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It was a night like any other.
Kirei was sitting on the desk with the Bible open. He was contemplating the next gospel readings for this week’s Eucharist, and the sermons he had to give afterwards to the congregation. Across from him, not ten yards away, was Gilgamesh. The golden heroic spirit who had received incarnation almost a decade ago was once again sipping wine while doing some reading himself.
His tastes in literature were quite prolific and unabashedly whimsical. He would read anything. From magazines about horticulture and fashion trends, to trashy romance novels (which he would from time to time perform dramatic readings of every time a certain passage is deemed so ridiculous), to paperback political thrillers, cooking manuals and—at this moment—a self-help book about creative visualization to achieve success in life. He lay stretched out in the couch in a most relaxed position, and every now and then Kirei would look up until he saw Gilgamesh’s eyes slightly droop. He must be getting bored with the material he was reading. Kirei’s expression softened.
The weather outside was cold and dry, and the office where the two of them were both holed up in isn’t exempt to that. Kirei could feel the temperature even through the thick layers of clothing. The only thing that countered it were the soft, orange fluorescent lights in the ceiling, which shrouded the entire room with a glow of an ambience that could be mistaken for warmth and energy.
He kept his eyes glued on Gilgamesh for another minute, tracing the contours of his body as he did; from the open collar that exposed his clavicles, the plain beige shirt which rose up a little during the hour so a portion of his stomach was revealed in the open, and finally down to his lean legs accentuated by his tight black leather pants. He couldn’t possibly be comfortable wearing that, could he? Kirei had wondered often. It only occurred to him that he had been staring when he looked back at Gilgamesh’s face and found that the other man was gazing right at him, his narrowed eyes, the color of ruby stones, questioning. Kirei froze as their eyes met from across the room. A second last. And then another.
Gilgamesh smiled.
Over the years, Kirei had been on the receiving end of the many smiles of the King of Heroes. There was his chilling smirk, one that warns of secrets he will never speak of to Kirei; his bemused smile that guarantees that whatever Kirei had been doing in that moment was something he immensely approves of; the playful grin that bares his teeth as if he is ready to devour whatever was on sight—
—and now this smile. It was only quite recently, maybe five months ago, that Kirei became acquainted with that smile and its meaning. It’s one that is unmistakably due to affection and heat…and, he guessed, right now it seemed to be emanating the latter. Seeing it displayed like that and for his benefit, Kirei felt his own collar tighten around his neck as if it was a leash and somebody was pulling it, almost choking him.
He kept quiet but didn’t look away either.
Finally, Gilgamesh nodded to indicate the Bible Kirei was reading, asking. “What trickery will you be spewing out for tomorrow’s mass, Father?”
“Don’t describe it like that,” Kirei frowned as he replied. “My faith is still a relevant part of my life.”
Gilgamesh didn’t laugh. Usually he would do so, and then alternate between chiding and poking fun of Kirei for his superficial and misguided beliefs about a higher power. He didn’t do that at all. Instead, he tossed the book carelessly aside and then slowly sat up, bending his knees while his legs still remained perched on the couch. Next, he rested his temple on one of his knees, still presently watching Kirei with discerning eyes as he remarked, “It’s rather chilly.” The statement was followed by a long pause. Kirei waited.
“Won’t you bring yourself over here?”
It wasn’t a request or a command. With Gilgamesh, the pendulum of intentions could always swing either way. He could be whispering temptations as black and sticky as tar into Kirei’s ear one moment, and puncturing him with weapons from his Babylonian armory the next.
Eight months. It started eight months ago.
After almost ten years of co-existing together in a limbo where they keep each other company as they wait for the next Holy Grail War to lay waste to the world, Kirei and Gilgamesh only explored this new aspect of their relationship fairly recently. It didn’t happen during any of their conversations about abstract moralities and liberation and anarchy. They didn’t decide to cross their own boundaries of physical contact during those restless times when they would argue about a few tactics in how they should present themselves as allies even if they were operating in the shadows. It never happened right after every accord they painstakingly arrived to in order to preserve the status quo of their alliance.
Any of these times were ripe opportunities for Kirei and Gilgamesh to become more entangled with each other in the most barbaric sense.
But it simply didn’t happen.
