Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Yasuho was wired, running on too much caffeine and too little sleep. She couldn’t sleep last night. How could she? She couldn’t stop thinking about the events of the day to come.

Today, she was to lead the Ceremony of Renewal!

It was a tremendous honor, one that few clergy of Kira’s holy order were ever blessed to experience. Once a year, Lord Kira graced one temple in the world with his actual, physical presence, in order to conduct this annual ritual.

This year, Yasuho’s humble temple in Okinawa had been selected. Yasuho had only been a high priestess for two years – she hadn’t expected her place of worship to ever be selected during her tenure, much less for it to happen so soon into her priesthood. She felt unprepared. She had spoken to her mentor, Bishop Teru (a common name; he was named after the First Angel), and he had reassured her by asking an obvious question: “Is anyone ever prepared to be in His Holy Presence?” While this didn’t entirely quiet her nerves, it did make her feel less of an undeserving imposter. For at least, she was no more undeserving than anyone else.

Bishop Teru had also passionately told her other encouraging things such as “Your faith pulses so brightly that even mere mortals can feel it, giving us a touch of the experience of divinity,” but this just sounded like some of his typical poetic nonsense, so she brushed it off.

The sun was nestled upon the horizon, preparing to dip below. It was nearly time to let the crowd into the building. Yasuho stood in her office in the second story of the building, nervously looking out the window at the crowd. Many people were already waiting outside the temple. It was a festival out there; they shared food, art, and they sang songs of worship. They’d been there all day; she could hear them milling about while she and the altar servants had been preparing the temple for His arrival. Some had even arrived the night before, camping out in their desperation to get a seat for the most coveted show in the world.

Yasuho shook her head sadly. There was no way this many people would fit in her temple. Even if they all stood, packed in like people on a busy train, she had room for maybe 10% of them? It would be painful to turn so many of the faithful away. But truthfully, this was usually the case for the Ceremony of Renewal. Only the most massive temples were able to house the kind of turnout that came for these events. Historical and religious texts stated that in the 20 or so years following his ascension, Kira-sama only appeared at his largest churches based in the world’s largest metropolitan areas, so that as many people as possible could receive the gift of his presence. But eventually, he began appearing at smaller ones in more varied locations because, he had explained, all people deserved to witness God.

Some people also theorized that he had simply become bored of going to the same cities over and over. But that was not the explanation that Kira had provided, and so such a theory was considered heresy.

Yasuho’s hometown of Kumejima had been more crowded than she’d ever seen it in her life. Save for a few professions deemed to be essential such as doctors and nurses, all workers were mandated to have a full week off every year to celebrate the Day of Creation on February 28, and the Ceremony of Renewal on March 4. It was customary to travel to the location that Kira had selected for the festivities, but as Kumejima was located on a small island, tourism had to be capped by the imperial government. After the projected attendance reached the theorized maximum number of people that the island could support, no more boat or airfare was allowed to be booked.

Some of the flock outside noticed Yasuho watching them, and they waved up at her, leaping up and down excitedly. They cried out greetings to her. “Blessed Day, Mother!” “The Moon shines on you!” Yasuho smiled cordially and waved to them. Then she sighed and moved away from her window. She needed to ensure preparations were complete.

She approached the mirror in her office to check her appearance one last time. She wore the traditional garb to be used when officiating the Ceremony of Renewal. Each clergyperson was expected to own a set, with the knowledge that it would most likely never be used… But here she was.

It was a pure white robe accented by an elegant floral pattern in glittering gold. The laced accents traveled down her chest, around her sides, and up her back like vines, ultimately leading up to a hood which she pulled up over her head. The sprawling vine design continued over her hood, encircling her face. She smiled and admired her form in the mirror. Yasuho thought of herself as a somewhat homely woman – dull hair, plain face, lumpy body – but when wrapped in the blessed clothing of the holy day, she felt her appearance would perhaps be unoffensive to God.

She left her office and locked the door behind her. From this room, she walked down a simple hallway and then opened another door, thus entering the temple proper.

It was a two-story design, following the mandate for all temples built after the year 10 A.R. (After Rebirth). The rules for temple construction were fairly loose; there were just a few requirements that had to be met, and other than that, the design was largely up to the architect and artists working on the building.

Yasuho was on the upper floor. In this main area of the temple, the upper floor was lofted; open to the lower floor. Here, a golden railing surrounded the large opening in the floor. Yasuho walked around the circular room, inspecting the railing and the deep green carpet to ensure it was spotless. She peeked over the railing, down to the first floor below.

The altar servants, clad in robes which were a dark red color reminiscent of dried blood, were busily doing the same thing she was doing – making sure everything was clean and all things were in their orderly place. The distinguished guests were there, too, sitting in their reserved seating in the front row of pews.

Yasuho continued encircling the room until she reached the opposite side. The first floor was lined with pews for the gathered mass, but the second floor had no seating – save for one. Yasuho felt butterflies in her stomach merely from looking upon the throne. Her knees wobbled and her legs became weak. When she was a meter away from it, she collapsed to her knees and prostrated herself, clutching at the carpet for balance in the face of her suddenly swirling vision. It was ridiculous – she’d polished it earlier today until the gemstones shined and the metal reflected her plain, mousy face. She hadn’t been so overcome with emotion then. But now… Kira-sama himself would be seated in this very chair in only 30 minutes time! She could throw up from nervousness!

“Mother Yasuho?” she heard a voice from below.

She sucked in a breath and attempted to steady her nerves. She stood, turned around and looked down at the altar servants on the floor below her. “Yes. I am ready. Is everything in order?” Her words carried nary a hint of her uncertainty.

“Y-Yes, Mother. I’m... terribly sorry to have interrupted your moment of prayer. B-but mass begins in 30 minutes. If everything looks acceptable to you, then, um, we should open the doors soon,” stammered Shintaro, a lanky, deferential man of about 35 years old.

“That’s quite alright. Let me come downstairs and have a quick look around.”

Yasuho glanced back at the throne behind her. It was polished to perfection and the velvet-lined seat was brushed flawlessly straight. She nodded approvingly at her own handiwork, feeling a surge of confidence.

Behind the throne was the top of a spiral staircase, and behind that was an ornate double-door. Kira would enter through that door and take his rightful seat, looking down upon his gathered worshipers. Yasuho felt another wave of sick nervousness, but it was brief and she pushed it away.

She started to descend the stairs. It felt like blasphemy. She never used these stairs. No one did. There was a plain, ordinary staircase on the side of the building with the offices, which was what was she and anyone else who needed to go there used. The only purpose for this spiral staircase was for Kira’s use. This design, with the lofted second floor and a spiral staircase leading up to a throne, were required in the standard blueprint of any “small” temple. Any part of the building that Kira had specifically dictated felt holy and untouchable.

But the stairs weren’t officially off-limits, and they were the quickest route and she was in a hurry, so on she went. The bottom of the stairs placed her behind the altar. She investigated her surroundings. The temple was always lovely. Yasuho thought so, anyway. It was like a second home to her. But today it was adorned with fine decorations purchased and commissioned for the occasion. Silken fabrics were attached to the ceiling and to the light fixtures to form waves of brilliant hues of red and gold, complementing the natural wooden design of the temple. Candles were affixed across the walls and they flickered with a cozy glow. Small tapestries had been woven for the occasion and hung upon just a few key places on the walls to serve as tasteful accents. Even the stained glass windows had been updated for the occasion. This was an old building and the windows had lost some of their luster, but an acclaimed glassworker had completely redone them all, while preserving the somewhat muted look that they had always had. Indeed, the chapel looked more luxurious than it normally did, but it was no big city temple. Rather than dress it up too much and try to make it look like something it wasn’t, Yasuho thought it better to lean in to the aged building’s unique charms. Surely, Kira had selected this place for a reason, after all.

