where Death had squeezed him, and his eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. The view above him was nothing but Death, as big as the entire world, staring at Makoto with the same porcelain expression. But from one of those empty eyes…there was a single tear, shining like a crystal in the light of Earth’s final hour.
“...don’t cry,” Makoto managed to say, his voice so quiet underneath the roar of Nyx, descending upon them. “It’s okay. You didn’t hurt me.”
Makoto stretched out his hands, beckoning Death closer. After a second, Death brought his finger back to Makoto’s stomach, tracing the shape of his ribs as more and more silent tears began to fall. One of the tears landed right on Makoto’s head, drenching him instantly. Death loosened its grip, using his one exposed finger to fuss over Makoto, brushing his soaked bangs away clumsily.
“It’s fine,” Makoto insisted, ducking away and fixing his hair by himself so he could get a better look at Death. “Really. Even like this, you’re still…”
Makoto couldn’t finish his sentence, because he didn’t want to lie to the being he loved. It was just as Ryoji had said. He was different…unfamiliar. Ryoji Mochizuki was gone, superseded by a power too great to be comprehended, too enormous and complex to be loved in turn. As he was…Makoto was only another lost soul to be collected. If he really wanted to love him the way he wanted, he’d need to be like that too. More than himself.
“H-Hey,” Makoto said, his voice trembling. “Can we…be one again? I…I don’t want to leave you. Even if that means I lose myself. Take me to Nyx.”
The moon above them was unraveling, revealing a bright red eye, being drawn to the Earth by her beacon –– the harbinger. Makoto could feel the two of them being drawn together like magnets, the air rushing by prickling his skin and forming goosebumps on his arms and legs. The avatar stared at him silently. Its tears had dried, and Makoto knew that their time had finally run out.
“I don’t care what happens to me,” Makoto said. “I’m not leaving you. And…I’m not letting you destroy this world yet, because I know you love it so much.”
With great effort, Makoto wobbled to his feet in Death’s hold, even as they were drawn up into Nyx together. There were tears in his eyes, and he let them fall, not caring how he ruined a body he would soon be liberated from. Makoto approached Death’s nearest finger and rested his forehead against it, kissing Death softly with lips chapped from the cold. It would be Makoto Yuki’s final goodbye.
“Wait for me…dearest,” Makoto whispered, clutching the newly-formed universe arcana tightly in his mind. The sky disappeared and everything became dark as Makoto was swallowed into Nyx, suspended in the embodiment of darkness and inches away from the core of the maternal being. As he raised one finger up above his head, Makoto spoke his last words.
“We have an eternity to look forward to together.”