Instead, it happened during a night like any other, much like this one.
Kirei had been facing the altar late at night when it happened. He was submerged in his prayers, looking not for absolution but for some quiet after being violently awoken from sleep. He had dreamt of Claudia again. He killed her in the dream. He enjoyed it—and perhaps a little too much. He stirred, staining his sheets with sweat and cum. It had been so long since it first happened, back when he was still the grieving widower pretending to have lost the love of his life in front of his consoling father and the congregation in Italy.
If he still had a beating heart, it would have been booming loudly against his chest. Kirei had jumped off the bed and came rushing to the altar to pray for no other reason but to calm his nerves through the rhythm of the prayers instilled and drilled into him as the child of Risei Kotomine, a holy and saintly man. He wasn’t expecting God to answer. That would be foolish. He just needed to collect his thoughts and appease the tremors under his flesh, which were more painful than he expected. But he must have been muttering the Latin aloud as it echoed in the church, the dead language rolling so naturally from his tongue, because he sensed a presence behind him a few moments later.
It was unmistakably the King of Heroes himself.
Kirei had thought of Gilgamesh to be many things. An antediluvian half-god and royal king from a brutal age long forgotten whose remnants still shape his very nature. A cunning serpentine trickster who pursues only his own brand of freedom and joy. A chaotic force of nature that neither discriminates nor condemns. The truest kind of self-destructive hedonist who destroys and remakes anything he touches into his own image.
These are all the things Gilgamesh is and will always be, but what he never was to Kirei was a complete stranger.
In the deepest, buried recesses of Kirei’s mind, Gilgamesh to him had always been familiar, even back when Tokiomi Tohsaka first summoned him into the physical world. He and Kirei had looked at each other in passing during introductions—but even then, Kirei knew him.
Gilgamesh, in turn, knew him.
Why else would he sneak into Kirei’s office, pillage his wine, hoard his coach, call him interesting, and encourage him to pursue pleasure?
It was as if they were never born millenniums or continents apart to begin with; as if both of them were always meant to come together and deliver the world to its inevitable utter despair and havoc. If he was a sentimental man, Kirei would have thought it poetic.
He believed higher powers were always at work, but it was only when he was with the self-reliant narcissist Gilgamesh that Kirei thought that even the gods themselves would not dare cross their path and intervene.
The incontestable reality was that Kirei had never felt freer than whenever the King of Heroes would drive him over the edge with nothing but the awaiting abyss beneath.
It was a powerful realization—far more powerful than realizing you ever loved someone, which Kirei never did, and was never capable of.
So there he was, standing behind Kirei, not uttering a single sound until Kirei had to turn around to acknowledge him. Gilgamesh was outlined by the shafts of light coming from the moon outside the windows, making it seem as if dark shadows were cutting through his body. His eyes were wine-dark like always, scrutinizing, barely missing anything. He only smiled when Kirei said, “You shouldn’t be here. I need to be alone.”
“We’re all alone,” he merely remarked.
“I have no time for this, Gilgamesh.”
“Then make time.”
Kirei sighed. He tried to keep his breathing even as he asked, “And what does the King of Heroes require of me now?”
“I require nothing from you, mongrel,” Gilgamesh glided towards him, his footsteps so light they barely made any sound. “And neither should you require anything from your false god. Why do you even waste your valuable effort praying to some figment of imagination, a product of collective mass delusions cultivated through years of oppressive patriarchy?”
Kirei didn’t speak. He didn’t even blink as Gilgamesh kept approaching.
“Raise yourself up and desist with this pointless exercise of ill-advised pandering. You are better than this, Kirei.”
“You don’t understand.”
Gilgamesh smiled wider. “Then why don’t you make me?”
“When I said you don’t understand,” Kirei finally stood up. Kneeling for so long like that was something he has already grown accustomed to. His joints didn’t ache. He looked straight at the other man and said, “What I meant is that you can’t understand. There is no way to show you, or convince you. You believe only in yourself. You are the prototype of stories and humanity’s first hero. You are not beholden to any deity other than yourself. And that is why you can’t comprehend why mere mortals like myself need to believe in divinity.”
“Then, why not worship me instead?” Gilgamesh spread his arms apart.