The “stage” of the church, that is the chancel, was laid out as follows: From the perspective of someone in the audience, in the front left there was an oak pulpit of simple design with the holy book, the Shugi*, laid out upon it. A cloth maroon runner laid over the pulpit and under the book. In the front right there was a sizable wooden altar draped with a simple white cloth upon which offerings could be made. In the back-center was a secondary throne, and the front center was covered by a red rug. The flooring on the chancel was marble, but hardwood in the rest of the building.

Yasuho glanced at the large doors which opened to the outside. “There are too many,” she stated.

The altar servants nodded. “What should we do?” asked Katarina, a tall woman of 30 who carried herself with a commanding air – Yasuho, who was around he same age as her, wished sometimes she had her confidence and elegance.

“We have room for 300. That is 200 seated plus 100 standing. You will count the people as they enter and close the doors when we reach that number,” Yasuho explained.

“300,” breathed Valentina in awe. She was a bright-eyed, petite, full-bodied girl of 19. “We’ve never had so many here before! I’m so excited!!” she bounced on the balls of her feet.

“It’s nothing. I hear Heart’s Blessings temple in New Pacifica gets 2,000 worshipers every week, and when they host Renewal, they cram 5,000 people in there,” said Devon with a grin. He was the same age as Valentina and had a similar temperament and build.

“God is literally going to be here and you all are interested in the number of people?” scoffed Xi, a serious, muscular man of 40.

“We do not have time to have conversation,” said Yasuho. “Mass begins in 25 minutes.”

The five of them nodded and began to move to their positions, but Yasuho stopped them. “Before we begin, let us briefly pray together, please.”

Yasuho held her hands out. Understanding the gesture, the 5 interlocked their hands and stood in a circle.

The priestess looked over at the people sitting quietly near the altar. “Miss Emmaline…” she spoke, and although her native language was Japanese, her pronunciation of the English name was flawless. The world’s common tongue in this day and age was a blend of English, which had been the common tongue in the pre-Kira era, and Japanese, the birth-tongue of God.

“...would you like to join us?”

The girl addressed as Emmaline looked up through her golden bangs shyly. She looked at her mother and her father on either side of her, as if to ask them if it was alright. They gave her encouraging smiles. The girl got up from her seat and joined in to the prayer circle on Yasuho’s right hand side. The priestess comfortingly squeezed her hand holding Emmaline’s.

Yasuho closed her eyes and spoke, slow deliberation giving weight to her words. “Kira-sama, our God, our eternal light in the dark… You are close. I swear, in this proximity, I can feel you. My soul burns with anticipation. Soon you will be here, with us, and I would not believe it, if it weren’t for the fact that I will always believe in you. I pray that on this blessed day of life and renewal, you are pleased by our humble place of worship, and by these seven unworthy servants.”

She released her hands and hadn’t realized how tightly she was gripping Emmaline and Shintaro’s hands. She apologized quietly. Then, she felt a wetness on her cheek. “Oh dear…” she muttered and dabbed away the tear.

Emmaline shuffled back to her seat. The five altar servants stared at Yasuho with admiration. Their leader might not have the most commanding presence for a high priestess, but the way she inspired her flock was with her raw strength of faith. It was powerful and it was contagious.

“You are like a conduit, Mother, for now I feel Him too,” said Katarina. “I think He is already proud of you.”

“Oh,” Yasuho moaned, and threw her arms around Katarina in a hug. “You are too kind. Thank you.”

Katarina blushed and returned the hug with an uncharacteristic nervousness. The other four exchanged knowing looks, suppressing laughter.

Yasuho broke the hug and walked over to where Emmaline and her parents were sitting. There was still time to have one final word with the girl.

“Excuse me, would you mind if I spoke briefly with your daughter in private?” Yasuho asked politely.

The man and woman nodded enthusiastically, eyes wide with religious passion. The woman was staring at the details on Yasuho’s robe, admiring it as a rare art-piece.

“Of course, please!” said the father.

“Thank you,” said Yasuho with a warm smile. Then she waved for Emmaline to follow her to the back of the church.

Emmaline was also wearing elaborate religious clothing, but with a distinctly different style than Yasuho’s or the altar servants’ clothing. In contrast to the loose, modest robes of the clergy members, Emmaline wore an off-shoulder dress that clung tightly to her breasts and waist. It tapered off at her hips, flowing outwards with the aid of a petticoat and then trailing along the floor. Its color pattern mimicked Yasuho’s robes; that is, it was pure white with golden spider-like designs, but the gold trim was notably more chaotic in nature than the orderly lines of the priestess’ clothing. Yasuho had never told anyone this, but she rather thought that the pattern of the trim on the Chosen’s garb abstractly made one think of… handwriting.

They sat down in the back pew. Out of earshot of her parents, Yasuho whispered in the girl’s native tongue of English. “Miss Emmaline, this is your final chance. I just want to be certain that you wish to proceed with the ritual.”

The girl gave a half smile and rolled her eyes, not making eye contact. “Mother Yasuho, you’ve asked me this question like a million times. I haven’t changed my mind. Yes, I want to do it.”

Her tone was playful. Yasuho did not like this. She stared fiercely into Emmaline’s eyes, wordlessly forcing her to look.

“Emmaline, this is serious. I know I’ve asked you before. But it is not unheard of for a Chosen One to back out at the last minute, even when they were enthusiastic before. You still have the right to say no. There is always someone willing to take your place.”

The blasé look fell away from Emmaline’s face. She held eye contact for a moment before looking down, lip furling in nervousness. Yasuho held her breath, mentally bracing herself for finding a last-minute replacement.

“No, I’m sure,” said Emmaline, and Yasuho let out her breath. Emmaline continued, “I want to do it. I want to be of service to God and I want to honor my family. I… If I ever seemed unsure, it’s because… I guess I’m just a little nervous that somehow I’ll mess up and I won’t do a good job… Sorry, that’s stupid, isn’t it…?” Emmaline frowned and her bangs concealed her eyes, the perfect picture of an innocent, self-conscious teenager.

Yasuho beamed and grabbed Emmaline in a hug. (She sure was a hugger.) “That’s not silly at all! I am incredibly nervous about messing up,” she laughed and pulled away, pleased to now see Emmaline’s slight, but genuine, smile. “But you… You are going to be fantastic. I mean just look at you. You are beautiful, and I can just tell that you are pure and virtuous. Lord Kira will surely be satisfied with you.”

“Th… Thanks…” Emmaline mumbled with an embarrassed half-smile.

Yasuho stood up and clapped her hands together. “Okay! Okay! Into positions! Let the people in! Let us begin!” Yasuho said. She and a couple others walked into a room behind the altar to light the incense. Katarina and Xi would carry it into the room from the back to the front, after everyone was seated.

Chapter Text

On a beach on a small island of Okinawa, there reclined the being around whom the world revolved. In a previous life, he was known as Light Yagami, and he was just a human boy who came into possession of a powerful object. But that life became more distant and more fuzzy in his aged memories with every passing decade.

No one had so much as called him by his human name in 20 years – not since Misa Amane passed away 20 years ago, having finally used up her unnaturally long lifespan gifted to her by the shinigami Rem. She had aged slowly, gracefully, finally dying peacefully in her sleep as an old woman of 302. The world had assumed that her unnaturally long life was a result of being intimate with God for an extended period of time, and they had never revealed the truth.

He missed her, sometimes. They’d been ‘together’ (loosely defined) for over 280 years, after all. And she was the only person in the world who remembered that he had been human, once. His only other servant who’d been around since nearly the beginning was Teru Mikami, and Teru had conveniently deluded himself into believing that Light was God before he actually was one. Misa, on the other hand, treated Light like a human even after he’d ceased to be one. When he was a young god, he’d found this quirk of hers to be irritating, but somewhere along the line he had secretly begun appreciating it.

