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Cult of the Lamb 1 (LxN)
Soft light touched the walls of the tent. Its planks hid what was happening inside from the curious eyes of the believers, who occasionally glanced at it with a mixture of reverence and a desire to peer within.
Inside, meanwhile, two bodies lay on the soft grass-covered floor. A black cat with three eyes loomed over a lamb pressed against the wall. To the untrained eye, it might seem as though the little sheep was trembling with fear… But upon closer inspection, one could see that the faces of the participants in this strange event bore an entirely different spectrum of emotions.
The cat's eyes, just like the rest of his body, trembled in a shiver, while the fingers of his hands squeezed the lamb's shoulders. His stance betrayed an inner weakness that gradually seeped outward through his sharp breaths and narrowed pupils.
The sheep, on the contrary, did not move at all. Despite his position, his hands, which were stroking the palms that held him against the wall, looked especially calm in comparison to the body before him. In his eyes, no fear was visible — only something opposite to it… The excitement inherent in a predator that has spotted a delicious piece of prey. His small lips trembled, but their corners tilted upward, forming a smile.
Breaking the silence, Lambert slowly whispered: "You look wonderful, kitten…"
The words that slipped from his lips made Narinder flinch, as if lightning had struck his body. He dropped his head and fixed his gaze on the floor beneath his feet, trying to suppress the fear in his voice: "Please… stop… I…" He could not finish his sentence. His voice broke into a quiet gasp torn from his throat from the tension. His chest began to rapidly draw in air as his eyes darted before him, inadvertently lifting his gaze back up.
Lambert's small hand rested on his head, and his fingers made an almost imperceptible movement through his fur, leaving a trace of warm contact on his skin. Then he took a step forward. The hands that had held him in place fell from his shoulders as quickly as they had appeared. Narinder felt the lamb walk around him and press against his back with his fluffy, white-wooled chest. His lips whispered directly above Narinder's feline ear words that made his heart beat at its limit.
"You look so pathetic, Nari… A former god… Now — merely my sweet little toy. My dear, short pet…"
Without the strength to keep himself on his feet, Narinder fell to his knees, covering his face with his hands. His legs slid apart as he desperately tried to contain the waves that continued to wash over his consciousness. Like seawater that wears down stones and makes them smooth, so too did his lover's words cause something inside Narinder to change under their influence. Every nickname. Every humiliating epithet or command…
Narinder emitted a sound more akin to a growl than speech. His arms wrapped around his own shoulders. A truly pained expression appeared on his face.
But all efforts were in vain. For Lambert grabbed his head by the black fur and lifted his face straight toward himself, forcing the deity's eyes to see him again. And in that gaze, nothing remained that spoke of his past. Not a single note of the authority that had once made others bow their heads. A thought flashed through his mind, as though he now occupied the niche of a follower. Or worse.
Lambert raised his hoofed foot, then slowly and gently pressed it against Narinder's groin. His hands clutched at the robes hanging from the lamb, and his body bent forward, wrapping around his limb. He raised his gaze again. This time, his mouth was open. Breath slowly escaped from it, and his lips whispered some senseless pleas.
At last, the sheep moved his hand lower over his face, running his fingers across his cheek until he reached his chin. Gripping it, he bent lower and kissed him on the lips, not tearing his black eyes from his face.
Unable to produce even a sound, Narinder closed his eyes, allowing his mouth to slowly open as a direct penetration was made into it. His mind grew foggy, as if all previous torments had been mere preludes.
When Lambert pulled his face back, Narinder's expression could not be described as anything other than total collapse. His lips were parted, and his eyes twitched at any touch to his skin. Narinder's small black pupils in his red eye sockets were almost lost in the gaze of his eyes, rolled upward.
"L… Lambert…" It seemed the word returned a little awareness to Narinder, which immediately vanished from another press of the hoof between his legs — "Ngh…"
Through the wide smile on Lambert's face, one could hear him utter quiet words. They sounded loud enough for Narinder to hear, but not loud enough to be certain whether they were real or merely a product of his imagination.
"Worthless, pathetic, weak… Submit to me and give me everything you have. Your life, your soul. Your will."
With each new sound, Narinder wanted more and more to fall to the ground before him and smash his head against the floor. These emotions, these feelings. They filled him to the brim, like a glass into which water was poured without pause until it began to drip over its surface. But the hands holding that vessel were trying not to let the remainder spill, and yet some amount still escaped through their fingers.
In such a state was what had previously been Narinder's mind. Now merely a thicket, devoid of thoughts. Only desires.
