#lambteeth

Cover old scars

Give me new ones to match 

It's not often that they can have such private moments.

The fox often sees the Lamb running around, always working for their flock, and they have very little time to indulge him. It doesn’t really bother him, he’s patient, used to the shadows, but he still relishes having the little lamb in his arms on nights like this one.

Laying in the grass of a clearing, the bodies of heretics around them and dried blood on both their lips made for a perfect date night for them. The Fox listens as the Lamb recounts their day, scraping his claws against their freshly-sheared hips.

“...And they said the base was an eyesore! So rude!” They exclaim in exasperation, making the fox chuckle.

“From what I’ve seen, your lands are quite nice… You should eat them as punishment.” He says playfully.

“That’s your solution for everything!” Says the Lamb with a giggle and a playful eye roll, as they turn on his lap to face him.

“Like you don’t want to.” He retorts, nuzzling the side of their neck, above the jingling bell around it. “Devotion makes them so tasty…” He mutters.

The lamb hums softly. “True, but for me it’s an indulgence, not sustenance. I don’t even need to eat anymore!”

“Ah yes, the parells of a godly vessel…” He scoffs, thuggin at the collar on his lover’s neck. “To be rid of mortal needs, at the expense of your joy for having them fulfilled.” He stares at the neckpiece as if it has personally offended him, if only the lamb didn’t cherish it, he would have thorn the dreadful thing with his own teeth, like he had their flesh. 

The vessel allows the silence to last a minute, then says; “It’s not so bad…” They slide their hands over the fox’s shoulders slowly. “I don’t need to sleep, so as long as my flock is resting, I can stay with you…” They press their bodies closer, lips almost touching. “We can indulge now, can’t we? In gluttony, lust, both?”

The Fox smiles and kisses his lamb as he undoes the clasp that holds the dreadful bell, then moves to clamp his teeth around their neck, the scarred skin gives in under his fangs, and he’s determined to bite there until the marks stay and cover the past one, until he can pretend he’s the one who owns the little lamb in his arms.

He deserves them doesn’t he? He’s the one who fed them in their times of need, the one who pleasured them, the one who eased their worries. The one below might be the one who receives the sacrifices in the temples, but he was the one Lamb looked for when they peered into the darkness, the one whose merciless teeth the lamb threw their devoted followers, only to watch him indulge in their flesh.

And now he’s the one pushing the Lamb to admit their most carnal desires, as he pushes them back onto the grass and pushes their legs open and presses their bodies together. He’s the one who hears the little bleat they let out at the contact. “Bite me again…” They ask, and he obliges, sweet ichor spilling between his fangs; he's covering scars of pain with pleasure, daring to cover the claim of a god with his own.

He pushes himself inside the lamb, sinking slowly, inebriated by their taste, by their tight body around him, by their bleats and moans.

The One Who Waits might have the Lamb’s soul, soon even their body, but the Fox was the first to have their flesh, the first to have their pleasure. That he was sure.

He gets violent in his thrusts, but everything between him and the lamb is a little violent; he bites and tears, they do it back, and demand more, insatiable in love as they were in vengeance.

And the Fox gives more, takes more, pauses to put them on all fours, like the beasts they both are, and he takes again. The Lamb’s arms shake beneath them, and they relish in each thrust, not bothering to hold back their desperate moans.

The Fox is merciless in his thrusts and the Lamb moves their trembling hips to meet them halfway, he sinks his claws on their thighs and scratches, his teeth on the back of their neck, right on top of their decapitation scar, and licks their blood like is the sweetest of liquors. “Sweet little lamb…” He rasps near their ear, sounding breathless. “So sweet for me, so greedy, taking all I can give.” The Lamb bleats, their arms give out from under them and the Fox claws at their chest, holding them up against his own, thrusting up into them. Their orgasm rips through them, head falling back against the Fox’s shoulder as they gasp and shake.

The fox doesn’t still, however, and it nearly drives the Lamb mad as they whimper from the overstimulation, but they still take it, as they had taken each of the Fox's bargains before, until he reaches his own orgasm and finally stills himself, breathing heavily.

Both sit still for a long moment, The Fox retracts his claws and tenderly wipes the Lamb’s blood off their chest, licking it off his hand. Their wounds as scratches are already fading when he lays their limp body back on the soft grass, and he watches in dread as his claim disappears from their skin, leaving only the claim of The one Who Waits. “Little lamb.” he whispers with a grin; “Only mine in lust, never in soul.” He takes the discarded neckpiece from the ground, and clasps it back around their neck.

“The fates have spoken, and it was against us…” Answers the vessel. “But we still meet in gluttony and in lust, it shall be enough for now.” They raise a hand to caress his maw tenderly. “Our time ends when the sun comes, but the moon alway rises again.”

“So it does…” He takes their hand and leaves a parting bite on their wrist. “And when you seek the darkness, I’ll be there…” He whispers and disappears into the shadows.

The Lamb sits up when their lover leaves, their body no longer tired, and they place the crown back on their head, their fleece on their back and their deity on their mind, before leaving the clearing behind.

a/n: Normal people: In sickness and in health

Lambteeth: in cannibalism and in fucks :)

Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie

The hooded figure that stands in the still waters of Smugglers Sanctuary fascinates the Lamb.

