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“What do you think you're doing?”
Their first meeting hadn't been pleasant.
Shadow Milk had been working on one of his smaller creations when he felt the disturbance, when one of the thousands of souls connected to his being was disturbed, their connection fizzling before he simply felt it snap. It was unheard of, he was always finely in tune with all the creatures he had created and all he was yet to create. So it made only sense when he felt something akin to panic simmer beneath the surface, ditching the starts of his molding as he tried to sprint towards where he could last feel it, where the sensations and memories last blipped and bled into nothingness. He hadn't known what to expect upon arriving there, what he'd see or hear as he tried tuning into anything near it.
It didn't work, the living beings around it lethargic and sluggish in their response, tired not physically but spiritually, like something beckoned them to rest even as their eyes fought against it, even as he begged them to respond and fight back. Given the unheard of circumstances, he had assumed it some sort of omen, a curse or spell on him that one of the few gods he knew would have placed. Mayhaps they had seen through his image, had picked and tugged until the tendon and nerves of his false charm wailed in response and flexed their grotesque spite.
So he thought it only fair when he stood in shock, still disheveled and unkempt as he panted, unaware of what to think of the sight in front of him. The creature he could no longer feel, one of his softer creations, a sheep, now laid limp on the ground, squared, shiny pupil lacking its very existence as someone crouched before it. They seemed uncertain, brows furrowed upwards, as if in distress, hands hovering over the carcass as if unsure their touch would be appropriate. The sight had stirred something in him, the foreign feeling bringing to light tones and words he'd hold back and tame, ones he'd brush down until they looked feline but not beast. His shoulders felt tense as the words fell out of his mouth, more hiss and venom than communication.
“What do you think you're doing?” His words seemed to startle them, shaking in their balance as they rocked onto their knees, glancing back in wide eyed shock. He knew he must have looked little the part of kind being he preferred to play, dirty hands clutching at robes as he squared his shoulders. They both seemed to measure each other up. “What did you do to them?”
“Nothing.” The other's voice was more whisper than defense, something meek, as if they had yet to learn they could speak. He knew he sported a scowl as their hands gathered themselves. “I just wanted to feel their fur.”
“It's called wool.” His correction was petty, made not to teach but to embarrass. It seemed to do its part as they glanced away. He lost the hesitation as he began to approach, feeling fire burn beneath his ribs. “What did you do to them?”
“I don't know.” Came the ashamed admittance, hand covering a frown as they sat back on calves. Shadow Milk felt something twitch in him as the grass beneath them started to lose its green and turn an ugly yellow. He hated that color already. “I just put my hand on its head and it fell over.”
“Move.” His command was unkind as he arrived at their side, pushing them harshly by the arm before pulling his hand back as if burned, disturbed by the numbing cold that greeted his palm. He felt unsettled in the way it didn't warm beneath his touch. Kneeling before the limp sheep, he placed a hand on its head, where the wool seemed to darken and disintegrate beneath his digits. The animal didn't respond, didn't twitch or glance, didn't breathe or beat. He could feel his chest seize in a tight crush as he realized he couldn't feel the life force in them.
“Are they alright?” The one next to him asked, looking between him and the unmoving body. He could only stare at the no longer living creature as their soul bled through his fingers, pooling into something beyond his vision as it seemed to sink into the ground. He thought to them a prayer, the same kind that would be uttered for his favor, before finally closing its eyelids, wishing it rest as he sighed deeply. The one next to him tilted their head as he bunched robes in closed fists. “Are they? It doesn't look like-”
He didn't know what came over him, not letting them finish as he instead lunged at them, hands out to try and grab them by the throat before colder hands stopped it, both toppling onto the grass onto the other's back as he fought to try and strangle them. Their hands simply held him by the wrists, forcing him to stop and leaving him unable to as they stared wide eyed, sputtering in shock as he climbed on top of them. The bone-chilling cold from their hands drove a chill up his spine, hairs rising for only a moment before he screamed, trying to aim for their face. The attempt didn't land, their head moving out of the way just in time for his nails to dig into rotted grass. He pulled back with a disgusted gasp, shaking his hand free from the slimy sensation as he fell back on his ass. Wiping it against the still alive plants next to him, he attempted to lunge a second time, being caught off guard as he instead found himself on his back. Hands pinned his arms against the ground, legs kicking harshly against a stomach as he groaned a complaint. The one above him didn't seem to register, looking more worried than anything as they stared over him, clearly trying to read him. He shook his head violently as he screeched.
“You killed them! You son of a whore, you killed them!” Another violent kick had them stuttering, breath violently pushed before they forcibly rolled him over, keeping him down against the ground and unable to land any proper kicks as he thrashed, feeling the back of his eyes burn. The one holding him down seemed to wince at the information as his kicking and screaming slowly died down, pacified into something more civilized as his lower lip wobbled. His voice was whinier than he'd like as he lamented into his own hair. “You killed my creation.”
“I'm sorry!” The person seemed to beg, at least looking guilty as he gave them a nasty side glare. Their own hair curtained around the two of them as they shifted, clearly feeling bad for what they had done. “I didn't know that would happen! This is my first time getting to touch an animal.”
“And it'll be your last, if I have anything to say about it.” His threat felt less than convincing with the way his cheek pressed against the grass, chest still pressed to the ground as he weakly kicked his feet. “Get off of me.”
“Oh, of course! Sorry!” They rushed to release him, crawling back and giving him room as he sat up, rubbing at his sore arms with a frown. He glared at them over his shoulder as they shrank. “I didn't mean any harm. You were just going for my face, and I- well, I didn't really know what else to do so-”
“I don't care.” He cut them off, watching their jaw click shut as he scowled. He could feel the sticky dew of grass blood soaking into his hair and robes as he pushed himself up, mood soured beyond repair. He looked a mess as he groaned and tugged the ruined fabric away from his body. The one sat behind him only stared with furrowed brows, clearly unsure what to do or say as he assessed the damage. He only lamented over his ruined appearance for a moment longer before turning to address them, a scowl persistent on his lips. “Don't touch anything in my realm ever again, do you hear me? I will skin you alive if I find any more of my creations dead by your hands.”
It was all he bothered to tell them as he turned away, unwilling to stay and deal with them when this worked up.
“Wait- what's your name?” They tried for polite amenities even as he stomped away, ignoring their question and presence. They seemed lost on what to do as he glowered, shouting after him. “Can you at least tell me the way out?”
The sound of a portal opening beneath their feet and their subsequent scream as they fell through was music to Shadow Milk's ears.
—
Their second meeting wasn't much better.
This time, he didn't have the luxury of solitude, wasn't allowed their presence to be the only ones there as they were properly introduced this time. It had been at the insistence of Silent Salt, the God of Justice, speaking of new gods that had settled, and how, as older, wiser gods, it was their duty to make sure they were established in their roles. Bureaucratic speak for needing to establish how they related to them. Loathsome as he was to admit it, Shadow Milk had felt the unpleasant chill of a life taken several times after that horrible encounter. So he had agreed for the sake of peace, if only his own, to avoid the earful he knew he'd get if he rejected the ask.
The gods before him were all clearly new, still shining with the early delight of godhood as he and his acquaintances dimmed beneath their stare. He knew himself to be tired, at the very least, horrible as he was with upkeep for his body, so he could only imagine the ones beside him shared the sentiment.
The god from before had been present, of course, this time accompanied by other four. He didn't stand before Shadow Milk, not this time, instead curved away into the shadow of one of the goddesses, almost a step behind her as he quietly spoke to her. She didn't seem to be as talkative, instead only nodding along and listening as she stared ahead, seemingly trying to discern something. Shadow Milk wasn't sure what but it somehow annoyed him, her kind eyes glancing over all the gods before landing on her own feet; the tilt of her head only further hid her quaint expression, all grace and silence as the one behind her seemed to frown. As Silent Salt approached the two of them, the god seemed to falter, glancing only once at the goddess before stepping away, giving them room.
Shadow Milk decided it'd do him well to enhance his image - even if only in front of this small, unaware crowd - so he took the initiative, approaching slowly as the dreary god chewed on his lip. He seemed to be in deep thought, glancing down at his own hands as if considering. Shadow Milk tried his best to make himself known as he stepped closer, body angled to try and catch their gaze. It was unsuccessful, so he simply cleared his throat and offered what he hoped was a pacified smile. They startled as they glanced up, panic seeming to settle in them as he tilted his head.
“Gold for your thoughts?” He tried for an easy smile and laugh, holding back a groan as they simply stared at him in confused shock. He brushed hair behind his ear as he righted himself, hand folded behind his back. “Excuse me for intruding. I simply wished to make conversation.”
“It's my job, you know?” They began hurried, hands clutching at their own robes as they tried puffing their chest. He blinked in surprise but didn't interrupt, tilting his head the other way as their eyes averted. “I was born to lead souls into their afterlife and you cannot blame me for that. Life cannot continue forever for mortal creatures or none of them will survive. So you cannot blame me for doing what I was made for.”
“Blame you?” He tried for a chuckle, finding his throat dry in irritation. He cleared it as a hand came to rest at his cheek. The god before him seemed distrustful of his words, brows inching to furrow as he waved it away. “Why, I blame you for nothing! If all life were eternal, we would not be special, would we?”
“But last time-” They tried to start again, interjected as he laughed harsher. Their lips thinned as he clasped his hands together.
“Last time?” The question held a modicum of a hiss, eyes narrowing in imitations of a crescent as he hummed. His own lips pressed together as he seemed to think about it. “But this is our first meeting.”
“It is not-” They tried again, seeming affronted as he grabbed their hand and pulled them off balance. Their expression wasn't as neutral as he blinked his lashes at them.
“This. Is our first time meeting.” He emphasized his point, squeezing the hand between his own as the flowers in his hair seemed to tremble in warning. The god before him only huffed lightly as he brought the hand to his chest, feeling his heart thrum at the touch of death so close. He ignored the way their palm burned against his own as he sighed lightly. “You must have me confused.”
“...Of course.” They finally relented, own smile tense and thin, forced but not practiced as his own. They pulled him by the hand until his palm splayed over their sternum, no heartbeat beneath his fingertips as his own hiccuped in response. He knew he looked caught off guard as they bowed, bringing his finger up to their lips, until it rested against their chilled mouth. “It is a pleasure to meet you, my god. I am Pure Vanilla.”
“Shadow Milk.” He blurted, finding warmth in his cheeks as he narrowed his eyes. The one before him eyed him analytically as he twirled a strand of hair between his fingers. “My name is Shadow Milk.” He corrected, establishing more sophistication. It didn't seem to deter them.
“A beautiful name for a beautiful flower.” They smiled, watching him tense in confusion. He was ready to question it until he felt the presence behind him, turning to find Silent Salt watched them a step away. His head tilted as he offered a polite smile, but the God of Justice was indifferent to the amenities.
“I see you're finally acquainted.” He established, unyielding helmet giving no signs to where his gaze landed as he nudged his head into a tilt. “Is Shadow Milk giving you any trouble?”
“I would never-” He tried to defend amicably, even if offended. He had no room to as arms wrapped around his neck; the god behind him hugged his shoulders as they smiled next to him. He tried to quickly brush off his surprise as they pulled him close.
“Of course not! Shadow Milk is ever so kind and patient. He already said not to guilt myself over my function, he blames me not for it.” They brought a lock of his hair behind his ear as they glanced at him. He kept his eyes firmly forward as their cheeks were pressed together. “Isn't he ever so benevolent?”
“...So you two are amicable.” Was the response Silent Salt gave instead, hand sliding from the hilt of his sword as Pure Vanilla nodded. He felt his shoulders lower as he realized he wasn't to be revealed. “I am glad to hear. I was worried there might be conflict, considering the nature of you two.”
“Why would there ever be conflict? Shadow Milk is so agreeable and delightful. Why, I think it'd bring me no greater joy than to be guided by him in the ways of godhood.” He bit back the scowl threatening to drag his mouth down as Pure Vanilla squeezed him in his hold. “What do you think, Shadow Milk?”
“That sounds just wonderful.” He acquiesced through his teeth, putting on his best smile as he tilted his head. It was hard to tell if Silent Salt bought it as his eyes curved. “Why, I think we should all take one of these poor, clueless gods beneath our wings. To show them the ways of godhood.”
“That isn't a horrible idea.” Silent Salt nodded once, turning his head away as he seemed to think through it. “If we better connect with them, we can better accommodate to the new functioning around our realms. It'll also be better for the realms if we all can work harmoniously… I shall bring it up to the others.”
