Archive of Our Own

As the bell tolled, and with the final words spoken from the priest, “Go forth, the Mass has ended.”

Terrance let out a sigh that he was unaware that had pent up, he stood up from his seat in the pew, he slowly walked out of the crowded benches, hearing the idle chatter of the exiting parishioners. 

As the parishioners slowly started to siphon out of the church, Terrance began to move to the front of the building; using the rows of pews as a guide to the altar. As he progressed to the chancel, the priest: Father Antoine, walked to him with open arms.

Terrance opened his arms, accepting the embrace from Father Antoine. Father Antoine exhaled in relief, “I trust that you are well, Terrance.” Father Antoine spoke. 

His hands, callused deeply from prayer, skimmed along Terrance’s back, embracing Terrance as if he were his own child. 

Terrance responded, “I am, Father. Truly I tell you, Father, you fret too much for my safety; I’m a grown man now.” 

“Sure, you may be grown now; yet I remember when you were just an infant, toddling around these pews.” Father Antoine chuckled, 

Terrance slumped out of the hug dramatically, “Father, must you publicly display this much… affection.” Terrance raised his hand up to his head, feigning dramatical distress. 

“In all seriousness, Terrance, you were like the son I never had. I’m so proud of how far you have come along, in our faith and as a young man.” Father Antoine admitted, his warm smile shining— although Terrance was born with visual impairments, that never prevented him from feeling the tenderness and benevolence that radiated.

Terrance was about to reply to Father Antoine— but his stomach betrayed him, growling as if he hadn’t eaten in millennia.

Father Antoine chuckled, “A grown man now, eh? Ever since you were an infant, you’ve had the appetite of one.”

Terrance began laughing, a rare sound emerging from the habitually quiet boy. 

“Come now, my son. The sisters have prepared a fine feast on behalf of the preparation to ignite the third lenten candle.” Father Antoine spoke, patting Terrance’s back.

Terrance’s laughter died down at the mention of food— yet his stomach persisted, crying out in hunger, “Blessed be, Father. I’m famished.” 

As Terrance and Father Antoine progressed into the depth of the monastery, the sisters greeted them as they passed, slowly siphoning themselves into the dining hall.

Intricate stained glass murals embedded on windows, representing the various crucial stories in the Bible. As Terrance progressed through the narrow halls with Father Antoine he began to reminisce memories of times long gone.

He paused as he recalled a memory of him and his older sister, Vivante,

He could remember the interaction between him and his sister like it was yesterday, the memory ingrained into the core of his brain. It was a blazing summer day in the desert— he ran down the church’s hall, pretending to be a bird soaring through the sky, his arms childishly outstretched.

Vivante had caught him in her arms, preventing him from running any further. “Lift me, Lift me up, older sister!”

“Oh mon Dieu, again, Terrance?

“Of course again!”

Terrance giggled warmly, his childhood lisp transforming his words into softer sounds, his vowels mollifying as if they were honey.

“If I lift you up, will you finally cease pestering me, Terrance?” Sarcasm evident in her tone.

“Fine~!” Terrance concluded, stretching the vowels playfully, giggling as he did. 

To calm down Terrance’s rowdiness, Vivante had lifted him up to the stained glass, allowing him to trace the grooves of the grout in the illustrations. Detailing to her younger brother, the illustrations and stories being told on the stained glass.

“That,” Vivante guided her younger brother’s chubby fingers upwards, tracing the shape of the graceful figure. “is the Virgin Mary.” The Virgin Mary was beautifully displayed, even if Terrance was unable to see her, the dedication and craftsmanship was forever memorialized in the way she was portrayed in the glass.

Terrance felt along the curves of his eyes, they were delicate and rounded, almost identical to a dewdrop. However, the words about to come out of his mouth were not. “I know who the Virgin Mary is, Vivante!” Terrance protested, becoming childishly irked. “Do you think that I don’t pay attention in Mass?” 

“You mustn’t pay attention to those grades!” Vivante teased, trying to pry a reaction out of Terrance.

“Hey!” He shrieked, “Sister Elouise says I’m the best student in her class!!” Terrance bluffed, puffing his cheeks in pride.

“Well no wonder Sister Elouise said that, you’re in a class with idiots.” Vivante responded, matter of factly.

Terrance cackled at that statement “I’m gonna tell Father Marc that you’re swearing, Vivante!” Terrance squirmed out of his older sister’s grasp, wriggling his tiny body, before immediately making a beeline for what he thought was Father Marc’s office.

Instead of Terrance making it successfully to Father Marc’s office, to snitch on Vivante. He ran straight into a wall, knocking the holy water font to the floor, assaulting his cranium on the way down.

Vivante held steady for a second, attempting to gauge Terrance’s reaction before choosing to act, and assist her younger brother.

Terrance’s lip wobbled— an indicator that many tears were coming, Vivante rushed over to her brother’s side, hoisting Terrance onto her waist before transferring him to her arms.

He began to cry in that childish way that makes individuals realize their wrongdoings, Vivante cleared her throat awkwardly, unsure of how to continue. She most definitely wasn’t the emotional type, but for once she grimaced, stiffly patting Terrance’s back in an attempt to soothe his hurt.

As she walked down the corridor, younger brother in her arms. She hummed softly, her memory attempting to recall the comforting tune of Terrance’s favourite song. Vivante began making her way down to the hallway that the nuns mingled in, to hopefully alleviate the sorrow from his expression.

In the present, Terrance began to smirk faintly at the recollection of the past, forgetting his earlier hunger at the own cost of remembering his childhood idiocy.

At last, Father Antoine and Terrance had arrived at the dining hall— Father Antoine led the young man to the head of the table, seating him to his left. 

When Terrance sat down, he could immediately feel a sense of unease, from the harsh piercing gaze shot directly at him from his older sister, Vivante Laurent. 

Terrance didn’t require any sense of sight to realize that his sister wasn’t in a terrific mood, he cleared his throat awkwardly.  

To provoke Vivante— especially when she’s in a condition like this, would be equivalent to poking a sleeping bear. 

Terrancde concluded, grimacing slightly. Terrance, being the intelligent young man he is, didn’t want to run that risk.

However, in a combination of naivety and the inability to read a room without positive connotations, and/or straight up plain stupidity— Father Antoine decided that it would be an extremely relevant time to discuss with Vivante about her most recent exorcism. 

“Vivante, what a pleasure to have you here,” Father Antoine brightly spoke, smiling again at seeing one of his exorcists “I trust that the exorcism that you did today went well, Vivante?”

“Mmph…” Replied Vivante, preoccupied by stuffing her face with food whilst another nun passed down a ceramic dish of potatoes to Father Antoine.

“Sister Elizabeth made these herself, Father Antoine. We woke up at the brink of dawn to pick fresh parsley for this very feast.” Sister Margaret led, her silvery hair catching under the chandelier’s beaming luminescence.

Father Antoine chuckled, “Thank you, Sister Margaret. These potatoes look delectable; I can smell the parsley from here!” Father Antoine gently held the ceramic dish in his hands, scooping the parsley coated potatoes onto his plate. 

Sister Margaret smiled as she reached for the dish, to then pass the potatoes to Terrance. Terrance grinned as he heard the dish being handed to him, he had always loved the smell of Sister Elizabeth’s potatoes, they reminded him of the home he had built in the cathedral’s community. 

Father Antoine cleared his throat before beginning to speak, “Sisters and Brothers, as children of Christ; Let us pray to the Lord, our God, before indulging in this very feast.” 

The nuns stood up from their seats, clasping each other’s hands in prayer, looking down as a sign of respect and obedience to their God, thanking him for all the blessings he has bestowed upon them and the cathedral.

Father Antoine led the prayer, his warm and optimistic voice booming through the dining hall, “Bless us, O Lord, and these thy gifts, which we’re about to receive, from thy bounty, through Christ our Lord, Amen.”

An overwhelming reply of, “Amen” could be heard throughout the cathedral’s dining hall, the nuns’ overlapping voices mixing in with each other to make one harmonious sound of praise.

Following the end of the prayer, the nuns began to lower themselves into their chairs, however Father Antoine remained standing, smiling to himself. 

“Now sisters and brothers, this very week marks an extraordinarily significant week in our Advent calendar.” Father Antoine started, “Today, we ignite the pink candle of joy, as Catholics, the children of Christ, we are blessed to have each other’s presence and warmth in our holy community this time of the year.” Father Antoine finished, holding his glass high for cheers.

The gold plated rims of goblets clinked against each other, creating an orchestra of metallic vibrations that could be heard throughout the dining hall.

Terrance began eating his dinner, as did most. He was truly grateful for the thought that the nuns had put into extravagant meals such as the one he was currently consuming. 

He heard a noise in front of him, the sound of a chair being pushed backwards, the person slowly making their own stand. Once they began speaking, it was evident to Terrance the identity of this mysterious person.

“To parody what Father Antoine has proclaimed, when we light the third candle of joy, we rejoice in the fact that our saviour is to be born in the forthcoming future.” Said the man, whose voice Terrance almost instantly recognized, his Parisian lilt made certain words glide smoothly, almost like honey.

And that man was none other than— Benjamin Lafayette, Vivante’s fiancé and one of Terrance’s most trusted companions. 

Benjamin was a part of the 1er Régiment de Cuirassiers, an eminent and honourable rank of soldier in the French army. Cuirassiers were to be dispatched at the frontlines of various assaults, their cuirass’ served as imminent protection from outward thrusts or jabs from opposing sabres.

Benjamin lifted his cup, “To the blessings of Family and Love in this season of Advent!” 

Father Antoine smiled, as did the majority of the nuns. Slowly, the table evolved into chattering about the anticipated holiday of Christmas. Countless sisters conversing about the decorations they planned to hang up around the church, to create a livelier atmosphere for the parishioners and their children.

As dinner progressed, a gentle rhythm had set into the table, the passing of dishes, the refilling of water, even mundane tasks like fetching napkins felt like a great service to the community in the church. 

“As I was saying before,” Father Antoine started, “How did the exorcism go, Vivante?” 

Vivante glared at him again, “It went well.” She responded, irritated. 

“Didn’t go as you pleased, I reckon?” Father Antoine replied, continuing to bite at the green beans he had on his plate.

Vivante was about to reply, irritation had seeped into her facial expression. Her eyebrows furrowing to represent the building feeling of being incensed, her eyes squinted in annoyance.

Benjamin softly grasped her hand, “Ma cherie, refrain from indignation at the table.” Benjamin slowly lifted his hand to her face’s level, gently brushing a stray strand of hair to the side of her face.

As Vivante gazed at him, she felt the anger tight in her chest to begin to dissipate at the sight of her dearest fiancé. Vivante cleared her throat before speaking again, “It didn’t go as I planned, and I am quite perturbed with the results.”

