Work Text:
gather around the fire,
real late in the evening
a good lord speaks,
through a preachers screaming
You had heard of the herald. Everyone had heard of the herald by now, about his mystical commune where one could be free of all life’s sorrows, where there was no pain or suffering, no grey or smog. No shimmer or crime. A utopia, he changed people fundamentally. They came in and never left, unless it was to spread the good word. You kicked the body at your feet, wiping the sweat off your brow.
White robes and that fucking freaky face. You couldn’t stand it, although you couldn’t really stand much of anything. You’d been picking off the missionaries from the commune when you’d see them wander about the street, walk boldly up behind them and axe them where they stood. Sometimes you’d hear a second voice when they spoke at you with their face split open from the impact, so you’d swing harder. Maybe you were crazy. It wasn’t normal to kill people, even in Zaun. It was expected to die, kill if you were in danger or ordered too, but not just because you wanted. Even here, in this diseased hole of drugs and death, you were looked down upon for the needs out of your control.
Maybe that’s why you were so angry at the herald, a man you had never met. From what you had heard the herald treated everyone equally, kindly and with grace. Healed them only if they asked for it, never imposing a thing on anyone who didn’t want it. Not like you, who forced your own red and angry god upon anyone and everyone when you felt so inclined to. Would the herald greet you so sweetly? hold your face in his hands and wipe away all wrong you’ve done? even if you confessed to him, you felt as if it was right? good? kind?
Would he understand? Wash your feet, kiss your eyes and announce you to be his among the others? You doubted it, you knew you had no detrimental ailments, you’d refuse healing, and be refused yourself from the commune to protect the others. He most likely already knew it was you, striking down his followers. Could a man, borderline a god, feel hatred and contempt for one such as yourself? if he could, you hoped he would come see you personally one day, you think you would like to see if his insides were purple too.
You kicked the body again, displeased when there was no wheeze upon death. None of them ever did. You weren’t sure they even breathed. The thoughts of if they were still man or not flitted away like anxious butterflies as you made your way down the street, washing away by the rain. You weren’t sure when it had began to rain, but it had, leaking the blood off your hands and knees and mouth as you looked up to the sky, seeing no clouds, just the smog hovering above the buildings.
Upon arriving at the front door of your small home, you stilled. The air felt different, now. Your hand stilled a moment before grabbing the doorknob, raising your axe with one hand as you swung the door open, ready to strike whoever was on the other end. Your axe hit air, as the intruder had made themself comfortable on your carpet, you felt slight embarrassment at the lack of a sofa. The robed man looking softly up at you before speaking.
“If you would wait a moment before killing me, that would be quite nice.” the man spoke, his voice let you recognise him. He was one of Silco’s ex employees, you hummed in response, placing your axe by the door and noting that given by the distinct lack of the tattoo over the man’s eye, that the herald seemingly could erase teenage mistakes along with illness. He nodded a thank you at your agreement, Standing up as he smiled kindly. “The herald would like to meet you.”
Ah. Perhaps you were magic too, with how you thought this into existence. You stilled for a moment, shifting your gaze to be at the clock. The man moved to be in the way of your gaze, cocking his head. “We could go now, if that pleases you.” It really didn’t, but you doubted you could be in your home right now, knowing that someone had managed to get in. So you nodded, opening the door to signal the man to lead the way.
You arrived at the commune as the stars twinkled their brightest, it seemed the herald could cleanse light pollution now too. You chuckled to yourself as you were lead to a garden of sorts, would you die here? No. The herald wasnt a murderer. Though it seemed he had no hesitation of personally inviting one. You were told to sit as the herald would be with you soon, to make yourself at home.
So you did, kicking your shoes off and taking your hair out of the hat it was piled up inside. Stretching out across the bench as you counted stars above you. It couldn’t have been even 10 minutes before the man of the hour was before you. He was definitely much freakier looking in person than what you had been described, he looked like the rot of shimmer had grown a (rather handsome) head that refused haircuts. You snickered to yourself with that thought as he sat on the bench across from you.