“Thank you.” Shadow Milk nodded in turn, holding the smile as he gestured to the others. “If you could please excuse us. I have a little more I'd like to discuss with Pure Vanilla.”
“Certainly.” He easily relented, bowing his head in a returned gesture before turning away. “I shall tell the others of your idea and we shall establish pairs then. I assume you two will be paired so I shall warn them of it. Until later.”
“Wonderful.” He smiled until Silent Salt could no longer hear, smile thinning into something neutral as the god of death released him, hands now gathering his hair and holding the strands gently as he narrowed his eyes. “...You could have just told on me.”
“Certainly.” Pure Vanilla agreed, hands gently brushing through strands as he tilted his head. “It would have certainly led you to some sort of trouble.”
“Then why didn't you?” He questioned, folding his hands before him as Pure Vanilla brought his hair up to his face, brushing the soft strands against his cheek. “It would have been pretty good revenge.”
“It would have been decent revenge.” He corrected, smile dipping into something genuine and malicious. He felt his jaw clench as the god of death hummed. “But forcing you to play nice for however long is much better revenge. I doubt you'd allow me to show up knowing nothing. You don't seem the type to have little pride in what is yours.”
“And you are mine?” He scoffed lowly, feeling his shoulders shake with agitation as the one behind him laughed.
“As far as the others are concerned, yes.” His hair was released as Pure Vanilla sighed lightly, a hand rising to his cheek, almost as if to cherish the feeling prior. His remark was mocking as he laughed. “So please, my god. Pass unto me thy knowledge.”
Shadow Milk considered ruining his image at that moment.
—
Their “lessons” were never much different from their first encounters.
Shadow Milk wasn't much of a patient teacher and Pure Vanilla even less of an engaged student. Whilst he'd be willing to listen to the explanations of what he'd need to do and how things functioned, he never was one to ask for further details on “simpler” things, and considering Shadow Milk was so used to knowing them, he didn't think about explaining them either. So any and all lessons were basically rendered useless - that is, unless Pure Vanilla searched for the answer elsewhere.
White Lily. It was the name of the goddess Pure Vanilla had been talking to during their second meeting. A guide for dead souls, turns out, responsible for ensuring the flow of dead would not stop and ruin the creation of new souls. A quality inspector, of sorts, for the recycling process of souls, tasked to make sure they wouldn't remain whole and would break down and lose themselves until twisted into anew. And Silent Salt's disciple, it would seem. The cleverest of the new gods, in Shadow Milk's opinion, she seemed to be a quick learner and an even quicker study. He could cite a few of the improvements she had suggested in the God of Justice's rituals and the ways that the previous system had been subtly altered and modified to better evolve with the mortals. A thorn on his side, then, considering most of the original protocols and ideas were his. It annoyed him to no end when she could find things to improve in them.
So it made him only angrier when Pure Vanilla would turn to her for guidance - not because he cared if the god of death knew something, but rather it passed the image that he, the God of Life himself, could not teach as well and as perfectly as he had made himself out to do. To have his perfect image tainted, painted out to be less smart than a mere guide for the souls, those which he expertly manipulated in the first place? He'd strangle Pure Vanilla for it. So to him it only made sense when he chased the god of death down, even if made to look as a helpless newborn does, tracing after withered flowers and chasing dotting bodies until he could corner him, until he had no more souls to reap and was rendered useless if even for a second.
“Do you enjoy making a fool of me?” Had been the first words out of his mouth, breath ragged and gulping for oxygen as he attempted to catch up on millennia of sedentarism. Pure Vanilla only blinked, tilting his head as he hummed something in the back of his throat.
“I'd usually answer yes, but this time I fear I am not to blame.” He was quick to brush off, leaning on his scythe as his brows rose. Shadow Milk wanted to rip the pout of his lips off as he spun noise anew. “What have you done this time?”
“I have done nothing.” He was quick to hiss, bristled and sharpened into quills as his shoulders rose. The god before him raised his hands placatingly but it did naught. “You are to blame. I have been berated and utterly humiliated in front of others for not being adequate as a teacher. Have you any clue how embarrassing it is to be told such in front of lesser ones?”
“I could imagine, yes.” Pure Vanilla laughed, easy and unworried afront a raging beast. He brushed hair back as his gaze lingered. “But I do not see how your incompetence is a fault of my own.”
“My incon-” He broke off with an affronted scoff, edges simmering into heat, into anger and annoyance and something oh so dangerous all at once. He held back cruel desires as he gathered his hair, fingers digging into celestial blue as he tilted his hair back. A long, heavy breath was pushed out between pursed lips as he closed his eyes, counting all the reasons killing the one before him wouldn't benefit him. The list was short. “My incompetence.”
“Well yes.” Pure Vanilla nodded along, mouth already curling into a smile as a finger came to his chin. “You can't possibly be blaming a student for not learning something, can you? It is a teacher's responsibility to guarantee such a thing after all.”
“How am I supposed to guarantee you've learned something if you don't tell me you don't know something?!” He had to take another deep breath to guarantee calm as his fingers curled into his hair, resisting the urge to tug until his scalp ached. Instead he dispelled displeasure by tapping his foot, feeling his magic wane and flow with his emotions. The flowers in his hair that curled and shook as they were forcefully grown seemed to shiver as he breathed through feelings, turning and shielding into hair as if to avoid witness to something gruesome. “I need you to be honest when I ask if you understood something.”
“But I am!” Pure Vanilla was quick to interrupt, all clever grins and pleased eyes as Shadow Milk narrowed his eyes in doubt. “I understand everything you explain. It just so happens that there are factors in the explanation that I have no idea what they are. But I still understand their part in a process.”
“If you don't know them, then you don't understand-” He cut himself off as he instinctively darted forward, hands raised to strangle before catching himself. He forced his hands down, finding annoyance in the way Pure Vanilla hadn't even flinched, smiling patient and delighted as he had to tamper his irritation down. His words were hissed through clenched teeth as he forced his own imitation of a smile. “If you don't know what a part of the explanation is, you should tell me. I'll just explain it as well.”
“Very well!” Pure Vanilla beamed, acceptance and delight as he looked away in seeming thought. Shadow Milk could already feel irritation bubbling as his lips curled into something of mischief. “Then I'll ask you to explain to me what a god even is.”
“You know what a god is.” He scoffed, affronted and annoyed. Pure Vanilla only shrugged and waved a hand through the air.
“Sort of. I never had a definitive answer for it.” He nodded in his own agreement as he tapped at his lip. “How can I say I understand the concept if I can't give a concrete definition of it? Please, enlighten me, professor.”
“...You certainly know how to get on my nerves.” Shadow Milk found himself complaining, even as his magic responded and the flowers tilted up into exposure, something of pride and fearlessness. He sighed as he gathered his hair high atop his head, securing it with woven vines as Pure Vanilla raised a brow in amusement. “Let's start with the basics, shall we?”
Their lessons were much more amicable after that.
—
Their… relationship had grown friendlier once pride was set aside and understanding could be found.
Shadow Milk, granted the chance to learn patience, slowly worked on his tolerance and temper. Pure Vanilla, granted the chance to know the softer, unguarded version of the other, took the chance like piranhas to blood.
But learning to temper one's behaviors and feelings does not mean immediate change. It negates the clawing, scratching nature of returning to old habits, the easiness of letting yourself dip into the harsher, untrimmed attitudes instead of bending them into something palatable.
As Shadow Milk guaranteed stability upon the new brand of life he had created, he found the familiar brewing of irritation and the newfound jealous possessiveness slowly twisting ahold of his logic. Pure Vanilla had visited again - not for a lesson this time. Something more familiar, intimate, a new normal that had just begun to stabilize in the decades that they had spent slowly getting used to the other's presence and similarities.
These sorts of visits, ones where words of rituals and teachings were ditched for tea and idle chatter, had decidedly turned into something of a delight for Shadow Milk. A respite from the act he had established for himself, from the twisting and clawing fight for standing amongst divinities, where he could instead pretend they were merely mortal friends catching up on their time apart, and not two deities taking a break and delaying obligations that stacked and piled with every word spoken.
So it had brought him no small amount of irritation when their encounter had veered into the topic of the Guide of Souls. He had developed a certain… irritation when the topic of her was brought up. White Lily had, truthfully, done nothing to him directly, had done little that would even deserve any sort of scorn, at least from someone like him. And yet her mere coincidence, the fact that she worked and saw Pure Vanilla far more often than him, got to talk and meet with the God of Death - the one he had mentally claimed as his somewhere along their studies, had claimed as understanding his thinking and mind better than any other did, just as Shadow Milk did his - that small fact ruined her presence in his eyes more than anything else ever could. Even if he heard word of how kind she was, if only a bit strange, even if whispers of his exact thinking had been carried around as having been said by her, none of it could sway the grudge that had been decided for him long before he even realized it.
So to him it was only natural when annoyance and anger bubbled to the surface - hands tearing through delicate lignin and chlorophyll as he clenched his fists around the newly created plant, the kind that had just begun to sprout and conquer room for themselves - as Pure Vanilla continued to speak of their unimportant moments together, of simple daily occurrences he had experienced with her.
“-and there was this particularly stubborn soul that kept clinging to her dress.” Pure Vanilla laughed lightly, unaware of the turmoil beside him as he spun dead stem between his fingers, humming noncommittedly. “I felt a little bad prying it off but it needed to go back into the river and White Lily just doesn't have the heart to kick these restless souls back in herself.”
“Then she's not very good at her job, is she?” The muttered insult left him before he could even consider it, cringing at himself as he realized he had torn half a plant's roots out of the ground. He pried his own fingers off of it as he began to gently soothe the perturbed limb with magic, easing it back into the ground. Pure Vanilla frowned beside him as he glanced up.
“Being compassionate for the ones she must control doesn't lessen her capability to do her job.” He flicked the stem semi-playfully at Shadow Milk as he hummed. “Unless you're suggesting I'm bad at my job too for feeling bad over taking souls.”
“I don't have to suggest that.” He scoffed lightly, huffing before tugging his hair back as it once again obstructed his view. “I already know you're bad at your job.”
“How mean.” Pure Vanilla hummed, helpfully reaching over to gather his hair and bundle it together. He held it in place as vines attempted to hold it all together, looking weakened and fragile from his proximity as he pulled his hands away. “I'd say you're pretty bad at your job too, considering you lack compassion.”
“I don't lack it.” He slapped the hand that hovered near him away as he dragged himself closer to the subject of his focus. “I simply know not to waste it on imbeciles such as yourself.”
“Dear gods, did one of the lesser gods say something to you?” Pure Vanilla rolled his eyes and draped himself over his back, feeling the way Shadow Milk immediately hissed in displeasure as the life before him weakened with his proximity. He made no move to pull away as he gently bumped their heads together. “You are ruder than usual today. Same as White Lily when too many things pile up-”
“Do you have to keep bringing her up?!” He finally snapped, slamming his hand against the ground and feeling a smidge of satisfaction as Pure Vanilla stumbled in his lean. His robes were tugged as the latter pulled himself back up fully and blinked.
“She's my friend, why wouldn't I talk about her?” His question only made the irking feeling in Shadow Milk's stomach twist, simmering as he rolled his eyes.
“Because I don't care to listen.” He was quick to answer, ignoring the sigh against his neck as he huffed. “Besides, you don't talk about all of your other friends as much as you do her.”
“I just usually spend more time with her.” A stem snapped between his fingers, immediately soothed by his magic as Pure Vanilla hummed. “I've talked about my other friends too.”
“Not as much as you do her.” Shadow Milk grumbled, eyes narrowing as he not so gently elbowed him in displeasure. “I doubt you talk this much about anyone else. I mean, you spend a large amount of time with me and yet I never hear you talking about me to others.”
“Because no one would believe me if I did.” Pure Vanilla laughed into his shoulder as he tugged at his robes playfully. Shadow Milk could feel him press his lips against cloth as he hummed anew. “I tell White Lily about all you say and even she doesn't believe it.”
“Well, don't talk about me to her at all, then!” He turned his head, finding Pure Vanilla pulling back with a raised brow, clearly unimpressed. He assumed he made for a ridiculous sight as he tugged his robes against himself once again, petulant and childish. “I have no need for my name to be in that weed's lips.”