Kirei said nothing. He took a step forward, but did or said nothing else.
Gilgamesh’s smile dimmed a little. He punctuated his condescending disappointment with a sigh. After a few stretch of silence, he pointed behind Kirei, “And what of your Nazarene preacher of neighborly love and kingdom of Heaven? His persecution by the Romans, and the strenuous punishment you call his Passion I must admit is a compelling story itself, but what is it about this Christ that you still cling onto, Kirei? I’ve listened to your sermons. Most of the time you were not faking the words coming out of your mouth.”
“What do you want to know?” Kirei asked without any idea where their conversation was going.
“Did you ever enjoy it?”
“I’ve only ever discovered enjoyment through your patient guidance, so I need you to be more specific.”
“None of that,” Gilgamesh sharpened his gaze. “Don’t conceal yourself from me by mocking me with superfluous excuses.”
“I simply want to know what you meant by enjoying something. Which one were you referring to?”
“Christ’s suffering at the hands of his persecutors.”
Kirei blinked. “And what do you mean when you asked if I enjoyed it?”
“Did it grant you the same kind of perverse joy akin to that of Kariya Matou’s suffering as you read the passages of this so-called Son of God’s degradation?” Gilgamesh was smiling again. “Did you ever watch re-enactments of the Passion in the streets during Holy Week where devout groups would also flagellate themselves in the name of Christ? Did you ever do the same, Kirei? Have you ever whipped yourself in the privacy of your rooms until your back is bruised and bleeding from the lacerations?”
The words were poisonous because they were all true.
Against his will, Kirei took a step backwards. Gilgamesh recognized it as the display of hesitation, and therefore of weakness. He had struck a nerve, and now he was going to exploit it by any means necessary. There was a clarity in the eyes of the King of Heroes that somewhat made Kirei feel he should fear for his safety in this instant.
Perhaps there was still a way to divert this disaster from taking place. “Please,” Kirei tried to sound humbled. “I only need to be left alone tonight. I don’t know what incited this punishment you think I deserve, but I really must ask you not to put me through whatever you have in mind.”
“Ah…” the King of Heroes beamed. “So you do want me to punish you?”
Kirei couldn’t find his voice.
“So tell me,” Gilgamesh was approaching him again. His movements this time were more measured, like a snake waiting to strike. “In what desolate ways would you like me to punish you, Kirei? What kind of suffering could I inflict upon you that you haven’t done yet yourself?”
Kirei wanted him to stop talking but instead he found himself backing away, almost colliding at the altar. He steeled himself, however, and met the other man’s gaze with a stubborn refusal to indulge in this farce. But there was a glint in Gilgamesh’s eyes he had never seen before. It was almost hypotonic and definitely most frightening. In all the years they lived together, this was the first time Kirei had become aware of who this man really was. He was no mere mortal. He was ancient and powerful with a brand new corporeal body. Gilgamesh believed the world is his garden, and everyone is a plaything of his. He would use brutal force to take whatever he wants. And right now Kirei was his prey.
Kirei’s warrior instincts kicked in which was timely because the moment he produced his black keys that protrude between the spaces of his fingers, Gilgamesh had already rushed towards him in the blink of an eye, landing a punch to his gut. Kirei coiled, but only momentarily. Using his hips for momentum, he twisted himself for a roundhouse kick. Gilgamesh deflected by raising his arm where Kirei’s shin smacked into his braceleted wrist. The gold only made a hollow sound from the impact but Kirei knew he might have dented it an inch. Gilgamesh kept pushing forward next, all frontal assault with no opening for Kirei to counter-attack.
It was a brutal dance of bare knuckles against blades; a breathless and consummate battle of wills. Blood splattered across them, showering the pews and the floor and making them shimmer under the moon’s harsh light. Using the black keys, Kirei stepped continuously as he hacked his way through Gilgamesh’s rhythm of attack, and slashed through his ugly animal-printed shirt. In response, the King of Heroes merely tore off his shirt completely, leaving his upper torso exposed. There was a gash in his chest caked with fresh blood. The god-king was smiling and licking his lips. Kirei gritted his teeth and was sorely tempted to use a command seal as magical reinforcement, but decided against it. If he brought magic into play, Gilgamesh will not hesitate then to open his Gate of Babylon—and things will get uglier and more complicated.