Father Antoine nodded in agreement, “Very well then, Vivante.” Father Antoine replied, “My intention wasn’t to pressure you to respond.”

Vivante nodded to the Priest in acknowledgement, pouring a glass of wine for herself. 

“Perhaps— we should switch the subject to the other exorcist in the room. Eh, Terrance?” Benjamin proclaimed, turning his chin up in a directive motion, signaling attention to his friend.

Terrance’s head perked up at the mention of his name, he slowly lowered his fork which had a potato speared at its tip, “Hm? What about me needs to be discussed?” Terrance questioned.

“Actually, my boy, there is something we need to discuss.” Father Antoine spoke, his voice dropping from his usually warm and optimistic tone to one of grave seriousness. 

Terrance tilted his head slightly, in confusion, “Which is what, Father?”

“The heir to the Kapnós clan, Pyrrhus Kapnós, requests a word with you, Terrance.” Father Antoine began, his tone wavering, he was clearly hesitant on letting this meeting happen. 

The idle chatter from the nuns seemed to die down at the mention of the Kapnós clan, for everybody in the desert knew of them. 

“They are regarded as the reapers of life, Keres, to the people of Epirus. 

The Keres are beings ripped straight from the mythology of the Epirotes, known to be the bringers of violent death to mankind in conflict alongside bringing terrible omens among the people.

Keres are bloodthirsty beings who would stop at no end to rip the flesh from the bones of the dead, even fighting amongst themselves to devour the deceased. 

Decades before, the Laurent clan, with the help of the church and its numerous exorcists had worked together to create a peace treaty with the Ker. Attempting to work out the situation without resorting to violence and bloodshed, which are exactly what the Keres pry onto. 

At first, the Keres had refused, however after… cathartic negotiations, the Keres had begrudgingly agreed to the treaty’s conditions. Soon after the treaty was formed and agreed upon, the Keres were expected to take on a last name and form a government recognized clan.

They named themselves the Kapnós clan, translating to smoke, in their tongue. Representing the smoke that follows a battlefield after its conclusion, clandestinely displaying their affinity for bloodshed. 

As a gift to the newly formed Kapnós clan, they were given dominion over the people and the state of Epirus. 

At first, the Epirotes rejected the Kapnós family as their Monarchs, believing that allowing hideous creatures such as the Keres, to rule the state of Epirus, would only attract bad omens to the province.

However, the Epirotes theories, over time, had proven wrong.

Since the Kapnós clan came into power and became the Monarchs of the state of Epirus, surprisingly, the state had become more prosperous than ever. 

The Epirotes army had grown grander, innumerable amounts of sons training to the end of their wits, with spear and shield to form an impenetrable phalanx.

On the other hand, there were the daughters of the Epirotes, who were supposedly being educated on topics thought far beyond their comprehension. 

Through the creativity of the arts, pottery and vases were adorned with beautifully created art of intricately written stories. These stories were the ones of heroes from long ago, immortalized through pottery to the Epirotes.

The intricately crafted stories serving as cautionary tales of behavior and conduct, especially of one’s etiquette whilst referring to the Gods and Goddesses of their Pantheon.

In the present, the Kapnós clan serves as one of the desert’s largest and most renowned clans and as the Monarchs of the Epirotes. 

However, the political climate of the desert has become increasingly unstable and even hostile. Especially with the appearance of a mysterious borderline terrorist organization hellbent on collecting power and fame to bring attention to their cause.

A meeting like this between the heads of the two clans, Kapnós and Laurent, as powerful and as influential as each of them were in the desert, could go extremely awry if Terrance didn’t play his cards correctly.”

He continued, “Nevertheless, the way he scrawled the letter addressing you, it seems that this conference is of grave necessity.” 

Terrance quietly thought to himself,

What could he possibly require from me?

I have nothing that a Keres, such as him, would be interested in… 

“Ah, I see,” Terrance began, “Well if he truly requires me for a meeting, I’d be happy to discuss whatever he’d like to converse with me about.”

Terrance cleared his throat before speaking again, “Say, Father, when have you scheduled me to speak with him?” Terrance refrained from speaking the Heir’s name, for the emotions that followed with it were far too grand to discuss at the moment.

“Later this evening," Father Antoine responded, while continuing to eat his supper, “As I have aforementioned, the way in which he wrote to me seemed as if the discussion was important. I’d assume that he’s reaching out to discuss allyship, to secure the political state of the Desert.”

Terrance spat out his food in shock, the nun beside him gently patting his back to prevent him from choking on any excess food. 

“THIS EVENING?” Terrance was stunned in astonishment, his usual elegance whilst speaking completely vanished— he was stunned due to the revelation he had just experienced. “For you must be jesting with me, Father Antoine.”

“Have I not made myself clear enough to you, Terrance?” Father Antoine began, his usually cheerful voice morphing the stern tone a father would use when their child was misbehaving. “The Kapnós heir, Pyrrhus, requests an urgent meeting with you. You will be seeing him tonight, Terrance, end of discussion.”

Terrance considered again, what this meeting could possibly be for, this time, racking his brain for clues… 

What could Pyrrhus … possibly need to discuss with me that is THIS urgent?

Even thinking of his name made Terrance’s heart drop to his stomach.

His cheeks flushed slightly, to anybody at the table, Terrance looked hesitant and uneasy for the meeting.

But to Terrance… this conference with Pyrrhus meant everything to him. 

Was it a mission gone awry?

No, he knew Pyrrhus was far too swift to be bested by any opponent. 

A compromise on his honour through a damaged shield?

Pyrrhus would rather himself be decapitated, than let someone damage his shield. Terrance knew it was a keepsake from Pyrrhus’ deceased elder brother, Serafim.

An extremely cramped bicep from spear practice?

Plausible, but an issue that Pyrrhus could deal with on his own.

A crazed potential suitor stalking him?

Terrance smirked at the thought of him being stalked by a woman. He imagined Pyrrhus, trying his best to fly away, as a woman chased him with a lyre, hellbent on becoming his wife.

The more Terrance thought into the possibilities of the situation, the more nonsensical the answers his brain regurgitated were. Fictional and irrational thoughts flooding his brain, completely cutting Terrance off from any sense of common sense and reasoning he had.

A musical based calamity in the form of a broken lyre?

Outwardly, Pyrrhus feigned as if he hated playing the lyre, verbalising his belief on the learning to play the lyre as a waste of time.

Terrance knew deep down this was a lie. He knew how Pyrrhus’ face contorted when he was jubilant. For he had felt the creases around Pyrrhus’ lips with his own hands, he had felt the soft, cherubic skin of his cheeks.

Terrance hadn’t even noticed it yet, but he had begun to daydream again, recalling times long gone..

One summer day, the burning sun beating down in waves of unmeasurable heat on the dunes of the desert. The sand, constantly whipping and twirling at the commands of the wind. 

Pyrrhus had sat on an oddly shaped boulder, propping his intricately crafted lyre upon his thigh as he prepared to play. Terrance sat beside him, delicately resting his head upon the Ker’ lap. Pyrrhus found this extremely humorous, he combed his hands through Terrance’s straight brown hair.

As Pyrrhus began to pluck out the first several notes from the hymn he was about to perform, Terrance reached up to what he had assumed was Pyrrhus’ lyre; he wished to feel the intricate woodwork engraved in it.

Terrance had adored the feeling of Pyrhhus’ lyre when he ran his hands over it. Elaborate carvings of his favourite myth, the tragic tale of love between his Lord Apollo and Hyakinthos, embedded deep into the willow’s wood. The Gold plating on the very top of the lyre reflecting the heat of the scorching sun.

However, Terrance had accidentally cupped the soft skin of Pyrrhus’ cheek, he promptly pulled his hand away, afraid of repercussions. Pyrrhus had shot his hand out to catch it, inadvertently causing his lyre to clatter to the sandy dunes.

In this new position, Pyrrhus had tenderly lifted Terrance’s hand back to his cheek. This time, even being so bold as to lovingly nip at his hand—

Terrance whimpered at the soft pressure of the bite, Pyrrhus seized this opportunity to press a gentle kiss down to his hand.

“Did I injure you, Philtatos? 

There it was, again. Terrance was used to being called this nickname by Pyrrhus, for its meaning, he had no clue. He had always assumed it was something translating to a close friend. 

Yet whenever he asked Pyrrhus about its meaning, he would always burst out laughing, refusing to translate for him.

“You didn’t, Pyrrhus… You just,” He hesitated… feeling his heart beat slightly faster as he tried to force the answer out of his mouth “… startled me.”

Pyrrhus giggled, throwing his head back in hilarity, “My apologies then, Philtatos!” 

“It’s fine, Pyrrhus.” Terrance replied, his cheeks burning in embarrassment… and another feeling that he wouldn't dare to name,  not in front of Pyrrhus, his closest companion. 

When Pyrrhus’ laughing had ceased, he had reached for his lyre again, but to no avail. Pyrrhus spotted his lyre on the dunes, slowly being covered by a thin layer of sand.

He jumped off the rock, his wings serving as supports as glided down to the ground, he ran to retrieve his lyre, brushing the sand off of the carvings. As Pyrrhus went to pick the lyre up by the golden parts, he jumped back in distress, he had touched the golden part of the lyre that had been absorbing the sun’s rays, the heat now unbearable.

“μαλακά!” Pyrrhus cried out, sucking his thumb in an attempt to cease the burning.

Terrance had turned his head to the location of the sound’s resonance, “Are you okay, Pyrrhus?”

“Not really, No! I burnt myself!” Pyrrhus stammered, now flicking his hand forwards and back to halt the stinging pain. 

Terrance had grinned,

This idiot wasn't even aware that metal heats up in the sun’s view.. he had thought, his lips curling into a smirk of hilarity.

“Pyrrhus, pick up the lyre by its wooden section, it won’t burn you!”

“Alright!” Pyrrhus answered, cautiously approaching his lyre. 

He knelt down and picked up the lyre, this time, by its wooden section.

Pyrrhus tucked the lyre under his arm, unfurling his wings from their position of rest, he burst up into the sky. Once at an acceptable altitude, he opened his hands, placing them together in a diamond shape. Pyrrhus lined up the middle point of the diamond shape to where Terrance was resting. 

He laughed to himself, wanting to surprise his Philtatos. 

Once he could see Terrance in the diamond he made with his hands, he folded his wings tightly against his body. After confirming that he was as aerodynamic as he could be, he began to stoop. Reaching maximum velocity in the matter of several seconds, soaring down to his target, Terrance, his Philtatos. 

As he flew closer to the oddly shaped boulder, he extended his wings into a position that allowed him resistance to halt his descent quickly. Unfortunately for him, he had miscalculated his landing spot— and that was made apparently clear the closer he got to the target, Terrance. 

