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Days upon days for the sun to finally set, the angels above unable to keep their watchful eyes on the layer of Greed. Sinners able to relax against the winding paths of stone, eroded away like deep gashes in the earth by their feet. The heat dies down, scorching sand now a comforting coolness upon their blistered soles as they gaze into the sky and pray for forgiveness.
He stands at the bottom of his pyramid, worn hands pressed flush to the rough texture of the boulder. Once again it has fallen from its peak, dragging Sisyphus down along with it. The imprint of his palms visible on its surface after decades of wear. Looking out to the horizon through ruined eyes. He can't see, but he can feel the sun's rays fade slowly as the sun dips below the dunes.
There's only so long in this false night, the angels will be back to observe the husks and put them back onto their path of internal torment. Most sinners drop to their feet, they rest huddled together in packs like wild animals. Sisyphus leaves his position, embracing the cool night air against his sweaty skin.
Technically, no angel or god was forcing him to continue out his punishment, Sisyphus was free to walk away at any point in time. He's cheated death many times before, he refuses to give the heavens above any sense of satisfaction. He'll continue to push that boulder higher and higher along the face of the pyramid with pride. But there's only so much resolve a person can have and there's much more important things to be done. A break is always welcomed in secret, internally he laughs at the image of the angels above scrambling to control both themselves and keep watch of those they deem lesser.
With the layer of Greed casted in a blanket of darkness, stars glimmering above, Sisyphus walks along the dunes. No judgmental eyes here to witness his vulnerability. A steady breeze carries small clouds of sand into the air, his dreadlocks rustled by the wind. He removes a tassel from his toga, using the gold string to tie his hair back.
It's easier to traverse lower than it is higher, even in his moments of relaxation Sisyphus prefers to take on a challenge. To meet his lover in the layer of Lust. That's when he can truly unwind, embraced in sheets of silk upon a bed fit for a king. He knew that Minos avoided unnecessary challenges whenever possible, Sisyphus didn't mind being the one who traveled to meet.
The journey is long and unruly, the ground of Gluttony makes him recoil with disgust with each step, akin to walking on a sea of corpses as the fleshy ground dips with his weight. The sinners there pay no attention to Sisyphus, they wallow in the acid while the Cerbuses keep watchful eyes despite their featureless faces. Foul rain drips from the ceiling. Sisyphus wraps the cloth that decorates his torso around his head, preventing the drool from seeping into the wounds of his eyes.
Gluttony is much smaller compared to Greed. Sisyphus exits with haste, greeted by the cold winds of Lust. Construction has already made progress. Even as the whirlwinds rattle the foundations of the new housing, the husks and machines persist in their construction. Brilliant lights scatter the sky above and the ground below, a constant night for life to thrive and indulge in their sin of love.
Minos was firm in his belief that lust was an unfair sin to pay for. The act of loving one another in mind, body and soul was no sin but instead a blessing. With the heavens above unable to keep a constant watch on the layers, Minos silently protested with his children of the ring. It seems the angels agreed to an extent about the unfair punishment for lust, the layer completely abandoned of any watchful eyes while the lower rings were prioritised. The layer of Lust was free to do as they pleased while just below, the layer of Gluttony only had moments of peace where the watchful eyes would falter.
Sisyphus walks along the streets. Much akin to the ring of Gluttony, the husks pay no attention to him. They walk along roads and pathways, they decorate themselves in fine cloth, and love one another so publicly. Machines sculpting new forms for themselves, that of human women and men alike. There's harmony to this place, there's no judgement here, it's rather peaceful.
There's a large building up ahead, it juts from the endless city below and into the sky. The door kept forever open and welcoming. He enters, immediately turning to walk up the winding path of stairs. His ankles ache by the time he arrives at the top, so much walking.
Minos waits for him, crown discarded for Sisyphus’ presence as a sign of respect. Though the scara of that heavy crown pressing into his eyes remain. Long white hair silhouettes his face down to his shoulders and below. They embrace each other.
“Glad to see thine desert rose once more.” Minos keeps his arms wrapped around Sisyphus’s back, subtly feeling the bumps of old wounds long healed through his clothing. The other man chuckles at his words, carefully cupping his face in his large palm. A chaste kiss to place upon Minos’ forehead, his scruffy beard causing Minos to hum in amusement.
“I'd like to rest, please.”