Not that he didn’t appreciate being treated as a god, of course. Misa’s eccentricities had just become a welcome break from the monotony of immortality.

But now she was gone, and with her, so was Light. All he was now was Kira. It was his name, his identity, his power, and his divine right to rule. And yet, deep down, he still thought of himself as Light, even if the rest of the world had long forgotten that name.

He heard footsteps plodding in the sand, becoming slowly louder as they approached. Then there was a whump, the familiar sound of knees hitting the ground.

Light didn’t acknowledge whomever had come to see him. The sound of ocean waves hung in the air.

“K-Kira-sama, O gracious one…” a man finally said, almost too quietly to be audible over the tides, but Light’s senses were sharper than those of a human, and so it was perfectly clear.

“Yes?” he said, without moving.

“I… I have been instructed to inform you that… you must, or, if you please, begin getting ready to attend your annual banquet, f-followed by the Renewal,” said the man haltingly, as if he feared he would suffer a heart attack merely from telling Kira that he needed to leave his comfortable beach chair.

Light glanced at his watch. “Is it that late already? My, the day has flown by.” Then again, lately it seems that entire weeks vanish in the blink of an eye…

Light sat up and looked down at the man, prone and trembling in the soft white sand. He swiveled his body such that his feet were in front of the man’s face.

“Your resort has been a most relaxing accommodation for me this Holy Week. As your reward, you may kiss my feet,” Light said casually. He fully expected that kissing his feet would indeed be sufficient payment for this man closing his resort for an entire week, just so Kira and his servants could stay there.

Just as expected, the man squeaked with joy. “Thank you… Thank you…!” he all but sobbed and proceeded to slobber upon his god’s feet. He appeared unconcerned with getting sand in his mouth.

Light grimaced. The man was old and unpleasant to look at. He would only allow him – Oh, it’s a holiday. I should be generous.

“You have 60 seconds to worship. I hope you are grateful.”

The man rubbed his face against the sole of God’s foot, tears streaking down his cheeks. He was nonverbal, so he just nodded.

Although time normally sifted through the god’s fingers like sand, this particular 60 seconds lasted an annoyingly long time. He normally loved having his feet kissed, but this man was just gross. Light stared at his watch for the duration of the minute. It was the very same watch his father had given him over 300 years ago. He maintained it himself, as the art of watchmaking had been lost to time. Even if he could find an antiques specialist who knew how to take care of a 300-year-old set of analog gears, he wouldn’t want them finding the slip of the Death Note he still had hidden in the watch.

Not that he needed the Death Note to kill. Not anymore. But Light had grown sentimental in his age.

The second hand hit 12. “Your time is up.”

Without protest, the man immediately backed away from his god and placed his forehead into the sand in a deep bow. “Thank you my Lord. I will treasure this memory forever. It has been an honor to serve you in my business; I am so immensely pleased that--”

“Stop talking. Your voice annoys me,” Light said dispassionately while cleaning dirt from underneath his fingernails.

“I’m sorry,” the man whispered.

Light stood up from his chair. He stepped on the back of the man’s head and ground his head into the sand. “I said to stop talking.”

The man didn’t fight back, even though he was surely getting sand into his nose and he probably couldn’t breathe. Light smiled. If he wanted to, he could just hold his foot here until the man suffocated. The man’s employees would just apologize that their boss had offended God and say that he deserved to die for disobeying an order. It wouldn’t be the first time Kira had killed someone for essentially no reason. It was around his 170^th birthday when Light had realized that he could truly do anything and the world would just go on worshiping him. That was around when he’d first begun thinking about changes to his religious ceremonies to make them more interesting.

And on that thought – he really should get going. He didn’t want to be late for Ceremony. Plus, his cock was getting hard and it wasn’t going to suck itself off, out here alone on the beach.

He stepped off of the man. He gasped like a man emerging from underwater. Light walked up the hill towards the wing of the resort where he would bathe and get dressed for dinner.

A servant stood at the entrance of the building holding a towel and a red silk robe. There was really no need for either of those things. His domestic staff often did pointless things to attempt to find a way to ‘serve,’ even when their master needed nothing. Light didn’t mind, as long as they were unobtrusive in their compulsive busyness. It was better than having lazy slaves who needed to constantly be told what to do. So, Light simply ignored him and walked into the building shirtless.

Meanwhile, the servant was unsure of what to do with God’s clothing, since he had not been invited inside the temporary divine residence. He awkwardly stuck his hands inside the doorway, holding his body outside so he was not technically ‘inside,’ deposited the robe on a table in the entryway, and then scurried away to the building where dinner was being prepared.

Light passed through a sunroom, a sitting room, and walked down a hallway with several bedrooms attached. This place was intended for a large family or group, but this week it was occupied only by Kira, his three angels, and the occasional servant that he called upon.

Eventually he reached the master bathroom and entered. The room was a sauna, the air comfortably warm and humid on Light’s bare chest. In the center of the room was a massive pool of steaming hot water, and three servants knelt next to the bath in the nude: one woman; two men. They were all fit and beautiful, as every holy servant was required to be.

Light looked at his watch – right on time. Each of his religious holidays had a schedule of events that he had dictated. Every few decades he made changes to the agendas, but it was always the case that the people of his world obeyed the timetables he set out for them. He found it satisfying on a deep level – perhaps the urge to control where and when people would be was ingrained into him at the age of 17 when he’d first experimented with the Death Note. Now, as the all-powerful ruler of the world, he could make this happen on a global scale without needing to kill people.

At this time – 14:50 on the Day of Renewal – his three newest servants would draw him a bath.

He removed his swimming shorts. The three kneeling humans had their eyes turned respectfully downwards, trained to not stare, despite how much they wanted to.

Light looked at himself in the floor-to-ceiling length mirror. He periodically changed his hairstyle to keep up with fashion, which was remarkably repetitive – what was considered ‘cool’ now had been in- and out-of-style at least 10 times over the past 3 centuries. At the moment he had a middle part and tapered bangs, which he remembered was popular in the 1990s and 2020s, as well as the 2060s, the 2220s, and several other random decades. He had Misa to thank for his oddly sharp memory for fashion trends (she had paid such close attention to all of that). Other than his hair, his appearance was unchanged from when he ascended to godhood at the age of 28. He smiled, admiring his own lithe body, toned arms, lightly defined abs, and a flat stomach leading down to his half-erect cock.

In the corner of the mirror he caught the female servant attempting to surreptitiously steal a glance. He gave her a disapproving glare and she looked down, terror and regret flushing her face. He smirked. He actually had no problem with being stared at; he only discouraged the behavior to make people feel that delicious shame from being unable to resist.

He walked over and stepped into the pool. He settled in and dipped underwater, emerging and shaking the water from his hair. He then looked at the three people. “Stand up and look at me, all of you,” he said.

They obeyed. Looking upon him, their eyes were full of poorly-restrained lust. The men both had erections and Light was certain the woman was wet. He didn’t really need all three of them – he could take them all, but that would be like having too much of an appetizer before the main course.

Ah, but how to decide? Physically, they were all perfect. He was a bit more in the mood for a man, if only because he knew he’d be fucking at least one woman during the ritual later in the evening. But then, which of the two men? If physical attributes didn’t give him enough information to decide, he would consider something else.

