Chapter Text
The power of a prime soul was a force to be reckoned with, so fearful and destructive that even Heaven had agreed; any mortal to achieve such a status would be locked away. The idea that a human could ever threaten the unquestionable power of heaven was utter heresy, as the Father's Light was an unstoppable force. To have even constructed the Panopticon was dancing on the edge of blasphemy, admitting that there were powers that could threaten God Himself. Gabriel had never questioned the hypocrisy behind its creation. It wasn't his place to, and it wasn't his concern either. Anything created by Heaven was unquestionably perfect. Even if Sisyphus's soul had begun to reform before it had been wholly finished, it shouldn't matter much, should it? The mortal had been too slow, missed his chance by the skin of his teeth, and now just like his headless corpse, his soul sat useless for eternity within the confines of the panopticon. Restricted, contained and safe.
Of course, nothing was as it was supposed to be anymore. Machines ran rampant through the layers of Hell, much to the strange delight of the inscrutable mega-organism. Half of it's population lay dead, reduced to nothing more than quivering lumps of meat all for the sake of slaking the mechanical invader's never ending thirst for blood. A single, seemingly innocuous one had proved itself to be more than uniquely dangerous, besting Gabriel not once, but twice.
Heaven lay bereft of it's council, the floors of the senate chamber slick with holy blood. It was divested of it's Father longer still, and soon, Gabriel would join the ranks of the fallen as well. Even now his power guttered and waned, and he struggled to keep that flame burning. Nothing was as it was supposed to be, so when he heard- felt the walls of the panopticon shred, even from a distance as far as the entrance to Heresy, he could almost consider himself unsurprised. Oh, panic was still there, of course. Fear and dread coursed through him as he shot through the bloody sky, soaring over the destroyed remains of machine, husk and demon alike as he raced to try and halt the king's inevitable escape. But with all the world falling to pieces around him, this almost felt as if he should have expected it.
Perhaps, he'd thought, hopefully, foolishly, the Machine would end it. End it has it did with Minos, Gabriel had felt the former Judge's powerful soul sputter out like a dying candle, powerless against V1's assault. Minos was no Sisyphus, but the Machine had overcome everything else. Just this once, just this once, he prayed that he would arrive to a scene of bloody chaos but implied. No Machine, no Sisyphus, just the empty silence of a now useless prison.
Foolishness. A hopeless and pointless plea with no God left to hear it or answer. V1's trembling body was the answer to his selfish prayers, it's single eye flickering violently as it still fought to live. Sisyphus was free, and even the accursed, seemingly indomitable machine had been no match for the might of the king's prime soul.
And now, here he stood, as radiant as Greed's sun, towering like the monuments he and his insurrectionists had been forced to build. The eternity of punishment had strengthened Sysiphus' already powerful body, Gabriel's battle with him all those years ago had been pitched indeed. Even as a Supreme Husk, the angel had still struggled to end him quickly. Now as a prime soul, this task seemed almost...
“Sisyphus...” The name slipped out in a mixture of dread and, to his own confusion, rage. Gabriel had forced himself not to look upon the corpse body machine that now lay upon the floor, pouring the last of it's stolen blood out. He could block it from his vision, but he couldn't block the vision from his mind and it clung so terribly to it that he felt as if he might erupt there on the spot. The freed soul, his head intangible but no less visible, grinned, the expression that of wild and feral delight.
“Gabriel. What an honor.” The tone was as sardonic as it was violently genuine; Sisyphus clearly held no fear, felt no threat when he beheld the angel overhead now shaking with pent up emotion. He was brazenly, brilliantly delighted. “A shame, you missed the fight.” He gestured with one blood slicked hand towards V1's still twitching form. “Its struggles were valiant. An admirable opponent indeed. But-”
Gabriel's blades missed Sisyphus by a fraction of an inch, barely managing to dodge the angel's sudden violent onslaught. No, no, Gabriel would not stand here and be monologued at by this... monster. This creature! The archangel's shrieks of rage were unbecoming as much as they were surprising, causing even Sisyphus to stumble at the sheer violence behind the attack. That was his, it was his, it had been HIS! His enemy, his duty, his to kill! His muse, his light, his purpose his everything- All in pieces upon the floor, crushed like so much useless scrap.
“You dare! You DARE to!” Gabriel struggled to even put the words together, incapable of grasping the fathomless depth of his own grief and outrage in this moment as he danced in the air like a wild dervish, forcing Sisyphus to keep moving in order to avoid a repeat of his own long passed mistakes. This was far from the cold, impersonal brutality the angel had displayed all those years ago, arrogant and aloof.