The most terrifying part was that Narinder always had a choice. No magic. No blackmail or persuasion. Everything that was happening to him was by his own will. He could have stood up, pushed Lambert away, and left this small, secluded house. But he did not. He did not do so until the very moment he crossed the line between "not wanting" and being "unable" to leave.
"You want this, don't you? This is your true desire. To be here. To be like this. You can still leave whenever you please. I'm not holding you, am I?"
A shadow fell over Lambert's face, covering his skin with a black veil. No emotion was visible, no sympathy. Only the gaze of cold red eyes that pierced through the darkness and sank in like sharp knives, leaving wounds on Narinder's mind that he had not experienced in any battle.
The God of Death had terrorized thousands of animals and tormented others under his personal care. His voice issued terrible orders, and his hands were steeped in the blood of relatives and comrades. Nothing could stand in the way of the ancient god. Nothing, but now…
Anyone who looked upon his figure would never have been able to recognize in him the same monstrous force that had once ruled the outskirts of this world. In such moments, he lost everything, including any identification of his past self.
Then something changed. Perhaps he finally understood the position he was in. And a smile appeared on Narinder's face. Weak, like a shadow. But still, he smiled, through the small drops of tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.
Positioning himself on the floor at Lambert's feet, the God of Death rested on his hands and obediently spread his legs, allowing his most vulnerable spot to be fully exposed. As expected, the Lamb's eyes immediately fell directly upon the desired place, which made Nari's legs tremble even more. But now, a new spark shone in the eyes of the former god. It was this spark that commanded him to sit in such a lewd pose. For Lambert. Only for him.
The Lamb, in turn, did not wish to remain a bystander. Sitting down at an even level with Narinder, he crawled closer until their faces were so near that their breaths mingled into a single whole.
Lambert's lips pressed against the cat's neck, eliciting an involuntary but completely sincere moan. Narinder let out a laugh that was constantly interrupted by other sounds from his body. But he no longer struggled with himself. Surrendering fully to the moment, he allowed Lambert to touch his body.
The black hands of his new master languidly roamed over his chest, then his thighs, and then all over his form. Fingers squeezed, making the black fur stand on end.
"Th-thank you, La… Master… I… I don't deserve such mercy…"
Such words, so unusual for the former Narinder, flew from his lips with surprising ease. As if it were the most ordinary thing. And perhaps it had become so for the new Nari.
Lambert pressed the hand that had been wandering around the cat's neck to his lips, making him falter for a second. But then another action from the follower made Lambert himself surprised.
The finger pressed to the former deity's lips passed inside the opening mouth, and then a rough tongue began to furiously lick the tip of the finger. Nari's red eyes stared directly at the hand positioned at his face. While Narinder emitted a quiet purr mixed with the sounds of his tongue, Lambert allowed him to savor the moment.
Then, suddenly, the Lamb's hand tensed and pressed the finger down against the tongue that had been so diligently caressing it. Eliciting another burst of moans, Lambert withdrew his hand and replaced it with himself.
For several minutes, Lambert's tongue carefully explored the inside of Nari's throat. There was no resistance at all as the cat, having accepted his fate, watched this act with love.
Finally, satisfied, the Lamb pulled his head back from the kitten's lips. Saliva connected the two mouths. Two former allies, two former enemies.
"You are mine, kitten. Now the sacrifice — is you."
Their eyes closed again. Black twilight overtook the last rays of the sun. But in the red tent of the cult leader, two hearts were burning now. New hearts.
---
Chain Cat
A harsh metallic chain clanged in the silence of the temple. The wooden walls creaked as the body of the black animal struck them helplessly with its back. His eyes darted from side to side, and his limbs, bound by shackles, jerked erratically.
Meanwhile, a pair of hands gently stroked the cat's chest, making fur catch between the meticulous fingers of the Shepherd. The former deity's breathing became ragged and uneven. Hot air mixed with the stagnant cold of the temple, exiting the throat of Death as steam.
"Lamb… Are you really… seriously sure…?"
Red eyes bored into the white wool before them. In that same moment, a fluffy hand lifted Narinder's chin upward, forcing him to look directly into the so-alluring black eyes of the Lamb.
"Oh, former god… But now you are weak." The cold voice of the Shepherd pierced the cat's mind. The red eye of the Crown looked mocking. Immediately, the accessory transformed into a small black snake that quickly slithered down from the Lamb's shoulder and coiled around Nari's throat. A substance resembling a mixture of thick liquid and fibers began to tighten around his skin, making the God of Death howl. His fingers began scraping their claws against the wall in an attempt to free himself from the chains.
Lambert looked into his eyes with a mixture of tenderness and desire. His lips pressed against Narinder's open mouth, which was greedily gasping for air. The snake on his body slowly loosened its grip, allowing him to relax for the moment of the kiss.