Light had obtained several powers upon his ascension. Enhanced senses was one, and another was an additional sense beyond the typical human five. His sixth sense was the ability to detect human emotion. Even when he was himself human, he had a gift for this, by reading people’s facial and body language. The supernatural ability was a fitting complement to his ordinary skill. It allowed him to appoint trustworthy people to high positions in society, weeding out disloyalty, dishonesty, jealousy, and other undesirable traits. Over time, however, he had learned to ‘tune out’ this sense except for when he had need of it, so that he was not constantly distracted by (and dependent on) it.

For the moment, he reached within himself and allowed this power to manifest. Immediately he was awash with scents, tastes, as well as visual auras rolling off of the three shivering humans. Emotions were incredibly complex, and so concretely detecting them was equally complex. If Light didn’t focus, then the sensations coming off of all three of the people would just blend together in an incomprehensible cocktail. And so he looked at each of them in turn, focusing his energy to separate their streams of emotion.

The woman: Scent of coffee, taste of blueberries, and the visuals were green sinusoidal waves.

The first man: Scent of pine, taste of bread, and a violet spiral emerging from his left foot.

The second man: Scent of apple, taste of cinnamon, and a solid blue pool surrounding him.

Decoding these inputs took a lot of practice, not unlike a person learning to pick out the tastes and smells in fine wine. After 300 years, Light had gotten quite good at it. Different combinations of sensation meant different things, and the intensity of each sensation also had meaning. Putting it simply: The woman was feeling guilty and afraid yet excited and still hopeful. The man in the middle was feeling prideful and self-assured, and yet there was an insecurity lurking beneath. And the man on the right was feeling self-conscious yet optimistic and eager to please.

Underlying all of this was the chocolate taste of lust that they all felt…

...As well as a scent/taste/sight combination that could not be put into human terms. This particular emotion also stimulated his otherworldly sense of touch. It was like a warm, euphoric feeling that flooded his veins. And yet this description, still, falls short. The scent, taste, visions, and feeling made him believe he could simply lie still and experience it forever and he would be content. It was one of Light’s favorite sensations. This emotion was adulation. Perhaps one could call it love.

Much like a drug, he had found himself becoming addicted to it in the early days. This was another reason why he’d decided to stop using this power very often. It translated into sexual pleasure, through a combination of how pleasurable the supernatural sensation was, paired with the natural, un-augmented high of how good it felt to be adored as God. If he stood before a large enough number of his faithful while he was tuned in to this power, it was difficult to avoid having an orgasm untouched.

But this was only three people. Plus, they were just ordinary domestic servants. From them, his cock only lightly tingled, not much more than it did when he was worshiped and he didn’t have the power activated.

People who had a more resolute sense of faith elicited a much stronger reaction. An individual priest could give him a bigger ‘hit’ than 20 average people. And then there were the Chosen... Now those girls... Groomed from birth to give themselves entirely to God, never knowing an intimate touch in their lives, they expressed the most unfiltered adoration. It was nothing short of a delicacy… He could not quantify it exactly, but he tended to cum instantly and for an inhumanly long time, remaining hard afterwards, if he ‘tuned in’ during the Ceremony of Renewal. Light’s cock grew harder just from thinking about tonight’s events.

Light’s attention came back to the three humans before him. So, the woman was guilty, the first man was prideful, and the second man was shy. He pointed to the second man, who had the most appropriate cocktail of emotion. Guilt was fun to play with when he was in a sadistic mood, which at present he was not. Pride was extremely unattractive, unless he felt like harming the person in question to crush said pride… But again, he was not feeling cruel today.

“You will serve me this afternoon. The other two of you, leave now,” he said lazily, knowing there would be no protest.

The woman was visibly crestfallen, and waves of sadness-regret rolled off of her. She was kicking herself for breaking protocol and looking at God when she didn’t have permission. Light knew, for he could taste that particular emotion. (It was savory like a fine cut of steak.) The man betrayed no emotion on his face, but Light could detect the unpleasant bitter taste and sour smell of dashed entitlement. He had been certain he would be selected and, somehow, blamed the others for the outcome. Light narrowed his eyes. He would be ending this man’s term of service, if not his life. His eyes flickered above his head and he read his name. Petre Wójcik. Shinigami eyes was another one of the powers the god Kira had been granted.

After the two left, the remaining man prostrated himself and pressed his forehead against the hard tile floor. He was broad-shouldered and had a thick head of black hair, as well as black hair all over his entire body, particularly his chest. “Thank you, Kira-sama. I am honored,” he said, and was wise enough not to continue chattering.

His joy was simple and sweet on Light’s tongue and his worship intensified three-fold. Light hummed appreciatively.

“Well then, don’t delay. Come wash me,” said Light.

Light’s smile faltered as he felt the man’s joy increase – it became sickeningly sweet in his mouth and Light nearly gagged. This was another downside of the power… Not all sensations were pleasant. So, he tuned out from the emotion-sense, as it had served its purpose for now.

The man retrieved soap, shampoo, massage oil, and a bath pillow and perched behind his god, beginning to work by gently scrubbing his scalp.

Light wanted to address the man but he didn’t know his name. He tilted his head back to look up at him but, from this angle his name was upside down and he couldn’t read it. So he simply asked, “What’s your name?”

The man blushed. “Hassan, my lord.”

“Hassan, what time is it?” Light had removed his watch before getting into the bath.

“Ah!” The man double-tapped on his wrist and a simple holographic display appeared in his palm. “It is nearly 2:55 in the afternoon, God. Nearly time for prayer.”

He closed his hand and went back to lovingly massaging his idol’s scalp, and the digital display vanished.

Light smiled. This was the next scheduled event for the day, one that the entire world was encouraged to participate in. And there was someone he liked to be with during the event.

Light ducked underwater to quickly cleanse the soap from his hair. While he did so, he mentally called out to his highest servant, his divine first angel elevated to a state between human and god. Teru. Come to me, he sent his thought out into the mysterious plane in which he was able to share his consciousness with his select few elevated servants, called Angels.

By the time he re-emerged from the water seconds later, Mikami was there.

He knelt on only one knee, sitting upright, and he looked directly at Kira. Even after all this time, Teru still wanted to greet God fully prostrate, not looking upon him unless directed, following the rules set forth for all other beings, equally insignificant compared to God. But Kira himself had long ago ordered Mikami and his other Angels to carry themselves with more dignity befitting their station.

According to Lord Kira’s preferences for his personal appearance, his jet-black hair was long, reaching all the way down to his lower back in wisps that thinned towards the ends. He wore his typical well-fitted black suit with a white shirt and black tie. He had no interest in changing his fashion to keep up with a changing world. After 300 years, they didn’t even make suits like this anymore. Anywhere Mikami went he stuck out like a sore thumb, a walking relic of the past. But this did not concern him. He had always been a creature of habit and this was what he was comfortable in. Besides, he’d been wearing a suit like this when God had selected him on the television, so for him, that made it very special.

Mikami spoke only one word, intense in his baritone voice which had become deeper and obtained an ethereal echoing quality after his transformation into the archangel.

“God.”

“Mm, Teru. Come join me in the bath. I want your lips wrapped around my cock while I listen to the world’s adoring voices.”

“Yes my lord. Thank you for the honor,” said Mikami reverently, and he quickly removed his clothes.

Naked, Teru’s muscles rippled, with his form eternally frozen exactly as it was the moment he became immortal. There was barely any time to admire him, however, for he quickly slipped under the warm water and took his god’s hard cock into his mouth. He swallowed the entire thick length effortlessly, for in his superhuman body he had no gag reflex. Additionally, Angels did not need to breathe, so Teru could stay underwater sucking for hours if Light willed it.

