Chapter Text
It'd been some months since the end of things, and Lamb was bored.
Mundanity had permeated every part of their life since the last of the Bishops had fallen. The only thing of any interest these days was Narinder, who sulked among the ranks of the cult, who was still worshiped like a god despite everything. The whole loved him because the Lamb loved him, and he was miserable in every second of it.
The Lamb occupied themselves with tormenting Narinder with this- listening attentively at all he would say, interpreting all they could as a potential offering. Every hint of longing for the old realms, that Narinder still refused to step foot in himself, was brought back to the meadow and carefully reassembled.
The items of the silk cradle were particularly effective.
Lamb would catch the One Who Waits staring at them so longingly, gently petting the fibers and remembering someplace else. Another point in time, long ago, where the memories frayed and persisted more as abstract concepts than any one moment with someone else. None of the Lamb's spouses had such introspection, their lives forced short time and time again to the point of being more of a figurehead than a lover. In the early years of the Cult the Lamb had learned that they were barren, so no life could come from their unions. No family, no lasting mark on the world. One day a lover was there, the next they were wrapped up in the compost heap. It wasn't worth it to get attached anymore.
No one else seemed to understand the horrors of forever quite like Narinder. After years and countless deaths, the Lamb began to understand why he accepted his place in the Cult so easily after defeat. In the end, all they had was each other.
During this time their opposition grew. Being the last cult in the forest made all other growing factions wary, and crusades were met with increased resistance. Lamb found plenty of outsiders to aid their cause, offering love and acceptance for all things in exchange for their unfaltering obedience. But without the restrictions of their old gods, the rest of the realm was in the lurch- organization was found within those scrambling to recover, years of torment slowly ebbing away into micro-communities that had a growing hatred of anyone considered 'Other'.
Strangely enough, all areas had a resurgence of respect for the Old Faith. No survivors witnessed the Lamb fighting the old gods, and the members of the cult who'd seen their hearts were long dead. The healing in the different lands was taken as proof of the God's love, their prayers finally answered, all to make them stronger for the fight against the Lamb.
It was one of the few things that amused Narinder. Lamb limping home after a particularly sour crusade, victorious but not without cost. Out of the corner of their eye they could see the old god grinning away, knowing it was only a matter of time.
Even after defeating The One Who Waits, Lamb found themselves no stronger in the face of new threats. They'd plateaued without Narinder's gifts- and when relics and wealth could compensate the difference no longer, late one night, Lamb went to visit Narinder in his hut.
"Lamb. What is it you need?"
Compared to when he first arrived, Narinder spoke with far more familiarity. This prison was far better than his last, after all- he could move, dance and *eat*. Lamb had been good to him despite trapping him in circumstance, and Narinder was nothing if not patient.
He knew this day would come eventually. It was the same reason his siblings became family in the first place- proximity and circumstance. Although it wasn't entirely true this time around, as the Lamb had made an active choice in the company they wanted to keep. A fact that still unnerved Narinder to this day; anyone else would have an ulterior motive of some sort, but he wasn't sure about the Lamb until that moment.
As they stood in the doorway, highlighted by the moonlight, the Lamb seemed vulnerable for the first time since their own execution. Tired and beaten down. Feelings Narinder remembered from the beginning, in that vague abstract way he remembered everything. The Lamb had been impossibly good at hiding the exhaustion, but they'd finally reached the breaking point.
Narinder wasn't nearly as happy as he thought he'd be. Boring as the day-to-day was, this imprisonment was far nicer than the one his siblings afforded him... and Lamb had left him wanting for nothing. Seeing them in such a state made any insult he wished to formulate die in his throat. Instead, he waited.
Several awkward seconds passed as the Lamb tried to gather themselves, to articulate just what problem they wanted to be addressed first. The danger, the pressure, the loneliness. They stepped forward and out of the doorway, letting the thick canvas fall before moving forward and into Narinder's arms.
"Are you lonely, little Lamb?"
