Boning Down

The problem with being an immortal demigod was that eventually you did, in fact, run out of things to do. Secrets were infinite — as was the multiverse — yet one did find that after a time boredom's dull touch did begin to encroach. This fact did not entirely explain how Vecna came to be pinned beneath the considerable weight of Orcus and fucked to within an inch of his unlife, but it was certainly a contributing factor.

Above him, Orcus snarled. Hot demonic breath, redolent with the rank stink of the Abyss, seared across the withered flesh of Vecna’s back. The demon had one clawed hand hooked into his side, puncturing bloodless holes along his flank, and the other planted next to his head. The thick claws dug deep grooves into the obsidian floor now as Orcus came for the eighth — or was it ninth? — time. Whichever it was, Vecna’s entire lower body was thoroughly saturated now, sticky with layers of demonic cum.

He was still debating whether the sensation was intriguing or revolting.

Any mortal would have long ago been torn apart by the demon lord's cock, but mortality was a distant dream to the Undying King, and being rent asunder ass-first was just the kind of uniquely novel experience to perfectly distract from the endlessly tedious march of eternity.

Orcus roared as his climax peaked, snapping out his wings and sweeping away a pair of shambling skeletons that had the misfortune to pick that moment to skulk past. The hall was scattered with similar remains of other unfortunate undead who had been rendered into shards and dust by the violence of the coupling taking place. Orcus roared again, his thrusts growing distracted and uneven.

Vecna tsk’d.

“You call yourself a demon lord,” he rasped, drawing Orcus’s attention back to the place it ought to be. “Lord of what, hm? Disappointment?”

Orcus snapped long, jagged teeth at him, taking a chunk out of the back of his neck. Vecna hissed in satisfaction at the brief sear of pain. It was rapidly gone, replaced by the twist and warp of grey flesh reforming nigh-instantaneously to replace that which the demon had torn away. That’s better, wretch, he thought as Orcus tore another chunk away, The only thing in this pathetic plane that matters right now is me. He heard Orcus swallow, devouring the torn off pieces of him.

“Silence, little lich,” he rumbled, voice echoing in the ruined throne room of Everlost. Not that it could have been called a throne room any longer, since the throne it had once held had been reduced to obsidian rubble somewhere around hour three.

“I am the Lord of Undeath,” Orcus continued, “And you are just another corpse!”

It was, Vecna mused, mildly entertaining to be degraded by a creature that was nothing more than Abyssal slime with delusions of grandeur. Still, it didn’t do to let the beast get too full of itself.

He reached behind him with a twist of magic and shoved the demon lord deeper — Orcus growled his displeasure at the interference, but soon forgot his annoyance in the glee of his rutting. He grasped the back of Vecna’s head and slammed it against the cracked stone with such force that his cheekbone shattered. Holding him down with the kind of brute strength only a demon could wield, Orcus clearly thought he was the one in control.

Vecna, getting exactly what he wanted for very little effort, knew otherwise.

Orcus panted gleefully and wrapped a heavily muscled arm around Vecna’s chest, hauling him upright into his lap and wrapping a hand about his throat to keep him still. Given that Vecna hadn’t needed to breathe in millennia, the gesture was entirely pointless. Still, Orcus seemed to take some enjoyment from digging his claws in.

“You like that, worm?” He snapped his teeth next to Vecna’s ear. “You will reek of my seed for aeons.”

“Oh, do shut up,” Vecna hissed, rolling his eye.

In response, Orcus shoved two fingers into his mouth, carving bloodless furrows into his dead tongue. Vecna bit down, tasting the ichor that passed for blood in demons, and wondered if the experience might have been more enjoyable if he were still capable of drooling. Claws hooked into the top of his throat, pinning him in place as Orcus fucked up into him so hard and so fast it actually startled a gasp from him. He regretted the sound at once, since it only served to fuel the demon lord’s ego. Orcus chuckled — a low and throaty thing with echoes of Abyssal madness clinging to it — and the arm across Vecna’s chest tightened. Four of his ribs snapped, the dry cracks echoing in the throne room in sharp counterpoint to the continual wet slap of Orcus’ cock.

No pleasure filled his own body — not of such base, physical kind anyway — but as Orcus had already repeatedly proven, he was not bereft of such feeling. Letting loose a howling snarl that shook the foundations of Everlost, he came once more, very nearly ripping the lich’s jaw off in his spasms.

It was a good thing that his mouth had already been open, however, as the force of this most recent release had shot up through the empty husk of his insides and spurted from his withered lips, burning his throat with the Abyssal taint of it. Vecna spat, glad that he had long ago lost the ability to taste anything. What remained of his tongue sizzled unpleasantly.

Orcus breathed a hot, rancid sigh and pulled his hand from Vecna’s mouth. The one around his throat tightened, and Vecna was plucked from the demon’s throbbing cock and tossed to the floor. Or rather, that was what Orcus attempted to do. Vecna caught himself and twisted in the air, hovering naked before the enormous beast that had apparently finished with him. Orcus sprawled back across his throne room floor, snatching up a wandering ghoul and biting off its head, spraying gore across his chest. He waved his free hand dismissively in Vecna’s cum-drenched direction.

“Begone, little lich.”

Vecna cocked his head and folded his arms, drumming his fingers against his narrow bicep as Orcus finished devouring the ghoul. When he was done, he seemed surprised that Vecna was still there. He gave a low snarl.

“I said begone. I tired of your presence.”

“Your manners leave much to be desired,” Vecna said in a cold, clipped voice. He raised his hand and, with a snap of reality-warping power, pinned Orcus to the ground. The demon lord bellowed in rage and surged up, straining against the bind. It was a futile effort — Vecna had not come unprepared to deal with petty demonic power. He drifted over, tapping a foot against Orcus’ cock to nudge it upright again before straddling the cursing, panting demon.

He leaned forwards, wrapping his hand about Orcus’ throat, the thin bones of his fingers spreading unnaturally wide to encompass the large, muscular column of it. His lips curved in a cruel smile.

“Now, Orcus, my pet — you didn’t think we were done, did you?”