The next few seconds passed like a blur— when Pyrrhus came to his senses, he had come to a halt, he was on top of the boulder, like he had planned. However the unfortunate reality was that he was on top of Terrance. He was pressing the both of them to the boulder, amen quite frankly, Pyrrhus was practically straddling his lap, their faces extremely close together.

“Did you intend to land this… closely, Pyrrhus?” Terrance choked out, face reddening by the second. 

He could feel the warmth from Pyrrhus’ body radiating, heat seeping into his clothing. Terrance knew the Ker’ bodies functioned at much higher temperatures than humans did, he just didn’t expect to be so close to one, physically and literally. 

“I may have… miscalculated my landing position.” Pyrrhus responded, his cheeks reddening just as Terrance’s were. 

“You can… get off now, Pyrrhus.” Terrance muttered, flustered to his core.

“Yeah…” He paused, in a daze, before snapping back to reality, “Yeah, my fault.” Pyrrhus followed up with, equally as embarrassed.

“It’s… fine” Terrance added, his voice straining before he replied. He would’ve loved to stay in that position with Pyrrhus, in fact he would’ve loved to escalate the situation further, but he wasn’t sure what Pyrrhus would think of him if he had admitted that.

After that awkwardness, Pyrrhus was able to begin playing the hymn, again. Terrance’s head resting on his lap, like always. Whilst playing the hymn, dedicated to one of the countless gods in his pantheon, on the lyre for him, Pyrrhus had asked him a question that would completely alter his perspective—

“Terrance— Philtatos, have you decided on a bride yet?”

Terrance remembered how Pyrrhus’ voice had strained slightly enough to be noticeable when the word… bride was mentioned. 

Neither of them wanted to be reminded of the reality of the future and their world.

Terrance knew he had to choose a bride, to have a successor with, so that his child could lead the Laurent clan with dignity and composure. Lead with more composure than he, Terrance Laurent, the blind son of Thierry Laurent.

Yet whenever he thought of finding a potential bride, no joy came to his heart, he felt monotonous and bland. 

Terrance has met many women, however, none of them seemed to pique his interest. 

His heart never leaped with joy thinking of marrying any woman.

But his heart did leap when he was with… 

Him

…

Pyrrhus Kapnós 

His best friend and closest companion since childhood, they had practically grown up together. And now, as young men, since they had grown, Terrance had felt as if the only thing that contributed to his happiness was the presence of Pyrrhus.

His memory started to go hazy, he couldn’t quite remember the events that happened after that.

To everyone else in the dining hall, Terrance had looked as if he’d been pondering in regards to the meeting for a while now. His face not yet cracking from his stern expression, lips pressed together in a thin line. 

Except to the people that truly knew him, they could tell that Terrance wasn’t thinking, he was daydreaming in the midst of dinner.

Vivante, clearly annoyed by her brother’s lack of care to respond to Father Antoine, raised her hands, clapping sharply, snapping Terrance back to reality.

Terrance shook his head, trying to bring back any semblance of normality after that… vivid and passionate daydream “Alright, Father.” Terrance nodded his head, “I will meet with… Pyrrhus tonight.”

“Very well, Terrance.” Father Antoine spoke, his voice resonating through the dining hall.

After the discussion about Terrance meeting with Pyrrhus had ended, the dinner table fell into its usual monotony. 

The nuns conversed amongst themselves as usual, this time, they were comparing recipes of desserts with each other. A few sisters were debating if the zest of a lemon should be included whilst baking the Bûche de Noel on Christmas eve. 

Several sisters argued that it would prove as an excellent addition of citrus to the cake, allowing for extra flavour to seep into the spiral within. On the opposing side, countless other sisters argued that the Bûche de Noël should be made as it was traditionally, without the addition of a lemon’s zest.

All these debates and altercations contributed to the bustle and excitement of the dining hall. Advent was to be over soon, which meant Christmas was just around the corner. 

Benjamin and Vivante had engaged in some idle chatter with Father Antoine. Terrance was only being able to hear segments of it, phasing in and out of this dreamlike state he was in. His mind was still hazy from being unable to remember the ending to that memory of him and Pyrrhus.

“We plan to get married, hopefully around the time of next December.” Benjamin had started, clasping Vivante’s hand, “I’d adore to have a wedding in the midst of the winter, I feel as though the daintiness of the snow would add to the overall essence of the event!”

Vivante had less to say about the wedding, she wasn’t the type of person to openly disclose how she felt unless it was of the utmost importance. 

She saw no problem with having her wedding in the midst of the winter, yet her mind jumped to a sarcastic conclusion, as always. 

For she would rather be frozen alive in her wedding dress in the dead of the winter, then be baked alive in the heat of the summer in the desert.

“A wedding in the depth of winter, Eh?” Father Antoine questioned, “Are you not afraid of freezing in your suit, Benjamin?” He joked, clearly finding the event’s timing very far from when many other couples would’ve chosen to get married. 

Countless other couples preferred Autumn and the Spring as dates for their wedding, especially in the arid desert. Yet Benjamin Lafayette and Vivante Laurent were an exception, and they had different plans for their dates. 

As Benjamin was about to respond to Father Antoine— But then Terrance had stood up from his chair, rummaging around where he was seated at the dining table to find his plate. Once he had found his plate, he pushed his chair back into the table. 

“Father Antoine,” Terrance began, “May I be excused from the table?”

Father Antoine clocked his head to the side, “Of course, Terrance.” He began, “If I may inquire, why have you chosen to depart so early? You’re usually one of several people that stay until the end of the feast.” he finished.

“I just feel that I need to… freshen up. Especially with the aforementioned arrival of the Kapnós heir, Pyrrhus, later tonight.” Terrance said, unbeknownst to him, his face was completely crimson.

“Are you not, utterly horrified by the potential loss of… desert after this meal, Terrance?” Father Antoine joked, 

“Not at all, Father Antoine.” Terrance 

Father Antoine cleared his throat after taking another sip of wine “I see then, Terrance. Well, best of luck conversing with Pyrrhus Kapnós. Remember, Terrance; represent the Laurent clan with dignity and honour.”

“I will, Father.” Terrance bowed his head as he exited the dining hall.

He used his free hand to trace along the wall, his other hand carrying his plate. He halted abruptly when he found the entrance to the scullery, Terrance gently pushed the door open and made his way over to the sink. 

He faintly felt around the kitchen top until he found the stack of other dishes, he deposited his on the top of the stack. 

He traced his hand on the wall again, this time, he was attempting to make his way to his bedroom.

His fingers trailed along the floral patterns on the wallpaper, He had always assumed they were beautifully designed, because he had heard countless nuns over the years, fawning over their careful embellishments.

Terrance had never seen the dainty flower designs, for he had never seen anything in his life. 

His eyes had failed him as a child, for when other children saw the world’s vivid colours, Terrance’s eyes had blurred them. Photophobia is what the physicians of the north called it. Yet some parishioners saw his blindness as an omen to the Laurent clan— as if it was divine retribution for unspoken and unconfessed sins. 

Yet Terrance had no care in the world for their petty gossip, being blind hadn’t prevented him from experiencing the world, he just experienced it through a different light. 

He was extremely grateful for the companions he had, those who could care less for the fact he was blind, those who wouldn’t infantilize him and treat him as if he was incompetent because of his disability. 

His hand came to a halt when he felt the vestibule to the stairs.

Terrance began his ascent, tapping his foot off of the bottom step to measure how far he’d need to step up. He reached for the railing and began his climbs, when he eventually got to the top of the stairs, he felt around the railing for the large nob at the top. 

After he made his way upstairs, he began making his way to his bedroom. He used the railing on the wall to guide him, when he had arrived at his door, he fumbled to open the doorknob. 

Eventually, he opened his door, he had smacked at the wall until he found the light switch, flicking the light on. 

He slammed his door shut and collapsed onto his bed in exhaustion, the day had already reaped the majority of his energy, and in addition to that, he still had to conference with Pyrrhus later that night. 

He groaned to himself, exhaustion had already consumed his body yet he needed to continue carrying on.

Terrance had slumped onto his side, he debated internally if he should just fall asleep and apologize to Pyrrhus for his tardiness at a later date. 

There he was again, always clouding his memory at the near mention of his presence…  

His name, that would cause Terrance’s heart to pace faster, skipping beats in a sense of… excitement.

His honey smooth voice, that would ring throughout Terrance’s head, as melodious and as carefree as a small Nightingale.  

His defined nose, the almost perfectly straight line that ran down and guided it. 

His soft cheeks, as mellow and… inviting as the delicacy of puff pastries, the puff of the soft dough contributing to the ranking of one of Terrance’s favourite desserts. 

Those gently shaped eyes, shaped like almonds, slightly like Terrance’s ones, yet Pyrrhus was blessed with the gift of sight. 

Terrance had only resented his visual impairments when he thought of Pyrrhus, the notion of seeing his… companion instead of feeling his body and face to determine his features, was extremely tempting. 

Terrance would give anything to be able to see his dearest… friend, just once, just for a second. 

The thoughts of Him… 

His Beloved,

His Dearest, 

His Pyrrhus,

were… tantalizing, to say the least, and his body knew it.

It began with a small feeling of warmth in his stomach, Terrance had shrugged it off, the exasperation of the day’s events finally catching up to him. 

No matter what Terrance attempted to do, to calm himself and to relax, this sensation seemed to prevail. Terrance had rolled from his left hand side to laying directly on his back. 

The warmth in his lower body began to seep to other areas, his heart beating faster than it usually had, combined with the sensation of exhilaration had only seemed to grow grander and grander. 

After what felt like ages, Terrance had finally come to his senses and had concluded what his current predicament was.

Terrance’s cheeks burned red, his mind vacating all logic, to begin frantically trying to cover for his external… situation.

How could I be such a fool as to let this happen?

I shouldn’t be imagining such thoughts as these, this is… wrong. Acting on fantasies such as these isn’t what the Lord, my Father, would want for me.

I’d be giving myself, as a child of Christ, up to temptation. 

Giving my thoughts and actions up to one of the cardinal sins, the sin of Lust. 

Allowing myself to act so… carnally will not allow me to prevail righteously through my life.

No matter what reasoning he gave to himself, the moment’s sensibilities would continue to dwell. He bit his lip in deliberation, his lips attempting to restrain the… whimpers, that were bound to leave him if he spoke. Terrance sighed, the kind of deep sigh that you have before you walk headfirst into an action. He thought again, considering his desires…

Maybe… just this once, I am able to let go of the Lord, my God, and fall into temptation. 

To fall into the temptations and thoughts surrounding his beloved, Pyrrhus. 

The Man that Terrance had loved more than himself, 

The… companion that Terrance would give his own head for, 

Terrance would cringe internally as he called Pyrrhus his… companion, he desired for him to be more. 