Light moaned. He placed a hand on Mikami’s head and scratched his scalp appreciatively. Then he stretched his arms out to his sides, leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

The servant Hassan was already prepared to place the pillow under God’s head, as many believed it to be sacrilege to allow His body to directly touch the floor if there was something you could do to prevent it. He then drizzled warm oil across his shoulders, arms, and chest. Hassan’s heart was beating so hard he could hear it in his ears, and he wondered if God could hear it too. He was terrified of giving a subpar massage, although all domestic servants were meticulously trained in such arts on the off-chance that they’d be called upon to do so.

But Hassan was new to the Holy Service. He had only been in God’s presence one time before, and that was when his body was first Taken, made one with the harem. He’d hardly needed to do anything on that occasion; only suppress the urge to sob from emotional overwhelm as he muttered the Prayer of Gratitude while his virginal asshole was split open. But now, he had to take an active role in his service, and everyone knew that was much more difficult.

Light, meanwhile, barely registered the 25-year-old’s nervous hands rubbing his shoulders. It felt good, yes, but not as good as his cock being massaged by Teru’s wonderful tight throat. And not as good as the anticipation of the sounds that were to come in barely a minute’s time.

The ability to hear prayers was another major change that Light had experienced, post-ascension. Normally, the discordant noise from billions of voices speaking hundreds of different languages was nothing but incomprehensible static. Like his ability to sense emotions, he was capable of simply tuning out from this sense, and he normally did, since there was nothing to hear. On Fridays, he could occasionally make out coordinated sounds as large groups of people worshiped together in their weekly mass, but it was still largely drowned out by chaos.

On one day a year, however, his people were encouraged to recite a specific prayer, in early 21^st century Japanese, at a specific time, standardized across time zones. It was done entirely for his benefit, so that he could experience the pleasure of hearing a world crying out his praises. Light listened to the static now.

Right on time, the voices coalesced into one.

It was a dull roar in Light’s mind, some 10 billion voices speaking in near-unison. There was some variance of course: some people speaking slightly too early and some too late. Some people more practiced in their pronunciation than others. But with the vast majority of such a massive number trending towards the middle, the voices more or less lined up, just with some fuzzy distortion.

We believe in one God, the almighty light in the darkness
Lord Kira, protector of heaven and earth,
Lord of all, seen and unseen.
He judges the living and gives the world life
Through him, all things are made just.

Light groaned in pleasure as his cock twitched inside Teru’s throat. The voices lit up his entire body – not because it directly gave him physical satisfaction, but simply because of the knowledge that the world revolved around him. Nearly everyone on the planet put aside what they were doing – or woke up from sleep – simply to utter a prayer for the pleasure of their God. He was their reason for being. And this is what made him nearly ready to cum, already.

He came to a dying world governed by evil
And it rejected him.
He suffered and he was persecuted,
But his heavenly light cleansed the rot
And we shall live safe and prosperous lives
As long as we believe in Him.

Light briefly fluttered his eyes open to see that Hassan – who was now rubbing up and down his left arm, placing just the right amount of pressure on his muscle – was silently mouthing the words to the prayer, exactly on time. He smiled at that. It was a rule that, if you were blessed to be in his Holy Presence while mass prayer was happening, you were to be entirely silent, to allow Him to listen without distraction. The boy was not disobeying, but it amused Light to see him give in to his compulsion to pray anyway.

For our salvation he was made more than man
He gives his existence for our preservation
Through our gratitude he is worshiped and glorified
He is Eternal, the undying,
All of existence is under his eye,
And his kingdom shall have no end.

The recitation reached its conclusion, but Light smirked as he heard it start up again from the beginning. The people were only told to do it one time, but many people enjoyed the experience of praying in large crowds, feeling their interconnectedness in their shared desire to please God. So it was not uncommon for the prayer to repeat multiple times, slowly growing more quiet as people dropped off.

Light continued listening, and upon the completion of the second recitation his arousal was about to overflow into Teru’s mouth. He yanked Teru’s head off of him and pulled him up out of the water by his long hair. Mikami emerged with a splash, but his breath (or lack thereof) did not change. He stared at his god, his eyes burning with an adoration and wonder that still hadn’t diminished after centuries. Light pulled Teru’s face towards his own, crashing their lips together in a kiss while he heard the world profess him to be Lord Kira, protector of heaven and earth.

“Yes…” Light moaned and he clawed at Teru’s skin; he grabbed his ass that sat in his lap and he cut into the flesh with his nails. It would heal almost immediately.

Mikami whimpered and poured love into the kiss from his infinite pool of passion.

Then Light abruptly shoved Mikami off of him, moving him to sit next to him on the sitting platform built into the bathtub.

“Get in. Join us,” said Light, addressing the servant, who had faltered in his task to massage Kira, and had been closely watching the treasured sight of God kissing an Angel.

The man didn’t realize at first that he was the one being spoken to. Kira gave him a sharp glare and his heart skipped a beat as he hastily slid into the bathtub.

As soon as he was in the water, Kira reached over and grabbed him by the hips, pulling him on top of himself. He found that his ass was positioned over the god’s hard cock, and he knew what he was supposed to do.

Ignoring the fact that he was completely unprepared, Hassan lowered his asshole to his master’s cock head. He wanted to look pleadingly into his god’s eyes, to verify that this was, in fact, what he was ordered to do… But Kira-sama’s eyes were closed, so enthralled he was by the Believers’ Creed silently echoing in his ears or his mind or wherever it was that God experienced these things – and he was furiously making out with Mikami-sama, his hand tangled in the angel’s long black hair.

So Hassan fought the weightlessness of the water and forcibly skewered himself upon his God’s cock.

He had it good, really. He was an enhanced male, after all – he’d been bio-engineered to have a self-lubricating anus. He had a great deal of respect for the domestic servants of 50+ years ago, who hadn’t had this luxury. Modern technology allowed him to only experience the pain of being stretched too quickly, and saved him from what must have been a truly miserable sensation of ripping into a dry, sensitive passage. He feared, however, that this meant that the male servants of old had an easier time proving their dedication, and so to compensate, he tried his very best to be an extremely skilled pleasure slave.

Light, meanwhile, was focused on listening -- Through our gratitude he is worshiped and glorified – and on plunging the depths of Teru’s throat. When his cock was enveloped by his young servant’s warm, tight, wet asshole, he let out a shuddering groan, echoing into Teru’s mouth. Hassan ground his thick, muscular ass against Light’s crotch. Light grabbed the back of Teru’s head and pushed their mouths harder into one another, and he shoved his tongue against Mikami’s.

Hassan rode up and down, the water giving a challenge to the task of performing quick, rhythmic strokes. But his powerful thigh muscles flexed and he fought the weight of the water to fuck himself with skill.

Light was extremely close to cumming when Mikami had been giving him a blowjob, so he didn’t last long in the man’s ass. When the people reached the end of their 4^th recitation, Light felt his balls rumbling, ready to release his seed into what was the second man he’d fucked today.

He broke the kiss with Teru and looked at Hassan’s face – sweaty and exerted. He grabbed his muscular hips and thrust them downward while he thrust up, and he held him there as he came. He savored the words that filled his skull, grown quiet but still barely unified enough to be audible.

All of existence is under his eye.

“Yes…” he moaned as his orgasm shook him. “It’s all mine…”

And his kingdom shall have no end.

“Forever...” he muttered during the last throes of his climax.

A sound of panting came from Hassan, who had some level of exertion after fucking himself in the water. He was also extremely turned on, more so from the entire situation than from the penetration. But of course, he could not touch himself nor ask for any sexual release. So he simply removed himself and ignored his own throbbing erection. He was trained to then lean down and clean Lord Kira’s cock with his mouth, but since they were in the bath, he did not know if that expectation applied.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to think about it long.

“You’ve barely washed me. Finish the job,” said Kira gruffly, shoving the soap into Hassan’s hand.

Hassan pressed the soap reverently against Kira’s chest and rubbed it carefully into his skin.

