Nothing Like Touch
The…god was a touchy being. It always rested hands low on its avatar's back. Always ran boney fingers through loose curls. Its presence was.. Something Jake had grown to enjoy. The little touches sent fire through his veins. It was just enough to keep him going.
That night- something changed. The god ran a hand through Jake’s hair, as normal, but there was a soft cooing to it, “You have done such a good job for me, little bird.” Jake hummed back. He wanted to disappear into that touch. He always did.
The other hand moved lower- lower than normal. It broke that trance for a split moment. “What are you doi-” He was cut off by the god sticking a thumb in his mouth. Jake stared up at the god.
“Go on, little bird. I know you know what to do. I have seen you do it before.”
Jake obeyed, as always.
~~~~ +++++ ~~~~
Jake’s body shook against the god’s own. A hand mindlessly playing with sweat drenched curls. “You did such a good job, little moon,” the voice was soft. Well, as soft as a god’s could be. Jake didn’t… want to be there anymore. His head felt full of fog, but nothing real sparked from it. His weak body tried to pull back, but he was too tired to move. He rolled his head to the side trying to see anything- anyone- else.
The god rested a hand on its avatar’s back, which caused him to flinch. “Little bird, do you require healing?” Jake didn’t answer. His throat felt full of rocks. He didn’t want to be here anymore. He didn’t want to be near it anymore. Jake wished the god’s voice would stop. He wished for it to leave him be. The god pulled Jake’s hair back, which in turn made him look up. Jake whimpered at the tug- tears burned at the corners of his eyes.
“Answer me,” The voice lost all of its previous softness, “Do you require healing?”
The mortal man shook his head. Or tried to. The boney hand dropped its grip against his hair- Jake pitched forward. The god was cold. It made him think of those late nights in the desert. Those late nights where he’d lean against the french man and listen to him tell stories. This wasn’t that.This was something completely void of that comfort. This was dying at the steps of a temple and begging for anything to rescue him. This was hurting and knowing nothing will save you. This was… wanting to give up.
The god pushed Jake backwards after a moment, “You can not rest yet; There is work to be done. Get up,” Its voice echoed against the tight alley. Loud and demanding. Something only Jake heard. The god pulled his warrior up into standing. “You must continue, little bird. You are still strong, yes?” Jake attempted to give something of protest. His legs felt weak, but heavy. His throat was dry- his eyes burned with tears. He silently nodded.
“Good.” As the god spoke, Jake’s armor wrapped around him. It was tight against his bruised skin. The man whined at the added pressure. He didn’t want this anymore. The god’s touch was cold, even through the armor, “What is the matter?” It questioned.
Jake pulled away.
“Did I upset you, little bird?” The god dipped down to look its avatar in the eyes. The tone was cold and annoyed. “You wanted this, did you not? You enjoyed this.”
Jake stood in silence. He didn’t move, didn’t show whatever it was that the god was trying to get. A large hand grabbed and yanked the other’s face. “Answer me,” its tone was dark and sharp- like a blade. Jake tried to pull away, all he got for the trouble was him being pulled closer. His eyes darted- not that anyone could see under his mask.
“No… no, sir,” his voice was shaky. He knew it. The god nodded in response. It let go of the mortal’s face. It stood close. Jake didn’t dare to move away, even if everything in him screamed to leave. To turn around and never tell anyone. To find something else. He knew running wouldn’t help. The god would always find him. He belonged to it now.
That was terrifying.