Twice already, they had fed him with the flesh of a kin, what a happy coincidence it was they raised their followers to eat and be eaten.

The Fox's grin never wavers, but neither does the Lamb’s as they deny his last request with a simple; “Ratau is off-limits, ask something else or we're done with deals.”

He hums thoughtfully, although with the size of his grin, it could be a mock, but they don’t particularly care. “Very well then, Little Lamb… How about a bite of you? Surely godly flesh will keep me well fed for a long time.”

The Infant God's expression remains calm as they mull things over; foxes are tricky things… “I can give you one of my legs, or one of my arms, only one.” They say finally.

The fox seems delighted, eyes glinting against the night sky. He floats toward the pier and finally stands on it. He feels real for the first time the Lamb met him, and they wonder if they should start to regret their choices.

The Fox's teeth are pearly white against his dark robes and shadowy figure; “A leg then, your right one.” He looks ready to pounce on them and claim the deal, but Lamb raises a hand to stop him.

“Sacred meals are reserved for sacred places, and sacred days.” They say, and the fox tilts their head in amusement. “On the next full moon, come to my temple, I’ll give you a meal fit for a god.”

The Lamb leaves, and the Fox can barely contain his hunger.

The full moon couldn’t come soon enough.

Before emerging from the shadows, The Fox takes in the temple; a table was set with candles in the middle of the polished stone floor, illuminated by a few candles and the moonlight that poured in from the stained glass window above the altar. A throne was positioned at the head of the table, and as he watched, the Lamb finally entered through the main doors, closed it behind them, and calmly sat on it.

The moonlight cast a halo above their head, illuminating their horns and the red crown in a fascinating way…

“Have you done enough watching?” Asked the Lamb with a smile.

The Fox grinned as they finally emerged. “I don’t think I ever will… You’re quite fascinating to watch, Little Lamb.” They hummed in response, leaning back against their throne with a smile and hooded eyes, as if the entire situation was delightful to them. “How is your flock? Do they worry for you? Do they know you’re about to feed teeth in the darkness?”

When the Lamb laughs, the bell around their neck jingles softly; “You always make such strange questions, why would I let my flock know of our deals, when they are such private things?” They stand up with a smile and gesture at him to come closer. “Come, claim your side of our bargain.”

The fox does approach, the daring little Lamb even takes his hand, and leads him to sit at the throne, before sitting on the table themselves, right in front of him, legs spread for his easy access. “You do think of everything, don’t you, little Lamb?” He muses, running a clawed hand up their right thigh, the soft flesh makes his mouth water, their wool practically doesn’t reach their upper thigh, giving him a clean and delicious area to sink his teeth into. “I hope you don’t mind, as I've told you before, I’m a messy eater.” He says, before holding them by their calf, and pulling their leg towards him.

The sudden act makes the Lamb fall back, now laid on the table, but they only laugh in amusement, the sound mixing with the sound of their little bell. “Don’t swallow it all at once!” They say in a sing-song voice.

As The Fox finally sinks his teeth into their upper thigh he thinks he struck gold; the godly flesh gives in under his teeth, blood already flowing into his mouth and inebriating his senses. He had eaten the flesh of gods before, centuries ago, but it being givens so willingly somehow makes it taste a thousand times better.

He tears his first piece, dark red staining his fur, dripping onto the table and floor. He can already see a bit of bone on the lamb’s leg. He chews the flesh, savoring it as he watches the Lamb’s body twitch softly.

The Lamb knows the blood loss alone will eventually kill them, but they fight to stay conscious for as long they can. The pain is excruciating, but somehow they also barely feel it, like their mind knows there should be pain, a lot of it, but none comes, so all it does is twitch and tingle, like the constant prick of needles. It’s different from the cuts and bruises they got when getting hurt on crusades, those they didn’t feel at all. This is deliberate, as if their body wants to feel the pain, but can’t

The Lamb’s conscience comes and goes, and they gasp and shiver as The Fox takes a second tear; his teeth sink, then he pulls his head back, their skin ripped apart so easily.

Time passes, although neither of them can tell exactly how much. By the time The Fox leans back on the throne, having left nothing but bones and tendons of the Lamb’s leg, the sun is close to rising, and he must return to his shadows.

The Lamb Is unconscious, and the Fox watches in veiled fascination as their leg starts to magically regenerate, muscles and tendons growing and connecting, skin stretching to cover them slowly. If he wasn’t so full, his mouth would have watered all over from the prospect of an infinite meal. The Fox thinks they might have found a new addiction.

Once their leg was almost fully regenerated, The Fox noticed their eyes fluttering, he leaned back and watched as the infant god rose and sat up on the table. “Satisfied?” They ask with a grin.

Now with a full stomach, His lust replaced the hunger. “Very, Little lamb…” He took the promised talisman from his sleeve and placed it on the Lamb’s hand. “I have no more deals for you, but perhaps, the next time you peer into the darkness, we can satisfy another kind of hunger…”

The Lamb bleated out a laugh. “Hm, we’ll see, Fox.”

a/n: mfw I was satisfied with eating a rat but ended up eating a god instead and it ended up being really homoerotic.