“Quickly,” Kira commanded.

The servant squeaked and began efficiently cleaning God’s body.

“Teru, cum on his back,” Kira ordered off-handedly.

“Oh God. Yes, thank you,” moaned Mikami with a fierce, desperate urgency. He rose and stood behind Hassan, who was quickly scrubbing Kira’s thighs with soap. Mikami jacked himself off and after barely 20 seconds he splashed his white cum on the young man’s back. He cried out in ecstasy, more intensely than such a quick masturbation would normally warrant.

“Ah… Thank you, Kira-sama… For… allowing me… release…” he moaned as he squeezed out a few more drops of cum that just clung to the head. “I do not deserve it… I am unworthy…” he whimpered. After he finished, he looked down at his still-hard erection with sad acceptance, knowing he would not receive further release.

Hassan pointedly ignored the feeling of the angel’s cum coating his back. He would surely brag about this encounter later while hanging out with the other servants, but for now, he had a job to do. He was cleaning Kira’s cock, now, gently massaging his balls.

Light laughed, mocking. “How long’s it been since you came, Teru?” He smirked.

“Ninety… Ninety-four days, God…” panted Mikami.

Hassan let out an involuntary gasp of surprise. How was that even possible?

Light laughed again, airy and twinkling. “Just over three months. And how many times have you made me cum since then?”

“Twelve times, my lord,” said Mikami quietly. “Or sixteen, if you count the times like this one, when you finished inside a different servant.”

“What an excellent memory,” Light cooed. His cock, though soft and spent, tingled with satisfaction. The servant’s hands cupping his balls helped. He greatly enjoyed restricting Teru’s orgasms and teasing him for it. As they both got older, the amount of time Mikami could be edged only kept increasing.

Light sighed and flipped over to lie on his stomach, so Hassan could clean his back.

“You may leave, Teru. Join me at dinner,” said Light. Mikami gathered his clothes in his arms and disappeared into nothingness.

Chapter Text

The kitchen and dining room was bustling with activity. The staff were making the final preparations of the traditional dinner served before the Ceremony of Renewal. Everything had to be perfect from the food, to the plating, the ambiance of the room. The dining hall of this island resort was already quite extravagant, but more had been added to make it feel even more worthy of such an auspicious occasion. Red draperies flowed from one chandelier to the next, softening an already romantic lighting, and all of the tables were covered with gold tablecloths weighted down with jewels sewn into their hems. Orchids were on all the tables as centerpieces.

At the designated time, everyone took their seats and conversation died down as all servants waited with bated breath for the appearance of God. There were many tables in the room, all filled with people in their finest attire: There were all of Kira’s personal servants, along with the staff of the hotel resort in which they were all residing for the week. Additionally there were some political dignitaries – representatives from the major territories of the global empire. They were typically invited to this dinner and most years, they were also invited to the Ceremony of Renewal itself, but since this year was to be a smaller affair in a less populated village, they would not be attending.

In the center of the room there was the small head table, currently unoccupied, where Kira would sit with his closest companions as well as his chosen pleasure slaves, should he have any for the evening.

The double doors leading into the dining room were pushed open. The person who entered was the First angel, Teru Mikami, followed closely by the Avery Dauterive the Third, and Seo-Yeon Choi the Fifth. All people in the room rose from their chairs, looked down to the floor, and held their hands to their hearts. This was the posture expected when addressing divine creatures beneath God himself.

Mikami surveyed the room, judging whether anything needed to be adjusted before God joined them. To the relief of the event coordinator, Mikami looked satisfied.

“He will be here very soon,” said Mikami simply, not loudly, but as the room was silent enough to hear a pin drop, all could hear him. He then moved to his seat and stood behind it, and the two people who had entered with him followed suit.

Everyone stood there in a tense silence for some time. It felt like an hour, but in reality, it was only a few minutes.

The God Kira appeared in the room – he did not enter it, but rather he simply materialized near the chair where he would be having his meal. There was a slight pop in the air when he took form, the sound of air being instantaneously displaced. He was wearing a suit with a tailcoat that brushed the floor. The jacket was a light gold, nearly cream color, with crimson diamond accents. The shirt underneath was a deep blood red with a few gold spirals sewn in which were only visible up-close. His shoes were black leather, antiques that he’d had for hundreds of years. He always dressed impeccably for public appearances.

Gasps and quiet cries rippled through the room. Every person fell to their knees and bowed before their god, averting their eyes to the floor as was required. However, some people assumed the appropriate position more quickly than others. Kira’s own domestic servants had, of course, witnessed his powers before and were accustomed to prostrating themselves at a moment’s notice when Kira made an unexpected appearance. But the staff of the resort had never been in his presence before this week, and many of them hadn’t seen him before this very moment. The more recently-appointed politicians were similarly taken aback. In addition to reacting audibly to his wonders, many of them stood frozen with shock and took a moment to collect themselves. Some of them stood dumbfounded, committing the sin of staring without permission, and had to be forcibly pulled down to the floor by a person near them.

The Angels, of course, knelt on one knee and looked directly at God, reflecting their higher station. They possessed the same power that mortals perceived as teleportation: the ability to enter the ethereal plane to more quickly traverse the material.

Light took a moment to gaze at his surroundings, taking in the sight of the room full of people on their knees, eyes obediently trained downwards. The occasional fumbling person who needed to be forced into position by their peers made him chuckle. He paid special attention to the table where the political figures sat. It was amazing to remember that there had once been a time when the world was against him, when now, every president and prime minister was naught but an extension of his will, a servant of God like anyone else. For only a moment, he tapped into the realm of emotion and the heat of piety from 100 people flooded his veins. Like an aphrodisiac, it caused his cock, which was already becoming aroused at merely the sight of so many kneeling faithful, to press more fervently against his pants.

“You may all sit. Please relax and enjoy the evening,” Light called out to the room, and there was the sound of a hundred people shuffling back into their chairs, followed by the slow hum of conversations starting back up.

Kira’s presence meant that dinner was to be served. Waiters entered the room, fanning out among the tables to serve drinks to all of the guests.

The head chef, accompanied by the restaurant manager, walked to the table where Kira and his angels sat. They presented a custom-made menu for the occasion, laying four copies on the table. They then both knelt to Kira’s left hand side, and the chef cleared her throat.

“Welcome, our most esteemed Lord Kira. We could not be more honored that you’ve chosen our establishment to enjoy your annual meal. It is impossible for a human to prepare food worthy of the divine, but I hope that you will find our humble attempt adequate. Per the tradition dictated in your scripture, the menu this evening shall be a representation of the best cuisine that this region has to offer. Since you yourself came from mainland Japan originally, I imagine much of our food is rather familiar to you, and yet, I have aimed to make the menu unique enough to perhaps hold your interest. We will start with the appetizer, a refreshing dish of yellowtail sashimi tossed in a bright sauce of grape, fennel, and buttermilk. Following that a local specialty of pork and ishigaki beef, placed upon a bed of sliced radishes, purple sweet potato, pine nuts, and strawberries in a lightly sweetened shikuwasa sauce. The entree shall be hearty Okinawa soba noodles, but rather than the traditional pork belly, we’ve topped it with seasoned shrimp and salted crisped potatoes. We will wrap the meal up with a serving of the delicacy tofuyo, as we were advised you do not prefer sweets for dessert.

This evocative description triggered a rarely-experienced feeling within Light: hunger. After elevating himself beyond mortality, he no longer had need for food, water, or sleep. He could still eat, drink, and nap if he so desired; he simply no more biological compulsions. But like the changing of the seasons, as this date of the year approached, he became more closely connected to humanity – and it culminated in the Ceremony of Renewal. This was when he would be the most human, which is why the renewal of his divinity needed to occur.

