“Please defile me,” groaned Clor, the god of cleanliness. Dation, the god of filth and dirt shrieked his joy into the howling wind.
“How can I when you’re already such a dirty, dirty god?” Dation stroked a finger down Clor’s unblemished cheek.
“Mop me harder.” Clor’s voice was rich with wanting. “Scrub all my nether regions.”
“With extra grease…”
“Elbow grease,” Clor added with a moan. “Get me all slick and dirty with your throbbing wand of filth. I want to be filled with your spirit of the dumpster.”
Dation moaned. “You would take my grey water? My filth and darkness? You would -”
“I would take it all and - I know your secret, Dation. I know your soul. I know your deepest depths. You want it. You want what only I can give you. Make me dirty,” Clor moaned into Dation’s ear, his breath hot on the god of filth’s skin.
“Yes,” Dation sighed, voice rough with wanting. “I will make you dirty and you, you -”
“I will make you clean.”