“Don't call her that.” He was immediately reprimanded, pinched on lower back as he gave a sour scowl. Pure Vanilla didn't flinch at it as he sighed loudly. “You know, White Lily only says nice things about you, I don't get why-”
“Shut up!” His own reprimand accompanied a shove to the face, feeling vindicated as Pure Vanilla easily fell back with the push, caught off guard and equilibrium with a shout. The flowers that grew beneath his touch withered just as quick in contact with the other, dead petals and leaves muffling complaints as a smile finally tugged at his lips in satisfaction.
His hand was grabbed and tugged away, Pure Vanilla spitting and gufawfing away dead flowers as he glared at him. He only returned the look with smugness as he was tugged off balance, until his other hand had to support him leaning above the god of death. “What's your problem?! You haven't even met her!”
“And I plan on keeping it that way for as long as possible.” He stuck his tongue out immaturely, shrieking as ripped and dead grass was pressed into his face, unable to escape far as his held hand kept him trapped.
“White Lily is nice!” Pure Vanilla defended, his own smile peeking through as Shadow Milk spit and groaned at the undead taste. Strands of hair from the one above him already began to slip and untuck themselves as the god of life shook himself off from the taste. “You should give her a chance and just talk-”
“Enough!” Was all he got as warning before being tugged up, hanging just inches above the ground as lips pressed against his. Caught off guard he could only blink, hands hovering in surprise before his eyes fell closed, finally finding purchase in tugging at robes as he was passionately kissed.
Shadow Milk didn't seem to plan on keeping him up, releasing him and watching him fall back with an “oof” as he was climbed onto, hands awkward and unsure as he kept them raised in the air, having released clothes as soon as he hit the ground. The god of life seemed to ignore his unsure shyness, straddling his hips and easily leaning down to once again steal his lips as a not so innocent hand began tugging his robes up behind the one above him. He was unsure of the reason why as his hands found their place upon legs, squeezing and caressing the expanse of warmth.
He was caught off guard as he felt clashing magic flow into him, jolting in the liplock and peeking his eyes open, finding Shadow Milk unbothered. He squeezed the pliant flesh beneath his hands as his lips were released, the one above him trailing kisses along his cheek and down his jaw as he panted and blinked to the sky. Something began to roll in his gut and warm his body as he shivered, a weak whine dragged from his throat as Shadow Milk sat up. The god of life simply wiggled in place once or twice, a sly smile beginning to bloom on his lips as he glanced down with fanning lashes, lavender already peaking at the apples of his cheeks.
“Let me show you why everyone enjoys doing my job so much.” It was uttered as joke, hands tugging the robes out from beneath him as Pure Vanilla suddenly felt shy, unaware of the reason as he pushed his legs together, suddenly feeling muscles he had never employed tingling with the sensation of use. He could hear his own confused whine emerging in the back of his throat as Shadow Milk not so gently shushed him, lifting himself ever so slightly. “Just sit back and enjoy the experience, little fool. I'll show you why I'm much better than her.”
Any annoyed defense of his friend immediately died in his lungs as he felt something unbearably hot engulf him, realizing the muscle between his legs, the one he had never used or known the reason for, was buried into something. Glancing down between lashes, he wasn't afforded the knowledge, view of anything blocked by the deliciously scorching body of Shadow Milk as he rolled his hips back and forth. A vague thought of an ignored explanation of the process mortals did themselves to mimic Shadow Milk's job barely blipped into his mind, before it was promptly ignored in favor of squirming and whining.
Shadow Milk only smiled above him, the rotted vines holding his hair up finally giving way as he grinded his hips down with a hum, finding no shortage of delight in the way Pure Vanilla practically wailed at the movement. He knew it to be cruel but he still began the question, still made sure to rub salt into the wound even in this first experience, even as he was sure Pure Vanilla could barely think past anything related to heat.
“Is she warmer than me, Pure Vanilla?” The magic of life squeezed cruelly around him, the warmth unbearable to something mortal, but so, so pleasant to someone like him. The cold of death was chased away by the overbearing heat, seeping through his thin skin and searing the cells it invaded, every dead and numbed nerve ending zapping and screaming in shocked sensation, axoniums and cell heads travelling electricity in such dizzying speeds that his brain struggled to catch up. His hands felt helpless, clawing and grasping at soft thighs in an attempt to grasp at something, to ground and anchor his body to something besides that mind-consuming heat that surrounded and clenched around him. “Answer me, Pure Vanilla. Is she warmer than me?”
“No!” He sobbed breathlessly, no tears to accompany as he tried bucking his hips up, stopped by the thighs that braced against him and held him down against grass. He couldn't think properly, couldn't process beside the overwhelming pleasure that the force of life intoxicated him with, bringing life to a cold, rotting body. “No, no, of c-course not!”
“So you know how warm she is on the inside?” Shadow Milk's cruelty accompanied a press of his hips down, pushing him in further, arms crossed over his chest as Pure Vanilla keened and shook his head, desperation soaking through every atom of his as he sweat for the first time ever, susceptible to the warmth the one above seeped into his every muscle, to the core of his bones.
“N-No, I-”
“If you don't, then why did you say she wasn't?” Shadow Milk didn't let him explain, didn't allow the synapses that blipped and shocked through Pure Vanilla's brain to conjoin, to work in tandem to create the idea of movement, to form the thought of what he could say. “You'd need to know how warm she was on the inside to tell me if I'm warmer or not.”
“That's n-not-” He tried starting again, tried fighting the numbness that tugged at the edge of his mind, but Shadow Milk afforded him no mercy, shifted to be on the balls of his feet as his hands dug beneath Pure Vanilla's thighs, pulled his legs up, and angled him further in - more torture for the god beneath him.
“If you don't know then why did you imply that you did?” Shadow Milk was cruel, grinding once as he raised a brow, digging softened claws into quickly warming flesh as Pure Vanilla once again tried pushing his hips up, half successful as Shadow Milk's weight was released onto him. “Hm, Pure Vanilla?”
“Y-You-” He tried begging, tried explaining Shadow Milk's cruelty, his slyness, the way he was using words and omissions against him, but he was helpless, could do nothing more than try and dig into the legs around him as his eyes rolled back.
“Don't pin this on me.” The words were hissed this time, the deity of life dragging his hips up and exposing him to cold air for but a second before that inferno was surrounding his dick again, seeping into his skin as he threw his head back, wailing as he tried pushing into the heat. “You're the one who implied you knew how warm she was inside. Were you annoying me just so I would do this? Was this your twisted perversion working in your favor all along?”
“N-Not fair!” He finally managed to cry, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried pulling Shadow Milk up and off, crying in a muddled mixture of pleasured frustration and overstimulation as Shadow Milk only pushed himself back down, Pure Vanilla's hold too weak and unstable to stop him as he bucked his hips up again, instinctual to bury himself into heat. “You're twisting my words!”
His complaints were more sob than talk, pitiful in a way that made his own chest twist in a simile of the compassion he feels when doing his job. He was sure he made for a pitiable sight anyways; reduced to whining and tantruming like a petulant child, complaining of unfairness and injustice while unable to explain his view. He tried pushing at Shadow Milk's knees, to knock him off balance, to allow Pure Vanilla to take advantage of his surprise to pull him off and allow his mind to catch up. But Shadow Milk didn't budge, didn't stumble in his stand as he simply released his weight fully, now truly sat as Pure Vanilla millimetrically buried further into him with a cry.
“Not fair?” The deity above him questioned, sliding onto his calves so he could pull himself up, sliding himself down torturously slow as his hands kept Pure Vanilla on the ground by the stomach. “You're the one who brought her up in the first place. Why is me asking unfair?”
“Because you're asking s-stuff I can't answer- ah!- and making it s-s-sound like I can!” It was childish, he knew, to hit at Shadow Milk's legs, to push his nails in to tear through burning skin as golden, thick blood answered immediate, budding to the surface and beneath his nails as Shadow Milk hissed in pain. He knew it wasn't fair to further aggravate the wounds with the clawed nails he filed down as he smeared heavenly blood over blue skin, opening epidermis and splitting capillaries as he shook his head. “Y-You never play fair.”
The cuts healed quick - quicker than his ever would - the golden ambrosia layering over his palms like balm, hands burning at the stimuli as he once again tried pushing Shadow Milk back, to give him some room to think, some room to process through the overwhelming pleasure. But his hands only slid with the aid of the blood, dragging heavy, jeweled robes up further, exposing their connection and how well Shadow Milk fit around him. His head swam at the thought, at the notion that he had been perfectly made to slot inside Shadow Milk's cunt, like an outfit made to-measure, to please the god above him in ways that each other would never do to anyone else.
He felt desperate, then, when he tried grabbing at hips, soaking fine silks and gold with their liquid counterpart, robes sliding over smooth skin as he tried encouraging- nay, begging - Shadow Milk to move again, to pull himself off before slotting them perfectly together once again. But the deity above him was not one of mercy, eyes narrowed at him as he choked around his sobs, desperate in a way unfamiliar but not unknown.
“Fair?” He laughed around the word, dipped it into amusement and cruelty all the same as his hands rested on his navel, hiding their connection point from sight as he tilted his head. The haloed crown that light mimicked above his head felt less than fitting at that moment, an ironic reminder of who Shadow Milk truly was. “Have you never heard the mortal saying, Pure Vanilla? ‘Life's not fair’.” He tested the words on his tongue as he spoke and clenched around the dick in him, enjoying the trembles that racked the frame beneath him. “I find it to be quite fitting… don't you?”
“It's cruel is what it is.” Pure Vanilla had the nerve to sniffle, digging claws into thin waist as he muffled a sob. “How can a deity so generous be so cruel?”
“Cruel?” He questioned, leant forward, hair draping as curtain to hide the world behind him. “How could you say such a thing about me? After all I do for you.”
“Do not try and play me for a f-fool.” His mind helpfully supplied, pawing now at the rich cloth as the air that burned his lungs started to return, a cruel pain of life to someone undead. “You do not do things for me.”
Shadow Milk's gaze turned into something burning then, teetering on what he could only taste as hatred as the grass beneath him itched, forced into life as the god above him was driven to anger.
“How dare you.” It was not question but offense, the soft lips that spoke them now dripping with venom as Shadow Milk's hands balled into fists on his stomach. “Do you have any idea of how much I do for you compared to that little weed you call a friend?”
“Do not-” He begun, ready to defend White Lily even if it cost him the company above him. He was not able to, breath and sense punched out of him as Shadow Milk rose and dropped in less than a second, his brain spinning as his hands tightened where they rested.
“Has she ever made a flower just for you?” His question followed another quick rise and drop, chest stuttering as Pure Vanilla's breathing was once again disoriented from stability. “I have. I made milkcrowns out of my tears just for you. But you still prefer those wretched flowers she wears.”
“You didn't-” He tried again denying, knowing Shadow Milk had never shed tears for him, but he was again unallowed, whimper drawn in his throat as he tried bucking his hips, denied without hesitation as he was forced to stay down.
“Does she know you break the rules of your own job and sneak souls you feel too much pity for back into my atelier?” The question this time had a laugh, cruel and bitter, like Shadow Milk found humor in Pure Vanilla's compassion leading him to do something so egregious for beings like them. “I do. And yet I still imbue those souls into my creations.”
“Shadow Milk-” He tried again, now dizzy and desperate as the movement continued, up and down unrelenting even as he tried moving Shadow Milk against it, claws starting to tear into soft fabrics.
“Does she stay up late into the night making creations that are nothing like her style just to make you happy?” His words started to spin into something bitter now, something that spoke of lingered thoughts and hated intrusions. “I do. I spent nights thinking up all kinds of silly little creatures just to make you happy when you find them out.”
“Please-” His throat was clogged, eyes burning with the want of tears but unable to respond, undead cells dried and desperate to answer the call even as they couldn't.
“And yet you spend every day with her.” The pushes down started becoming more violent, more intense, the shimmering gold of dried blood blinding against the sunlight as the muscles beneath it were sent into overworking. “You let mortals group her with you.” Another harsh push. “You go to hold her hand when you are lonely, even if you both have no warmth to give.”
“I just-” He felt it useless to truly argue, to try and protest the bond when he knew it to be true, even if not in the way Shadow Milk spoke of it.
“Should I make you forget all about her?” The question was more laugh than words, fingers tapping at his tense stomach as he squeezed his eyes shut, crying behind closed lips. “Make you so addicted to the warmth of life that no one else will ever suffice again besides me?”
“No-” The protest was more image than intention, encouraging the movements above him as he felt the searing warmth be chased away by burning cold in the bottom of his stomach, weakly bucking up whenever given the room.