“It’s very nice to meet you” He began, smiling. Gods, this cult and their smiling. It didn’t belong here, in Zaun. “Am i correct in my belief it is you, who is murdering my community?” His accent was smooth and thick, lilting at certain words that hinted amusement. He was as calm as you had expected, chin resting on a hand. God, he was basically naked.
“Yeah.” was all you managed to say, fiddling with the ring on your index finger.
“Ah.” he nodded. “May i ask, why?”
you shrugged. looking off to one side and ripping the leaf off the plant that brushed against your shoulder. The herald raised his eyebrows and nodded, brown hair just perfectly around his face wirh the disturbance. “Listen, herald-“ you began, and he cut you off.
“Viktor.” a simple response. You needed no prompting to understand what he meant.
“Viktor.” you affirmed. “If you’re here to ask me to not kill your…followers,” you paused at that description, it felt fundamentally wrong, in a way you couldn’t place. “Maybe stop sending them around where i live constantly. They’re fucking freaky.” he laughed at the description, waving his hand.
“I understand, you have an affliction, it’s not something you can control.” His eyes shifted hues ever so subtly, the longer you looked in them the harder it felt to pull away. It made you feel queasy, you squeezed your eyes shut and willed the feeling away. You shook your head, no. It was not an affliction. There was nothing wrong with you.
When you opened your eyes again, Viktor’s expression read as surprised, but only for a moment, as the emotion fell off his face and only the holy stillness remained. He minutely nodded, a declaration of acceptance non verbally passed from him to you. You sent it back, standing up to leave. There was nothing else to discuss, to you atleast.
“Wait.” A command, not a request. You felt compelled to comply. You seated yourself again, fingers curling around where your axe would normally sit. You felt uncomfortably weak without it. You weren’t even sure why you hadn’t brung it. You knew he wouldn’t have wanted it there, but when did you ever care what people wanted? His eyes appraised you, a glimmer in them not previously present. You swallowed thickly as placed both hands on his knees, the digits unnatural in the way a sculpture looks if it cools and sets again after being melted slightly.
“You’re stained with blood, and i mean that literally, i’m not speaking of your heart.” He chuckled at his own joke, and you glanced at a nearby puddle to confirm this, the rain that was still pattering on the two of you had yet to fully rinse away the blood like you had believed. Rather it seemed never ending, dripping down your chin and neck. “Do you wish to wash up?” the tone in his voice felt specifically luring. A promise of something if you accepted. You shook your head. Viktor exhaled. Disappointment crossing his features for a moment.
He stood up, taking the small few steps to land in front of you and stayed there. Viktor looked even more ethereal than you could have ever assumed in this light, the soft moon caressing his features and leaving him looking painted. He was beautiful, frankly. “Thank you.” he murmured. Ah, so you had said that last part aloud.
His fingers gripped your chin, tilting your head left to right, smearing blood along his fingers. “I could say the same to you.” You gulped. Desire was not an emotion you felt often, usually reserved for people in bars you found dressed scantily, you killed these people usually. Sex felt less intimate. But Viktor felt untouchable in that way, invulnerable. Using such a human name for a thing so above that felt intimate too, you assumed it’s what he asked everyone to call him but in this moment it was yours alone to use, in the silence around you. “Viktor.”
He smiled, you weren’t sure what about, but he slipped his hand into the one on your lap and pulled you up. Viktor lead you to what you assumed his residence would be, something strange and organic looking. He ventured inside with an instruction to wait there. You watched his back as he left, imagining prying the purple flesh off the bone and making yourself a home in there, nestled beside his heart.
When he returned he held something akin to a shoebox, taking your hand again Viktor lead you to the expanse of mud and grass behind the commune. He sat you down and placed the shoebox beside you, leaning in to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “You look quite wonderful in this light, dare i say the blood adds to your appeal?” Viktor whispered, chuckling, though there was no need to.
“I could kill you.” you swallowed thickly. “I’d like to.” It felt good to say something so true, you shifted to place your hands delicately around his neck, tracing the purple and gold. “Strangle you until there was no oxygen in your brain.” He smiled.