Minos leads them inside, Sisyphus ducks his head to avoid the top of the doorframe. The room is nicely decorated; blooming flowers, neatly organised books, pillows and glimmering jewelry, all lit by the dim golden light of lanterns that hang from the walls. The twin serpents lay in a well decorated basket that hangs from the ceiling, sleeping softly. Minos sits atop the bed, the mattress dips beneath his weight. He sits with his legs crossed, back resting against pillows.
“Thou journey here was troublesome, correct?” Minos pats his thigh, waiting for his lover to join him on the bed. “Come now, let me tend to thine wounds.”
Sisyphus flops down onto the bed with little grace, curling up against the sheets, head cradled in Minos' lap. He sighs heavily, stretching his sore limbs out with a yawn. Minos twirls his old fingers through his lover's hair, marveling at the dense texture. It takes much more effort to keep hair like this in good condition, he prided in Sisyphus for keeping it so well maintained despite the lack of resources. He unties the golden string that keeps his dreadlocks bound, setting it aside and fluffing out his lover’s hair.
Minos' hands are cool against his skin, rough from years of work but nonetheless gentle and skilled. He unties the dirty bandage that shields Sisyphus's eyes, carefully peeling it away from his damaged eyelids. He coos at the sight.
“Mine dear,” He brushes against the damaged eyelids with his thumb. It's pleasurable against the molten gold that rests in his sockets. Minos helps Sisyphus into sitting up, resting his back against the mountain of elegant gossamer pillows.
He retreats from the bed for a moment, leaving Sisyphus to relax upon the plush bedding. Minos returns with a damp cloth and other remedies Sisyphus never bothered to pay attention to.
The damp cloth is brought to his eyes only moments after Minos sits back upon the bed. His eyelids flutter. Liquid gold streams from the corners, quickly wiped away with a thumb. It's a careful process. There's no way to rid of the gold that flows from his wounds, but keeping the area clean helped to soothe him.
His features are rough, face constantly battered by sand and sourced by the sun. His skin is dark and rather dry around his cheeks and eyes. Minos opens a small wooden jar, scooping out a small handful of pleasant smelling cream and massages it into Sisyphus’ skin.
A fresh roll of thin cloth is wrapped around his head, snugly tied into place with the knot hidden by his hair. Minos smooths the cloth out, Sisyphus leans into his touch as the bandage is pressed flush against his skin.
He takes a hold of his large hands, damp cloth pressed to his skin once more. Some force is required to rid his calloused palms of dried itchy blood. The cloth dyed red and soon the pail of water where it is rinsed. Minos continues his work, uncaring of the possibility of this cloth becoming unusable due to the blood that stains it.
“I keep a coat of blood on me to combat the heat of the desert.” Sisyphus speaks, he makes no effort to stop his lover's removal of his protection. “It shields my limbs from the intense heat of the sand and rock.” A fresh coat would be good for his upcoming plans.
“Mhm.” Minos continues, careful yet diligent around the bumps and scars of Sisyphus' hands. He wipes the blood away from the scabbed gashes, making sure they're healing properly.
“Be wary around thine wounds.” He points at a particularly deep gash, most likely caused from constant scraping against rock. “Infection is deadly, thou art not immortal.”
Sisyphus nods, he leans back against the pillows as Minos continues to lavish his body with care. It's true, neither Minos or himself were truly immortal, they could be struck down by anything. Perhaps not something as minuscule as infection. The window rattles from the intense breeze outside, a soothing background noise.
“How is your rebellion holding up?” There's a chuckle to Sisyphus’ tone. The icy winds that plague the layer make construction a tedious task, something that could be oh so easily destroyed once heaven takes notice. Nothing beneficial comes from peaceful protests, just prolonged dread as they wait for the day of reckoning.
“We shall prevail against the wind.” Minos moves to tend to the other hand. “And those who rule above my kingdom.” He speaks with such grace and confidence, Sisyphus finds it hard to argue with his beloved but he can't help but repeat warnings and encouragements of war he said long ago.
“They'll punish you just the same as I. The smartest and strongest sinners of Greed will fight back,” He pauses, “Though, I have little hope for my troops.”
“I worry.”
Sisyphus nods at his lover's words. “Whatever it takes to defy those who punish us, we are no cowards even in defeat.”
Minos rolls his eyes with a soft chuckle, his expression that of worry. His thumb drags along the patchy skin of Sisyphus' knuckles, both to comfort himself and to show that he's done ridding his hands of blood. More bandages are soon wrapped around his worn hands, the cloth concentrated at his joints for protection. Minos returns the cloth and pail to their former locations.
