Unholy
Prologue
Syo Kurusu tugged at the white robes that adorned him. His sky blue eyes didn't want to look back at his countrymen. Or rather the rich, elite members of his father's council that lived in their big, fancy houses. He didn't want to think about how close he was to each member that currently forced him to kneel down on the wooden stage in front of the ivory statue. They were a mere two years away from being his council. His followers. Once he had reached the age of twenty and one his father would hand him right of succession.
Luckily for his father, and not so much Syo, he did have a younger twin brother that could easily fill his role. Kaoru was a much stronger leader anyways. Nobody would miss Syo with Kaoru around to fill his vacant shoes.
The blonde gritted his teeth, hands balling around the rich silky white. It wasn't fair! He was meant to be king. Why was he now, barely dressed, standing before a great deity's statue? Was there no way to get out of this?
His eyes trailed back to the childish features of the stoic idol. Ai Mikaze, the guardian of the country of Tokyo. It had been years since anyone had claimed to see the god. Decades since someone had been sacrificed to him. Half the countrymen, including Syo, didn't believe in his existence. The gods were just a story told to explain what science had yet to uncover. Or so Syo thought.
His father, on the other hand, was a different story. Failing crops, stillborn children, rampaging illnesses. He believed all of those to be the works of gods, in particular, Ai. In his father's mind, Ai was upset that the people of this land had long since stopped believing in him. There were hardly any worshipers at his shrine. No one to speak of his glory.
"Father, please." He begged, his bare knees ached as splinters from the unsanded wood dug in. He didn't dare look back, so he could only squeeze his eyes shut. "This is insanity. An imaginary being will not show up because you plan to offer your first born."
"Silence." His father bellowed with the force of a thousand men. "If you can only spout nonsense then you shall be gagged and bounded."
There is was. His iron-fisted, ruthless, king. He was a good father, but his leadership as king, as the one true law, was to be left unquestioned. His word was final and no one would disrespect him, not even his own flesh and blood.
If only this event were more public than the few council member that his father kept close then surely someone would come to his aid. He thought himself a good prince. He helped his people, finding jobs for those who had lost their livelihoods to most recent war. He constructed shelters for the orphans left behind out of his own hard earned money.
He was a prince, heir to the throne! This was not what his destiny held for him. "Father please!"
He heard the blonde haired king sigh. "My dear boy. It looks as though today Ai's light does not shine upon you."
Syo's eyes opened for a brief moment. "Father?"
"Kill him." The King said turning away. "Ai apparently does not wish to have a live sacrifice."
"Father wait!" He jumped to his feet, staggering slightly, pins and needles running through his sleepy legs. "There must be some mistake. Please!"
"Do it swiftly." He leaned into the man next to him, egging him to unsheathe his sword. "No father wishes to see his son suffer."
Syo's blue eyes widened as the men that he once trusted stepped forward. They were crazy. There was no way a god, even if he were real, would want somebody slaughtered in front of a statue of him. There was no way, anyone would want blood to stain the perfect ivory of his beautifully sculpted feet.
Had Syo been bounded and gagged it wouldn't have hurt him so much. If his feet were shackled he wouldn't have been able to stumble his way off the oak stage. If his hands were chained he wouldn't have been able to tug at the rich fabrics of his father's spring cloak. If his mouth were filled with rags, to the point that he would choke on any words that came out, he wouldn't have been able to sob out his father's name, begging for forgiveness though he had done nothing wrong.
He wished at the moment that his father's icy blue eyes narrowed at him that he had been unable to do those things. The cruelty, the disappointment, that his gaze held made Syo shutter. His grip loosed on the soft cloth, arms fell to the side, and tears drizzled like a late autumn's rain down his face.
This was it. This was how he was going to die. Questions of what happened after his death danced on the tip of his tongue. What would happen to all the citizens that depended on him? What would his mother and brother be told? Would they at least be granted the truth behind his death?
Grubby hands clawed at his arms, jerking him away from the king. Bulky men forced him back onto the wooden stage, not caring how the wood caught against his bare feet. He hung his head, not wanting to look at the idol, the reason he was going to die young. An unpleasant murmur caught his ear. Hands loosened and his legs wobbled under his own weight.
Why? Why were they making him wait? Why hadn't they taken his head off already?
He brought his eyes up, to look at the sculpture. The swirl of its pale tone, nothing like the white ivory it should have been. Giant eyes cynical and blue.
Syo blinked at the idol. It was... he was... Was this really happening? His eyes darted around to see the council, to see his father, the king, on their knees. It couldn't be real. He was already dead. He had to be. But when the statue spoke, he couldn't take anymore. His weak legs wobbled, failing him, letting him fall. His eyes watch the god grow further away as his vision faded to black with a simple statement ringing in his ears.
