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Lords of the Fallen commission for @umbral-fantome with their oc and Tancred. Smutty porn abound.

Thanks for commissioning me and I hope you enjoy it!

~O~

The path to the tower was silent.

There were all but the deft sounds and rhythmic thumping of the lost and forsaken souls in their cages. They were singing their pitiful mewlings to Orius, begging so pitifully for His mercy. But there was to be none here. There never was.

Victarion rubbed his thighs once as he straightened, ran a hand through his hair. He felt the air taste of blood, sticking to his tongue, making his thoughts fade a little.

Oh yes. It had happened here, recently. Another body broken. He heard the squishing of flesh beneath his heels.

Yes, they loved their blood. Their flesh. Their offerings and violent benedictions while they would sooner turn their back on their faithful. The scent was heavy in his nose, stinging every nerve in fire.

It made him smile a little.

"Orius, holy Orius..."

"Please, save us. Have mercy..."

Victarion could hear something in the adjacent cell nearby; an old man, a frail thing of flesh and bone writhing on the floor in his own piss and shit.

Pity.

He thought of ways he could do anything, but it would all end in death. They were lost, too far gone.

He made his way down deep into the tower, the smells of blood and metal filling his senses, making his jaw ache and his mouth fill. He heard the laughter below, smelled the scent of fire crackling over damp flesh. Every so often, that thing inside of him scratched the sides of his skull, drawn to blood. But he willed it down as he searched for him.

Tancred had begun to play again. Victarion had seen it before when he had passed the great man; his yearnings and appetites made real with his monstrous hands and nightmarish delights. He liked to play, but fortunately, so did Victarion at times.

His muscles rolled. This was his chance.

Sticky noises, like flesh ripping from brutish hands. Victarion knew those noises well. Tancred was playing again.

The moment he was near the chamber, Tancred's massive frame engulfed the doorway, body soaked in blood and breathless snarls leaving him. He was surging with wrath and righteous fury. He could see it then; someone had angered him, his mind already fractured by the paranoia induced by his brother.

He had fallen silent then and Tancred voice shuddered when he spoke. "YOU."

He seized him then by his cloak and Victarion was pulled into the chamber, nearly slipping on the gore of what was once a lamp bearer. He saw the glowing blue, the shimmering fire dancing over the broken glass. The poor sod. He probably didn't see it coming. Tancred, for all his strength, could startle anyone, really.

It made Victarion's heart race.

"O holy Orius, rebuke me not in your anger, nor discipline me in your wrath. For your arrows have sunk into me, and your hand has come down on me."

Prayers.

They prayed for him? Or for the man who would become ruin itself? But would Orius listen, or dance in his own blood again in sanguine delights?

His brother was silent.

Tancred's hands slipping through the gore, pushing his fingers into his crushed windpipe to save himself from that meddlesome blasphemer. He was an abomination of flesh and gold, a testament for all things impure in the church.

[The same could be said of you.]

Tancred's mind raced, blood surging. That lamp bearer had been quick to die, left his thighs aching, trembling. He saw the pretty, scarred thing in his presence, saw him on top of him, felt his mind clench along with his loins. He could picture it then, Victarion's hands over his throat, pushing himself deep into that dark place...

He prayed with more conviction in his mind as the hot, sticky blood pasted on his face drove his mind mad with lust. It had been worse these days; the cravings and the need to ruin, to fuck and rut in the Old Ways. He remembered them well from the circus.

Animals. All of them.

Silver armor. That meddlesome man's armor was easy to spot as he pulled him into the chamber by that ominous black cloak that stole the shadows away from the rest of the dark. Victarion was usually swift. Something else was on his mind today. And something else was on Tancred's mind.

That smile on Victarion's face; trimmed beard so clean and pretty. He began to wonder what it was like to kiss those lips -

[Bite them off.]

Tancred shook his head with a breathless snarl, struggled with himself.

"Help me to firmly resolve not to commit them again. Mother of my Redeemer, mirror of innocence and sanctity, and refuge of penitent sinners, intercede for me through the Passion of Your Light, that I may obtain the grace to make a good confession."

The prayer made Victarion frown deeply.

Devotion to Judge Cleric.

He had to remember his place. His creed. His faith.

Every day that had passed, Victarion showed his pretty face; his mask was slipping. He knew what he was. He knew what thing lurked beneath that veil of flesh.

And Reinhold was silent the entire time.