He would make him more, one way or another.

He felt that desire ever so strongly as his hand had snaked its way down his past torso, reaching for his belt. Through his swift dexterity, Terrance had removed his belt, tossing it to the side. The silver of the buckle, along with the embellishment of the cross, had clattered to the floor with a small metallic thud.Terrance had not cared, he was preoccupied with a more pressing issue at the moment.

His hands circled back up his chest, this time with the motive of removing his dress shirt. He fumbled with the buttons for several odd seconds, before deciding to shrug off what he could of his shirt. 

After all of the exertion, he had begun panting. He needed relief, Terrance could feel the bulge in his pants growing.

His hands finally slid downward his body, reaching his trousers. He slid them off without hesitation, discarding them to the side, along with his belt. 

When Terrance had reached his boxers, he attempted to pull them clean off in one foul motion. His hands had stuttered, and Terrance immediately felt the pressure that he needed.

He let out a sharp intake of breath, “… nghh..” His hips bucked forward instantly, almost instinctually. His back swiftly arched, even the smallest of stimulation felt as if it was world-shattering. 

Before he had even known it, he had begun bucking his hips against his hand, desperately chasing release. The sensations this brought him were heavenly, combined with the fact that he was thinking of Pyrrhus.

“… aagh~!” Terrance cried out, throwing his head back as he gritted his teeth in an attempt to silence himself.

Terrance knew deep down that this wasn’t enough to make him finish, so he attempted to pull his boxers down, again. However this time, he managed to pull them off fully, hurling them to the rapidly growing pile of his clothes on the floor.

The moment he felt the crisp night air on his bare body, he began to shiver at the caresses of his own touch. He pushed himself back up onto his pillows, leaning his back against the bed’s headboard, pressing the back of his scalp to the oak hardwood. 

He thought to himself then, this time, his thoughts weren’t as… unexplicit as the Church would prefer them to be.

One day, I’ll have Pyrrhus bent over this headboard,

On all fours, for me, his head pressed down to the pillow and his ass pressed up to my waist,

I want him to beg for me, to beg for mercy whilst I desecrate him and his plump ass.

To feel his back arched further than that of the Arc de Triomphe, exactly like the whore he is, 

I’d force him bite this fucking headboard whilst I ram myself into that tight hole of his,

I’ll fill him up with my cum more than an eclair getting filled with cream, and I’d give him a taste of my… filling to taunt him,

I’d grab those stupid golden locks of his under my firm grasp and make him scream my name

I’ll make sure the way his legs twitch and quiver after I'm done with him, are living proof of the fact I dominated him. 

The more Terrance had thought about the possibility of fucking Pyrrhus into submission, the more aroused he had become. The mere thought of Pyrrhus being his, alone, had made Terrance hornier than he would like to admit.

His cheeks had crimsoned, a stark contrast from his usually pale complexion. He smirked at this revelation, he felt himself growing harder by the second. 

“hngh…” He groaned, lightly tapping the back of his head off of the headboard. 

He stilled himself for a moment, slowly drowning out all other sounds in his room until he could only hear himself panting. 

With this silence, Terrance’s hands began their descent down to his waist. His hands purposefully brushed past the hair at his midsection, using it as a guide down to his waist, and his erect cock below.

Terrance began sluggishly rocking against his own hands, attempting to create friction. Slowly but surely, his hands stopped at his shaft, gently massaging the tender and incredibly reactive flesh of his groin. He cupped his balls, rubbing them tenderly before refocusing his efforts onto his cock.

His dick was throbbing immensely, Terrance had already edged himself enough, especially by imagining all of those scenarios of him and Pyrrhus copulating. He whined again, the sensation of his own erection proving far too grand for him, 

“… aah..” He whimpered, jerking his hips up abruptly.

As his hands took a hold of his erect cock, slowly beginning to move up and down his shaft. After Terrance had executed the first few strokes on his cock, he had become more confident in his pace. Slowly urging himself to pick up the tempo, his hands wrapped tightly around his cock. 

Finally, he got to the point where his hands began a relentless pace on his shaft, bobbing themselves on his twitching cock. His heart began racing at this sensation, he could hear his heartbeat throughout his body as he continued to pick up the pace. 

“… fuck..” Terrance had spat out, breathlessly. 

He felt the pressure immediately build up in his lower body, the warmth between his thighs burning hotter as he continued to stroke himself to climax. His back involuntarily arched as the pleasure grew deeper, his hips jutting against his hands, matching his pace.

“… ngh..” Terrance groaned. His head had lolled back in pleasure as his hands continued their assault on his throbbing cock, his head gently pressed against the headboard.

As he continued to jerk himself off, getting closer and closer to the edge of climax, his eyes had rolled back from the sheer intensity of his current predicament. 

The faster his hands worked on his cock, the faster he knew he would finish. His hips jutted forward, matching the pace of his hand. However, this time, a small amount of pre-cum sputtered out of his cock.

“Fu—Fuck me…” He whined to himself, “I’m so… close..”

Terrance’s cheeks burned red, judging by his reaction to the appearance of pre-cum, Terrance knew that he was mere seconds away from climaxing.

“.. Fuck!” Terrance loudly ‎moaned, as he came. His hips jutted onto his two hands, which were delivering the final strokes on his cock, to contribute to his orgasm. 

White ropes of cum splurged out of his erect cock, painting his stomach and hands with his own semen, the warmth of the fluid painting his cold skin. His back arching as much as it could. A warm, satisfying feeling washing over his body, as he feels his softening member in his hands. 

The muscles of his back unflexing as his orgasm subsided. It wasn’t a very overwhelming climax, but enough to keep him satiated for the time being. He lifted his head up from its lolled position, he then sat up in his bed, moving his legs to the edge.

Stumbling to stay upright, “… hah..” He panted, “Mon Dieu… I need to prepare.. for my meeting with Pyrrhus.” He rasped out, attempting to catch his breath after that.. physical exertion.

Terrance let out a pent up sigh, the exhaustion evident in his tone. He pushed his hands down on his knees, with that momentum, Terrance stood up and walked over to his wardrobe. 

Although he couldn't see himself, to others, he looked like an absolute mess. His hair was disheveled, his straight hair had adopted a relatively curly texture due to the sweat beading at his scalp. His face was no better, for it was puffy and flushed. 

Terrance ran a hand through his hair as a desperate attempt to appear presentable, for the Prince of Epirus and Heir to the Kapnós clan, Pyrrhus Kapnós. His hands began rummaging through the wardrobe’s drawers, he slowly located each piece of his clerical attire through careful dexterity.

He lifted his black cassock up to the sky, the fabric smooth enough to glide his hand smoothly through. Terrance couldn’t help but chuckle at the length of the garment. In his callused hands, the cassock looked excessively large, almost oversized.

He slayed the cassock on the top of his dresser as he reached for his white undershirt, smoothly slipping into the dress shirt with ease. He lifted his cassock again, rubbing the fabric between his arms before spreading his arms, allowing his arms to squirm into the arm holes of the cassock. 

Then he grabbed one side of the cassock, whilst he was grasping the other, he brought the two sides of the cassock together. He began trying to fasten up his cassock, fumbling slightly with the row of buttons on the attire. 

When he heard the knock at the door, Terrance fumbled over to answer, leaving the top few buttons of his cassock undone. The knocking grew louder until Terrance had opened the door— it was Father Antoine, here to guide Terrance down to the counsel room.

“You’ve tidied up well, Terrance.” Father Antoine began, his warm smile radiating. 

Terrance bowed his head to Father Antoine, “Thank you, Father.”

“Are you ready to meet with the Kapnós heir? He is said to arrive at any moment, by now.” Father Antoine articulated, placing a hand on Terrance’s back.

Terrance nodded, “Yes, Father.” He fumbled slightly in the doorway of his room, his hand swatting at the air, struggling to find his cane. 

Father Antoine gently reached out into Terrance’s room and retrieved his cane, handing it to Terrance with a chuckle, “You were looking for this.” 

Terrance smiled at the assistance, “Thank you, again, Father Antoine.”

The two men stepped out into the hall, Father Antoine leading Terrance to the basement in the church. By the dust bunnies and cobwebs that seemed to inhabit the cellar, it was quite obvious that nobody had cared to check up on the cleanliness of the cellar in a while.

Father Antoine gently pushed a door open, leading Terrance into the room where he would converse with Pyrrhus. Within the chamber were marvellous and intricately planned references to their faith and spirituality. Stained glass murals of scripture adorning the windows, detailing stories and the life of Jesus.A crucifix had been deliberately hung in the doorway, the oak wood and its imperfections adding further complexity to the tragic tale of Jesus’ death and sacrifice. 

Terrance bowed his head to pay his respects to the figure of Jesus on the crucifix. “Now, my son, the Kapnós heir, was said to arrive half an hour ago, yet it seems that he didn’t show. Sit tight while I try to locate him for you.”

“Absolutely, Father Antoine.” Terrance agreed, “Take all of the time you need.” 

Once Terrance had got seated, Father Antoine had nodded his head in a bow to Terrance. “Good luck, my son. May Christ protect you in the midst of this meeting, and may he guide you to choose the proper choices.”

Terrance nodded to the Priest, “God bless you too, Father Antoine. However, I’m able to hold my own ground without needing to involve the presence of the divine.” He joked, cheeks widening as his smile grew at his own joke.

When Father Antoine had closed the door, Terrance had slumped slightly in his seat, “Oh mon Dieu, all of that rushing to prepare for this meeting, for what? Pyrrhus is late, yet again.” He groaned, facepalming at his own incompetence for not factoring in Pyrrhus’ disregard for punctuality. 

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have had my hopes up for punctuality with Pyrrhus.” He remarked, “I swear, one day this idiot will be late for his coronation. His father will be holding the laurel crown out for him and he'd be nowhere to be se—”

Before Terrance could even finish his sentence, the door had been aggressively kicked open, swinging wide into the room, a frigid draft following. A familiar voice could be heard cackling obscenely loud at the disarray he had caused, his voice echoing throughout the cramped room. His pitch black wings, adorned by golden jewellery, were flapping in his joviality creating small gales in the office. 

Terrance smirked as he stood from his desk, gently pushing his chair back in. “It’s an honour to see you.” He bowed his head slightly, being cautious as to respect the weight of his title as the Prince of Epirus. “It’s been a while, Pyrrhus.”

“It has been, Philtatos.” Pyrrhus replied. He moved Terrance’s direction to greet him properly. Once Terrance was close enough to him, Pyrrhus grabbed the Exorcist by his waist and pressed him tightly against his body, caging Terrance into his chest with his arms.

The Exorcist’s breath had hitched, caught by surprise at the close contact. “What do you think you’re doing, Pyrrhus?”