“If… There is anything about the menu you would like me to change, I will do my best to accommodate,” added the chef nervously after a moment of silence.

“No. It sounds wonderful,” Light said, genuinely.

The chef and her employee pressed their heads into the plush carpet of the floor and mumbled their thanks, before getting up to quietly leave.

After they were gone and the room was well full of chatter, Mikami humbly addressed his god. “My lord, would you like to play a game?”

There were a variety of ways in which Light intellectually stimulated himself to stave off of the ennui of eternal life, such as becoming proficient in skills (like antique watchmaking), studying history and philosophy, and learning languages (he was now fluent in 10, with working proficiency in another 15 – not that humanity had much use for this anymore, with how advanced AI translation technology had become.) But when he craved that hit of competition that he’d been starved for ever since the last rebellion was crushed, he settled for games of strategy with his angels – and with the occasional human intelligent enough to challenge him.

But lately… The boredom had been creeping in on the edges of his psyche.

“Hmm, no, not at the moment. Actually, there’s something I’d been meaning to speak with you three about. You recall, of course, that I’ve historically blocked humanity’s ambitions for space travel.”

“Yes God; you stated that it was because humanity would be more difficult to control if it began spreading into the star system,” said Avery.

“—like a virus,” Seo-Yeon added breathlessly, as if reciting scripture. “Is – that’s – that is how you put it,” she added nervously.

Teru merely waited silently to hear what God had to say.

A waiter came by with a bottle of wine. He looked rather young, possibly in his teen years. He shook with terror, face growing pale as he approached the table.

Light averted his attention directly towards him. He stared and noted how the boy’s trembling became more noticeable. He didn’t need any supernatural power to drink in the fear like an aperitif.

The waiter stood next to Light and began pouring wine into his glass.

“Aren’t you going to tell us what it is?” Light asked casually, with a lighthearted smirk and a probing look in his eyes.

The boy jumped in surprise, nearly spilling the bottle onto Kira himself.

The three angels chastised the boy nearly in unison. Their initial command was the same: “Be careful--” But the word they all followed up after that phrase differed, all spoken simultaneously:

“—Fool,” said Avery, angrily.

“—Child,” said Seo-Yeon, kindly.

“—Human,” said Teru, monotonously.

They all looked at each other with mild surprise. The two younger angels silenced themselves.

“...You could have spilled wine on Lord Kira’s clothing,” said Mikami calmly.

“Ah…! I’m, I’m sorry!” he stammered.

“Also, you should have asked if God wanted any wine. He does not always partake,” added Mikami, now a touch patronizing. “You do know that this is the one day of the year when our Lord is the most susceptible to alcohol intoxication, don’t you? Are you surely qualified to be working this event?”

“Oh Kira… Oh my God I apologize…” the boy blubbered. He had a thick accent. His face was red with humiliation and fear. He looked on the verge of tears.

Light brushed it aside with a cordial wave. “Oh come now Teru. You’re scaring the poor boy.” He reached up and brushed a hand against the boy’s chin, prompting him to look into his eyes. Light wore a charming smile and his eyes were soft and welcoming, like a blanket by the fireplace kept warm by a loving partner.

The waiter’s heart skipped a beat. Vaguely, he remembered a few moments ago that God had been looking at him like he was meat to be devoured. But now he thought he simply must have misinterpreted. For it was clear now that God was kind and good; he knew this fact as simply as he knew that the sky was blue. He could feel it in his cloud-soft touch; he could see it in his liquid-gold amber eyes which shined like the sun… The boy’s legs felt like jelly and his stomach flipped. He’d heard stories about how Kira had the power to overwhelm your body and mind with merely a look. Tales were told of how people would fall in love with him upon their first meeting, even before his ascension. He’d always assumed these things to be exaggeration. But now, as he fought against every instinct to fall to his knees and sob in wonder at His glory, he understood.

For a moment, Kira’s eyes flitted away from the waiter’s to his half-full wine glass. Then he looked at him again with that smoulder that had been winning people over for him since he had been a teenager himself.

“You can fill it up. I’ll have one glass,” he spoke quietly, seductively. Then he pulled his fingers away from the waiter’s chin and settled back in his chair.

The waiter exhaled, nodded, and filled up the glass. “Th-this be… Ah…. Alcohol there is… mmf!” the boy grunted in frustration, his Japanese language skills momentarily escaping him. He squeezed his eyes shut to collect himself. “This… wine... is… vintage bottle, 175 years old, preserved in a cryogenic chamber.”

“What! That must have cost a fortune!” quietly exclaimed Seo-Yeon. She was brand new to the angelic order and was still easily impressed.

Light rolled his eyes. When humanity had figured out how to preserve food and drink indefinitely, of course they had used that to manufacture a new way that fancy liquor could be even fancier. Wine preserved in this way didn’t give it any additional flavor; it just made it more exclusive.

The waiter continued with an explanation of where the wine originated from and its tasting notes while he filled the other three glasses.

At some point Light waved his hand to cut him off. “Yes, thank you.”

The waiter swallowed nervously and stood up ramrod straight. “Anything else may I do for you?”

Light smiled at the small grammar slip. Most humans nowadays used AI brain implants to facilitate language-learning, among other cognitive tasks. But those with a religious bent abstained from brain modifications. Light had dictated that any human who interacted with him was to have an unmodified brain. His holy book justified this with some lofty language about maintaining one’s ‘purity.’ In reality, it simply made it easier to pick out differences in innate intelligence, and identify the humans who had the capacity to be interesting. Plus, in a world ever-advancing towards perfection, he had started to find imperfections rather charming. AI-modified minds tended to be so… similar. So boring.

And, the kid was cute. He had that going for him.

“You should watch your manners the next time you come to serve our table,” Light chastised the boy.

He nodded, fear coloring his eyes again. “O-of course! I’m terrible sorry for my transgressions!”

Light looked the boy up and down and drummed a finger on the table. He wore an expression of pending judgment. It was all an act; he didn’t actually plan on punishing the guy, but teasing people never got old.

“I-is anything I should do for atone for my sin, Lord?” the boy stammered, his terror visibly escalating. Beads of sweat collected on his face.

Light blinked slowly and captured the boy’s gaze in his own. “Yes, I have something in mind.”

“A-anything!”

“You won’t be our waiter anymore,” said Light. One could practically see the heartbreak on the boy’s face.

“Instead, you’re going to serve me in a different way.” This brought a spark of hope back into the boy’s eyes, and Light chuckled inwardly with the fun of toying with people’s emotions.

“Get on your knees under the table,” Light commanded.

The boy blushed, looked to the floor, and complied.

Once he got into position, Light added simply, “I think you can figure out what to do from here.”

Light leaned back in his chair and picked up his glass of wine. He took a leisurely sip while he felt his pants being undone. His cock had been hard nearly since entering the room. It was a relief to have it engulfed in the boy’s mouth. He exhaled deeply and rubbed the boy’s head appreciatively.

Mikami was completely unbothered by what was happening. He looked around the room, using his enhanced senses to eavesdrop on various conversations, always on the lookout for traitors. Avery swirled their glass of wine, clearly attempting to distract themselves. Seo-Yeon, as the newest angelic servant, did a poor job of concealing her interest. She bit her lower lip, swung her legs under the table, and stole several lustful glances at her God’s face. It was taking everything in her power to not lift the tablecloth, crawl under the table, and join in.

“So as I was saying,” Light spoke and the three at the table snapped to attention, “The council of world governors have started talking about it again – you know – well, Seo-Yeon, you’re young; you don’t know… About every 50 years or so, the council of world governors presents a ‘plan’ to me for exploring the stars. The technology advances significantly each time – which is funny, since I never give them permission to work on this sort of tech. I suppose it’s just in humanity’s nature to be fixated on this foul idea of spreading and growing. This is why I made the virus comparison, as you remember.”

