Work Text:
Yesterday Kirei begun the task: he started to rehabilitate the church.
Kotomine Church has never been much used for ordinary functions. That much is appropriate, Kirei reflects as he wears himself out scrubbing the pews. As a Kotomine himself, he knows the feeling of being unsuited to the things that ordinary people find second nature. It's only natural that the church on the hill bearing his name has never been accustomed to ordinary services and the simple joys they bring congregants. It's been bent to the purpose of watching over the Holy Grail War, and nothing more.
But years stretch before him before the Grail will awaken again. There is no possibility of those empty years giving him any sort of answer he can use, so he must find something to do with them. He cleans the church, and he plans.
Someone watches him, now and then, as he straightens up the church. "Kirei, why waste your time?" demands the man with the golden hair and the snake-like eyes. "Even in this degraded world, surely there are better things to do with yourself than this."
"Quiet," Kirei mutters as he hauls a pedestal up to the altar. He will preach from this pulpit. He will tell an audience of attentive Christians all the ways in which they have fallen short. He will rob them of their joy in life, reminding them as he has been reminded all these years: it is a sin. With that delight awaiting him, he can spare only minimal attention for the man of gold who helped bring him to this point. "I am busy."
And for a time, Gilgamesh is quiet.
That lasts until Kirei is sitting at a desk in a room in the back, sorting through papers listing nearby Christians who can be enticed to attend this church. That's when the door opens and the erstwhile Servant strides in.
"You have ignored me long enough, fool priest," he complains, typically as ever. "Do you really find any pleasure worth seeking in these dusty papers?"
Kirei delicately lifts one sheet of paper and slides it to the bottom of the stack. Another set of names awaits him, another promise of diversion. "They're merely a gateway, Gilgamesh. Haven't you taught me how people can entertain? You should understand." He allows a small smile to creep to his face.
Gilgamesh leans impatiently on the edge of the desk. "I understand you, Kirei. I understand you better than you understand yourself, or have you forgotten? Don't tell me...there is more I need to teach you."
Kirei isn't sure what the point of that is. He reaches for another set of documents. "So long as it doesn't interfere with this work. Greater pleasure awaits me if I--" He frowns. Out of the corner of his eye, he's caught sight of Gilgamesh kneeling. That seems absurd and unlikely.
"You've brought me to this, priest," comes the complaining voice. "Suffer your fate gladly." And then there are slim strong fingers grasping the waistband of his pants.
How strange. It brings him no pleasure, but it's interesting to glance down from his papers and see that contrast there, golden skin against black fabric. Kirei dismisses any related thoughts, as those hands undo buttons and a zipper. "I've suffered a great deal, but whether it's gladly or not...does it matter?" He returns to his paperwork. He needs to cross-reference these two sets of names, to ensure that he has the right lists.
But those fingers are insistent at his pants, and now at his underpants. As he reaches for a stack of old letters, Kirei finds some distant amusement in a realization: these fingers that now reach so demandingly for him are the same fingers that assembled the first treasury. They have touched every scrap of gold in this world, and they built the purest legends with those scraps. "You sully your godly hands so easily," he can't help but remark, in casual tones.
"Fool priest," Gilgamesh repeats, in almost a hiss, as he finally curls his perfect fingers around Kirei's waiting cock. It stirs faintly to meet his touch; Kirei observes this distantly. What does it matter if he's aroused? This does nothing for his spirit. "I have no interest in godliness, unlike your less interesting brethren. My interest lies in worthy people."
"Very well." Kirei unfolds the first letter in the pile. "You may continue to look for them on my watch." He smiles. "I bless your task."
"And when I find them?" Gilgamesh runs his fingers up and down Kirei's length as if handling some exceptionally consequential treasure.
"Do as you wish." Kirei puts the letter aside and reaches for another one. "But it seems to me some things should require permission."
"Such as?" Gilgamesh casually rubs his thumb against what he holds.
Kirei feels something pulse through him. That must have been a replacement for a quickening heartbeat, he decides. The mud really does do everything. "What they call 'handjobs,' or so I've heard."
He can almost feel Gilgamesh's sneer. "The king does not require permission, and besides, this is what I call a 'favor.'"
Kirei folds up the second letter again and sets it down. He wonders at something. He decides to try something. "Does the king truly perform such meager favors?"