Pyrrhus snickered, “Why so surprised, Philtatos? I’m greeting you.” The Ker purred, his lips curving upwards in smugness. The Ker had obviously taken advantage of the fact that in both of their cultures, a kiss on the cheek was a greeting. However Pyrrhus had taken the.. greeting, a step further by kissing Terrance on the lip.

He lifted his hands up to the gentle skin of Terrance’s cheek, Pyrrhus leaned into the Exorcist’s face, closing the gap between them with a small pec on the lips. The soft pressure on his lips teasing— taunting almost.

Terrance huffed, “In times like these— you’re a real pain in the ass, Pyrrhus.”

Terrance squirmed in his grasp slightly, before roughly reciprocating the kiss. The Exorcist then pushed Pyrrhus down onto the desk, the Ker’ wings flaring slightly at the sudden relocation. While pinned to the table, Terrance seized a hold of the plump muscle of the Ker’ ass, squeezing it slightly, to Pyrrhus’ delight.

“I know that deep down, you want me, Philtatos.” Pyrrhus alluringly whispered, “I can see the desire clouding your eyes, Philtatos.” Pyrrhus breathed gently into the Exorcist’s ear.

“Hah…” Terrance mumbled, “You must also see that I’m blind, Idiot.” Terrance quipped, spanking the Prince playfully on the backside.

After a few chaste touches slowly progressing downward the Prince’s chest, Terrance ran his tongue on Pyrrhus’ bottom lip. He did so as a tease and a test, the Ker smirked as he bit the Exorcist’s lip, drawing blood. 

To soothe himself from the dull ache radiating from his mouth, Terrance pushed his tongue into the Ker’ mouth. When he felt the Exorcist’s tongue pushing into his mouth, Pyrrhus lolled his head back, playing hard to get. 

He was teasing Terrance, and trying to get a rise out of him by lightly grinding against him. The Exorcist tried to pin the Ker down to the desk, in an attempt to cease the taunting, his wings flared in shock, knocking all of the decorative pieces on the desk off. Pyrrhus temporarily stopped grinding on Terrance to admire the crucifix necklace that he was wearing, the nimble craftsmanship evident in the way it was carved. 

Pyrrhus reached for the crucifix, but hesitated at the last second, his hand retreating from the foreign object. The Prince tilted his head ever so slightly to his left hand side when he was contemplating, a habit that he had carried with him since childhood. “Philtatos..” Pyrrhus began, sitting up from his slouched position whilst being pinned to the desk, unknowingly pulling their bodies closer together. 

“Yes, Pyrrhus? What could you possibly be thinking so… deeply about?” Terrance teased, pushing him down to the table again, nipping gently at his lips.

“You’ve changed your necklace, Philtatos.” Pyrrhus replied, his eyes tracing the pale skin of Terrance’s neck, masquerading as if he was examining the crucifix necklace adorning his neck. However— this act was quickly shattered when Pyrrhus began licking his lips slightly, at the sight of the gentle skin of the Exorcist’s neck. “Why’d you change your necklace, Philtatos? I thought you had grown fond of the old one.”

“I’m currently pinning you down to my desk, with my tongue practically halfway down your throat; yet the necklace I’m wearing is your bigger concern?” He muttered, attempting to hold in laughter at the absurdity of the statement.

Pyrrhus pressed a digit to Terrance’s lips, silencing him without speaking, “But, you didn’t answer my question, Philtatos.” He chuckles, “Why’d you switch it out?”

“If it’s of your utmost concern, I still possess the old necklace. I’ve just switched them out, because I had received this one as a gift, for my service in the…” Terrance’s voice quivered at the mere thought of the following word. His stomach churned in disgust as he tried to force the word out of his mouth, but to no avail, his voice slightly stammered in concern. “the… war.”

Pyrrhus could sense that Terrance didn’t want to converse more on the topic of the war, he slid his head into the crook of the Exorcist’s neck, as a gentle reminder that he was here for him. 

Pyrrhus tilted his head slightly and kissed the Exorcist on the cheek, grounding him in the present. 

When Terrance felt the contact of the kiss, he snapped out of the haze-like state he was in, he shook his head “We shouldn’t do… this.”

Terrance stepped away from the table, freeing Pyrrhus from his grasp. 

His cheeks burned in a mix of emotions, the scorching heat of shame, for his.. lustful behaviour had finally come down to scald him. “We need to address the subject of which you have come to talk about, Pyrrhus.” 

Pyrrhus chuckled slightly, still sitting atop of the desk Terrance had just pinned him to. 

He swayed his head forward, considering Terrance’s words, “I mean..” His smile widened predatorily, his fangs revealing themselves. "If you didn’t understand what I had written—” 

And then the thought had dawned on Pyrrhus, 

Perhaps, Somehow by a terrible turn of events—

His Philtatos did not get his letter, 

Or it had been intercepted by a rival of his family’s kingdom, 

Or perhaps the letter had been blown off his delivery bird, and it hadn't arrived at all,

Or perhaps it was transported to a different cathedral in the desert, 

The more thought that Pyrrhus put into the topic, the more it had  frightened him. His mind began racing with hypothetical possibilities of situations that hadn’t happened. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, “You… weren’t the one who received the letter I wrote, were you, Philtatos?” He questioned, sweat beading at his forehead.

The Ker had begun sweating incessantly, his hands shaking slightly as the realization had dawned on him. 

“Hm..?” Terrance scratched his scalp, tousling with strands of his hair as he thought. “Which letter are you alluding to, Pyrrhus?” He raised his hand, massaging his forehead as he tried to remember if he had received a letter recently from Pyrrhus. 

After a few seconds of awkward silence; of Terrance trying to recollect his memories of the events of the last few days, and Pyrrhus sweating as if he had run a marathon. 

Terrance finally came to a conclusion, “I have not received any letter from you, nor from your kingdom, for that matter.”

Pyrrhus’ face paled as he heard the confirmation he had been dreading. “YO—YOU DIDN’T GET MY LETTER!?” He shrieked, covering his mouth with his hands, tugging at his curly locks in anguish, “THEN— WHO DID?”

The Exorcist pressed his index finger to the Ker’ mouth, “Do not shriek, Pyrrhus. This is a church, and you are to remain respectful to my God.” Terrance could tell Pyrrhus had nodded due to the way his head bobbed up and down on his finger. 

Terrance pressed his hand to his brow, “If I recall it correctly, Father Antoine mentioned a letter that came from you. He said that you had been asking for this conference?” Terrance stated, “He said that your penmanship was quite.. subpar.” He quipped, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Pyrrhus’ face had completely paled, his grandest fear had animated itself. The olive skin on his face was now as pale as snow, his fangs had begun chattering, and then stopped abruptly— his mouth hung open in shock, “By all the Gods above…”

“Pray tell, Why are you so fearful of the letter’s contents, Pyrrhus? Were you not the one who called for it to be sent to me?" The Exorcist questioned, pushing him further to gain context into the situation.

The Ker’ head had slumped into his hands, his face burning bright red in embarrassment, the heat from his face dispersing into the crisp chilly air of the cathedral’s basement. "It was written specifically for you, Philtatos. For a purpose which shall remain... confidential."

“For what purpose, Pyrrhus?” Terrance interrogated, pushing him down onto the desk once more.

“It… um...” His breath had hitched before he managed to mumble the rest of the sentence out, “—contained… an… engraving of my… cock… when it was hard…” Pyrrhus stammered, looking away from the Exorcist in embarrassment as he concluded his sentence.

“...Oh” Terrance’s face dropped, utterly astounded at the revelation he had just heard. “Is that so, Pyrrhus?”

“Philtatos…” Pyrrhus whined for him, stretching every syllable longer than necessary, the need evident in his voice, “You’re so mean~!”

In all of the years he had known him, Terrance had never seen Pyrrhus act so… desperate. The Prince was panting heavily, face fully flushed as he looked up at Terrance. His fangs were chattering and clashing against each other. 

His wings began to shudder slightly, twitching at the smallest breath he took. As the shuddering persisted the golden jewelry set with priceless gemstones that were donning Pyrrhus wings started to fall to the ground.

“Your wings… they do not seem to remain still, much like you. Why is that Pyrrhus?” Terrance queried, moving closer to the Ker.

“As a species, us, Keres, we share lots of similarities to the aviary creatues— You know, the ones that snatch my food when I leave it out?” The Prince started, motioning his hands whilst he talked.

“Are you talking about birds?” Terrance asked the Ker, facepalming as he did. 

“Yes— YES!! Exactly that… our species is like the birds of prey, we have delicate wings, sharp talons, and fangs meant to pierce flesh.” Pyrrhus began, panting slightly as he choked the words out of his mouth. “But— ya know, another similarity we share with them would be their mating cycles.”

“I’m sorry— What did you say just now?” Terrance wheezed at this divulgence, the air being knocked out of his lungs whilst his heart began beating faster than it ever had before.

“What is so confusing to you, Terrance, is it our mating cycles? Do you not have them yourself, I thought they were natural for all beings?” Pyrrhus asked, genuinely confused, scratching his head. 

“N—No! Mating cycles are not normal for humans— Where did you even hear that!?” Terranice snapped back, his cheeks blushing a deep crimson red. 

“Well I had just figured, ya know… since I have them… they’re natural for… everyone?” Pyrrhus answered, raising his eyebrows in confusion. 

“I— uh…” Terrance couldn’t bring himself to respond to the Ker.

Pyrrhus continued whilst Terrance was in a state of deep thought and confusion, “As I was saying, the instinct approaches every winter season, and my race is left to… rot in these immense desires of breeding.”

Terrance’s face simultaneously paled on his brow, and burned red on his cheeks, the new information becoming far too much for him. 

The Ker’s breath hitched as if his breathing was growing increasingly harder for him to control, “I gotta tell you— Philtatos. I’m not exactly… immune to these instinctive pressures.” 

Terrance hummed lightly pressing his hand to the Ker’ cheek, the smallest physical contact making Pyrrhus begin panting incessantly.

“Us, Keres, we tend to stay monogamous with our mates. For we are bound forever to the mate that Lord Eros chooses for us; especially because his arrows are… extremely difficult to evade.” Pyrrhus pushed himself off of the desk, his fingers reaching for the broach shaped like a sun, the same broach that was holding his chiton together.

His toned body was concealed by the many layers of linen, but as he unclasped the broach his chiton started to fall in slow layers. Pyrrhus motioned for Terrance to come closer, his chest heaving slightly as the  panting got worse. Terrance pressed himself against Pyrrhus’ naked body, Pyrrhus caught the Exorcist’s hand, guiding it down to his waist. Pushing past the red hair that had grown at the lower half of his abdomen.

