Work Text:
The act is done. It is monsterous. It is divine.
The corpse foundation of a hundred widowed households laid about his laboratory, severed and discarded, flayed and frozen, he selects the most suitable candidates from the mass grave to be and brings them to his workspace.
Limbs are sawed away, only the odd arterial spray erupting from the thawing flesh, clean precise cuts that would make the most experienced surgeons swoon: connecting a hundred people who would have never met in one amalgamation which such precision it would make the most experienced surgeons recoil in horror.
The delicate sitching of arterties and ligaments and veins, arms aching from hefting organs into the cavityand delicately arranging them like the fine china - perfect and delicate and eager to impress - before close the chest with a great big X stitch. Keralis was particularly fond of them head he had selected - it needed only minimal work, a little extra flesh for the left side left battered, but it was beautiful, with long mauve hair and the prettiest most beautiful features he had ever seen. He spent an entire night selecting the skin to repair the face and eyes to delicately connect via the optic nerves and repairing the visage of his great creation.
Across his beautiful creation, purple stitching threads the harmonious necrosis of all the people that were into something that is - his creation, his masterpiece, his Xisuma.
The process by which the graveyard became corpse and by which corpse became man is not one to be committed to memory let alone writing. But it worked.
And in the latter hours of Keralis' 'blasphemous act', while his creation became onto itself, he took the moment for to indulge in the delight of personal attentions afforded elsewhere for a time. Days of tireless work wear away at his muscles, and in the dark of his bed chambers, his hand works the length of his cock slowly.
Savouring each little jolt flicking against the base of his spine, Keralis pumps his cock from the base to the plump head already dewy with pre. It had been so long, so absorbed in his work that he forgot his own needs, it is only natural.
Lightning crashes and drowns the gruff moan that flutters past his lip like a pebble pulled out by the surf. Keralis squirms against the bed, bucking his hips to meet his hand and hitching a moan against the roof of his mouth.
These hands that had bore creation now working himself over for simple human carnal satisfaction - Keralis chuckles to himself at the absurdity of it all. His thumb drags against the frenulum and a thumping pleasure like a new heart beating crests over and washes him away.
So many days with his hands covered in gloves and viscera, they almost don't feel like his own anymore. The tingling rush up and down his cock as it begs to be touched, new found sensitivity that electrifies in a way unfound. As the pleasure thrums like a electricity through a looping circuit, his mind wanders to thoughts of hands. What others hands on him might feel like - he had sorted through a cadaverific mess of them for his beauty, had felt each for it's texture and wear, it's size and thickness - and with the way pleasure is sparking through him it's easy to imagine. It's exciting to imagine different hands all over him. ]
His mind flows as the tempo of his stroking is caught in the stream, rushing down the river alongside it. The warmth of blood on his hands, the satisfaction of completing each procedure, the delicate maze of organs laid out like a mosaic, to each artery caressed and admired in his creation, all blend and meld into that cottonous warmth tingling up his back and across his shoulders.
Lightning splits the sky once more, Keralis bucks into his hand, and something is watching. It becomes more obvious as the lightning rescinds and darkness floods back into the room. Two eyes, dark and horrific, sickly beyond mortal manner, glow in the corner like two buoys in the pitch exapnse of the ocean's nocturnal horizon.
His creature: his Xisuma was watching.
He jumps a touch, as one might do when a voyeur is unsuspectingly observing them. But any terror flickers out like an open flame in this storm. Keralis' hand doesn't leave his cock nor cover himself.
How long had he been - regardless it excites him.
Lightning crashes again and illuminates the beautiful creature standing tall - oh so very tall - looking at him with a blank curiosity of a thing just created with so many questions before it even knows what a question is. He is truly beautiful - lithe and athletic, long hair brushed free of any of it's nettled past, politely looming with that beautiful face focused on his hand working himself over.
Xisuma looks at him with eyes that should disturb and repulse and harrow the very essence of man's soul... but Keralis does not turn away from his creation. Despite the way his heart stops when the dark eyes look at him from the corner of the room, like shadows swallowing shadows, he remains transfixed by the haunting beauty.
"Oh shashwammy, you are beautiful," he mutters, a moan threatening the surety of his words like a boulder against the back of his teeth. It tilts it's head - and it dawns on Keralis it has never heard words before, that it's first experience of language will be that he is loved: that in the first moment of it's being after seeking out his creator, the universe said I love you bececause you are love.
Blinking slowly, Xisuma moves out of the dark corner warmed by the words it can't quite understand but more so the internation and effervescent joy of his voice that registers on a instinctual level. Perhaps the corpse mass remembers, perhaps some of him yearns for those words it did not recieve in life.
It stumbles a touch and Keralis reaches out to catch it. It's weight is more that he expects, he half falls onto him atop the bed. But slowly, Keralis rises up and sits on the edge of the bed, his cock still stiff between his thighs, with Xisuma looming over him.
His eyes cast down and… Oh he picked such a pretty cock for his creature.
Keralis giggles, how can he not with how the once dead flesh warms to his touch, and how the creature stares down at it's midly dishelved creature with a curious glint.
"Sweetface… my beautiful creation…" Keralis' words fizzle into a soft gruff whine as Xisuma's hand clumsily closes around his cock. Shivers roll through his shoulders as it mimics the simple act, and the reaction pleases something in Xisuma. The first smile rises across it's face like the rising sun, dawn made manifest.
The intensity is staggering, not because of it's tempo or grip but rather off of the delicate hand he had repaired and tenderly attached to the cadaver's arm like placing a ring on a beloved's fingers, was now moving and now belonged to a living creature.
His face presses against his chest, arms wrapping around the creature's waist. The distant echo of his heart beating graces his ears and something swells within Keralis.
He looks up at the creature stroking his cock, the man quietly focused and curious in every facet of him in this effortlessly sublime manner, and Keralis cannot help but let the biggest smile paint his face, and the most joyous blissful noises flutter out.
Xisuma's face twitches, muscles stretching and working for the first time again, and he smiles like a mirror of Keralis.
"Good boy, my good boy shashwammy~"
Keralis beams, voice floating through the storm in a way that refuses to bow to the thunderous might. He gently traces a hand down the curve of his hip, towards the creature's cock.
What a cruel creator he would be if he did not gift onto his creation the joys of first pleasure's after such curious explorations. A positive feedback act of sorts. One he is intent to become briefly lost in as the storm insulates the moment.