“I'll make sure no cold undead will ever feel as pleasant as my warmth. You've tasted her chill before, haven't you?” He shook his head but he knew it to be useless, knew Shadow Milk would never believe the truth as he sighed lazily. “It doesn't matter if you did. You won't ever want it again after you see how good the heat of life is.”
“You really are-” He couldn't finish the accusation before it broke into sob, desperation seeping into thought as he pierced the skin of the waist, feeling the blood bubble beneath his claws. Shadow Milk jolted at the pain but made no move to stop him.
“So much better? I know.” His movements sped up, feeling the way Pure Vanilla tensed and twitched beneath and inside him. “Make sure you remember how it feels, Pure Vanilla. So you don't ever make the mistake of going to someone else again. You were made for me.”
He was helpless to stop it as his body moved on its own accord, thrusting up into that unbearable heat as he forcefully pulled Shadow Milk down onto him, blindly tugging at robes until he could expose a shoulder, taking no time to sink his teeth into the inviting flesh. Shadow Milk gasped quietly, most probably in surprise, rolling his hips down and back as Pure Vanilla used the angle to push into him with reckless abandon, consumed by the mind-numbing warmth that seeped into him from every contact point they had. It only made sense, then, when he finally reached his limit, managing a few aborted, rough thrusts before finally tipping over the edge, unaware of his own ability to do so as he came.
Shadow Milk jolted at the sensation, flooded not with warmth but with a numbing cold, forearms braced next to Pure Vanilla's head as small, humped movements were made into him as the god below him rode out his high, whining against the flesh of his shoulder weakly. He only sighed, not quite heavy with delight but teetering dangerously on pleasure, consequently dragging his hips up until Pure Vanilla's dick could slide out of him. The former whimpered at the feeling but didn't stop him, teeth dislodging from the wound he caused on Shadow Milk's shoulder, licking over the blood on his teeth. The god of life only spared him a glance before sitting up, pulling his robes back down and into place as he hid the signs of what had happened between them. Pushing himself up and off of Pure Vanilla, he stood, casually retucking his hair into the careless bun that it had been in when they began, oblivious, or rather, purposefully ignorant to the way Pure Vanilla still trembled and cried against the ground, limbs limp.
“Let that be a reminder-” He started, already turning his back to Pure Vanilla, to wander off somewhere into the mortal realm, to leave death shaken after his presence. “-to never bring up that weed in my presence again.”
Pure Vanilla couldn't respond, still out of breath even if made breathless, cheeks puffing in annoyance as he glared at the sky.
—
“You played dirty.” Those were the first words that came out of his mouth as that familiar curtain of blue hair became clear amidst flowers, the deity it belonged to not even flinching as he dipped a dirty hand into water. The milkcrowns waned and trembled under the touch of life, brushing against whatever exposed skin they could, petals shaking as the tamed magic pet at them in turn. Shadow Milk's hands were covered in clay, thin layer of dirt crackled and pliant as he dipped his hands into water, a small pond of sparkling blue that floated the edges of the galaxies in his hair, surrounding the circle of creation, moat-like in all but danger.
“Did I?” He calmly responded, cupping the shining liquid to bathe a clump of clay that rested before him, its shape lumpy but starting to resemble something like a bunny as his fingers expertly carved life into shape. “How so?”
“You didn't let me get any words in last time.” He didn't hesitate to approach, stepping as close as allowed without crossing over the water as his scythe thumped against the now dead grass. Shadow Milk didn't spare him a glance as he hummed, focused instead on the shape before him.
“You got plenty of words in. Especially about that… damned weed. It's why the argument even started in the first place.” He brushed him off, defining limbs from body before jolting as the sharpened metal of the scythe brushed his neck, glancing down to find its blade resting against his skin in warning. It wouldn't do any real damage, not really, so he didn't bother with panic, only allowing it to slide up and under his chin as his head was gently tilted back, until he could look at narrowed eyes staring at him, stormy displeasure fanned by white lashes.
“It wasn't an argument, it was a monologue. You didn't let me get any words in, you just told me all about your feelings without letting me speak of mine.” To stop his pointless beheading, he accompanied the pull of the scythe, forced to lean back as his project was slowly guided out of his hands by distance. He felt a complaint slipping past his lips as he had to lean onto his hands, grass sticking to muddy clay as Pure Vanilla, unrelenting, guided him back further and further. “It was just like I said. You never play fair.”
“And just as I told you, life isn't fair.” His rude words only had him tugged, pulled back with enough quick force that he couldn't catch himself as he was tipped into the circle of water, a whined complaint in his mouth as the shallow water soaked into his hair, head floating. “Is this supposed to be my punishment for giving you the experience of a lifetime?”
“Don't be foolish.” Pure Vanilla began, kneeling as a careful hand slipped into the pond, fingers threading through strands of hair as he smiled, all compassion and forgiveness. “I wouldn't forgive you so easily.”
His hand closed, fingers trapping hair as he pulled down, forcing Shadow Milk's head to fully submerge in the water as the deity of life jumped into instinct, grasping at his wrist and gasping water into lungs as his legs kicked from where they once lay, pushing against grass and dirt in an attempt to drag him back up as he sucked in more and more water, attempting to shake his head even as Pure Vanilla neutrally held him under. He knew there was no real danger, Shadow Milk needed not to breathe, otherwise life as they know it would teeter too precariously on someone asphyxiating the god of it.
“Are you sorry?” Pure Vanilla calmly questioned, brows raising as Shadow Milk hit at his wrist, words lost to liquid as all sound was distorted and warbled, nothing but air bubbles emerging in the wake of what he assumed to be yelled profanities. “You don't sound like you are.”
Shadow Milk continued his displeasure for a few seconds more, writhing and hitting for a few moments only before settling, relaxing muscles and wants as he let his hands slide off, now fallen at his sides as he glared at Pure Vanilla through the distortion, the god of death doing a horrible job at holding back a smile as he tilted his head.
“Are you sorry now?” His question only earned him a harsher glare, quickly remedied as he tugged him by the hair, Shadow Milk shouting before starting to nod his head, squeezing the forearm of the hand that kept him under as he did his best to show meaningless regret. Pure Vanilla kept him in the same position for a bit more before finally releasing him, watching Shadow Milk sit up with a start, muscles reflexively pushing water out as the contents of his lungs were emptied onto his creation, bunny ears and paws quickly melting into amorphousity as the deity coughed and heaved, more instinctual than actual need. A few liters of expelled water later and he was trying to wipe at his face, soaked hair only causing drops to replace any dryness as he breathed heavily, hunched over. “I forgive you now.”
“You are a bastard.” Was his only hissed reply, choking down air as he glared over his shoulder, drool mixed with water down his chin as he blinked tears out of his eyes, looking no bit the graceful deity of life but rather like a soaked rat, shivering and slick. Pure Vanilla only smiled as he stood up properly.
“Consider it revenge. For the state you left me in last time.” He stepped over the makeshift moat as Shadow Milk trembled at the temperature change, clutching the stump he worked on as his robes slowly wettened, thick hair pulling water and seeping it into cloth as he glared at the grass. Pure Vanilla gently placed a hand on top of his head, only a little guilty at his actions as he weakly pet wet hair. “It wasn't even that bad, drowning doesn't hurt us.”
“But it's unpleasant all the same.” Shadow Milk jolted his head out of reach, pushing the remains of his latest creation off his workspace, the clump of soaked clay thumping unceremoniously, staining and squishing the milkflowers it landed on. The deity of life only glared at it as his shoulders rose in tension. “You should get out. You've ruined my mood for the century.”
“Don't give me that.” Pure Vanilla easily huffed in amusement, scythe easily tapping the top of his head as he tilted his. “It was coming out really cute. You should have kept at it.”
“Out.” The tone this time was resolute, water quickly turning into steam as Shadow Milk seethed at the perceived mockery. “Before I throw you out.”
“Yes, yes, I'll see myself out.” He finally resigned, sighing as he stepped around the ruined workspace. “I just wanted to say hello to you on my time off.”
Shadow Milk only glared at his back as he left, the dead grass left in Pure Vanilla's wake not regaining its color as the anger burned into his back.
—
The “cute bunny” he had complimented had turned into a hare, fluffy fur and soft angles sharpened into long limbs and ruthless agility.
He had found that out when the first soul had showed at his doorstep, familiar and aching in despair, crying for another chance as if it wasn't already their second one. He recognized this one. A case that had pulled at his compassion, a tale of a man who had only gone through hardships and had just started bettering his life when he died in a gruesome accident. Pure Vanilla had been sorry then, tucking his soul into his sleeve and slipping it back into Shadow Milk's atelier when the other was away.
This time he didn't feel as sorry, not when the soul had acted entitled, speaking of deserving a better second chance, something better than whatever this misshapen bunny was. He knew the soul had somewhat of a point, but he also knew Shadow Milk had done this on purpose, had perfectly chosen this soul to sour and ripen into mature rot by the time Pure Vanilla came to pick at it. This time he did not slip it away behind sleeves, instead cutting it down and observing the body it had complained of.
Though lagomorphic in nature and uncanny in thought, Shadow Milk had done as good a job as any, every detail and part meticulously crafted to work in tandem with the finite environment he had spent millennia crafting. So Pure Vanilla had not spared the soul but rather the body, breaking another law that he was sure to be judged for if ever found, breathing the power of death's cold into the empty husk and watching with a small smile as it rose, movements jagged and rash in a simile of life, a close enough mimicry to the hares that were yet to follow its birth.
—
He did not get an opportunity to scold Shadow Milk for his pettiness, was not granted an audience as his free time spent searching for the deity yielded no results. He had thought it purposeful, had thought the cruelty and loneliness a calculation, another of Shadow Milk's whims of a punishment as he was left chasing after wilted milkcrowns and blooming lilies.
It had felt only bitter, then, when he had finally caught the deity in his grasp, the image before him sour and fragile in a nauseating way.
Shadow Milk held none of the splendour he always did, shaky and sick in a gut-wrenching sight.
A fever, had been the whispers, gossiped conversation between all divinities as they spoke of curse and malice, of a displeased god that had cast upon him a malediction, not enough to kill, clever enough as they were to know the end that would claim them all if such were to be done, but enough to weaken severely.
And cowardly as he was, Pure Vanilla did not visit for the first few decades of the sickness.
His job went as it always did, not too slow but not fast enough to burden, but it no longer came with surprises, no life taken was unlike any before.
So on the second century, when the weight and monotony of death finally weighed him too far, he had gathered his nerves.
It felt shameful, he thought, to walk through the halls of empty wings to the bedroom he could feel the darkness dripping from.
Shadow Milk had been quarantined, he had been told, dragged away from the outside and fresh air, and instead had been delegated to a closed temple, unable to go outside and unable to even feel the sunlight as he was sealed away from the world - for their safety or his, he didn't truly know.
The temple he had been delegated to was bleak, to put it bluntly. Empty walls begged for paintings and decorations, for signs of existence, but instead they only housed blinding whites that danced in the candlelight that lit them a muted gray.
His movements weren't confident when he knocked on the only closed door, hands shaking as he clutched his scythe like it could provide some sort of support. His permission to enter wasn't given then with words but rather with what he assumed to be a surprised gasp, unable to properly make out sounds behind the thick wood. It had taken him all his strength to push open the last barrier between them, unable to hold back his own sound of surprise at the sight that had greeted him.
The deity before him was a bleak sight. The previously glowing hair now dimmed into nothing but an empty void, the large bed that sat in the middle of the room barely illuminated by the litany of candles around the room.
Shadow Milk looked small in the spot, surrounded and drowned in endless amounts of soft petals, milkcrowns bundled by the hundreds around him, gathered and amounted mindlessly, as if they simply grew in whatever room they found. Shadow Milk seemed sickly not in the deathly sense, but in the weakened one, cheeks flushed a dreary shade of purple as he breathed through a barely open mouth, lids heavy and lashes fanning as he tried to make out the visitor that stepped into his room. It took him only a second to process, feverish brain still just as sharp as he blinked away newly blooming flowers.
“Have you come to claim me?” The words, intended as joke, landed rather as fear, thin fingers clutching at silk sheets as he looked Pure Vanilla over. He seemed unbelieving, unable to tell feverish dreams from solid reality. Pure Vanilla could feel his throat tighten as he swallowed down whatever despair he was about to voice, finding resistance in fully opening the door as his feet were surrounded by the milky flowers.