“What are you doing with my hands, Pyrrhus?” Terrance asked, his eyebrows raising as his hands began retreating slightly. Pyrrhus continued to guide Terrance's hand, bringing it back to his abdomen this time without replying. Terrance made a valiant effort of restraint to avoid squeezing Pyrrhus’ pecs, though the temptation still remained buried deep in his thoughts.

Pyrrhus guided the Exorcist’s hand to his pec where years of rigorous training should have formed dense muscle, instead there was a deep wound in his flesh near his heart. Terrance winced slightly at the texture of the tissue, which had been skillfully pierced by a weapon. 

Based on the texture of the scarred flesh in the area, Terrance could tell that the wound had been the result of an aerial assault, most likely with an arrow, or perhaps a spear. 

“How are you still alive, Pyrrhus? This wound should have been fatal!” Terrance sputtered in disbelief, clutching the Ker’ toned shoulder blades in incredulity of the situation.

“It’s quite hard to get rid of me, Philtatos. That should’ve been apparent from the first day you met me.” Pyrrhus chuckled slightly— attempting to make a joke before panting again, his chest heaving. 

“Who… did this to you?” Terrance pushed further, caressing the nape of Pyrrhus’ neck with short strokes from his thumb, his face contorting with genuine worry for his companion.

Pyrrhus pressed his hand to Terrance’s collarbone, to alert him that he was alright, and didn’t need to be coddled, “I didn't get this wound from fighting, or sparring, Philtatos. This scar is because of Lord Eros, and his arrows of passion.”

“Pray tell, Pyrrhus, who in the world is Lord Eros?” Terrance questioned further, quite obviously confused at the person who Pyrrhus is referring to. 

“Lord Eros is the son of Lord Ares, and Lady Aphrodite!” Pyrrhus began, the twitching of his wings calming down ever so slightly, when he began to talk about his gods. “He’s one of the several gods in my pantheon that controls love, lust… and desire.”

“Are you talking about the Aeternian God, Cupid?” Terrance quipped jokingly, provoking the Ker by using the Aeternian name for the Hellenic god. He swatted at the Ker’ backside as he provoked him, just to add fuel to the fire.

“You really know how to get on my nerves, Philtatos.” Pyrrhus groaned in annoyance, unknowingly falling straight into Terrance’s provocative remark.

“Lord Eros is a Hellenic god, and you know the distinction between him, and that filthy Aeternian… Cupid.” He said, disgust seeping into his tone at the mere mention of Eros’ Aeternian counterpart.

“Really now?” Terrance chuckled as he went in for a kiss, pressing his lips to the Ker’ cheek, smirking at the fact that he had agitated Pyrrhus so easily, “My Apologies, mon amour.” 

Pyrrhus let out an annoyed scoff, but at the feeling of Terrance’s gentle lips upon his face, the Ker melted into the embrace. “I can’t take this anymore.. Terrance.”

He turned his head to capture the Exorcist’s lips in another kiss. Terrance kissed back with ferocity, savouring the intoxicatingly sweet taste of him. 

He smirked into the kiss as he felt the warmth of the Prince of Epirus’ bare naked body beneath him. The Ker let out a needy whine into the Exorcist’s mouth, his hands grasping at Terrance’s clothes, fumbling horribly with the buttons in a desperate attempt to unclothe his beloved.

Their tongues fought valiantly for the dominant role, forcing each other to yield. As Terrance pushed his tongue deeper into the Ker’ mouth, he began wrestling with Pyrrhus’ tongue before eventually emerging victorious. The Ker began sucking on Terrance’s tongue, the sensation light, yet addictive, he needed more— and judging by the look on Pyrrhus’ face, the Ker was more than happy to oblige.

Pyrrhus trailed his hands up Terrance’s sides, his fingers gliding over the Exorcist’s abdomen and the lean muscle that resided there. He snaked his fingers up the Exorcist's neck, brushing past Terrance’s thick brown hair. The nape of the Exorcist’s neck is where Pyrrhus found a spot for his hands, locking them so Terrance wasn’t able to back out.

“What… do you think you’re doing, Pyrrhus?” Terrance breathed, his face reddening as he felt the bulge in his pants growing. He tried to pull back but Pyrrhus’ arms kept him locked on top of him.

“Heh…” Pyrrhus chuckled, out of breath from all of the exertion, “I’m making sure you don’t chicken out…” Pyrrhus grinded aggressively against Terrance’s waist, silently pleading with him to take this… interaction further.

Terrance breathed as he felt Pyrrhus grind his hips so roughly against him,  “Fuck… Pyrrhus.” The bulge in his pants growing by the second, the once sturdy material of the cassock, felt far too thin at the moment.

Pyrrhus grinded more against Terrance, “Please— Terrance~!” He pleaded. The sound of his name in the Ker’ sultry voice had made Terrance harder than he’d like to admit, the familiar feeling of warmth pooling in his stomach. “I need you— I need you inside of me~!” He confessed, tucking his head into the crook of Terrance’s neck, the Ker’ wings shuddering desperately. 

Once Terrance had heard the pleading from Pyrrhus, he moved his hands from the Ker’ chest, gliding them down his body. Grazing the trail of red hair below his abdomen, that led down to the throbbing length between his legs. 

Pyrrhus unclasped his hands from each other, freeing Terrance from his grip, the Ker pressing himself to the Exorcist’s chest “Philtatos~!” He purred, “Swap positions, please?” The animalistic lust seeped deep into his tone, the vowels stretching as if they were honeyed.

Terrance obliged, swapping positions with Pyrrhus, expecting Pyrrhus to assume the dominant position. The Exorcist couldn't remember who or where from which he had heard it, but in Pyrrhus’ culture, it was seen as effeminate for a man to assume the submissive role during intercourse. 

The feelings of surprise and excitement churned in his stomach, the idea of accepting the submissive role— especially to someone as precious to him such as Pyrrhus, didn't sound all that bad to him.

Once he was sitting atop of the table, Pyrrhus pushed him down onto it, pinning him tightly. The Ker began stripping Terrance’s clothes off, to match himself in nudity, the Prince panting at the weight of his own desires.

However, Pyrrhus was rushing with his motions, his body desperate for climax and release. He struggled prying the buttons open on the Exorcist’s cassock, eventually he grew tired and ripped the robe open, revealing Terrance completely nude except for the fabric of his boxers. 

Pyrrhus dropped to his knees, grabbing ahold of the Exorcist’s legs, spreading them wide for him. Pyrrhus licked his lips at the sight of Terrance’s toned legs, words couldn't even begin to describe the feelings he felt when he saw them. The Ker’ grin widened, his sharp yellowed teeth visible, subtly glinting in the moonlight shining through the small window in the cellar. 

The Ker began nipping and biting at Terrance’s inner thighs, much to the Exorcist’s delight. Pyrrhus grew extremely mischievous as he began licking Terrance’s clothed election through his boxers, teasing him with the subtle pressure.

Terrance’s head lolled back at the pressure, groaning slightly, “Oh mon Dieu— Pyrrhus~!” Terrance breathed, his pitch vastly needier than usual.

Pyrrhus took this as a sign to remove Terrance’s boxers, slowly of course, to add to the silent torment of the Exorcist. When Terrance’s erect cock had sprung free from his boxers, he shuddered slightly at the chill of the freezing air of the cellar. 

Pyrrhus’ eyes widened at the size of it, “Hah…” He chuckled, “What’d they feed you here, to get you this big?” Pyrrhus jokingly questioned, before grinning as he took one teasing lick up the Exorcist’s shaft. The Ker’ tongue tracing a vein on his cock, before switching to prodding at the Exorcist’s slit. 

Terrance whimpered, his hips jutting forward slightly, not used to the light pressure at all. “Please… Pyrrhus.”

The Ker' grin grew bigger as he heard Terrance whining for him, it was like music to his ears. Pyrrhus placed his hands at the base of Terrance’s cock, rubbing it vigorously, traces of pre-cum oozing out of the Exorcist’s tip. 

Pyrrhus then took the tip into his mouth, sucking lightly to create an addicting sensation of pleasure. At the new sensation, Terrance’s hands glided their way down to Pyrrhus’ scalp, gripping his curly blonde hair with the semblances left of his restraint. He panted softly at the repetitive feeling of the Ker’ warm mouth bobbing his head rapidly on the Exorcist’s tip.

When Pyrrhus felt the Exorcist’s firm grip on his untameable curly hair, he took that as a sign to take him deeper. He widened his mouth as he moved down Terrance’s shaft, his tongue tenderly caressing the sensitive skin.

“Pyrrhus…” Terrance groaned, clutching Pyrrhus’ hair tighter as if it was his last semblance of restraint. 

Pyrrhus gazed up at the Exorcist, his thick eyelashes concealing his eyes— which were filled to the brim with animalistic lust. The Ker bobbed his head slowly on Terrance’s shaft, taunting him with the painfully slow pace. 

Terrance’s head lolled forward, staring down at Pyrrhus he used the grip he had on Pyrrhus’ scalp to force his cock further down the Ker’ throat. “I’d prefer if you didn't tease me, Pyrrhus.”

Pyrrhus moaned at the sensation of taking the Exorcist’s length deeper. He whined at the scolding, finally bobbing his head at the pace he was before, his eyes tearing up slightly at the effort. Terrance groaned at the sensation of his cock being in the back of Pyrrhus’ throat. 

The comforting heat radiating from the Ker’ throat, stimulating him more than he'd like to admit. The Exorcist’s hips jutted forward, slamming his cock even further down Pyrrhus’ throat. Terrance’s head lolled back as Pyrrhus began rapidly bobbing his head on his cock, matching the pace of his thrusts.

“Pyrrhus…” The Exorcist groaned, his eyes rolling back in pleasure— their combined efforts pushing him closer to release, “I’m so close..” Terrance’s hips move swiftly and forcibly, fucking Pyrrhus’ mouth with reckless abandon. 

As the Exorcist’s swift thrusts of his hips reach the back of the Prince’s throat, the Prince whined in exasperation as he forced himself to match the Exorcist’s brutal pace of thrusts. 

Terrance’s eyes began rolling to the back of his head, desperate for release. His body froze, his hips stilled as his mouth contorted in a loud moan escaped them, “F-Fuck~! God save my soul~!” The lascivious sounds of his arousal echoing off of the walls, in the cellar.

Even as he came, Pyrrhus continued sucking the Exorcist’s cock, lewdly moaning as his lips travelled up the length of Terrance’s cock. The Exorcist’s cum was trailing down the sides of his lips, leaving an extremely visible reminder of their… passion for one another.

Pyrrhus lifted his head from Terrance’s softening cock, the quiet pop sound which followed signaled the end of his taunting. Terrance’s chest heaved as he attempted to catch his breath after all of that… exertion. “Pyrrhus..” He panted, his hands resting in the Ker’ curly hair.