He enters the room once more, grunting with hands gesturing for Sisyphus to strip. Layer of worn, tattered cloth is removed and passed over to Minos' waiting hands. He studies the texture, rough, patchy and extraordinarily itchy. He folds the garment with great care, setting it on the floor next to the bed. Before he departs by morning, Minos will have to dress him in something proper for the conditions of Greed. Perhaps something breezy and thin.
Even with his eyesight long destroyed, Sisyphus lays upon the bed, hand resting against his tended palm, watching as the silver and teal clothing covering Minos’ body falls to the floor. Sisyphus has mapped out every part of Minos' body in the past, in his mind he imagines his lover's body. Soft pale skin, wispy hair that coats his frame, the subtle mounds of flesh upon his chest.
The robes that covered Minos' body are soon discarded, now neatly folded on the cold stone floor.
They embrace once more, snuggling under the layers of silk sheets. Warm skin against warm skin. Minos' long hair splays along his face, Sisyphus tucks the loose strands behind his ear. A chaste kiss is pressed to his forehead once more.
Their limbs tangle together, Sisyphus rests his head in the crook of Minos' neck. He can feel the steady pulse of his artery through his thick, pale skin. Minos rubs comforting circles into the other's back, taking note of all the scars and blemishes. How such a fierce man was so gentle behind closed doors filled Minos with endearment.
“Thine rose will come back to me once more?” Minos’ tone is obvious, a rhetorical question based upon feebile hope. Their last night together in Lust, alleviated by their shared body heat and the gentle beating of their hearts. Sisyphus nods, hands rubbing gentle circles into his lover's back.
“With great haste, once the last angel is slain and my own people can finally rest without worry, I'll return to you.” An empty promise, they both know that. The husks of Greed are too weak, too foolish and inexperienced.
“My blessings upon thee, Sisyphus.” He presses a kiss to his forehead.
“My blessings in return, habib albi.”
Sisyphus will leave once they wake, retreading the long journey back to his own layer. He'll continue his punishment under the blazing sun, and when it falls below the horizon once more he'll gather his troops and wait for the angels to return. The air falls still, wind still roaring outside and rattling against the windows.
“I truly do worry for thou,” Minos brings a tender hand up. He cups Sisyphus' cheek, feeling Sisyphus lean into the touch and soon his own hand coming to rest against Minos'. His skin is perpetually warm, hot against Minos' own flesh. “Thou art irreplaceable.” He presses a kiss to the other's temple.
Sisyphus hums in response, he was never good with vocal displays of affection. Perhaps he should've brought a gift for their final night together. He breathes deeply, taking in the sweet scent of his beloved, akin to clean laundry. Sisyphus removes his hand from his lover's, trailing it down the small of his back to rest against his exposed hip.
Minos doesn't protest, instead he turns onto his back ever so slightly. It causes Sisyphus' hand to glide along his flesh, resting just below his belly button. Sisyphus keeps his hand resting against his lover's lower abdomen, feeling the coarse hairs that trail from his crotch up to his torso.
“May I?” Sisyphus taps his fingers against his flesh, face still pressed into Minos' neck. Minos nods, removing his hand from Sisyphus’ face, taking a hold of his wrist. He slowly guides his hand down further, thick fingers brushing along his pubic mound.
“Embracing thy like this before thou parts,” Minos guides Sisyphus’ hand down further, breath catching in his throat as one of those large fingers rest above his clitoral hood, “I appreciate thee, desert rose.”
They lean closer, Sisyphus kissing along his lover's neck and collar bones. He relished in how the king of Lust trembled under every little touch. Sisyphus’ fingers dipping lower to drag along his outer lips, feeling the interior folds throb with every heartbeat. He wants to tease him for his sensitivity, but he holds back to bathe in his dear's light.
A calloused finger dips lower, pushing against the dense hair to part Minos' outer folds. Sisyphus can already feel the wetness beginning to form. It's warm, Minos hums and rocks his hips into Sisyphus' hand.
He adjusts his hand, two fingers run along his labia, they spread his lips wide, each slow drag upwards drenching his fingers in slick. Sisyphus curls his knuckles at the peak of his labia, curling around Minos' engorged clitoris and gently squeezing. The noise that comes from his lover's throat sends bolts down Sisyphus' spine.
Sisyphus removes his knuckles, pressing the pad of his thumb against the twitching bundle of nerves.
“ah… wary of the bandages, Sisyphus.”
“They can be replaced.”