Gilgamesh pauses. His fingers flex and curl one more time. Then a laugh breaks free of him. "You really have learned something, Kirei!"
"I'm not sure what you mean." Kirei reaches for another couple letters.
"I feel such uncommon warmth at seeing you use the skills of manipulation I taught you on me," Gilgamesh says, "that I'll even let you live after such a slight. Especially since you're aroused now, and I can have my way with you."
Kirei forces out a sigh. His body is becoming slightly treacherous, but his mind still remains clear. "If I can continue to have my way with these documents, I do not mind."
"Listen closely, priest," Gilgamesh says, "since in a moment my mouth will be occupied."
Kirei sighs again. He shuffles the papers.
"You'd do well to appreciate this."
Kirei reaches for a pen to make some notes on the back of one letter. Somewhere below, he's stiff and hard from the touch of Gilgamesh's persistent fingers. It doesn't matter. He can still check these names.
Gilgamesh leans forward in a fluid motion too graceful to be what it really is. It's beautiful, the way he points his shoulders forward and lowers his head. It's beautiful in a way that even Kirei can almost appreciate. He doesn't want to admit it, but he does appreciate it, as he's been told. The way Gilgamesh's golden hair falls over his face as he leans down: that's striking.
Kirei looks away from the hero in his lap and back to his papers right as Gilgamesh's mouth closes around his cock. There's some relief in the sensation, but there's more relief in the knowledge that since Gilgamesh can no longer talk at the moment, he'll be quiet for now, and Kirei can focus on the task at hand. He needs to collate these names and addresses.
Gilgamesh has a way of demanding attention even when silent, though. His tongue works fiercely at the head of Kirei's cock, and it's almost enough to be a distraction. It's fortunate that Kirei is used to tormenting his body. He continues jotting down notes about the names and families he's turning up.
The smallest annoyed noise comes from Gilgamesh's throat. He pulls Kirei's cock deeper into his mouth, teeth briefly but dangerously touching the shaft. There's that feeling again, Kirei observes: like something pulsing in his heartless body. It's insignificant.
But he can't quite shake a certain knowledge: the mouth so occupied between his legs now is the same mouth that first cursed the gods so many eons ago. Does that matter?
He still has several letters to go through to finish checking this list of names. It doesn't matter what Gilgamesh is doing beneath the desk in front of him, even if, so very distantly, it might be pleasant.
Kirei frowns down at the desk. His hand is shaking just slightly. He stills it.
Below, Gilgamesh pulls him deeper, tongue sliding against his shaft. The head of his cock is buried in Gilgamesh's throat now.
"It seems the King of Heroes has no need for a gag reflex," Kirei remarks, striking out a pair of names on one of his documents.
Gilgamesh chuckles faintly, the sound muffled around what's in his mouth. It's rather pleasing to ruin his laughter like that.
Then he goes back to sucking harder.
Kirei adds another name to the list, one that had been missed according to the letters. Something in him is growing hotter. Images of release flash in the back of his head. Ash and flames. Rotten fruit. Spindly fingers grasping for salvation they won't find. Dying screams. These are the things that please him, and now with Gilgamesh's head resting between his legs, they begin to crowd into his mind. But still, that golden head gives him little worth mentioning.
Gilgamesh makes an irritated noise; it almost sounds like, Curse you, priest, for some reason. His throat twitches and jumps against the head, his tongue flutters against the shaft, Kirei's whole length is embedded within him, and even this toned and tortured body can't resist that for much longer--
Damn you, priest. Come already. The words hum against his flesh, broken up and muffled.
Grinning down at his documents, Kirei savors that moment, that break in the king's perfect composure, and then he allows himself release. Much to his surprise, that's even better: it's even better, because Gilgamesh's head jerks back a little, and in the next moment, as Kirei glances down, he catches a glimpse of distaste on Gilgamesh's face, a scant glimpse of his perfect lips marred by stickiness.
And Kirei practices. "Did you want my attention, Gilgamesh? All you needed to do was wait. I'm done with these papers now."
Gilgamesh swallows. Then he smiles, still kneeling (though it's less kneeling, and more like he's allowed the ground to touch his knees). "I cannot believe you found an answer worth ignoring me in them, Kirei."
"No." Kirei shakes his head. "No answer. But a worthy diversion in the meanwhile."