No this was far, far better. Each cry of rage, each attempted strike stoked a fire in him that he'd not felt in eons, and his newly reformed heart pounded in the great king's chest as zealous laughter burst from him. He met Gabriel happily in this dance of death, evading the wild swings and thrusts, welcoming the sting and burn as the blades occasionally kissed his reborn flesh. The holy metal of Gabriel's blessed swords seared the wounds closed with each strike, and with frightening speed the king began to learn and adapt to this enraged onslaught. Like a vicious waltz, the steps were memorized to perfection within just a few minutes, and by the time the king had tired of this, Gabriel was no longer sure how long he'd been humoring him for.
Gabriel's golden spear was flung with such force that it surely would have split any lesser being apart. Sisyphus merely raised his hand and swatted it, sending the holy weapon ricocheting back towards it's owner. The angel screamed, pain mingling with abject rage as the spear shredded through a wing, shattering it in a single blow and sending him plummeting to the floor in a heap. Sisyphus advanced, only to be driven back again as Gabriel wrenched himself upwards, lashing out with both Justice and Splendor. Dripping in gore, his body shaking, the archangel stood swaying where he was, as indefatigable as the very soul before him. Sisyphus hesitated, taking stock of his opponent's current state.
“... Impressive. Have I touched a nerve, Gabriel?” His answer came in the form of vile curse unfitting of an angel, and Sysiphus replied with a low and thunderous chuckle. “Grew attached to this, have you?” The body of V1 still lay motionless at the edge of the arena, all life seemingly now gone. “This object has stirred something new in you, angel. I must admit... I am intrigued.” The king began to move, circling the injured angel at a distance. Too weak to resume his assault, Gabriel stood tense, both swords in hand, fighting to remain upright as he kept his eyes locked on the sinner. He matched each step, ensuring that at no point Sisyphus would ever have his back to him.
“Shut up.”
“Very eloquent. Tell me, O' Gabriel, what did this machine mean to you? That its destruction would set such a fire in you? You were not nearly so fanatical in Greed.”
“Shut UP.”
“Do you not know then?” Sisyphus hummed softly. “Unsurprising. Your lot have always been so passionless. Your devotion to the Word of God is more mechanical than the instruments of war that now run rampant through Hell, your hearts full of naught but dust. I couldn't possibly expect an answer, could I?” Gabriel trembled in pain and fury, forcing himself to remain in place. He would not be goaded, he would not.
“No. The feeling is lost on you.” Sisyphus chuckled, the sound approaching more of a low and hungry growl. “But... it is not on me. Long have I slept, Gabriel. Long have I waited for this day of vengeance. I'd thought I'd simply kill you, display your broken corpse before Heaven as a taste of what is to come.” An undeniable heat was creeping into the king's voice, concocted of long simmering rage, resentment and now, soaked in blood with his heart hammering in his newly manifested head, lust. How long had it been, since he'd last touched another? Such pleasures had been denied him for centuries, so far thrown was he from the once utopia that was the city of Lust. Gabriel's relentless attacks gave fuel to long suppressed and almost forgotten desires and his loins stirred with this reawakened need.
This now growing desire, greed, for the unyielding force of Heaven before him. How hungry he was to see what his limits were... How hopeful he was that it would be eons before Gabriel broke.
“Shut up shut up!” Each word was enunciated like a pointed stab of a spear, Gabriel fighting to maintain some form of control over himself. “Stop talking and fight me! Finish what you've started- kill me if you can, I will take your tainted, foul soul with me!” His voice cracked with an unidentifiable emotion, he could feel the hot tears starting to race down his cheeks beneath the helm. Tears of rage, tears of grief, they tasted bitter in his mouth and mingled with the blood that filled it now. Had he bitten his tongue, or had something within him ruptured during the fight? He wasn't sure, and he wouldn't linger on it.
“Will you, angel? Your spirit is willing but the body...” Now Sisyphus's gaze raked down him, as if seeing Gabriel for the very first time. It was a distinctly, uncomfortably appraising look, as if the angel were little more than a beast tethered at the market, with Sisyphus a potential, hungry buyer. “I will be more than happy to finish this, Gabriel.” It would have been threatening regardless, those words, but the scorching rumble that accompanied them sent a shiver down Gabriel's spine. He readied himself for the king's inevitable attack, prepared to meet his end at the hands of Sisyphus.
It would prove to be a hapless gambit. He should have turned the swords upon himself instead for all the good that preparation had done him.