The low purr in Narinder's tone pushed everything else away. The warmth of another body, solid and living, and the knowledge of knowing that he would be there forever. The lack of rejection just made the Lamb burrow in more, and Narinder let themselves be overtaken by it despite his looming statue. He practically wrapped himself around the smaller Lamb, causing them to tear up further in face of all that they'd needed. Since the very beginning. Narinder let the sobs come to a natural end, patient as always, rubbing small circles into the small of Lamb's back.
"Have those mortals not done enough for you? The pitiful creatures you call spouses... are they not meeting your expectations?" Life in the forest was a flash in the pan- painful and over in an instant, and most didn't live for very long. Out of the three spouses Lamb currently had fighting over them, none of them had the self-awareness to realize why the Lamb took more than one spouse. They'd be there and gone in a flash, another name in a long list of lost loves and lovers.. but Narinder had persisted.
They pulled in a sharp breath as hands began to wander under their robes, but did nothing to stop him. Instead, they moved into the touch, tugging up the layers of regalia themselves to give easier access. Their hands shook- it was in the early hours of the morning now, and no one should be up for many more hours. But if someone was to wake in the night to use the outhouse, and heard the Lamb's whimpering from outside the thin walls...
"Are they not satisfying you?"
Narinder spoke directly into their ear now, hands pressing into the folds of their sex and dipping into the moisture there, palming the sensitive little nub of their clit. Their neediness was all too obvious now, breath coming in labored panting, practically dazed by the light petting.
The Lamb made no efforts to fight Narinder off as they moved to the bed, all too willing to prop themselves up against the edge and have their legs spread wide. Even as Narinder dug his claws into their flesh the Lamb didn't move, didn't try to escape as the old god lined up his cock.
Excitement swelled in the place of sorrow, and the Lamb gave up all hopes of remaining quiet as Narinder pushed in for the first time. The pressure alone was enough to make them moan, but knowing it was Narinder doing it had the Lamb crying out loudly enough for even the merchants to hear. The old god didn't care about the social taboo- all he cared about was digging his cock as deep into the Lamb as he could, gaining more ground with each thrust, caring very little for their pleasure in the face of his own.
Not that they cared. Everything about it was ecstasy, from the stretch of the god's cock within their walls to the way their breaths sounded in the confines of the tiny hut. Immediately the air began to smell like sex, salty and sour and reminiscent of the fluids splattering down the Lamb's thighs.
Halfway through they changed positions, Narinder bending the Lamb over the bed and pushing his cock to the hilt. No one beyond the hut could do anything about the screaming, since the name being screamed was an old power that none of them dare trifle with. Not even the Lamb's spouses would interrupt, despite their fury at their leader taking yet another lover who wasn't them.
It was only as Narinder began to slow that the Lamb became a more active participant in their coitus. Hands that previously dug into the Lamb attempted to move away, only to be drawn in closer so their bodies were fitted together with no space in between. Narinder found it odd but didn't object either- instead finishing deep inside the Lamb, waiting until his balls were properly emptied before slowly pulling back out.
The Lamb laid spent over the edge of the bed, cum still dripping from their pussy, spasming involuntarily without the large intrusion. Narinder considered leaving them there and starting his day, but a tiny plea of "More, please," was all it took for him to sit behind the Lamb and clean up his mess. Lazily his tongue moved to lavish them, causing more desperate little whimpers as he lapped up what remained of their juices and his cum, drawing them out into another orgasm before taking advantage of the sensitivity and exhaustion and fucking them again.
"Please.... Inside, inside.." Lamb's sweet begging was more than enough to coax Narinder into coming inside again, now understanding what the Lamb was truly after. They stayed like that for the rest of the morning, with the One Who Waits locked inside his new lover, the idle twitching around his cock coaxing out the occasional orgasm from either one of them. He stuffed the Lamb to bursting, rubbing over their lower stomach and speaking in old tongue- willing life from death, making their union complete. It mattered more than vows said at the altar, as they'd always prayed to Narinder anyways- this was an alliance of true family, no longer a product of circumstance and power struggles. They decided what it was that they both wanted to make of this peace, together in the dark.
It was the first time in years that the Lamb had a full night's sleep.