Pyrrhus’ did not respond immediately, instead— he began trailing his tongue from the Exorcist’s waist to his chest, kissing and sucking at the bare skin. Terrance grabbed him by the hair, pulling the Ker to his feet, “That’s enough… Don’t taunt me anymore, Pyrrhus.”

Pyrrhus bit the Exorcist’s cheek, before latching his lips onto his, “I need you… Terrance.” Pyrrhus whined, the arousal evident in his tone. His wings shuddered violently, several black feathers of the Ker’ glided down to the floor of the cellar. 

“If we want to continue… this” Terrance huffed, “We need to go to my room.” Terrance suggested, the exhaustion evident in his tone. 

“Mhm…” Pyrrhus breathed, “Alright..” Pyrrhus pressed his head up to the Exorcist’s chest, rubbing against the muscle present. 

The Ker seized a hold of the Exorcist’s toned legs, wrapping them around his hip. He pushed Terrance up his chest, having him rest against his abdomen for a better grip. The Exorcist looked shocked, yet he was too tired to protest. He slumped against the Ker’ shoulder, before perking his head up, “Our clothes, Pyrrhus… You mustn’t forget them.”

“Mm…” Pyrrhus breathed, as he bent down to retrieve them— snatching them up swiftly so as to not disturb Terrance’s resting position in his grasp, the Exorcist’s head nestled in the crook of his neck. Pyrrhus draped the multiple layers of linen from his chiton over his shoulder, entrusting his sun engraved broach to Terrance, placing it ever so delicately in his hands. 

Before making his way over to the desk, where he had previously torn off the Exorcist’s cassock, “Ah…” Pyrrhus observed the robe, “Philtatos… uh… several of the buttons are… broken.” Pyrrhus mumbled. 

“Seriously, Pyrrhus?” Terrance groaned, rotating his head to the side as he nipped at the Ker’ neck, the subtle pressure causing Pyrrhus to whine lewdly. With the second garment in his possession, Pyrrhus walked out into the hall, with Terrance in his arms. 

“Now… to get to my… humble abode,” Terrance joked, “You have to go up the stairs at the end of the corridor—and then make your way through the dining hall, then turn right once you ascend the staircase.”

Pyrrhus groaned, “Philtatos… I’m way too horny to understand… anything you’re saying.” He gripped the underside of Terrance’s toned quads, squeezing them ever so slightly as he attempted to follow the directions he was told. 

“Just keep walking and I’ll tell you where to go…” Terrance sighed in exasperation, pressing his face to the linen cloth of Pyrrhus’ chiton which was draped over the Prince’s shoulder. “Tu es très stupide, Pyrrhus.” 

“Philtatos… I understand exactly what you’re saying.” Pyrrhus teased, extremely aware of the fact he was being called stupid. 

Terrance pinched the Ker’ cheek, “Just get moving…” Pyrrhus began walking down the lengthy corridor, his steps echoing off of the desolate concrete walls. 

The Prince eventually reached the staircase, he began climbing them, the Exorcist bouncing on his lap slightly as he ascended. Terrance took this as an opportunity to grind against the Prince— rocking against his toned abdomen. Pyrrhus whined lowly as he felt him grinding against him, “Philtatos…” 

When he reached the top step of the staircase, Terrance shifted by a miniscule bit, clasping his legs around the Ker’ waist. “Now keep going straight down the hallway… and turn at the dining hall.”

“Alright…” Pyrrhus groaned, “Philtatos…” He sputtered as he gazed up to the main hall of the church, “This place is huge…” He purred, dragging the consonants of the last word. 

His wings flapping in gentle stirrings, his mouth dropped in amazement as he gazed up at the extravagant stained glass murals on the church’s window panes. 

The stained glass, once vibrant and bright in the daylight, was now darkened and obscured by the dark melody of the night sky. Thin clouds passed slowly outside, casting slender shadows across the tinted window panes that reflected gracefully down on the light oak wood of the floor in the church. 

Unbeknownst to the Ker, the tragic tale of the last supper was being detailed in those vibrant window panes. 

A tale as old as time, and one that serves as a grave reminder to be wary of those amongst you, even those who you perceive as companions. 

“Philtatos… I need to fuck you, now…” The Ker whined, his body’s temperature rising drastically as he was sucked further into his heat. His cheeks became so crimson that they were comparable to the colour of a ripe fig.

“Not here, Pyrrhus— not in the church’s hall.” Terrance reprimanded him, swatting at his bottom, much to the pleasure of the Ker, who cried out with a wanton moan. The sound, explicit in nature, belongs nowhere near a place of worship, especially near a church. The Exorcist clasped a hand to the Ker’ mouth, scolding him, “I already told you, we can fuck in my room.” 

“You don't even understand how tempted I am— to drop these damn clothes on the floor, and let you have your way with me in the middle of this church hall, Philtatos.” Pyrrhus groaned, rocking himself and his length against the Exorcist, leveraging the fact that they were both completely nude from their earlier… Tryst. 

Terrance clasped his hands around Pyrrhus’ neck, locking the Ker into a tight hold, his legs shifting up the Ker’ back “Enough talking, Pyrrhus…” 

Pyrrhus lowered his head, one of his arms moved from the Exorcist’s plump ass to the back of his head, gently cradling his head as the two of them kissed. They held their embrace for several seconds, Pyrrhus pressing his lips against the Exorcist’s soft ones, they broke off seconds later, the Ker panting lightly.

“We need to go upstairs— now, Pyrrhus.” Terrance breathed, pulling one of the many curly strands of the Ker’ untameable hair taut. The Ker whined loudly as he felt the pressure of his hair being tugged, the Ker’ whine of pleasure echoing throughout the main hall of the church. 

“Hah…” The Prince panted heavily, the recent vocalization of his pleasure weighing heavy on his vocal cords, “We will, Philtatos…”

Pyrrhus dragged the hand that was cradling the back of the Exorcist’s head down to Terrance’s thighs, adjusting the Exorcist in his grasp. The Ker trudged down the lengthy main hall of the church, going through the dining hall, and climbing the stairs to the second floor, the living quarters.

“My room is the third to the left, Pyrrhus.” Terrance pointed out, draping his arms over the Ker’ shoulders, pressing his head back to its resting position in the crook of his neck.

When Pyrrhus got to the door, he fumbled with the doorknob for a few moments before giving up, it was extremely apparent that the heat he was in was messing with his cognitive function. “Why… won’t it open?” Pyrrhus fussed, jiggling with the doorknob.

Terrance reached his hand around from the Ker’ shoulder and opened the doorknob on the first try, the door creaking slightly as he pushed it open with minimal effort. The Exorcist pressed his lips together in a thin line to prevent himself from laughing at the Ker’ careless mistake. 

The Exorcist slowly brought his legs down from the Ker’ waist, yet Pyrrhus’ grip on his thighs still remained, “Pyrrhus, let me down…” Terrance protested, pushing his hands off of the Ker’ chest.

Pyrrhus whined at the loss of the Exorcist’s touch, following the Exorcist into his room. The intricate linens from his chiton, which were draped over his shoulder, began to shift and fall to the floor as his wings began to flap uncontrollably, another sign of his heat. 

Terrance pushed past Pyrrhus once in the room, fiddling with the doorknob for a few moments to lock it. Once the Exorcist was sure that nobody was able to come into the chamber, he took the clothing that had fallen from the Ker’ shoulder, and tossed it to the side. The clothes hit the floor with a dull thud, the cream colour of the Ker’ linen chiton contrasted deeply with the dark black polyester of the Exorcists cassock. 

“No need to be paranoid… It’s only us now, Philtatos~” Pyrrhus teased lightly, pressing himself up against Terrance’s muscular chest. The Ker’ wings danced along the soft skin of the Exorcist’s back, the feather light caresses of the Ker’ wings had an… erotic effect on the Exorcist. 

“I’m aware of that…” Terrance breathed, the proximity to the Ker in his nude form became… arousing to say the least. “You ready?” Terrance checked, not wanting to impose himself on Pyrrhus, especially not when he’s in heat.

“Mhm…” Was the only sound that the Ker managed to whimper out, clearly more invested in the fact that his own body began betraying him piece by piece, his cock now fully erect, and pressing against the muscular abdomen of the Exorcist. 

“I… haven't even touched you, and you're already hard?” Terrance sputtered, feeling Pyrrhus’ erect cock pressing against his abs. 

“So what if I am?” Pyrrhus mewled, stepping closer, closing the minimal amount of space between them with a kiss— then, before Terrance could retaliate, he slithered his head into the crook of his neck. 

Once he was pressed against the Exorcist’s neck, the Ker began biting and nipping lightly at the skin of his neck. Terrance lolled his head back by a bit, allowing the Ker a grander area of himself to cover in his… lusty affections. 

Pyrrhus slowly introduced sucking into his biting and nipping routine, slowly leaving purple marks that covered Terrance like constellations did in the sky. 

As Terrance felt all of these kisses and bites pressed to his neck, he felt himself growing harder by the second— and to think he was alone in this discovery would be far from the truth, Pyrrhus could tell that the Exorcist was getting hard. He began grinding against Terrance, jutting his hips in rhythm with the pulses of blood he felt being sent straight to his cock. 

“Enough of this…” Terrance rasped out as he shoved Pyrrhus backwards onto the invitingly warm covers of his large bed. He grunted as he propped the Ker up against his pillows, then pinning his hands to the headboard. Pyrrhus wrapped his legs around the Exorcist’s back, clearly needy for his touch. 

The mere sight of Terrance, nude, was enough to make Pyrrhus cum without being touched. But now, to feel the caresses of his beloved, made Pyrrhus even harder. 

The Ker’ large wings slowly splayed out on the sheets, Pyrrhus nuzzled his head against Terrance’s neck, “My wings…” Pyrrhus breathed, he gestured weakly to Terrance in an attempt to guide his lover to touch their inner feathers.

The Exorcist grinded against Pyrrhus, giving him the pleasure he craved so deeply. Terrance lowered his head down to the Ker’ chest, his lips trailed again down his pecs, continuing from where they had left off in the cellar. His tongue swirling around the Ker's pecs, Pyrrhus whined as he felt the Exorcist’s teeth bite at his skin, not hard, but with just enough pressure to drive him crazy. 

As Terrance’s mouth continued his ministrations down Pyrrhus’ defined pecs, his hands, once pinning the Ker to the bed, had shifted down to the delicate feathers of his wings. 

Terrance massaged gently at the Ker’ outer wings, the soft feathers curling up to meet his light touch. “Philtatos~!” Pyrrhus cried out, his cheeks reddening as the pressure on his wings grew sensually. His head withdrew itself from its comfortable position of rest in the crook of Terrance’s neck, and lolled back lazily onto the pillows. 