“Don't make such jokes.” He found himself scolding, easily stepping through quickly dying flowers until he could stop at the foot of the bed, unable to help the tightness in his chest at how small Shadow Milk looked in the spot he laid. “I heard you were sick.”
“It takes this long for news to reach you?” Shadow Milk tried for a laugh, throat scratchy as he struggled to clear its itch. “I thought the others would be much bigger gossips.”
“They are.” He cleared up, watching the other's lips form around an o of surprise. He felt shame burn as Shadow Milk glanced away, eyebrows twitching in a want to frown.
“Oh. I see.” The implications of such didn't need to be spoken, not when he could feel its effects as the flowers around the room tilted and turned away from him, hiding their faces as if scorned. “...how have things been?”
“The same as always.” He brushed a hand through one of the mounds, feeling the slightest disappointment as they all died beneath his hand. “Souls don't stop being born and dying.”
“I suppose no new ones get made either. Or has someone been delegated my duty?” He seemed to almost dim at the thought, glancing away and into what was probably monotonously familiar walls by now.
“None of us could be, could we?” He laughed breathlessly, no humor in it as he raised the dried petals to try and smell their quickly fading perfume. “It's impossible to make a new creature without knowing the ins and outs of the system like you do. It'd cause too big of a disturbance.”
“Surely you know them well enough.” Shadow Milk coughed into an arm, Pure Vanilla forcing himself to ignore the gold that stained the inside of his elbow as he leaned back. “You've seen all my creations. I don't doubt you could make something fitting.”
“My hands weren't made for creating like yours. They'd just die on the spot.” He raised one of dead flowers to make his point, watching Shadow Milk's lips twitch up into a smile.
“Don't be so pessimistic. I could help you bring them to life and release them.” He waved towards his direction and the dead flower bloomed back into fullness, this time slowly wilting in his hold instead of in an instant. “I'm not as weak as you're all making me out to be.”
“No one said anything about weak.” He sighed, bringing the flower up to rest his nose in, more for the softness of the petals than the smell. “Life is just… fragile. I know that very well and so do you.”
“Not as fragile as you seem to think.” Shadow Milk frowned, glancing around himself at the mountain of flowers before huffing. Pure Vanilla jumped as he pushed himself to sit up, dragging his feet off the bed. “Help me up here.”
“Absolutely not, you need to stay in bed!” He was quick to protest, wading through dying flowers to reach Shadow Milk's side, waving his scythe away into nothingness. The latter only rolled his eyes, pulling himself to the edge, unfazed when Pure Vanilla gently took him by the shoulders and tried to lay him back down with no force. “You're sick.”
“And you think laying around in a place like this is going to do me any good? Look at this place, Pure Vanilla. I'm dying quicker the more I stay here.” He instead used Pure Vanilla's arms as support, grabbing onto them to haul himself onto his feet with a stumble. Though protesting, the god of death still instinctively supported his stand, holding him by the waist and hip with a faint blush.
“You're not dying.” He weakly muttered, hesitating as Shadow Milk leaned on him fully with a sigh and a roll of the eyes. “I'm serious.”
“And so am I.” Shadow Milk huffed, legs shaking at the lack of moving as he rested his forehead against the other's arm. “Help me get outside, I need fresh air pronto.”
Pure Vanilla hesitated, unwilling to break the quarantine the other deities had set, but Shadow Milk was ultimately the one he'd truly listen to, muttering an apology before picking him up and pulling him into a bridal carry, feeling his ears burn as Shadow Milk laughed next to them.
“I meant help me walk. What is this?” His words accompanied confused squirming, attempting to get comfortable as Pure Vanilla grumbled in embarrassment.
“The best way to carry you outside. If we tried to walk there, we'd take too long and you'd get frustrated. I know how you can be.” He sighed, imagining more than seeing the eyeroll Shadow Milk probably did.
“I'd be a little more offended if being handled like this by you wasn't attractive.” His comment had Pure Vanilla blushing further, visible from the view he had as he smiled proudly. “Now come on, off we go.”
The god of death listened, carrying Shadow Milk out through the bleak halls, trying to ignore the heat spreading down from his shoulders as they stepped through the magically controlled entrance out to their divine realm, Shadow Milk quick to squirm in his hold to be let down.
He obeyed, sliding him down onto the grass and watching him stumble a few steps before dropping face first into the ground. Panicked, he was quick to step forward, ready to pick him back up and take him back before stopping in his tracks as Shadow Milk rolled around the soft grass, looking much happier than he did when laying in bed.
“So much better! You don't know how much I missed this.” He sighed in delight, hair already tussled with grass blades weaving between strands as he stretched himself out, Pure Vanilla averting his gaze as he arched his back with a satisfied groan. “This is sooooo much better than that stuffy room. Why did I let them convince me into staying there?”
“Because I bet it's your first time being sick. I doubt you weren't scared enough to do whatever anyone told you.” Pure Vanilla sighed, stepping closer as a sliver of guilt gnawed at the back of his mind. “...I really am sorry that I didn't visit sooner.”
“It was very cruel of you not to, I agree.” Shadow Milk teased, closing his eyes as the sunlight soaked into his skin. He could feel the depressing sickness of the fever being subdued as he was properly able to take in liveliness once again. “But death is cruel supposedly, so what should I have really expected?”
“More than you did. It was unfair and heartless to avoid you so long.” He could feel shame rolling in his gut as he looked away. “It was cowardly.”
“Don't be dramatic! That's my job.” Shadow Milk smiled, peeking an eye open and holding a hand out. “I knew you're too soft hearted to not visit, I wasn't actually worried about it. Now quit your sob story and join me down here. I'm just sooooo hot.”
Pure Vanilla still hesitated, looking away for a few seconds before giving in, taking the offered hand and laying next to Shadow Milk, frowning at the clear skies as he continued to beat himself up over his choices. Shadow Milk didn't allow him to stir in his negativity though, pulling him by the arm and clinging to him with a whined moan of relief, pressing his cheek against his chest. Pure Vanilla blushed at the noise and wrapped an arm around him, not able to look at him as he cleared his throat.
“What are- uh, what are you doing?” He asked weakly, shivering as those impossibly hot hands tried pushing underneath his robes.
“You're so nice and chilly. This fever's been burning me alive, don't deny me this.” Shadow Milk mumbled, nuzzling the side of his ribcage further as he wrapped his legs around one of the other's. Pure Vanilla didn't say anything but still pulled him in tighter, resting his cheek atop his head with a small sigh.
He should have really visited sooner.
—
The illness had ended up coming and going, as most of them tend to do, and Shadow Milk had been quick to dive headfirst back into his work, brain running a mile a minute as all the pent up energy he had stored finally found an outlet in his creating. So it was no surprise to Pure Vanilla when more and more new creatures showed up at his doorstep, all finely crafted and tuned, made to perfectly fit into Shadow Milk's melodious world as they joined the ever more complex web of relations that the ecosystem strung creature by creature.
It was, however, a surprise to him when Shadow Milk showed up at his realm, looking every bit frazzled and manic, hands still caked in clay and hair entangled with crushed milkcrowns as he pushed past him, looking around as if Pure Vanilla wasn't there in the first place.
“Hello to you too.” He began, finding a sliver of amusement as Shadow Milk walked around, eyes narrowed as he observed and read into every detail of the husks of his own work. Usually he wouldn't let Shadow Milk in, embarrassed about how dreary his realm was when compared to the latter's, but he seemingly didn't have a choice this time. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit this time?”
“I'm stumped.” Shadow Milk chewed on a lip, sifting through piles of annotations, seemingly no one goal in mind as he looked through the notes Pure Vanilla had made of his creations. “I have something in mind but I can't quite picture it and every creature I start, I don't like. I need some inspiration.”
“So you came to myyou created after all.”
“Doesn't matter.” He groaned, rolling his head back with a glare aimed at nothing in particular. “I already know everything that's in there, it's all connected to me. I need something… gruesome. Something upsetting. Something death would have.”
“Well, I like to think I've made the realm cozier than that.” Pure Vanilla felt the pout on his lips as he rolled a strand of hair between his fingers. Shadow Milk only glanced at him unimpressed before going back to sorting through scrolls(sue Pure Vanilla's secret love for the theatrical flair of opening a scroll). “Either way, I think you should rest. You look like you're going to keel over at any second.”
“I don't have time.” Shadow Milk started, eyes flitting over the very detailed anatomical drawings before tossing them over his shoulder. “I need to finish this before I lose steam.”
“You already are losing it.” The god huffed, watching Shadow Milk stand up to move onto the next pile. He didn't allow it, grabbing the back of his robes and tugging, stopping him from moving. “I'm serious, Shadow Milk.”
“Let me go.” Shadow Milk complained, reaching back to grab his hand and missing as Pure Vanilla quickly slid it into the open back. “I mean-”
His words immediately died in his throat as the chilled hand took a hold of his waist, pulling him back and into Pure Vanilla as the god behind him frowned. He attempted resistance but his overworked mind struggled for it, already shaking as he weakly pawed at a forearm, his head hung to hide the blush burning his cheeks.
“I think-” Pure Vanilla's other hand accompanied the first, sliding into the open back of his robe to grab him better as he splayed his hand over his sternum. “You're overworking yourself. You need to slow down.”
“And h-how do you suggest I do that?” Shadow Milk hissed, shivering violently as one of the hands slid lower to squeeze at a thigh, Pure Vanilla smiling against his hair.
“I can think of a way.” The words were murmured, accompanying fingers dancing up his thigh as he shivered and burned.
“When did you learn how to do this?” Shadow Milk barely managed to whisper, trying and failing to keep his composure as Pure Vanilla heated up in a blush behind him.
“I did… research.” He mumbled into his hair, feeling Shadow Milk's shoulders jump with held back laughter.
“You watched a human couple do it? You're sick, Pure Vanilla.” His mocking was cut off as a hand cupped him, the ends of fingers already dipping between folds as he hissed in delight.
“It's not like that!” Pure Vanilla was easily protesting, squeezing the waist under his arm as he nuzzled behind his ear. “I meant that I… might have asked the other gods about it.”
“You didn't.” Shadow Milk was already laughing in amusement, pushing into his hand even as Pure Vanilla nervously felt around for his clit.
“Well, who else could I ask??” He defended, blush audible in his tone. “It's not like it's a documented thing in libraries or anything.”
“You could ask me.” Shadow Milk emphasized, reaching down to not so subtly guide Pure Vanilla's fingers to where his clit already peeked for attention. “Sex is kind of the first step of making life, you know?”
“And endure your relentless teasing?” His movements were somewhat unsure as he gently pressed, watching Shadow Milk jolt forward in his hold and laugh shakily. “Besides, you already ‘taught’ me the other part. I wanted to know how to handle your body.”
“What, you think you can learn to play me like an instrument?” His voice felt too breathless for his taste, swallowing down his relaxation as he pushed the fingers harder in their clumsy rolling. “Cute want, but that would take a lot of practice.”
“I have all the time in the world.” Shadow Milk felt the smile against his ear as Pure Vanilla spoke, losing the slightest bit of nervousness as he seemed to gain confidence in what he was doing, now more firmly pressing and rolling the clit beneath his fingers. Shadow Milk shuddered and eagerly pushed his hips into the movement, clutching the arm around his waist as he considered if getting a chance to watch Pure Vanilla fumble in an attempt to please him was worth interrupting his workflow. A shy finger pushing between his already wet lips had him immediately deciding it was.
Pulling at Pure Vanilla's arm, he forcibly guided his other hand down, dragging it beneath the one currently stimulating him as he rolled his head back onto a shoulder, able to see from an unfavorable angle the way Pure Vanilla burned in embarrassment at their actions. Smiling at the shame, he placed his fingers over the other's, guiding them lower until he was nudging the slick labia apart, encouraging him to push them into him as he closed his eyes, focused on maintaining his composure as that bone-numbing chill slowly pushed into him. Pure Vanilla seemed awed and unaware as he pushed two fingers in fully, causing Shadow Milk to jolt and grab at his hair with a whined complaint. The god of death seemed none the wiser to the reason as his blush intensified.
“It's so warm inside.” He muttered in what sounded like astonishment, eagerly pushing against walls and feeling the warmth around his fingers as he pet the deepest spot he could reach. Shadow Milk could already feel his legs giving out as he blinked moisture out of his eyes, pulling at the hair weakly with a roll of his eyes.
“And you couldn't tell that from the first time?” He attempted to snark, finding it less than successful with the way he was trembling and grinding into both the hands stimulating him.