“I have no doubt, dearest.” Your hands only left his neck once he placed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, inviting you to something more if only you allow him. He hummed as you threaded your hands in his hair, gently untangling them as he placed the box onto your lap.
“What’s this?”
“A proposition.” A strange description, you expected many things, A weapon of some sort to kill him or yourself with, money, one of those robes, really anything except what it was. And, that appeared to be a harness. It was constructed of leather, fastened together with buckles an O-ring in the middle and beside it was a velvet drawstring sack. You quirked a brow, glancing up at Viktor for explanation. He shrugged gently, pulling the drawstring sack open as he began to explain.
“I’ve been watching you for a while.”
Nimble fingers pried the pucker of the fabric open. “You’re lonely.” A pause, eyes glimmering even as raindrops clouded your vision, ones that bore into your own eyes like a flame burning a hole through parchment. “And i figured this would entice you more anything else i could have made.” He slid out a sizeable smooth…cylinder? stretched sphere? it was vaguely phallic. Viktor flicked one end of it, and the tip of it bounced. You still weren’t quite sure of what either object was, until Viktor slid the upwards curved smoothness into the leather harness. Ah.
Your ears flushed red, you had seen the internal organs of strangers and plucked eyes out of skulls that you rolled between your teeth until they popped like pregnant zits, and yet the offer of a strap on had you meek. “Though I believe you’d prefer to use it on me, i have no issue with a different option.” He offered nonchalantly, caressing your cheek. It took no brain power to understood the implication here, and although it hadn’t been what you had expected, it certainly didn’t change the pooling of warmth in your gut as Viktor slipped a hand down your stomach.
He fiddled with your belt idly, using the time to press wet kisses down your jaw, pulling the belt out of the loops completely at the moment he nipped you. You jumped, and he moved backwards to allow you the space you needed to pull your pants down, the box and it’s contents currently discarded as Viktor’s thin purple hands peeled your soaked shirt off of your body. He hummed as he licked a singular steam of blood off your chest, the rain keeping it moist.
Viktor gently worked your legs apart, trailing kisses from the centre of your chest back up your neck to suckle bruises as purple as his flesh. When he finally brushed your clip your eyes snapped shut and you felt the buzzing of electricity behind them, an involuntary jolt from hips into his hand. Viktor hummed, cradling your head with one hand against his chest to which he’s press infrequent kisses too. You weren’t sure now long you stayed like that, with Viktor gently working your clit with this dumb and dipping two fingers into your dripping centre. But you knew when he stopped, just as you felt yourself come closer to that sweetness, toes beginning to clench and back beginning to arch was when he pulled away and licked his fingers clean. It took you a moment to recover, the humidity not doing you any favours, but once you did you followed his hands with your eyes as he disrobed.
Viktor dragged the box back over, placing it in your lap as he leaned his head on your shoulder. “Well?” It was fascinating to you, how despite having brought you to near orgasm, his voice remained perfectly calm with no indicator of arousal. You pulled the harness with the insert attached out of the box, staggering to stand upright as you slipped it on, huffing as adjusting the buckles. Viktor chuckled, gentle nudging the harness to the side as he used to fingers to gather some of the oozing slick from your hole, spreading it along the attachments length to lubricate it. The scene sent a jolt down to your clit, he was right in his assumption you’d like this.
You looked down and asked if Viktor needed to prepare himself, to which he raised an eyebrow up at you. “I assumed you prefer if i didn’t, that the pain on my face would do it for you. Although i did slightly beforehand, just so you could still enter me.” And while you couldn’t deny that mental image did turn you on, the entire description sounded much more vulgar than it really was when coming from his mouth. He leaned in to nip your inner thigh.
It only took you one go to slide in, your own wetness and his slight preparation allowing for an entrance that had the perfect amount of give and blood. Blood that was trickling down his ass as you settled yourself into him, taking a few moments to adjust to the pressure against your clit from the leather, and a strange feeling of being surrounded by tightness. Although, a magic strap on seemed like a trivial thing to be concerned by at this moment. So you slid out a few inches, just to thrust back in. Viktor made a sweet gasp, threading his fingers into the back of your hair and yanking it. It only took a few weak thrusts before Viktor gripped your throat to pull your face closer, hissing a low “fuck me like you mean it.” in your ear.