Seo-Yeon nodded. She was now much too interested in hanging on God’s every word to think about how aroused she was.

“So anyway…” Light continued, speaking normally, treating the blowjob he was receiving with complete nonchalance. “This time, I think I’m going to let them do it.”

All three pairs of eyes widened in shock.

“W-why?” muttered Seo-Yeon.

Avery gave her a meaningful look that, without words, communicated, hey, we’ve talked about this. Seo-Yeon was inquisitive to a fault, and as her mentor, Avery had attempted to teach her to reign it in a little. It wasn’t their place to question God.

“S-sorry…” Seo-Yeon whispered, wringing her hands under the table nervously.

Light observed their interaction, and smiled comfortingly. “It’s quite alright. You all are allowed to ask me to explain my actions. Avery, perhaps you forget that that is a privilege I grant you all above humans.”

Seo-Yeon beamed, immediately smitten by his words.

Avery nodded submissively. But they were thinking about why they were justified in their caution… They internally made a note to have a talk with Seo-Yeon later.

“Teru, I am curious, do you have a guess as to why?” Light asked.

A new waitress came to the table with their appetizers. She placed the food, bowed, asked if she could serve in any other way, and was dismissed.

“Yes, lord. I believe you are growing bored with your empire remaining static for so long. You wish to see what sort of challenges may be presented by attempting to expand your influence beyond the planet earth. Well… That is my guess, but I do not claim to truly understand your motivations, for they are beyond my comprehension,” replied Mikami.

The other two looked at Mikami with surprise, and a little fear. Suggesting that God would make sweeping decisions about the path of humanity based on boredom was… Well, if anyone else had said it, it would be decried as blasphemy.

Light had a faraway smile. “Don’t sell yourself short. You understand me better than anything else in the world. That’s exactly right.”

“Whaaaaat…?” Seo-Yeon whispered incredulously.

Light chuckled. “That’s right. That’s the honest truth. I’m bored and I want to see what happens.” He looked up through the large window in the ceiling, at the open sky. “I’m curious, too, to see what’s out there. I used to be human, as did the three of you. I do experience these sorts of emotions sometimes… As, I imagine, you do too.”

“Boredom is why all of this happened in the first place, after all…” he added cryptically, and not even Teru understood what he meant by that.

“But how… And what… Hm. I have many questions, God, as well as concerns – as I am sure you can imagine. But we will discuss them in time,” said Teru.

“Yes. For now, eat. It’s an activity we partake in rarely,” said Light.

He himself eagerly dug into the plate, satiating a clawing hunger that he couldn’t ignore for any longer. Truthfully, he’d wanted to devour the food as soon as it was placed in front of him, but for the sake of his image, he had restrained himself. He only experienced the weakness of his humanity for a couple of weeks out of the year, and the sensations became more intense as the time of Renewal approached.

This fluctuating state of humanity was not something the angels experienced. They felt no hunger, same as every other day of the year. But, just like Kira himself, they were capable of eating even if they had no need, and so they did.

They also did have a sense of taste. “Ohmygod that’s amazing,” mumbled Seo-Yeon through a bite.

Kira finished his plate before the angels were a quarter of the way through theirs. He looked only mildly satiated.

I kinda miss feeling hungry sometimes… thought Avery with some envy. Rather, I miss the feeling of filling yourself when you’re starving…

With his hunger slightly abated, Light leaned back in his chair and focused on a different bodily desire. Just like eating, he could have sex year-round whenever he wanted to. But it was only this week that he felt the distracting need. And it was a powerful, unrelenting need, as if his body knew it only had a week to pretend to be human and demanded that Light make the most of it.

“You down there. You keep taking my cock only halfway. Swallow the whole thing,” he commanded. He lifted the tablecloth to get a look at the boy, who was obediently serving God in the way he’d been ordered to.

The boy popped his mouth off to speak. “I’m sorry, oh great Kira-sama, I’ve never have done this before…” Distress was evident in his voice.

Light scowled. “You just need to move your head down until the entire thing is in your throat. It’s not that complicated.”

“B-But I- I’ll choke…”

Light almost felt annoyed, but instead, a strange smile crept across his face. “What do they teach you in school nowadays? You know that I’m the reason you’re alive, don’t you?”

The boy nodded, and had the good sense to grip the unpredictable creature’s cock with his hands, to keep it stimulated while his mouth wasn’t on it. “Yes, of course, I- I- We studied the scripture… If … no God, humanity would destroyed itself 300 years ago. Th-there was… ah, I forget the word… uhhmmm…. When people, uh, do a big fight…”

Light had guessed the boy’s native language based on his accent and grammar mistakes. So he helpfully supplied the word for ‘war’ in the boy’s native language, as well as in Japanese, to help him finish his sentence.

The waiter nodded with embarrassment. “Thank you. There was war. And many other terribles things.”

“So, I gave you your life. I have the right to take it away. Do you disagree?”

The boy shook his head in terror and tears pooled in his eyes.

“If you satisfy me, I’ll continue giving you the gift of life. So if you’re truly concerned about your life, then I suggest you stop thinking about your own comfort, and focus on my pleasure.”

As the boy laboriously forced himself to take the cock deeper into his throat, Light momentarily tapped into his emotion sense. He wasn’t really planning on killing the kid, but the threat was what created the emotion that he was craving.

Predictably, the boy was awash with existential fear. The terror of impending death. Helplessness, vulnerability. The feeling of being prey in the jaws of a predator. These feelings overwhelmed Light’s senses, and although he was only one person, his feelings were so intense that they matched the hum of adoration emanating from the rest of the room.

Light closed his eyes before they rolled back into his head. It was ecstasy. Fear was just as delectable as love. It electrified his senses and wrapped around his cock like a dozen tongues. When he felt fear and love together, they formed the complete picture of the ultimate drug, the one that he craved above all other emotions: worship. He felt infallible and powerful. The world was his and it existed to make him feel this way.

Sensing emotions was an effective shortcut to orgasm, and so really, Light was granting the boy mercy by doing this. Light gripped the boy’s hair and forced his cock a little further inside to fully bottom out in his tight throat. The kid was clearly inexperienced, as he had said, and his throat convulsed with the need to gag. This, too, only added to Light’s pleasure, and so, with his cock surrounded by a dubiously-willing throat twitching spastically around it, and overwhelmed by the feelings of terror, awe, obsession, and adoration that confirmed his Godhood, he climaxed. He held the boy’s head firm as he came down his throat, and the boy’s gagging increased in intensity. Without looking, he sensed that several people in the room were watching him cum, and he smelled arousal and envy coloring the more pious emotions. His cock twitched, squeezing out the last bits of seed, and Light opened his eyes and sighed down at the boy.

“Well done,” he said simply.

The boy had tears streaking down his face and saliva dripping down his chin. He curled into a ball on the floor to utter his gratitude.

“Kira-sama, God of life and death and everything in between, eternal and infallible savior and guardian of humanity. Thank you for allowing me to serve you. I did not deserve the opportunity to witness the miracle of your presence and I will remember it forever. Thank you for giving me the gift of life.” His voice shook, but he spoke rapidly with no grammatical mistakes, since this was a standard prayer that every child learned to recite in standard 20th century Japanese, on the off-chance that they would one day meet God in the flesh.

“You’re dismissed,” responded the object of the prayer.

Then he scrambled out from the table. He stood and blushed with embarrassment when he saw a hundred prying eyes upon him. He scurried off to the kitchen.

The second course was set upon the table. Light’s stomach growled and he began eating immediately.