“It's different around my fingers compared to around my- um, compared to sex.” Pure Vanilla's shyness seemed to return, averting his gaze but not stopping his movements as he tried pushing his fingers in further. Shadow Milk jolted away from the attempt by instinct, hips jumping as he whined through bitten lips.
“Are you trying to finger me or break me?” He weakly complained, pushing against Pure Vanilla's shin with his foot as his eyes rolled back ever so slightly. The god beneath him had at least enough shame to look sheepish, easing his fingers out ever so slightly as he compensated with a firmer press to his clit.
“Sorry, sorry. It's just really hard for me to feel anything warm since everything dies by my touch. And your insides are just…” He did not finish, instead unworriedly trying to push another finger in as Shadow Milk spasmed at the attempt. He quickly grabbed the offending hand over his robes, making the death god freeze as he elbowed him.
“Slow down! Who in the damned underworld taught you about this stuff?” He hissed, turning his head to glare at him as Pure Vanilla hesitated for a second, seemingly thinking something over before deciding on his thoughts.
“Well… you won't like the answer.” He muttered quietly, hiding his face in the other's neck as Shadow Milk bristled, a smile tucked from view. He could feel the nails digging into him as he mumbled. “It's not like I have many chances to speak to anyone else.”
“You went to that half-goddess imbecile for advice?” Shadow Milk could feel his hackles bristle, hair involuntarily wrapping around tanned arms as Pure Vanilla meekly shrugged.
“I needed to ask someone. Who else could I question about it?” He placed a kiss against the covered nape of his neck, resuming his movements but gentler as he nosed against the spot. “Does it bother you?”
“Do you even need to ask?” Shadow Milk questioned instead, all anger and jealousy as he arched against the sensation. He could barely disguise the slowly budding desperation, building and settling at the bottom of his stomach as the gentle motions eased into something constant and not into a peak.
“I just wanted to know what to do to please you.” Pure Vanilla sighed, all guilt and pretense as he nuzzled behind a ear, his breath brushing the tip of it as he spoke. “She said to not do much because you wouldn't be able to handle it-”
“Handle it?! Handle it?! What does that worthless, good for nothing bug even know?!” The insults earned him a displeased huff, biting his tongue to avoid sound escaping as his clit was pinched in warning. “I can take whatever your small little mind can conjure up!”
“Are you sure?” Pure Vanilla began, the fingers inside him easing themselves out as he slowly worked the walls into pliancy. Shadow Milk sighed through his thoughts, grabbing a handful of blonde hair to pull on as his eyelids fluttered. The god behind him didn't seem to mind, gently kissing his cheek before nuzzling against it. “I don't want to overwhelm you with anything new.”
“You oversell yourself.” Was the annoyed reply, rubbing his temple against shoulder as he chewed his own lip. His free hand tugged at heavy robes, foot finding purchase against a covered shin. “I promise you that anything you think of, I can handle.”
“Then please excuse my actions.” The unusual ask had him caught off guard, unaware of what to expect as the hands that teased him slipped away. Instead calloused fingers dragged his robes up, exposing hip and waist until he could be properly grabbed, in the blink of an eye flipped upside down as the world spun along with him. His legs hung limply just above his line of sight as he was dragged up, sense flitting into motion as he made to take a hold of the hands holding him, the smallest worry of being dropped as golden blood immediately flowed to his head.
“Don't drop me.” Was the first thing he thought to say, clutching the wrists of the one holding him as Pure Vanilla huffed in amusement. He felt offended at the humor but didn't voice it as a kiss was placed onto an inner thigh.
“I won't. You must trust me.” The kisses slowly trailed lower, following freckles and marks until it reached the junction of his legs, mouth hesitating for only a second before the same weightless affection was placed onto his labia. He felt his ears simmer with a blush as the delicate want was repeated over and over, brushes of lips dragging against sensitive skin as his mind spun, dizzied by the position and the bloodflow. Pure Vanilla didn't seem to be in a rush, oblivious, or rather willingly ignorant, to the way moisture gathered beneath his mouth, seemingly unbothered even as Shadow Milk squeezed his arms. The god of life had only half a mind as he attempted to squirm in the hold.
“Would you q-quit kissing it and actually do something?” The complaint was weak, choked at best and whiny to his ears. He could feel his pointed ears twitching as his own wetness was dragged onto his inner thigh, Pure Vanilla replacing his lips with his cheek as he laid against it, sighing deeply.
“Didn't you say you could handle anything I thought of?” Shadow Milk could only glare ahead of himself as he silenced, crossing his arms over his chest and holding back the kick he wished to deliver as he felt Pure Vanilla's cheek push with a smile. “Just… be good and take it.”
The immediate offended protest that was quickly crawling down his throat was blown out like a flame, hiccuped gasp pulled out of his chest as a tongue mercifully lavished over him, gathering slick and want as his knees knocked together. Pure Vanilla seemed to find delight in the reaction, quickly repeating the motion and humming pleasantly when Shadow Milk's body responded in earnest, clit already hardening beneath the motions as his cunt once again wept enthusiastically. The god of death seemed to find rhythm in it, hands sliding to instead firmly grasp thighs and pull the god closer, enjoying the way Shadow Milk writhed at the contact. The latter attempted to hold back his weak sounds of delight as he shook his head, feeling the way his hair brushed against the ground at the motion.
“Is your p-plan to just lick me to death?” He tried complaining, an attempt to disguise the steady delight that curled in his ribs at the motion, but it didn't seem to offend the god of death, didn't affect him as he simply smiled through the insult.
“And if it truly was? Why would it matter? You said you could handle anything I could think of.” He pressed a poignant kiss against the pearl at the apex as he hummed. “So you should just handle it.”
“Handling it d-doesn't mean it won't bore me.” He made sure to emphasize his point with a fake yawn, watching Pure Vanilla give him an unimpressed stare. He knew it held no convincing with the blush high on his cheeks, but his want to dramatize pushed it out anyways. “If this is all then you can just put me back down, I have things to do today.”
“You're always so cruel, Shadow Milk.” Pure Vanilla sighed deeply, nipping at heated flesh and enjoying the way thighs trembled against his palms. “Even when I try to make it about you, you choose instead to be rude. Maybe… maybe White Lily was right, maybe you really are too cruel to enjoy selflessness.”
“How dare that good for nothing waste of space say such a thing about me?” His words carried far more vitriol than he intended them to, feeling his eyes sting. How dare Pure Vanilla again mention her in their time together? “She knows nothing! I'm capable of enjoying whatever the hell I so wish!”
“Then prove her wrong.” His annoyance blinded him to the smile dragging Pure Vanilla's lips up, to the way he stared at him in mere amusement. Blinded him to the way the upset made his body more sensitive as the flux of life energy in him writhed and bloomed to the surface. Were he any more focused, he'd have felt the way flowers bloomed in his own hair, life essence fueled by hated passion. “Surely such a grandiose god as yourself can handle a little attention, can't you?”
He wasn't given time to answer, instead crying out as the movements resumed, the tongue now focused on flicking his clit mercilessly as his writhing and trembling resumed. His back arched and twisted as he sought some sort of relief from the maddening pressure, met only with unforgiving relentlessness, unable to help himself as his body responded in earnest, wetness leaking out in answer and gathering between burning lips. Shaking his head with a violent cry had him flinching, the moving and shaking of his body leading him to slide until the unacknowledged cold that had been poking at his nape finally revealed itself, the hardened member being allowed to fully rise until it tented against heavy robes, the muscle that had been indulging in him hesitating for only a second before returning to its constant rhythm.
Pure Vanilla's hardness rested against his cheek, head tilted out of the way to no longer constrict it as he whined and complained around his own breaths. But it seemed to only embarrass the god of death further, face now buried into hair and moisture, eyes closed as bright red rose higher and higher on tan cheeks, unwilling to acknowledge his own arousal at servicing the god he carried. Shadow Milk held none of the same shame, shivering his own climbing unawareness off as he lowered his hands above his head, fingers finding thighs to brace against until he could push himself off, pulling at robes as Pure Vanilla burned in shame.
“Wait, Shadow Milk, you really don't have to-” His sentence was cut short as ankles locked behind his head, pulling and forcing his face to bury into the soaked pussy as he jolted. The god of life said nothing, lavender slowly blooming across his face as he simply resumed his movements.
“Just shut up and enjoy it.” The scowl he held seemed less than genuine with the blush that bloomed across his skin, tugging until the rounded head could be revealed. He barely gave time to even acknowledge the moisture gathering on it before he wrapped his lips around it, spine aching at the uncomfortable twist but doing nothing to discourage him as he pushed his head forward, swallowing around whatever length could reach his throat before pulling off, finding no small amount of satisfaction in the way Pure Vanilla hiccuped his enjoyment against his mound.
Kissing the liquid that easily seeped from the weeping slit, he licked his lips clean, finding a grin sneaking onto his face as it was quickly replaced, Pure Vanilla now staring at him from between his own legs with a gaze that could only speak of desperation. He paid it no mind, instead busying himself with lavishing kisses over the whole of his dick as he squeezed his thighs closed, enjoying the squish of the head between them. Seemingly unwilling to be the only one reacting so strongly, Pure Vanilla sealed his lips around his clit, more determinedly pushing and rolling it with his tongue as Shadow Milk was once again rendered sensitive, whining against it and moving to once again take it into his mouth as he began to bob his head.
The lack of such activities quickly caught up to both of them, Shadow Milk's body tensing as he whimpered around his mouthful, eager body easily pushing out slick as he finally reached completion. The god of death took very little to follow him right over the edge, crying out against his still sensitive folds as cum invaded the former's throat, choking around it and struggling to swallow as gravity worked against it, pulling away to find both his mouth and Pure Vanilla's cock both still coated in the thick substance, now puffy lips pulled into a pout. The sight seemed only to work Pure Vanilla up again, member already hardening beneath Shadow Milk's sight as he resumed his licking, resolved in getting the one in front of him just as sensitive and worked up.
As he resumed his position, swallowing all the god of death could give him, Shadow Milk's initial objective for the visit was quickly forgotten.
—
Their next reunion wasn't quite as private.
Being as they were, part of an interwoven, complex web of divinity, neither could truly avoid reuniting with the other gods forever. So it only made sense, in Pure Vanilla's mind, when he eagerly dragged White Lily to one of Hollyberry's(or well, Eternal Sugar's. Hollyberry usually only threw them as an excuse to drink with friends, while Eternal Sugar bothered with perfecting the smaller details, fond as she was of seeing the Goddess of Wine enjoy herself with no cares) parties, having heard that Shadow Milk would be in attendance. The god of life wasn't one for many social events, usually avoiding them out of the sheer annoyance of having to explain his decision to smaller gods who hadn't quite understood the memo of his delicately crafted string of lives, so the opportunity to attend one at the same time as him was rather rare.
It also came as an excuse to enjoy Shadow Milk's pleasantries, when he wasn't allowed to be as openly rude and instead had to cater into politeness, to upkeep the image he had enjoyed establishing of a kind and forgiving god of life. For that reason Pure Vanilla felt only a little guilt in taking advantage of that ego, of indulging in watching Shadow Milk be forced to behave and act nice when at most he would always offer him mostly unkind words. Pure Vanilla's own brand of cruelty, he supposes.
Arriving was every bit as nerve-wracking as usual, slipping into crowded paths and weaving between divinities until they could find a quiet corner to watch from. White Lily never did enjoy loudness, preferring the dead silence of the underworld, so the least Pure Vanilla felt he could do for dragging her along was to find some place where she wouldn't be overwhelmed. Besides, sticking with her meant he'd definitely attract the attention of the god he wanted to attract. Shadow Milk was never good at hiding his annoyance or jealousy towards her. His own fault, he supposes, for fanning the flames of the one-sided rivalry; White Lily was none the wiser to any distaste towards her, the God of Protection made sure of it.
Finally finding a quiet spot amidst the garden, he pulled her along, eyes already scanning for familiar blues amidst heads as he scratched at his robes. They weren't the usual ones, instead dark in tone and weaved to mourn; depressing, in his opinion, when compared to the lighter ones he usually bore. It was less intimidating on passed souls to see a figure harked in white than one who looked like they carried despair wherever they stepped. Usually he'd despise the colors but it was one of the many rare occasions which he allowed himself to bear them - to match with Shadow Milk and proclaim wordlessly his devotion to him in front of the other gods.