The longer it lasted, the more a sweet taste filled Narinder's thoughts. His eyes closed from the lack of air in his lungs. His mind began to cloud…
Suddenly, the metal binding his limbs withdrew and vanished. Nari's body fell forward, unable to support itself on its feet. Lambert calmly caught him against his chest and stroked the black fur on the cat's head. A quiet purr emerged from his weakened body, making a wide smile bloom on the Lamb's face.
Lambert knew that Narinder had not been like this before. The first time they met after Lambert's death, the God of Death had looked truly terrifying. An imposing deity with eyes full of chilling cold. A single word from him made others fall to their knees.
When the Lamb fulfilled the prophecy and disposed of his relatives, Narinder had not reacted at all to their deaths. One by one, they left this world. And the God of Death rejoiced. His chains disappeared. He broke free.
And what did this cat do? He began threatening Lambert. The god took his followers hostage. But he did not expect that the little sheep would learn to stand up for himself. Something changed. Something… began to frighten Narinder.
Death used everything. All his powers. But in the end, like his brothers and sisters, he fell before the Lamb. Hatred burned inside him. How? How could he lose? And what would become of him?
But something Narinder did not expect happened. Lambert not only spared him, which made the former god's anger blaze even stronger, but also… Began to give him personal attention. It was unusual and frightening for Nari.
What was he trying to achieve when he made him stay in the temple and brushed his fur? Was he laughing at him? Or trying to break his pride? But with each passing day, his touches became more and more tender. Or perhaps Narinder was simply growing more accustomed to them.
To Death's surprise, Lambert resurrected his relatives and forced them to submit to him. Reluctantly, Nari admitted that the new times — when they spoke as equals and their divine intrigues no longer forced them to tear at each other's throats — were not so bad. Though he never said it directly.
And so, Narinder began to forget his ambitions. The temple and statues of the new cult leader no longer sparked anger in him. Something began to change. But the kitten did not yet know that his Lamb had been preparing for this moment.
The last chains. The last restraints inside the former god's mind. "What is happening?" Narinder asked himself. He was being played with, like a toy. Touched where no one had ever dared even to look before. And he felt no desire to resist. "What happened? Why do I like this?"
The days began to pass differently. Conversations with relatives, rituals at the altar, work, and daily prayer. But when night fell, Narinder's fur instinctively bristled, for he knew the Shepherd would come for him. It had always been so since the day he allowed those thoughts into his head.
It is unknown whether the Lamb had read his mind while he slept, or simply saw it in his behavior, but Lambert was certainly aware of the cat's feelings. Nari experienced the consequences of this knowledge firsthand. The majestic God fell prostrate before the little lamb. His lips kissed the white wool while tears made it wet.
"Who am I now?" Narinder thought during the day as he cheerfully joked with his brother or drank at the bar with Leshy. A smile shone on his lips. The same lips that opened in loud moans at night. The same lips that thirsted for the Shepherd's kisses. Had he changed? Had he become better? Or had he lost the last remnant of himself?
But none of these questions were answered. Nor did they trouble the God when he met with Lambert. He never asked them directly. To no one. Not to himself, not to him. Though he was certain Lambert had the answer. For now, he was simply…
"My kitten…"
---
Lambert looked at his hands, at his wounded body. Over these days, he had fought as he had in his harshest years. He cut, struck, summoned… None of it helped him. Nothing changed. He was alone, and he had still failed to gain new followers.
He raised his hand and pressed the bloody print to his face. Red… warm blood touched his skin. Ah, what a familiar feeling… Lambert knew what it was like to lose consciousness while all of life slowly drained from the holes in your body. You fall, clinging to the last remnants of strength.
Lambert did the same. Slowly, he sat down on the cold earth. His gaze, empty as a deep lake, stared at the horizon before him. For a couple of minutes, he simply watched in silence.
Beside him lay a new sword he had obtained after his battle. Lambert had planned to use it to cut down thousands of enemies, to prove his power… But it lay on the ground. Useless, just like Lambert himself.
With a sharp motion, the Lamb raised his head. His eyes widened. He heard… voices…
"Worthless"
"Traitor"
"Murderer"
"Unneeded"
Lambert grabbed at the white wool on his head. His breathing faltered. He saw shadows surrounding him on all sides.
"You saved no one"
"Pathetic little sheep"
"You should have died back then"
"Why did you stay alive?"