The prodding fingers make their way back to his soaked folds, the index pushes against his quivering opening while the middle gathers the wetness that leaks down Minos' perineum. With a swift motion he plunged both fingers into his heat, feeling velvety walls immediately clamp down and weep around his digits.
“My word..!” Minos chokes out, back arching. Sisyphus forces him to lay flat. He presses his broad chest against Minos', feeling the small give of his breasts press into his pectorals. Sisyphus lies atop Minos, the king of Lust wrapped his arms around Sisyphus as his thick fingers worked their way in and out.
“Relax,” Sisyphus presses a chaste kiss to the beginning of his beard, just below his eye. “You're squeezing too hard.”
Minos takes a deep breath, his arms rest lower upon Sisyphus' back and his walls cease the constant tension yet they continue to flutter.
With every thrust of his digits he can feel more lubricant trickle from Minos' tight entrance. Sisyphus keeps his thumb tightly pressed to Minos' clit, rubbing tight circles around the bud that is sure to make his beloved see stars.
Sisyphus’ own sex aches, the choked moans and grunts that are forced out of Minos' lungs with every drag and prod causing his cock to swell. He values Minos' pleasure over his own, the king has taught him well compared to their first years of fornication. Taking it too fast led neither of them satisfaction and Sisyphus really did appreciate the reactions he got from his lover, akin to the finest wine. He could climax just from those sounds alone.
The ring finger is easily inserted with little resistance, it curls up to the first knuckle. Sisyphus presses upwards, feeling the velvet texture give way to something rougher. He keeps the pressure there for just a moment, soon returning to his steady pace of plunging his fingers in and out.
“Tell me when you're close, my dear.” Sisyphus whispers into Minos' ear, he gives a quick nip to the earlobe. Minos only responds with a yelp.
Sisyphus trails further down. He sits back on his ankles, hunched over. Gliding his free hand along his lover's chest, plunging his fingers deeper in time with his beating heart. Sisyphus cups the small give of his breast, soft with subtle fuzz. He brings his mouth to it, licking small circles around the bud. He takes it into his mouth and sucks gently.
“Ngh-!”
Minos' jumps, having to use his elbows to support himself. He swings his head back, mouth drawn in a thin line as he attempts to stifle his moans, breathing heavily through his nostrils.
Minos fists his hand in Sisyphus' dreadlocks, keeping him close to his chest. Sisyphus can hear his lover's heartbeat pound in his ears. His own sounds of pleasure muffled against pale skin.
He spreads his fingers, dull nails curl and drag along his walls. He can feel them spasm, his digits beginning to prune with the wetness.
Painfully slowly, Sisyphus removes his fingers. He keeps them pressed into that spot of pleasure for as long as he possibly could, drinking in how Minos' entire body shuttered with a wet squelch as his digits left him.
Sisyphus adjusts his posture. He brings those slick coated fingers to his mouth, licking them clean. It's flavorless but still rich against his tongue. He lavishes in it.
The bed creaks as Minos shifts around. His legs spread wide, leaning back against the pillows. His own fingers keep his folds parted and begging, other arm curling around his torso.
It's easy to manipulate Minos' body. Sisyphus hooks his lover's legs around his forearms, pressing their crotches together. It almost burns, their genitals rub against one another. They both groan in pleasure.
Sisyphus rocks his hips back, dragging the underside of his erection along Minos' engorged clit. Slick coats his shaft, folds parting, he can feel how Minos' sex aches beneath him. He grabs onto his hips, angling them upwards. His tip brushes against the quivering opening.
“Mine rose-!,” Minos' squeaks out. His hips jerk. Sisyphus shushes his cries.
“Soon.” He coos.
He presses forwards, the tip of his cock breaching Minos' tight heat. Minos' body jumps, moan caught in his throat as his opening stretches to accommodate Sisyphus' girth. It's a delicate yet pleasurable burn against the thin tissue of his entrance.
Sisyphus is careful, he hunches down to press kiss after kiss against Minos' brow. Slowly sinking himself in further. He can feel those slick walls parting to accept him, they massage his length as if trying to take him deeper.
After what feels like an eternity, he finally hilted himself fully inside of Minos, their pelvic bones pressed flushed together. Minos wraps his legs around Sisyphus' back, urging him to continue further. More gentle kisses are placed to his face, to his scarred eyelids and upon his quivering lips. There's no words to be shared as of now.