An overwhelming force hit him, as to what it was he could hardly tell. He'd had no time to even blink before he was struck, sent spiraling down to the ground again. Gabriel tried to rise, only to be struck down again, and then again, and then again, each futile attempt beaten back with ease by the encroaching prime soul. His skin beneath the armor bruised, his body ached, his muscles screamed at him to lay still and yet he forced himself upwards over and over until at last, he felt thick fingers wrap around his throat, slamming him downwards into the floor. Overhead, peals of booming, delighted laughter filled the air like cannon fire, thunderous and all encompassing in this confined space.
“That's it! That's what I want to see, well done, angel. Tenacity befitting Heaven's own war machine!” Sisyphus bore down upon Gabriel, who writhed and kicked beneath him, his armored feet scratching weeping abrasions across the golden king's thighs and sides. All to no avail; he remained pinned beneath him as his strength flagged, left panting raggedly like the feral animal he'd become. Sisyphus sat overhead, positioned between Gabriel's splayed legs, too close for the exhausted angel to kick him properly.
“Keep fighting, Gabriel.” The words came not as a taunt, but an order, the king's eyes new and fresh, wide and wild with centuries of pent up lust. “I want to feel you struggle around me...” Oh how he ached as well, though not from the wounds now slowly sealing themselves upon him. Hearing how Gabriel's breath hitched, the laughter began anew, full of overbearing passion and desire for the form beneath him of which he could now see was already half bare. This is what Heaven dressed their soldiers in? He'd assumed Gabriel's body to be fully armored the last he'd battled him, but... then again, he'd been blinded, had he not? Only vague memories so distant they almost seemed a dream remained of what he'd known of the archangel's form. To look upon him anew was illuminating, and only gave rise to more burning thoughts of vengeful desire.
“Don't- No- Fuck-” Gabriel was not so naive to not be aware of the implications. It was Hell, after all, sinners of all sorts had taken his judgment, all manner of crimes confessed to him both remorseful and unrepentant. Untouched though he might have been, he was not sheltered by any means, and the obvious threat turned his blood to ice. Panic pooled in his stomach as he began to thrash anew, clawing at the arm that held him down. It was as effective as a kitten's claws on stone, and Sisyphus didn't even honor him with an attempt to smack them away.
With brutal ease, he began to strip away the armor instead, heedless of Gabriel's frantic, enraged cries of offense and fear as his battered body was bared before the king. There wasn't much to remove, the breastplate casually tossed aside and the pauldrons too, the belt and cuisses were soon to follow. The angel's skirt however, was simply pushed upwards and out of the way. That it was merely just a skirt at all openly delighted the king, and the fact that nothing covered the area beneath it set his blood ablaze with a burning need.
“How interesting.” Sisyphus mused, ignoring Gabriel's outraged screams as he observed the partially naked body beneath him, bare save for his helm, his gauntlets and greaves. The angel's nearly nude form was nothing short of exquisite despite its wounds, classically beautiful as if carved from obsidian, golden markings decorating Gabriel's body lavishly. Nothing short of luxurious, he'd have paid a pretty penny for such a glorious work of art back when he still yet ruled as king. Though curiosity prickled in the back of his mind, the helm remained untouched. His eyes had only just been returned to him, it'd be a shame to have them stricken out once again.
But it was what lay between the angel's legs that truly intrigued him, and he reached down to press the heel of his palm against the warm, plump mound there, rubbing almost inquisitively against it. Gabriel's screams pitched higher, more frantic, threats of hellfire and death and torment eternal thrown like a handful of pebbles at a tank. With fascination and delight, Sisyphus noted how Gabriel's hips shook in spite of this, how his thighs fought to close and guard himself from him.
“... Oh, but that doesn't hurt at all, does it...?” Scream though Gabriel might, Sisyphus felt how the warm, soft skin beneath began to moisten, and with lustful interest he gently plied the lips apart, admiring the sight beneath his hand. “No... I don't think pain is the issue at all, is it, Gabriel?” He purred softly, still utterly ignoring the frantic cries, content for the moment to tease the shaking, defeated angel beneath him.
“I will rip you apart, your guts and gore will paint the walls of this cell, I will make you beg for mercy and it will never come! You will rue the fucking day-!” Gabriel's terrified threats caught in his throat as a thick finger slid downwards across his cunt, threatening to sink into the angel's already slick pussy. Sisyphus hushed him, patronizing and cruel, taking a moment to revel in this moment of long awaited vengeance.