"Die, just like your kindred…"
NO! NO, NO! Stop it! Enough! Halt! I am strong! I have power! I have authority! I will help…! I will save…! Please…! Please… Just don't leave… Don't abandon me… I… I don't want… To be alone…
Large tears fell from the Lamb's eyes. His black pupils darted in fear. But the voices did not stop. He had helped no one. He was too weak to help anyone at all. He was needed by no one. No one. Not even Nar—
"Lambert"
The familiar voice made Lambert lift his gaze upward. Before him stood Narinder. Dressed in his snow-white robes, he held his scythe in his hands. His eyes looked down at the Lamb with slight contempt.
"What the hell happened? You suddenly left, and then I learned you were running around getting into fights with some creatures… Have you lost your mind?!"
Haha… Haha… Of course… Even Narinder… Even he… He never… Never thought about me… I was just… a shell. Just a tool… What a naive Shepherd… Hah… ha…
Tears continued to fall to the ground, dropping from the white wool of the Lamb. Narinder forced the words that were about to burst from his lips to fall silent. He sensed something was wrong with the Lamb…
And then, the Lamb spoke. His words sounded cold. Without a hint of emotion. Like glass that had been smashed against the ground and trampled underfoot in the dirt.
"You… You think I've lost my mind? I've lost my reason? Or was I always like this?"
His gaze fell once more to his hands, stained with blood. His own? Someone else's? It no longer mattered.
"I hate… myself… you… everyone… You gave me hope… For what? What did I do to deserve this suffering? I'm just a worthless little Sheep… A sacrificial Lamb…"
Narinder sighed. He extended his hand forward, but Lambert forcefully knocked it away.
"No. You don't care… You need my power? Then take it! I have no power! I'm weak! I always have been! SHUT UP AND FINISH ME ALREADY!"
Pure hatred, anger, and disgust rang in the Lamb's voice. His eyes burned with a flame brighter than any bonfire.
Narinder sighed and raised his scythe upward. His three red eyes rested on Lambert with pity.
"I'll beat this stupidity out of your head, Lamb. Get up and give me a fight."
Lambert smirked. Give him a fight? Hadn't they already fought before? Lambert had won. But now… the power that had once destroyed Gods seemed to him simply pathetic. He forced himself to his feet and took hold of his new sword.
"So be it. Let us… fight again, The-One-Who-Waits."
—————————-—————————-———
Divine steel met in countless clashes of weapons. Voices constantly urged Lambert to strike harder. To cut, to shred, to tear out flesh…
Lambert was too tired to resist the sword's desires. He struck and deflected the scythe's blows on instinct alone. His divine body twisted and dodged the hail of strikes raining down on him from Narinder.
The black cat, meanwhile, was fully focused on the battle. His three eyes tracked the small movements of the Lamb. He struck at his hands, his legs, even his head. Narinder did everything to land a hit, but it was all in vain.
The current wielder of the Red Crown made another lunge that forced Narinder to defend.
"Stop this… We both know how our battle ended. You can't defeat me… Just leave me here—"
"No! You stupid sheep! I won't leave you here! I don't care what's going on in your head, but I won't abandon you…!"
A grim chuckle escaped the Lamb's lips as his black eyes met Narinder's: "Liar… You've never cared about me…"
Another swing. Another wound on Narinder's side. His mortal body could not keep up. In former days, he would have given the Lamb a good fight, but now he was actively losing ground. Very soon, he would fall…
Lambert raised his sword once more. A sad smile appeared on his face, despite all the foul thoughts the sword fed him. He thought: "Farewell… I will leave this world together with you…"
But…
Dark fur pressed against Lambert's chest. Arms tightly squeezed his body while a head rested on his shoulder. The sword's strike landed and cut into the shoulder joint. Blood poured from Narinder's wounded body, but he continued to stand. His eyes shut from the pain, but he stood.
"Stupid… Naive… Lambert… You… You've always been like this… Always thinking of others… Even when you defeated me… You kept me alive. You brought my family back to life… You're… just a foolish Shepherd… And I…"
"I love you, Lambert…"
Narinder let out a sigh, and his body went limp in Lambert's arms. The Lamb lowered his gaze and saw the expression on Narinder's face… Pain… He had caused him so much pain. Why? What had happened? Was this what he wanted?
No, no, no! He had to bring him back! He had to save…! He had to…!
Why had it all come to this? What had he done wrong? He did everything for others! Why…?!
Ah… Ah, no… Is that it? I… I forgot… I… I don't need others after all… Why? I… I already have…
Lambert's lips gently touched Narinder's cold lips. The sword fell to the ground, forgotten. Lambert pressed the body of his partner to himself. The body of his love.
Blood began to slowly return to the cat's body. His red eyes opened once more and saw Lambert's face before him. The Lamb's eyes were still full of tears, but the corners of his mouth lifted in a smile.
"I'm… such an idiot, aren't I?"
"Yeah… You dumb little Sheep…"
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