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Everything was agonizing. His throat begged for liquid, but no amount of water or wine could soothe the desert taking up residence in his body. He desperately chugged another wine skin, closing his eyes during the brief solace; a slightly relieved whimper escaping his chest, wishing it would only last a bit longer. He stood up and cracked his window just enough to let fresher air in as the sun sank down to the horizon. Each movement caused his muscles to scream in agony; gritting his teeth, he slowly pulled himself back to his nest: the only area that felt even marginally safe in this world. The wind glided over his hot and aching skin in pity, desperately attempting to soothe the young man. With each featherlight touch, the pain compounded. Each breath was agonizing; he couldn’t get enough air. Even with labored breaths racking his frame, he still did all he could to avoid breathing in too deeply. The smells outside were tantalizing, young men, full of strong musks continuously walked past the small hovel the good shepherd called his home. It wasn’t the first time he had the displeasure of experiencing this, but it was definitely the worst.
His wings moved with a mind of their own, the larger two pairs wrapped around him, a self soothing measure, while the smallest pair stretched and folded constantly, seemingly agitated their host was in so much pain. While the feathers were softer than even the finest downy, the drag across his skin only caused him to break out in pained shivers, wishing for calloused fingers instead. Heat was rolling aggressively in his lower gut, imposing and unyielding. Each deep breath brought in more of the outsiders’ pheromones, causing the warmth to intensify, and with it the sensitivity to his skin. He quietly sent thanks to the heavens that his gathering has been canceled today. He couldn’t handle being in front of others right now. He just had to survive the next three days, and with his excuse of mediation, he should be alone.
As if on cue, a gentle knock echoed from the rotten old wooden door. It spoke of familiarity, of safety, of companionship. Instead of the usual wash of happiness and affection, a wave of panic struck. He couldn’t be seen like this. He felt every part of him freeze, like a hunted animal; desperate to be as quiet as possible. The thick silence of the room was only broken by his ragged breathing, and the slight sound of moving wings. After a few minutes a low familiar voice called out. “Rabbi, at your door I stand, seeking guidance and wisdom. May I enter and explain my plight, find some light and clarity, for yours is the only wisdom I trust to share the burdens I bear.”
Ever since gathering the twelve Apostles, Jesus had religiously taken Silphium every cycle. Every three months his mortal frame punished him, desperate to have a mate. Needing a mate was quite a common occurrence among the population; the only problem was, the son of god wasn’t an alpha as many assumed. He was an omega. Silphium broke the cycle, and allowed him to pretend to be a simple beta, or even an Alpha if he attempted to be ostentatious enough. The downside of using the herb was the side effects of not allowing the cycle to happen, causing extreme whiplash upon relinquishment of control. The heat would become extremely intense, and borderline torture if enough time has passed.
Unfortunately for Jesus, it had been nearly a decade.
Unfortunately for Jesus, he had been unable to acquire any in months.
Unfortunately for Jesus, someone was knocking on the door.
Unfortunately for Jesus, it was the man he loved for years.
Unfortunately for Jesus, it was the man destined to be his death.
The knock happened once more, slightly more urgently. “Jesus?” The voice sounded more worried with the second call. With a groan, the son of God dabbed myrrh under his nose, hoping the strong smell was enough to dissuade his hormones. He crawled his way to the door, praying to his father above to make this as easy as possible. Trembling like a foal still fresh from the mother's womb, he slowly cracked open the entrance, only allowing one of his eyes to peer through the opening. His throat somehow felt even drier as he locked eyes with his most faithful follower. Instead of the usual honey brown eyes full of fondness, he was met with a gilded mask, chains hanging delicately from the edges, and wrapping around his soft fluffy walnut brown hair. He found himself unable to speak, the heat in his gut rising to a painful level, upon gazing upon his follower. He took a deep breath and mentally prepared for the worst, before fully opening the door. “Judas, son of Simon, what counsel do you seek? Why gather here when we canceled just upon the sun rising the previous day?”
The mask moved slightly as the man spoke, “My lord, I come to ask of-” before a sharp intake of breath stopped his sentence. Jesus could easily imagine the pupils of his follower instantly dilated upon smelling the shepard. His stomach dropped in horror, he didn’t even think of covering his scent. He quickly turned away, his face burning with shame. He knew he had to leave and get away from the man as soon as possible. He quickly excused himself and walked away, his heart pounding in his chest, before a hand shot out and quickly grabbed his arm. “...Oh, my Lord, please pardon my disgrace. It seems you're in distress. Forgive my hands which lay upon your sacred form, but please allow me to help, to ease your suffering, if only awhile. You’ve given countless souls your grace, do you not deserve the same in turn?”
He quietly sighed, closed his eyes, and felt the warmth of the gentle, familiar touch slowly trace its way up to his cheek. He knew in his heart that this man was here to help him. In a moment of weakness, he gestured into his home, inviting the traitor in. He allowed himself to be guided, trusting Judas, to slowly drag him into his hovel, the door latching softly behind them. Judas’ eyes bore holes into the savior’s wings, leaving behind a silent desire, a request. Jesus slowly wandered over to his nest, his wings hiding his face from view, and sat quietly, as the gilded man simply observed rapturously. Judas' hand reached out to caress Jesus' feathers, and for a moment, they both paused, looking into each other's eyes. Jesus' wings spread wide, showing his acceptance of Judas' touch. Judas nodded and stepped back, his expression unreadable behind the gold mask. The two, awkwardly stared at each other, unsure on how to proceed, while Judas’ musk caused the heat to build to an unbearable level. The excruciating silence was finally broken by a low whine from Jesus, the man quickly darting into his nest, covering himself with his wings.
Quiet steps filled the room as the apostle moved slowly towards the lamb. Until he painstakingly reached out, his fingertips gently grazing Jesus' shoulder. Jesus' heart raced as he awaited the next move. Judas' hand slowly moved up to his neck, caressing it gently, before slowly reaching in between the wings, and gently parting them. The brush of fingers against his wings caused Jesus to gasp loudly, unable to contain the wave of pleasure running through his body, he shivered. Judas' touch was electric, and Jesus felt himself falling deeper and deeper into a trance. He closed his eyes and surrendered to the sensation, feeling himself completely and utterly captivated. Judas' hand lingered, and Jesus felt himself completely and utterly lost in the moment. Slowly, he ran his fingers through the feathers again, gently, but this time in a way to assure dominance in the situation.
Gasping, Jesus let out another low whine, and in a desperate tone warned, “handle with care, these fragile things, for they are as delicate as a baby’s first breath. Keep each touch a gentle caress, for they cannot handle the hands of a laborer.” Judas pauses, silently consuming the spoken command, before continuing his touches, gentler, yet more eager with permission given. He moved agonizingly slowly towards the shepherd's shoulder blades. Noticing the mask still on, Jesus huffed in annoyance. “Please take the mask off, I wish to see thy eyes in this intimate space. Strip away the layers with genuine devotion, and let me feel the touch of God’s chosen.” Pausing, Judas removed the mask, and grabbing his lord’s chin, brought their lips together. Sealing his fate for the first time.