"I most humbly accept."
Death was soft. Like laying on a cloud. It smelled of rich red wines and pomegranates. And it sounded like a cold voice calling his name.
His eyes opened slowly. It looked like white and gold. Or to be more specific the bed that he had sprawled out in, that he had thought was his consciousness in death, was white and gold. A pale hand firmly placed next to his head, leading to the body of a milky teen. His hair and eyes the only real color on him. Even his robes were of the whitest white.
"Where am I?" Syo hated how his voice cracked. It felt as though he hadn't a drink in years.
"My temple." The man spoke softly. His voice, much like his face, lacked any and all emotion.
"Why am I here?" He asked. Something felt off, but he couldn't place it, he was too captivated by the cyan eyes in front of him. All he remembered was his father giving the order to have him killed and then...
"You are mine? What else would you have me do with you?"
Mine? His mind reeled for a moment. Was he supposed to assume this boy in front of him, this baby-faced child was the god his father tried to kill him for? Sure he looked to be taller than Syo, but many teens in the capital were slightly taller than him. Even his own twin was just a few centimeters above him. That was when he tore his eyes away. As he sat up, the sheet fell away revealing his bare, slightly tanned chest.
"Where are my clothes?" He raised his voice, regretting it only a moment later.
"I had them burned." The boy said. "You won't be needing those rags here."
"I will be needing them." Syo insisted. "You can't expect me to roam around naked. What if I must leave? What if my father wishes me to go back to the palace?"
"There is no need for that either." His voice cold, but with no signs of displeasure.
"This isn't funny. Give me something to wear." Syo frowned.
"There is no need-"
"I need it. Even if you don't think so I do!"
"What will you give me for them then?"
"What?" Syo didn't know what to think. Who did he think he was? "I can give you money once I return home."
The boy, Ai if he wanted to keep pretending that he was a god, shook his head. "A kiss should do."
"I think not." Syo paled.
That firmly placed hand that never left the bed, snatched Syo's arm easily. "Be grateful that I am a kind god. I know other that would have taken you without your permission. If you continue to anger me, I can not guarantee that I will remain so peaceful."
"Just a kiss?" Syo gulped.
"Unless you beg for more." There was a strange twinkle in his eye.
"Fine."
Just a peck. Syo shut his eyes. It was only going to be a peck on the lips, nothing his future wife wouldn't forgive. Nothing that would bring shame upon his future heir.
But it wasn't.
When Ai leaned in, Syo felt his other hand cup his face gently. His thumb caressed his cheek while his tongue forced Syo's mouth open. He wiggled, trying to free himself, but this blue haired god was too powerful. His tongue danced with Syo's battling for control, He tasted of freshly picked mint. Cold and refreshing.
They broke apart, the hand that cupped him vanished, and Syo huffed. It seemed like he was the only one that was having a hard time catching his breath. The blonde knew his face was flushed. That was way more than he expected. Not that it felt bad, but he thought just a peck for a shirt and some trousers sounded fair.
Ai leaned him, his warm breath in Syo's ear. "Just ask for more." His hand, stroking Syo's inner thigh, as if he were asking him to beg for more. The other hand loosened and interlocked their fingers. Syo felt his knuckles scrape against the pale wall.
"I-I..." His mind melted. If the boy, no man, in front of him weren't there to hold him with those icy hands that never seemed to warm, he would have been a puddle of goop. No man, nor woman for that matter, had ever touched him in such a way before.
"Let me claim your innocence." Ai's voice, calm and soft, tickled his ear making the burning blush on his face only shine on with more heat. "You are mine. Let me make that known."
"Yes." His voice didn't seem like his own. It wasn't powerful and strong. It wasn't the voice of the prince everyone knew. Who's voice was this?
Ai smiled at the answer. His voice purred. "Let me make you mine."
The man made his way on top of Syo, his robe vanishing in the blink of an eye leaving only the creamy white skin and his long manhood for Syo to see. His hand brushed the inside of his thigh, making his way up to Syo's own manhood. Syo's blue eyes would have continued to stare down at the god's hand, but he was forced to look only at Ai's face as he planted another kiss on his lips. Saliva escaped as Syo tried to breathe, but this man knew no restraint. He felt the tips of Ai's fingers nearing his entrance. He tried to speak, to tell him it was too much, but there was no escaping the furious battle waging inside his mouth. His vision grew dark for, probably, the second time that day. A tear slide down his cheek as his eyes rolled back.