As Terrance’s hands drifted closer to the inside of the Ker’ wings, Pyrrhus’ face contorted in pleasure, whimpering lewdly as the Exorcist massaged his wings. 

“You’re getting so worked up over this, Pyrrhus?” Terrance whispered provocatively into the Prince’s ear, as his hands found the innermost section of the Ker’ wings, massaging his hand firmly through them. The feathers, and his wings, by that extent, began to quiver as the Exorcist’s callused hands began running over them.

His lips parted slowly as he whimpered, “Ngh… Philtatos~” Pyrrhus arched his back swiftly, the stimulation proving far too much for him, yet Terrance still continued to drag his rough hands up and down his wings. 

The Ker couldn't take it anymore and started to grind swiftly against the Exorcist, desperate for release. His eyes began tearing up as they rolled to the back of his head, the overstimulation of his wings causing Pyrrhus to whine louder and louder each time his wings were caressed. 

Even with all of this, Terrance continued to run his hands through the Ker’ wings, his fingers now tracing the base of Pyrrhus’ wings, which elicited a loud moan from Pyrrhus. The Ker’ full body began to quiver, his wings flapping rapidly whilst being caressed by Terrance. 

“You close?” Terrance questioned, his low tone dripping with mockery. 

“Mhm~” Pyrrhus whimpered, too caught up in the feeling of his impending climax to care about Terrance’s taunting tone. 

Pyrrhus felt himself getting closer to climax, he moaned as his hips began jutting up, the tears in his eyes rolling slowly down the sides of his face as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. 

Terrance continued his caresses on Pyrrhus’ wings with one hand, while the other reached down lower, finding the Ker’ pulsing cock, spurting out pre-cum. Terrance took the pulsing length into his hand and began stroking it in pace with his other hand that was massaging the Ker’ wing. 

As Terrance set this harsh rhythm, Pyrrhus struggled to keep up with his dexterous hands, his hips bucking up to match the Exorcist’s strokes. The Ker began whimpering loudly at the feeling of Terrance’s calloused hands jerking him off. 

“Philtatos~” Pyrrhus cried out as he came, his back arched abruptly as he finished, slamming his hips to the Exorcist’s one last time. His large black wings shuddered violently, revelling in the pleasure of the moment. Small feathers began to shed from the Ker’ wings, littering Terrance’s clean bedsheets. 

The Prince’s steamy cum painted the Exorcist’s lower abdomen white. The light hue of his cum, quite literally blending in with the paleness of Terrance’s skin. The Ker’ chest heaved widely as his breathing became erratic due to his climax.

Terrance nipped at the Ker’ neck, biting down on his soft skin lightly, “Are you okay now, Pyrrhus?” Terrance jested, pressing another kiss to the Ker’ neck— taunting him with the promise of another round. 

“Hah… I’ve never been better, Philtatos~” Pyrrhus muttered, still partially disoriented from his strong climax. His wings fluttered lightly after being caressed so sternly by the Exorcist.

“Well now,” Terrance began, his voice sturdy; a drastic contrast from the dry heaving coming from Pyrrhus, his chest convulsing lightly as he attempted to catch his breath. “Are you up for more, Pyrrhus?” Terrance questioned mischievously, smirking as he watched the Ker try to catch his composure. 

Pyrrhus could barely respond, his throat ached and he was unable to cease his panting. “Mhm…” He gasped, his body still trembling after his last climax. 

Terrance bit his lip when he heard the confirmation from Pyrrhus, “Are you sure? I don’t want to rush you…” He questioned, tousling with the Ker’s curly hair. 

Pyrrhus was panting loudly, his chest heaving slowly, “I’m very sure… Philtatos~” He rasped, rocking his hips down on the Exorcist’s lap. 

Terrance ran his hands up the Ker’s chest, “Should we use lubricant? It is our first time after all, and I don’t want you getting injured.” 

“Mmph…” The Ker mewled, continuing to grind against the Exorcist, gripping at his sides with need. Terrance sat up from the bed, leaving Pyrrhus lying alone, his wings splayed out across the cotton sheets. He began rummaging through his drawers, to find lubricant, but to no avail. The Exorcist’s face paled at the thought of having nothing to ease the Ker into the motions. 

Desperate for a resolution, he frantically pushed through the bottles on his cabinet, toppling some while others remained upright. Eventually he found a small vial of holy oil, he averted his eyes from it, fear paralyzed his body, the Exorcist’s mind flooded with thoughts…

Am I really using… something so sacred to my church… for such… lustful displays of my love for him…

This… isn’t right… 

I shouldn’t be doing this… 

This is wrong…

What would Father think… seeing me like this…

A sexual union… between an exorcist… and an anomaly? The church would never allow it… 

This is… sinful…

I should stop myself…

Without noticing it, Pyrrhus had come behind Terrance, and wrapped his hands around the Exorcist’s waist, squeezing him gently. “Philtatos~” the Ker murmured, pressing his head into the crook of Terrance’s neck, “I love you… Now come back to bed~” 

With this small gesture, the guilt that Terrance felt had been forgotten over the surge of love that he felt for Pyrrhus. The Exorcist gripped the vial of holy oil, as the Ker led him back to the bed. Terrance shoved Pyrrhus back onto the mattress, before he crawled upon it. “Mmh… Philtatos~” The Prince whined, caressing Terrance’s chest lovingly as the Exorcist forced his legs open, nibbling at his inner thigh. 

“That is more than enough talking from you, Pyrrhus~” Terrance whispered as he uncorked the vial of holy oil, tipping the tube so that it dripped down onto his erect cock. He began rubbing the holy oil up, and down his shaft, preparing himself for the Ker. 

Pyrrhus leaned back on the bed, pressing his back into the sheets, his dark wings fanned out on the sheets. Terrance pinned him down to the mattress, grasping his hand with affection. The Prince wrapped 

his legs around Terrance’s thighs, grabbing at his pecs.

The Exorcist feels around the Ker’s thighs, caressing them lovingly whilst he lines himself up with Pyrrhus’ hole, pushing himself inside, stretches the Ker’s walls deeply as he forces himself in. The pain only grew more unbearable as Terrance forced himself deeper, but it was slowly drowned out with fits of pleasure. Pyrrhus could feel how the Exorcist was as he flowed deep inside of him, with every insertion there was more passion. 

“Fuck,” the Exorcist’s head jutted backward, his senses overwhelmed at how good the Ker felt, “Pyrrhus…you feel so good~” Terrance grabbed Pyrrhus’ left ankle, propping it up on his shoulder while the other bent, resting on the edge of the soft bed. “Is this position… alright for you, Pyrrhus?

“Uhn… more~” Pyrrhus whined, he felt foolish and submissive, however he disregarded these feelings, his need surpassed his ego tenfold, “I… mmph… need more, Philtatos~”

Terrance gave into the Ker’s desperate pleas immediately, his hips thrashed at the back of his thighs. With every thrust, Pyrrhus could feel Terrance’s cock demand more room to fill. His callused fingers held firmly onto Pyrrhus’ legs, tightening more and more as he got lost in the pleasure of it all.  

Terrance pushed in particularly hard, jamming himself inside the Prince in desperate motions to satisfy his desires. “Uhn… Philatos~” The Prince whined, curling his toes in pleasure. Pyrrhus’ walls tightened around him even more, the Ker’s back arching off the bed, his wings began twitching lightly, and a shameless moan of the Exorcist’s name made him go harder. “Terrance~! Oh… Terrance~!” 

To torment him further, The Exorcist kept the same position that caused the Ker to cry out, mercilessly striking the spot over, and over again until Pyrrhus was nothing but a blubbering mess. “You like this, Pyrrhus~?” Terrance rasped out, sweat forming at his brow. 

“Philtatos~” Pyrrhus whimpered, his claws scratching at the linen sheets as the volume of his plea carried throughout the church’s private quarters. Terrance kept a tight hold on his legs, preventing the Ker from squirming around as he fucked him senseless. Pyrrhus caressed Terrance’s obliques as he kept pounding his tight hole.  

“Cum for me… Pyrrhus~” Terrance grunts, grasping a handful of the Ker’s golden locks as he continues to thrust. Pyrrhus feels himself start to release as the Exorcist props himself back into the position he loves. Terrance wanted satisfaction for himself now, his thrusts were erratic, untimed, and worst of all, needy. Every slap of his hips into the Prince was a powerful jolt forward, nearing impossible for him to lift his head to watch. 

The calloused tips of his fingers dug into his flesh, but it wasn’t enough to rid Pyrrhus of the strong force.  “Mmh~ Philtatos… please… I-I’m so… close~!” Pyrrhus begs the Exorcist desperately, his eyes beginning to roll back, his yellow irises fading into his deep black sclera. 

“Hmph… you sound so submissive begging for me~” Terrance slid his hand down Pyrrhus’ cock, he forced his head backward, watching as the Ker could barely keep his eyes open. “I want you… to scream my name when you climax. I don’t care if anybody hears you…”

Pyrrhus could feel Terrance’s cock twitch inside of him, gliding roughly against his walls to indicate that he was close too. Terrance dropped the Ker’s golden locks, causing him to fall back into his bed, his black wings splaying out. 

“Sh—Shit~! Hah… Philtatos~!” The Prince’s legs felt weak from his constant pounding that he wasn’t sure if he could take it anymore. He felt his urges control him, and knew that Terrance wasn’t done until they both came, satisfied on both ends. Countless whimpers escaped him as the Exorcist grew needier with every thrust. 

“Terrance—Ooh~!! Terr… ance~!!” Pyrrhus moans loudly with every final thrust given, Terrance stops as he also climaxes, both individuals feel copious amounts of satisfaction, gained from each other, they collapse back onto the soft, inviting cushions. 

Pyrrhus’ golden curls were in a dazed mess, his face red with affection as he watched the Exorcist attempt to compose himself. The two lay there naked, admiring one another's bodies as if they were the only two people on Earth. Pyrrhus treasured every curve, crevice, and dimple on Terrance’s body. 

“Hah… that was… amazing, Philtatos~” Pyrrhus purred, nuzzling his head on Terrance’s chest.

“Mhm…” The Exorcists replied, a bead of sweat rolling down his brow.

Pyrrhus snatched the soft pillows from Terrance’s side of the bed, and curled up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist. “Stop taking my cushions… You Idiot…” The Exorcist grumbled lowly as he  curled into the cuddle. “Heh…” Pyrrhus chuckled, his chest heaving.  

Terrance pulled the sheets up the bed, to cover their bodies, the warmth of the blanket instantly became apparent to the duo. The Ker pressed a kiss to the Exorcist’s neck, “I love you, Philtatos~” 

The Exorcist lolled his head back, resting his head in the crook of the Ker’s neck, “I love you too, Pyrrhus… Goodnight~”.