So you did, you placed your hands on the back of his thighs and slammed into him, allowing yourself to be harder each time, your head lolling to each side as the thrusts sent sharp jolts of pleasure through you. You panted and whined with each slap of flesh, and moaned when he tightened around the strap, as though you could feel it. He reached out to cup your face, and told you to touch his cock. So you did, He spoke in demands and you obeyed with no dispute. Squeezing the base with your fist before dragging it up along his dick, it was thick and long, and what once might’ve been a flesh tone with a slightly tanned tip was now purple, swollen with need and dripping pre cum. He seemed pleased, moans getting higher in pitch and volume as you find the spot that made his back arch and pounded it, “Wonderful, darling.” Viktor drawled.
You felt your orgasm was fast approaching, which you communicated to him. Viktor yanked your head to his and pressed your forehead against his, “You may, but you cannot stop until I say too.” Each word honeyed in his accent sent an additional zap through you, leaving you nodding and babbling acknowledgments as you fucked him through your orgasm. Viktor sucked his teeth, demanding that you fuck him faster,harder, to milk his cock and leave marks on his neck. And although the vulgarity had you flushed, you followed each order like the law, overstimulation ebbing against your brains ability to listen to anything else at all.
With Viktor finally came, his cock was rigid and somehow impossibly more purple. You had managed to finish him with a white a few sloppy, hard and deep thrust:, the last of which caused him to curse in a language you’ve never heard before. He whipped his head back and slammed it against the dirt, his whole body trembling as you wrung ropes of cum out of him. Once he finished, and the trembling subsided, he laid there motionless. Nothing but the sound of your panting as you shimmied out of the harness to fill air.
Viktor sat up, running his fingers through your hair and tearing at the knots. The cum trickled down his chest and stomach,pooling in the grass beneath him. He looked even more angelic now, a post orgasm glow and rain drops pouring down his face. He laced his fingers with yours,”You’re muddy and wet,” Viktor stated, as though he wasnt the one to blame. “Stay the night.”
You stilled at the request, inhaling for a moment before beginning to rapidly get dressed. You couldn’t stay here, and you shouldn’t have come. You cursed as your shoes squelched with mud, but continued speed walking down back to where you came. Viktor pleaded with you, grasping your shoulders from behind, placing a thin hand around neck and squeezing, gently cupping your face with sweet nothings in your ear and trying to drag you back by your hair. It was really nothing, he was weak, and you overpowered him. You pushed him to the ground, gripping and lifting a shoddily constructed wooden chair by the back. You swung it at his head, Viktor’s face flashing with surprise for a split second before spreading acceptance. He sighed, looking up at you from where he was on the ground now. “I forgive you.” He drawled, and you swung the chair over his abdomen. It splintered off and he coughed roughly, but he still did not move. It wasn’t as satisfying as you had imagined it would be. Glancing up, you noticed the rain had stopped.
You forced yourself to drop the chair beside him, swiping a piece of cut orange from the outdoors table besides you two and biting into its sweet flesh as you made your way out of the commune. His followers poked their heads out, all speaking in once voice, Viktor’s voice, that bounced around your skull and turned the citric acid sour in your mouth. “Come back soon, I forgive you.” You threw the orange on the ground, crossing the entryway. You spared no glances back to the commune even when your spine tingled with Viktor’s stare. You laughed to yourself, there was no use locking your doors tonight. There wasn’t even any use in going home, not when you knew now that he watched you. There was no privacy, no secrets you kept to your heart, he knew you now.
You headed home anyway, you needed a drink and to get changed out of your disgusting mud soaked clothes. The mud by now had dried and left the clay like texture rubbing against you. It left you cringing. You stripped the first chance you had, scrubbing the mud and blood off your skin and collapsing atop your bed nude. You wanted to give him something worth watching, after all.