The god of life always wore the same robes when at parties, something long and heavy, that hid his shape and muddled the very definitions of life until he looked like galaxy incarnate, his hair doing nothing but contribute to the sea of stars he swam in. Usually, Pure Vanilla would pout at it, at Shadow Milk's decision to ditch his usual short, comfortable robes and wear something so stifling, but even he couldn't deny how out of reach Shadow Milk appeared when dawning them, so he simply changed to accommodate it as well.
A glimpse of stars had him perking, feeling the way his shoulders eased their weight as he tried analyzing the ones around him. Shadow Milk didn't seem to be bothering with too many acquaintances, surrounded only by the usual group he had during such gatherings. Gods of his caliber, created around the same time as him, if memory serves. They banded together out of seemingly more convenience than anything - apparently elder as they were, grasping the smaller divinities was quite bothersome, boring even, he had heard one of them mutter once. He could only thank his god that his own divinity was large enough to earn the eye of Shadow Milk. His first step had White Lily speaking up, her soft, morose voice breaking through quiet, idle chatter as she tilted her head at him.
“Are you going to greet him?” Her question was innocent enough, glancing at the very same spot as him as he attempted a calm smile, broken by the way he could feel his hands tremble in excitement.
“I was planning to. Why? Would you rather I keep you company?” He felt a pang of guilt as he realized he had been just about to leave her alone, not having waited for any of their own friends. “I can greet him later, if you so wish.”
“There is no need.” She shook her head, shaking off any guilt she could already tell rose. Her eyes held the simile of a smile as a hand shielded her lips. “I simply thought it quite amusing of you. With how often you two meet, I had assumed you would have no hesitation once again.”
“Is it that funny?” He felt himself pinken, gnawing on a lip as a hand rose to his cheek. He felt embarrassment at the way White Lily's eyes curved in amusement. “Talking to him while surrounded by others is simply… a unique experience every time.”
“You act as if he would bite.” She joked. He had before. She glanced past him and sighed lightly. “He is rather polite. I doubt he would be upset if you were to greet him.”
“You'd think so but you know how he is whenever I approach him. I fear he is rather… shy, in such situations.” Angry. Annoyed. Seething. Many words would better describe it than shy. But White Lily need not know that - let her believe his god is as benevolent and kind as he makes himself out to be. It serves Pure Vanilla to help upkeep that image. “I would detest to embarrass him in such a way.”
“And yet you insist on dressing for him.” Her jab was light, his own sigh pulled as his cheeks darkened. He knew he was the only one to even do such an act, to declare devotion to another god while divine. But it brought him no small amount of pleasure to watch Shadow Milk be obliged to take his devotion, to see him unable to curse him out and insult him as he declared his adoration for the other… He supposes shy does describe his god in a sense. “Mayhaps he is simply too humble to accept another god praying to him.”
“Yes, my Shadow Milk is quite benevolent, I suppose.” He could feel his smile pulling as he considered his own words. The words he spoke to her would ring false every day, but he felt delight in uttering them. To back Shadow Milk into a corner, of acting kind and caring to others, was a delight like no other. His cruelty was only for him, just as Pure Vanilla's was only Shadow Milk's. “Yet I cannot help my wish to show him my devotion. To not praise such a generous beauty is a sin I cannot allow myself.”
“Your fondness never ceases to grow, does it?” The voice that spoke this time startled him, turning to find their friends had approached while he admired the god of life. He was sure he looked embarrassed as Dark Cacao folded his hands together. “Shall we be obliged to follow you as we have done previously?”
“Of course not! There is no need for such a thing!” He attempted to wave it off, to ignore the amusement all his friends watched him with. He supposes it only entertaining to watch a fool stumble before its majesty. “My benevolent Shadow Milk would be utterly displeased to hear you all not enjoy yourselves because of me. Please, I beg of you to enjoy your festivities even if I am not present.”
“You are always present in them.” Golden Cheese was the one to laugh this time, fingers brushing gold aplenty as she crossed her arms. “You are always the entertainment after all.”
“Don't tease him.” Hollyberry hid laughter behind her wine, clearly just as entertained as the others. “If you discourage him now, he won't do the usual and this will be way less fun.”
“You all find far too much amusement in this.” He turned his face to hide his embarrassment, eyes already landing on the god he couldn't help to chase. “What's so wrong about declaring your devotion to your god? Our followers do so all the time.”
“But they're mortal.” Dark Cacao began, oblivious, or ignorant, to the way the goddesses already groaned and sighed at starting such an argument again. It never changed anything. “It only makes sense that they'd devote themselves to powerful beings and would declare it so. You are the same as him, it feels unfitting to pray to him.”
“Not to mention, you're kind of the one responsible for undoing all his work.” Golden Cheese muttered into a palm, finding the laughing eyes of Hollyberry. “I'd be quite unhappy to have the very god that destroys all I create praising me.”
“But it's just like our followers!” His passionate defense surprised none, the four simply rolling eyes as he rolled sleeves between fingers. “When your followers use and destroy your creations for their benefit, do you despise them? They praise you for even creating it in the first place, even if they need to ruin it for their betterment. I do much the same.”
Besides, Shadow Milk had already shown his displeasure aplenty at Pure Vanilla taking the lives of his favorite creations. Pure Vanilla would do it again and again simply to hear it more. “My Shadow Milk is simply far too kind and charitable to blame me for doing my job.” He does it every time, but they wouldn't know, and he'd bask in it for as long as they both lived. “I fear you all simply don't comprehend the rush of finding a god to devote your self to.”
“And I pray we never do.” White Lily mumbled into a hand, avoiding Pure Vanilla's wide eyes and agape mouth as she glanced off. Her explanation seemed more joking than true, but her quiet tone always made it hard to tell. “I fear we'd never quite reach your level of worship. We'd certainly look less devoted when compared to you.”
“Mock me all you want.” Pure Vanilla sighed in embarrassment, once again perking as this time Shadow Milk glanced in their direction, clearly not having spotted him yet. “It still brings me endless joy to devote myself.”
“If you say so.” Hollyberry was the one to sigh this time, finding her words falling to deaf ears as Pure Vanilla had already taken off. “Good luck once again.”
Shadow Milk didn't take long to notice the shape moving towards him but he clearly took a second to realize who it was, eyes widening for only a fraction before he turned his back to him, clearly an attempt to discourage his approach, but the god of death was not. The embarrassment of Pure Vanilla's stunts never died to him, and so neither did death's enjoyment of them. Shadow Milk's acquaintances all glanced up as he arrived, poorly hidden smiles at the promised entertainment as he stopped just a breath short of the one in front of him. Shadow Milk seemed insistent on not acknowledging him even as the four before him went silent, but Pure Vanilla would not afford him such mercy.
“God of life.” He started, finding no small amount of delight in the way Shadow Milk's shoulders jumped in a flinch. He could see pointed ears twitch before a head ever so slowly turned to look at him, a polite smile already on blue lips as he grinned, poise and education facing unabashed remorselessness. “How breathtakingly refreshing to see such an illustrious presence tonight.”
“Pure Vanilla.” His greeting lacked any of the formality, an attempt to force casualty even as he heard snickers behind him. The god of death didn't seem keen on it as he tilted his head. “I didn't know you'd be attending. You should have told me, I'd have seeked you out sooner.” He'd have avoided coming.
“It was a last minute decision upon hearing such a glorious being, such as yourself, would be attending.” It had been a while since he had decided it. He clasped his hands in front of his chest as he tilted forward, lowering himself to the other's level. He caught the twitch in brow. “Please, allow me to show my gratitude for your presence.”
“But the party isn't even yours.” The practiced laugh that accompanied the words had him thrilled. It was a warning. “You have no need to thank me for anything.”
“I have all to thank you for.” His own practiced laugh was returned. A dismissal. “After all, your beautiful creations adorn the venue top to bottom. Who else to thank for even having the opportunity to indulge in those in the first place?”
“I'm sure those words are better suited for the Goddess of Wine.” Shadow Milk's eyes slid past him to glance somewhere behind him before returning to his own. “I'm sure she would be ecstatic to hear such kind words.”
“All I'd be able to thank her for is giving me the opportunity to be in your presence.” A hand to his cheek, practiced rosy cheeks as he tilted his head. “But even that would be majorly thanks to you. I would not be able to bask in such splendor had you not decided to appear.”
“You are far too kind, but I insist.” Shadow Milk attempted a step back, to give himself some distance from the god slowly creeping closer and closer. Pure Vanilla didn't honor it, simply following as the ones around them attempted to hide poorly held back smiles. “Please, show such reverence to the hostess.”
“I could never!” His proclamation was passionate, taking trained, gentle hands into his own calloused ones, dropping into a knee to little shock but muted laughter. Clearly his little stunt was working as usual, entertainment and gossip amongst divinities as Shadow Milk's ears burned at the display. His polite smile shook as he attempted to maintain composure front Pure Vanilla's stunt. “To show reverence to any but your brilliance is blasphemy I shall never forgive myself for. Please, permit me to sing your praises to your ears.”
“I must insist-” Shadow Milk attempted to dissuade, to shut down the small spectacle he knew this would become if he were to allow it. His words were cut short as Burning Spice, the god of Entertainment, spoke up from behind him.
“Come now, Shadow Milk.” He cleared a laugh as punctuation. Pure Vanilla felt a wicked sense of delight in the way Shadow Milk's ears lowered in anticipation. “The man is begging on his knees. Let him sing you at least one ballad.”
“I couldn't possibly ask that of him.” Shadow Milk attempted to reason, glancing back in a disguised display of annoyance as he attempted an imitation of a kind smile. “It would be cruel to force him to say such passionate feelings for any to hear.”
“I would be more than happy to.” Pure Vanilla insisted, smile widening in the millisecond of a glare he was afforded. Shaky, pouty lips tainted the god of life's expression as he tugged their hands, kissing the tip of a pointer finger. “I'd see no higher honor than declaring reverence to all. Allow me first to praise your beauty, for your body-”
He was promptly interrupted as hands covered his mouth, grinning under them as Shadow Milk gave him a thin smile. He could feel the tips of dulled claws digging into his face as the god of life laughed tightly. “Please. I'd feel far too egotistical hearing such words in public. Save such words for private hearings.”
“Then allow me to rob you for but a moment to somewhere private.” His words were muffled but still audible, the smile before him trembling in displeasure as his own hands came to rest atop the other's. “I simply cannot rest until you have heard your deserved worship.”
“I simply couldn't.” Shadow Milk tried for another smile. Pure Vanilla could feel his patience waning the more he spoke. “I don't think there even are any private places-”
“There is a small greenhouse where you two might find some privacy!” Eternal Sugar, Goddess of Rest, happily interrupted, looking the most amused of the four as she bat her lashes. Pure Vanilla was sure she wished to provoke as much as he did. “Please, Shadow Milk, he is begging you on his knees. Surely we can continue our conversation after you two are done, no?”
“How kind of you.” Shadow Milk's expression was tight, smile and crescent eyes perfectly trained and composed to hide any true emotion as he stepped back. “I suppose you're right. It would be cruel of me to reject such a determined plea.”
Pure Vanilla didn't hesitate to stand, no wane or tilt in his grin as Shadow Milk tightly grabbed his wrist and began dragging him away, clearly more than familiar with the space Eternal Sugar spoke of. The restrained smile was ever present as they weaved between whispering crowds, more than likely already giggling and gossiping about his little act. The blush he could see on Shadow Milk's ears made him want to extend it, but he was given no permission to as he was dragged into the jaws of a provoked hound. One last glance to his friends had them all looking less than impressed but nonetheless entertained, waving him a simple bye as he beamed at them.
Shadow Milk spoke no words until they were safely inside the greenhouse, tinted windows hiding all from view as they came to a full stop, the door slowly swinging closed behind him. He could feel his cheeks ache from his grin as Shadow Milk remained still, shoulders tense and pointed ears lowered. Pure Vanilla had half a mind to nip at them to be acknowledged but he held back the urge, instead tilting his head. He was ignored for not much longer as Shadow Milk finally turned around, that fiery anger burning in his eyes and scowl.
“What is wrong with-” His angered question was cut short, muffled against soft lips as Pure Vanilla promptly kissed him, grabbing him by the face and pressing their mouths together passionately. He swallowed down the determined complaints the other tried to voice, forced their lips to press until he could feel their teeth through them, until he was sure the flesh would plump with a bruise. Only then did he allow Shadow Milk to push him away, to block at his mouth with hands and indignation as he took a deep breath. “What was that for?!”