He better wrap this up quickly before they both do something they will regret later.
Kirei knew he failed when Gilgamesh saw an opening and forcibly took one of his black keys so he can stab it through Kirei’s hand. The blade pierced through his palm and into layers of muscle and even bone. He almost howled but managed to swallow it down as he took a step back, wondering if he should retreat. But then Gilgamesh was speaking, all smug and happy.
“There is your stigmata!” he announced and then unceremoniously kicked Kirei in his chest. The impact was strong enough to land Kirei on his back. Before he could recover and bring himself to sit up, the god-king has moved closer and stomped down on his chest again. Kirei sputtered out blood and angled his head to the side so he would not choke it back down. Gilgamesh reached out to take another black key. Once again, he stabbed it through Kirei’s other hand. Kirei’s almost losing consciousness because of the pain, but he held on.
The King of Heroes swooped down afterwards, and grabbed him by his collar, lifting him up as if he was weightless. He dragged Kirei to a nearby thick wooden post. Kirei couldn’t move, both numbed down and sensitive all over. And then Gilgamesh walked over to where the rest of Kirei’s weapons were, and then used two more of the black keys and punctured them on the clothing hanging loose around Kirei’s arms. He was now nailed to the post, arms stretched out in a formation Kirei knew was deliberate.
Gilgamesh announced with a cheery tone again. “And here is your crucifixion!”
He grabbed Kirei by his jaw using one hand so they could look at each eye to eye.
“You’ve never looked more beautiful than you do now, my little fool…”
The god-king looked as if he was about to say something more when his gaze suddenly lowered so he could inspect the rest of the damage he had inflicted. Kirei tried to breathe even though his lungs felt like they could cave in any moment. He knew Gilgamesh won’t kill him. If he just played the part of the subservient mongrel, the King of Heroes will let him go, and Kirei could just heal himself later. He closed his eyes now, waiting for it to be over. He only hoped Gilgamesh had his fill of entertainment tonight, even if it was at his expense.
“What is this?”
The unmistakable sound of curiosity made Kirei open his eyes once more. Gilgamesh was staring down at him. He wasn’t sure what he was looking at until the god-king reached out and used the heel of his palm to rub the bulge in Kirei’s pants. The contact was so abrupt and real even through the layer of clothing that Kirei jerked fully awake now, gasping in shock in spite of himself.
“You naughty piece of shit,” Gilgamesh chuckled as he mercilessly squeezed Kirei’s hardness tighter. “You tricked me into getting you off!”
“No…” Kirei’s croaked.
Gilgamesh narrowed his gaze and loosened his hold but now his fingers were fondling the outline of Kirei’s erection, which was even worse.
“You kinky bastard,” he was grinning at Kirei. “You could have just asked me directly…”
“Stop…”
“Too late,” Gilgamesh’s hot breath was on his face now. “Your excitement has already excited me.”
Kirei gulped down. “Don’t,” he genuinely begged. “We shouldn’t.”
“Oh, but we must.”
He could hear his fly being unzipped. Kirei couldn’t bring himself to look. It was only when Gilgamesh demanded furiously that he paid attention that Kirei did. The god-king was panting hard against Kirei’s face. The heat of his breath and sweat mingled with the scent of sex occurring underneath. He had been jerking off Kirei and himself in the last five minutes. Instead of coiling away, Kirei found himself trying to get closer to the warm body against him. He found his voice midway, muttering Gilgamesh to speed up and press him in certain places in his cock. To his surprise, the god-king obeyed. Kirei’s arms strained from their confines but moments later he was already losing the sensation in them. He had to tell Gilgamesh to take the blades out or he might just bleed to death after all. In haste, Gilgamesh pulled them out, including the ones nailing him on the spot. Kirei slipped, unable to support himself, but Gilgamesh caught him and he pushed Kirei and himself to the ground.
Like an animal, the King of Heroes started rutting against him as he renewed the rhythm of his hands still jerking them off together. He was splayed on top of Kirei, thighs spread carelessly apart on either side of Kirei’s hips. He would have been a fascinatingly vulgar sight to watch, but Kirei was far too consumed on using healing magic to stop the bleeding to fully cooperate with Gilgamesh’s machinations, at least for now. The wounds went deeper than he expected, and he had to concentrate on grasping his hands together as he raised them above.