Sisyphus pulls Minos down further, getting a tight grip on his lover's thighs, feeling Minos' heels dig into his lower back. They take a moment, deep breaths while Sisyphus waits for Minos' to take custom to his girth.
A gentle pat to Sisyphus' back with his foot. Sisyphus tightens his grip on Minos' thighs, leaving small marks on his skin. He withdraws, little by little, until only the swollen glands of his head remain inside. Sisyphus delights in how Minos' walls stay tightly clamped around him.
With a delicate, controlled motion he pushes forwards. A pained noise exits through Minos' gritted teeth, his arms reaching out to grab Sisyphus' shoulders to steady himself.
Sisyphus starts slow, noting each and every noise that comes from Minos' throat. Savoring every inch of his lover's silken walls, how they hug and caress his sensitive cock with each thrust.
He unhooks an arm from Minos' leg, trailing a large hand up the expanse of his chest. Small scars cover Minos' body much like his own, he notes them akin to snake scales. Minos arches his back, leaning into Sisyphus' touch as his thumb rolls against his nipple.
Sisyphus swallows hard, careful to keep his composure. He angles himself, thrusting shallowly to drag his girth along that sweet spot that makes Minos dig his nails into his broad shoulders.
Minos clings to him, gently rolling his hips to meet him. His hands trail to the sides of Sisyphus' face. He cups his cheeks, thumbs trailing along dark flesh. He mutters praises, sweet talk and words full of appreciation, fingers curling in his dreadlocks. Minos pushes Sisyphus' head down, their lips meeting in a kiss. Sisyphus lets go of Minos' thighs, hands cupping his cheeks as the kiss continues.
They moan against each other. Sisyphus can feel the familiar warmth in his gut with each delicate ripple of Minos' heat. He presses his pubic mound flush against Minos' clit. Bracing himself against his elbow as his pace increases. Minos' breathing becomes more ragged, he clings to Sisyphus' body, his head now resting in the crook of his neck.
The room is filled with the soft sounds of skin against skin, gentle creaks of the bed. The howling wind outside drowned out their quiet cries of ecstasy. Sisyphus puts his weight on his forearm, taking a hold of Minos' thigh once more.
He pushes it forwards, forcing Minos' leg to press against his abdomen. His toes curl and he throws his head back as Sisyphus plunges deeper. Thrusts beginning to lose their rhythm. The fluids that drip from his cunt puddle underneath him and soak the bed sheets.
Minos cries out, arms tightly wrapped around Sisyphus' back, his nails dig into his flesh. His walls seize, gripping tightly as waves of ecstasy washed over his body, back arching off the bed. His cunt gushes around Sisyphus' cock, fluid coating the both of their sexes. He falls back into the cushions of the mattress, body spent and aching.
Sisyphus falls not soon after with nothing more than a strangled cry. He pushes himself in as deep as he possibly could, rocking his hips to milk himself inside his beloved's heat. His chest heaves, abdomen clenching as his own orgasm ripped through him. Cumming deep inside with trembling arms.
They stay panting, sweat drips from Sisyphus' brow. His cock still twitching deep inside Minos. He gulps, regaining his composure. Minos rubs soothing circles along Sisyphus' shoulder blades. His hands run up to cup his cheek, Sisyphus leans into the touch.
He removes himself with a wet squelch, sitting back on his ankles. His blinded eyes stare at Minos' crotch, he imagines the sight of his seed leaking from Minos' gaping hole. He runs a hand up Minos' inner thigh, feeling his legs twitch under his touch.
A dry laugh exits Sisyphus' throat, he wipes the sweat from his brow.
“My dear?”
“Mhm?” Minos rolls onto his side, he pats the space next to him.
“I should clean you before we rest, yes?”
Minos shakes his head, clearly exhausted. He takes a hold of Sisyphus' wrist and guides him to lie next to him. “I shall take care of it myself come morning.” Sisyphus falls next to him without protest.
They huddle close. Sisyphus dragging the discarded blanket back over their nude forms. He presses more sweet kisses to Minos' face, making him chuckle. Curling up together, listening to each other's steady breaths and beating hearts. Heat blossoming between them, cold wind continuing to rage outside.
Sisyphus shuts his eyes, pressing his nose against Minos' collar bone. He sighs softly, surrendering to a peaceful sleep. Minos threads his fingers through his rose’s hair, fingers brushing against the knot that keeps his blindfold bound.
Minos presses a kiss to Sisyphus' bandaged eyelids, careful not to wake him.
“May thy beauty persevere through all, mine dear desert rose.”