“Only ever give me that look.” He answered, feeling the cheeks beneath his hand burn with a blush mirror to his own as he dragged the other closer by the face. He could feel the ears twitch and warm at the tips of his fingers as he pressed another kiss to tightly sealed lips. “I beg of you, only ever let me see such violent hatred. I'd give my job for that promise.”
“Something's deeply wrong with you.” Was the promise uttered instead, a scowl replacing any softness as he was glared at. “What kind of a god worth anything enjoys being despised?”
“Any god insane enough to love you.” Pure Vanilla laughter was delight, burying fingers into galaxies and stars as he pulled, kiss against kiss unto pouty frown as hands tugged at his robes defiantly. He knew his teeth peeked through delight as he bunched the hair onto only one hand, the other sliding to grab and squeeze at hidden waist as he pulled him against him. “I plead to you, never let any other god drive you as insane as I do.”
“That promise needs not to be made, you guarantee it!” The indignant reply only made his still blood run, chest warmed by living as he kissed jaw with fervor. He could feel the tremble beneath his lips as he forced a head back by the hair. Shadow Milk's voice waned and whinged in the throat under his mouth as he grinned. “You are the most insufferable god I have the displeasure of working against.”
“And I swear to remain it for as long as we both shall live.” Pure Vanilla's promise was more coo than actuality, pulling at long robes as he kissed down over cloth and secrecy. Shadow Milk's form peeked through privacy as he rolled robes up, up, up - until Shadow Milk's shaking legs and moistened core could be revealed to him, kneeling before life incarnate as one does before an altar. He was sure he looked worse than the one before him did, lips already guided to kiss at burning thighs as drool began to moisten and gather on his tongue, swallowed down unnaturally as Shadow Milk took to shame, holding the robes out of the way in favor. Pure Vanilla knew both their ears burned as he smiled against flesh. “You wear nothing under such robes?”
“Do you?” Was the spit reply, a shaking hand already bracing against the top of his head as he breathed a laugh.
“Of course not.” He began to an indignant huff, nipping at ample expanse as he nuzzled his cheek against thigh. “These clothes are nothing but a gift bow to you.”
“Incorrigible.” Was all the mumbled complaint he was afforded before pushing his face between legs, nudging his nose against the moistened pearl with a cold sigh. Shadow Milk's body curved forward at the motion, hand grasping at blonde locks as he stifled a gasp with a bite. He could feel the moisture smear across his face as he tilted it back, allowing his mouth access as his tongue easily lavished over soft folds, humming delighted at the taste.
Shadow Milk seemed bothered at voicing his pleasure as he was enthusiastically licked and pressed, tongue testing at cunt in the path it made to his clit, slick easily drooling and running down a chin as he muffled whines and sighs into bitten lips, hips finding their way to grind and rock into the stimulation as his body was coaxed further and further into pleasure. The god below him only encouraged the act, the hands that squeezed thighs petting over their length as they eased the motion into rhythm, grasping and clawing at soft skin when the god of life followed the encouragement, feeling up whatever they could reach and was hidden from sight.
“Could you-” Pure Vanilla began, dragging his mouth away with a gulp of wetness as he blinked the daze out of his eyes. “-call this my worship to you?”
“Shut up.” Was the reply, fistfuls of blonde hair attempting to drag him back into the motion as hips tipped forward, Shadow Milk on the balls of his feet to better suit for height as he squeezed his eyes shut. Pure Vanilla was quick to return to his proper place as he hummed in understanding, hands sliding up to grab handfuls as he dug his face in further, squeezing in delight as it earned him a moan from life. “I h-hate it when you do this act of-f yours.”
“What act?” He tried complaining in doubt, muffled as he was immediately pushed back into place. His affronted huff made his point as Shadow Milk keened low and pliant.
“This s-stupid devoted f-follower thing. It's s-ssstupid.” Dulled claws dug into scalp as he sped up his hips, finding the simmering in his stomach turning into tensed muscles as his eyes stung. He could feel his legs tremble in weakness as he scrambled to pull at golden locks. “It a-always just embarasses me and you kn-oh!-w it.”
Pure Vanilla grumbled something but obediently stayed, efforts focusing on his clit until Shadow Milk sobbed a hiccup, thick, webbed slick slowly gathering and dewing on puffy lips as he rode out the rest of his orgasm as best as he could, practically slumping against the head between his legs as he was licked through it. A shaky whine was all he could manage as the other pulled away, licking his lips clean even if the slick still stained his chin and face, nose beading a drop of it at the tip. He knew his face burned at the look as Pure Vanilla smiled easily.
“You say it as if I don't mean each and every word I speak of it.” He massaged and eased the muscles beneath his hands as he kept the god of life up, already feeling his own unfeeling body stir at the sight before him. “I truly do worship the very ground you walk on, my dearest Shadow Milk.”
“Then you are mad.” Shadow Milk complained, a sleeve covering the bottom half of his face as it burned in embarrassment. “Defective- helpless, even, I'd say.”
“You give yourself too little credit.” Pure Vanilla brushed off, standing as the other regained his footing. He leaned down to steal another kiss as he hummed. “You deserve endless followers.”
“Clean your face.” The kiss was intercepted, tips of fingers to his lips as Shadow Milk shined with a blush. “Have you no shame?”
“It's only your essence, I see no reason to be ashamed in wearing it.” Yet he diligently wiped it clean with a sleeve, aware of the way Shadow Milk cringed at the viscous stain it left on his robes, but he did not mind.
“Don't- don't call it that.” Was the weak protest, even as kisses were littered onto his cheek and he was gently lowered to the ground. “Have some decency.”
“You are far too uptight.” The insult was light, more tease than complaint. “Only you are around to hear me speak, what's it matter what words I use?”
“So you do not value my respect?” Shadow Milk huffed, still proud and defiant even as he was laid back onto dirty ground. The amused smile above him only made his shoulders redden. “I am serious, Pure Vanilla!”
“I am too.” He muttered, rolling eyes and dodging the attempted kick as he grabbed the offending leg. Shadow Milk only glared as he stood up and dragged him along with it, body slowly raising from the ground as he dug his fingers in for balance. “You respect me more if I'm open about my thoughts, don't you?”
“As if.” He scoffed, yelping when he was tugged fully horizontal. His shoulders bared the brunt of his weight as he gave an unimpressed glare. “What are you doing?”
“What I assumed would be the natural progression of our acts.” Pure Vanilla blinked, suddenly uncertain as he tilted his head, brows furrowed. “Was I wrong…?”
“That's not what I'm questioning.” Shadow Milk groaned, covering his face once again as purple crawled down his neck. He looked quite embarrassed as he weakly kept up slowly sliding robes. “...I meant the position.”
“Oh!” Pure Vanilla quickly beamed, gently pushing until Shadow Milk's legs bent at the hips, his feet now in his own vision as he hummed gently. “I didn't want to dirty your robes by having you lay down while we do this. It seemed like the best solution.”
“Why don't we just lean against a tree or something?” He crossed his arms, watching the god of death hide a smile with his hand as he looked away.
“Well, there aren't any trees in here. And I'm sure the Goddess of Rest would be displeased were you to simply grow one in the middle of her plants. Not to mention I'd kill anything I'd touch and I'd feel guilty for ruining her hard work.” Pure Vanilla felt only a little guilty for lying most of his reasons, not wanting to admit he simply enjoyed seeing the one below him in such positions. Shadow Milk raised a brow at him but acquiesced, wordlessly pulling his robes down until they pooled at his chest, the bottom of his chest barely peeking as he grumbled.
“Get on with it, then.” His complaint had Pure Vanilla beaming, excitedly pulling his own robes up as he reached down for himself. Without a direct source of life from Shadow Milk, he had to gently run magic into himself, cock hardening despite his nature as he hid a blush. The embarrassment of puppeteering his body into something that created the opposite of him, solely for the god beneath him, went unspoken and unacknowledged by himself. He'd forbid his nature a billion times for Shadow Milk. “Be mindful.”
“Of course, my God.” He smiled a twinge of smugness as Shadow Milk's eyes trailed away at the title, hair ends curling into hearts. He doubted he'd ever get a confession of his enjoyment from him.
He was mindful as he pushed the head between lips, gathering the easily replaced moisture before easing himself in, breath pushed out of him as Shadow Milk's walls parted readily, the mind-numbing warmth already easily slipping into him. Shadow Milk only sighed at the intrusion, eyes closing and brows furrowing as he took comfort in twisting his robes, searching for something to do with his hands. He seemed shy at the forced exposure, turning his head away as Pure Vanilla bottomed, taking comfort in the unworldly heat that surrounded him and burned beneath his fingers.
Pushing against thighs, he used the leverage to settle into a slow pace, something constant and gentle as the angle forced pressure against sensitive spots, feeling Shadow Milk's body jolt and tremble beneath his fingers. It seemed to target pleasure points, one finger already sliding to ease the clit back and forth in a repetitive, rocking motion as he took his time. The god of life seemed weak at it, body easily responding and mounting to crest the pleasure as the previous orgasm forced increased sensitivity, helpless to the tension that already twisted his stomach as his breathing turned ragged.
His quickly climbing orgasm jolted him like cold water as he heard the sound of a door opening, hiccup of delight pushed out in shock as he glanced wide eyed towards its direction, finding Pure Vanilla had halted in his movements. They both seemed frozen in shock, clearly unaware of what to do as soft footsteps began to pad towards them. Seemingly catching up with his own panic, Pure Vanilla had enough sense to throw his robes over them, covering at least from view their actions, even if the position and their states gave it away. Seemingly aware too, Shadow Milk managed to push his own robes up, holding them in place to try and save at least some decency as he turned his face to avoid eye contact, feeling his every cell burn with a blush as they awaited their inevitable fate.
“Shadow Milk? Are you done scolding- Oh!” The voice that greeted them was sickeningly familiar, Pure Vanilla only smiling in humiliated shame as Eternal Sugar blinked, glancing between the two of them in surprise. Her own cheeks had intensified their natural rose hue, wide eyes staring into the god of death's attempt at a pacific expression. The hand that covered her mouth did little to hide the shock in her expression, aided by the way her wings fluffed. Shadow Milk could only lower an arm to hide his turnt face, trying to ignore how hot he felt it burn.
“Would you please excuse us?” Pure Vanilla began, attempting his best to offer what he hoped was a polite smile as her jaw clicked shut. She could only blink as he brushed a strand of hair behind his ear. “I'm afraid I'm still in the middle of showing my benevolent Shadow Milk his praise.”
“Of course!” She squeaked, both hands now flying to hide her embarrassed expression as her eyes darted away, the edges of a smug smile peeking between fingers. Shadow Milk could only think the kind of thing he'd hear afterwards. “I'm so, so sorry! We just thought it'd been a while so I came to defend you from his ire!”
“My most kind god would never show me ire!” He played into his act even if the only audience clearly saw through it, even if all it did was make Shadow Milk's shoulders burn. Possibly because of it. “In fact, he's quite caring and compassionate. He's hearing my praises even if he thinks himself unworthy.”
“Why, of course.” She laughed into palms, wing curving to shield her face as he saw her shoulders tremble, held back laughter hidden. “Please, take the time you need to… ‘speak his praise’. I'll tell the others it'll be a while still.”
“Thank you oh so kindly.” A hand to his heart to mimic gratitude, his own persona as she turned and left, a certain rush to her steps as he heard the start of smug, delighted giggling, accompanied by the slam of a door. He was sure she'd hold this over Shadow Milk's head for the rest of eternity. “How sweet of her to buy us time, isn't it, my beauty?”
“I'll kill you.” Shadow Milk uttered into his palms, hands covering his face as his hair shrunk and writhed, responding to what Pure Vanilla would guess was killer shame. “I can't believe she walked in on this.”
“It's not a bad thing she did!” Pure Vanilla's beaming smile only earned him a murderous glare through fingers, burning eyes bringing a chill to his frozen spine. He simply responded by rocking back into the sensitive spot that had Shadow Milk gasping, breathing stuttered as his back attempted to arch. A clumsy attempt at a kick was delivered, which he simply took. “If she spreads the gossip, then at least they'll know you are off limits.”
“You are impossible.” Came the annoyed huff, the god of life lowering his hands as their rhythm started back up. He could only cover his face as his body eagerly responded again, easily dissuaded from the embarrassment as his breathing shallowed. He had half a mind to punch Pure Vanilla's leg as he heard the pleased hum.
“Impossibly devoted to you.”
He easily delivered the hit.