“You…” Gilgamesh was now chuckling as he stared down at Kirei, “…y-you still loo-look like you’re praying! Ohhhh…!”
Kirei was grinning back at him. “Y-You did say…you want—ugh! Me to worship you…!”
They buckled against one another when the overpowering wave of completion came upon them almost in the same exact moment. And then there was only the faint huffing of their joint breaths as the moonlight cascaded through their sweat-slicked, battle-scarred bodies. Gilgamesh had collapsed on top of him, weighing like the world itself. In response, Kirei burrowed his fingers through his golden-spun hair. Blood was still gushing out of him, and Kirei, with a satisfied smirk, smeared lots of it into Gilgamesh’s locks of perfect blond hair.
Over the next few months, their sessions increased in quantity and escalated in an alarming rate. They both found new ways to hurt and maim and damage each other each time they fucked. Now here they are inside the office eight months later during a cold night, right in the middle of an attempt to act on their newfound love affair, although theirs could be called a lot of things except loving. What would it be tonight? What kind of degradation and power play shall the former king of Uruk subject Kirei through? What new and varied ways does the origin of myth wish to subjugate him with? The not-knowing can be so thrilling and intoxicating.
Kirei now sat beside Gilgamesh on the couch, more than prepared for anything. He gazed at the King of Heroes in a way he knew will be taken as an invitation or a provocation. But the other man only smiled and swung his legs down the floor. He adjusted the angle of his body, and reached out with one hand. Kirei bent closer, watching the god-king closely. His fingers slipped through Kirei’s hair as if he was merely petting him. They stayed like that for a few seconds, and the tension between them was so achingly palpable that Kirei’s cock was already hardening inside his pants.
Before he could speak, Gilgamesh leaned closer again…
…and kissed him.
In all the eight months they’ve been sexually involved, they have never kissed.
Until now.
Kirei’s breath hitched as Gilgamesh captured his lips. The tip of his tongue came next, urging Kirei to part his with a gentle and slick jab. The god-king made a pleased moan at the back of his throat the moment he had been granted access, and the sound of it went straight to Kirei’s gut. He unclenched his hands, and placed them on either side of Gilgamesh’s hips, surprised to find that his fingers trembled badly as he clutched the King of Heroes closer to him. Gilgamesh wrapped both arms around his neck as their mouths slid perfectly on one another as if they could melt as one.
The smooth alignment of their wet, hot mouths lasted for a few more minutes before they both pulled away. Gilgamesh looked at him as if Kirei wasn’t there. Finally, he whispered into their lips: “Make love to me…”
Kirei’s eyebrows furrowed together. Gilgamesh just grinned. And then they were laughing.
They were laughing because it was absurd. It was absurd because all they knew to do together was to fuck, and hurt, and maim and destroy.
Not love. Never love.
Both men let each other ago for a moment because they still couldn’t stop laughing at Gilgamesh’s well-timed joke. Kirei could never remember a time that he had laughed as much.
It was Gilgamesh who first stood up and reached a hand for Kirei to grab onto. They didn’t hold hands on the way to Kirei’s bed. With brutality as their own language, they tore off each other’s clothes and clawed their way in. Kirei grabbed hold of Gilgamesh for the rest of the night as they took turns claiming the other, not because they could have this forever but precisely because they knew they couldn’t—and both priest and god-king wouldn’t want it any other way.
Soon, war will come to their doorstep again, and the destruction it brings will be imminent. A great fire will once again swallow the new city of Fuyuki, and if they were declared champions and worthy of the Grail, then they could both have what they wanted and so much more.
Gilgamesh could at last purge the world from the things and people he deemed are filthy and undeserving of his garden.
And Kirei could witness beautifully twisted deaths and suffering happening all around him.
He would know then that there is a God, and he was created as the great evil to sweep away His creation. For now he must accept that at least Gilgamesh was the closest corporeal manifestation of the divinity Kirei had longed for.
They’d be standing together on top of a thousand mass graves where the King of Heroes’ new kingdom will arise from.
Oh, how the hollowed core where Kirei's heart used to be yearns for it…