“That's not what this says.” He replied mockingly, pressing his middle finger against Gabriel's clit to rub and stroke it. A shock of sickening pleasure rocked him, and his grip on Sisyphus's wrist tightened until blood prickled at his fingertips. He struggled to stay his hips as they thrust uncontrollably into the bigger man's hand, bitterly cursing his own lack of restraint. Sisyphus practically cooed at this hopeless struggle, watching Gabriel with rapt fascination while he teased him. “That's it, nice and slick, angel. Keep fighting it, don't stop...” He was answered with choked cries that only turned more desperate as he squeezed for a moment, cherishing the sound of gagging. Oh how clearly he remembered the feeling, though it had been so brief, of the archangel's blade gliding through his own neck, the dull sensation of his head striking the floor as his breath was stolen from him.
He hoped so dearly that this came close to that sensation.
It was impressive how quickly Gabriel was brought to full arousal, and Sisyphus couldn't help but wonder if he'd already been half so before the fight had even ended. “Does battle stir you, Gabriel? You' re dripping already, do you know how easy this was for me?” He could hear the sound of sputtering behind the helm, it was clear the angel had no words for the reply. None that were terribly graceful anyway.
“G-go ffffuck yourself...” Those words came breathlessly, but the came all the same, and the stubborn defiance paired with Gabriel's fruitless struggles only drove Sisyphus further. He had to force himself to maintain a level of restraint, as dearly as he wanted to splay the rebellious angel's legs wide and take him here and now he did so need for this to last. So many years without the touch of another, so many centuries alone and waiting. There was no need to rush his punishment of Gabriel, he could take his time with him.
“You're halfway right.” He retorted casually, smiling as Gabriel went silent and the thrashing began anew. Good. “Is this why you were so enamored with that machine? I could understand it if so... What would Heaven think of such a salacious thing?” The pinned angel writhed, incensed at the careless mention of the now broken machine and spat back,
“Damn what the council would have thought and damn you too!” He spoke without thinking, but then again, why should he care now? They were dead, all of them, and rightfully so. “And you will join them in the abyss soon enough, Sisyphus!” The words echoed in the air, hung there like the blade of a guillotine. Sisyphus stared downwards at Gabriel, struck miraculously silent by this bold confession.
“... Gabriel...” He fought to keep his voice even, the light dancing in his eyes betraying some emotion beyond mere words. “Did you...” Gabriel did not answer, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he stared upwards at his attacker. Splayed and bare in front of his former prisoner, shaking with every manner of awful feeling mingled with nauseating desire, he offered no further explanation.
Slowly, a soft laugh bubbled upwards and out from the luminous king, quickly reaching a wild, ecstatic and fevered pitch as he now bore down upon the angel's pinned frame. His cock pressed hot and hard against Gabriel's naked thigh, its thick head sliding into the crease where his leg met his hip. It glided easily, lubricated by the juices smeared there by his previous ministrations, causing Gabriel to arch and twist in a futile attempt to escape.
“You killed them! You! And you slaughtered them all yourself, didn't you?” Never one to do anything half way, there was few people in this world who would know so intimately the completeness of Gabriel's brutality. “Down to the very last one, oh Gabriel.” His breath blasted hot on the angel's exposed neck as he pulled his hand away, his beard and teeth scraping over the hot dark skin. He wouldn't allow for any retaliation or movement; as quickly as he'd released Gabriel he'd shifted his grip again to pin the smaller man's arms down, gripping both wrists tightly within a single hand.
“Oh, Gabriel. Beautiful, beautiful. I couldn't ask for a finer gift!” He ground against the fallen warrior's body, relishing in the gasps and cries it elicited.
“I will truly relish this, oh Sword of God. I will break you again and again...” Sisyphus nipped and bit at the column of Gabriel's neck, laughing as the angel attempted in vain to headbutt him. A useless fight, without a single chance of winning. But yet he struggled all the same, just as fiery and as bright as he was when they had first clashed. It was as admirable as it was intensely, impossibly arousing, and he longed to release his grip upon Gabriel's wrists so that he might instead grasp his hips. How dearly he wanted to bury his face between the murderous angel's thighs and listen to him sob and scream, bear him down into the floor and fuck him until that voice cracked and broke like priceless glass.
“Oh Gabriel, oh angel...” Sisyphus pulled his hand away from between Gabriel's legs, his fingers slick as he hunted for one of the cast off swords. Groping blindly, his fingers closed around the blade itself, ignoring how it bit his flesh and caused him to bleed anew. “I will make you a sinner tonight.”