He still saw that face; that lipless demonic face grinning at him from his dreams, those claws and teeth, those sharp horns perfectly curved and that leathery skin crackling with fire from the Rhogar...

"Foolish brat," he rasped, tone chilling, "To dare step foot in this most sacred house!"

"Sacred house," Victarion sneered at that. The sharpness in his tone smoothed, like a knife to a whetstone. "A place Orius abandons all his most faithful."

Tancred felt hot again, his blood bubbling and he felt Reinhold's coldness in his brain, attempting to dig and take over. No. This was not for Reinhold and Tancred would show him that.

Something tickled the side of his neck. He felt the bristling in his blood, something hot running through his thighs. He saw a flash of the Rhogar creature Victarion was, housed in that man's flesh. His tainted soul felt it call to him.

Intrusive thoughts.

The way it was kneeling behind him, lipless mouth filled with saliva and fire, dripping down his naked back, the feel of his body against his, searing that flesh, silencing Reinhold for once as he took every strong thrust of -

Tancred snarled thickly, shaking his head as he dove for the intruder. Those fantasies were a despicable sin, brought on by his own sickness. He would not succumb to them.

[I want to succumb.]

[To be handled the way I need.]

He winked at him.

Tancred huffed with a swell of his chest when he caught that little wink on Victarion's face as he nearly took his head off with his weapon.

The smells of blood stuck to his throat, seared his lungs as Victarion caught the end of his ankle, tripping him almost entirely.

"Foolish abomination!" he bellowed, enraged by the game. "Take up your weapon! Now!"

Victarion let out a breathless laugh in response.

This must be just another dream, Tancred wondered. There was no way the man was there, laughing and teasing him with every sensation of his armor as it rubbed against his in their dance.

He saw a flash behind his eyes, felt Reinhold whisper.

"He's like the rest of them, isn't he?" he crooned. "A monster to use you. To make you fall to your sinful appetites."

"'My grace is all you need, for my power is the greatest when you are weak'." Tancred started to pray under his breath, grunting with effort as the blood and guts beneath his feet nearly swayed him.

Victarion seemed to like it; the fight, the raw physicality of it all. Tancred enjoyed this.

Did he misinterpret what he needed? Would he mock him?

[Let him fuck you. Let Orius fuck you.]

The thoughts were cut short the moment Tancred felt himself bodily thrown to the ground, flat on his face. He felt the slippery guts in his hands as he clawed his way to his knees, gasped when Victarion took his throat in hand, pinned him flat to his back. The wind was knocked out of him and Tancred looked up, meeting the single, stormy blue eye of the man who had enraptured him, stirred his darkest sins.

Tancred was rendered silent for the longest time. His temptations rolled through his veins, scorched the surface of his flesh. Victarion was still, watching him silently, impassively for several long, tense moments.

Then, he spoke and his voice carried a whisper that drifted across Tancred's brain, seared his nerves.

"I found you." he sighed, so sweetly.

Tancred tasted blood on his lips, the smells and the way it stuck to their bodies overwhelmed his senses, left him dizzy.

His hands were shaking to grab him by the throat, shove him from his body. But his warmth, his hungers...he was barely held back by a thread.

He didn't know what had come next, except that he grabbed Victarion's wrists, but was stopped as the other man seemed intent on studying his hands, heavily scarred and sticky with the flesh of his victim.

Victarion was equally the same; his face was clouded, the hunger. The wretched hunger setting in.

"Heh," Victarion smirked a little, licked his lips and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. "Nice hit."

Tancred's mind had splintered. He didn't even realize he'd hit him across the face.

"You want to taste?" Victarion husked, looked down at him.

[He is real.]

[Don't you want him to save you?]

His voice. That throaty rumbling of that thing. Tancred's blood ran hot and he sat up abruptly, seized his neck with one thick hand, drawing a sharp grunt from Victarion's lips. But it smoothed out only a moment, his hands reaching for his helmet.

"No." Tancred snarled. "You don't get to look at this face."

"Not even a peek?" Victarion hummed.

He could see that Tancred bled resolve.

That mouth. He could quiet the impetuous brat.

[Or maybe he can quiet you.]

He let him lift his helm only a little to brush that blood-soaked mouth over his rough, grizzled lips and in that moment, all manner of sin took hold of his thoughts.

Victarion's throaty laugh filled the chamber. Something else changed in the air as he bit his lip, sucked the blood from it. The sigh that left his lips wasn't his. As soon as he felt Victarion's mouth, he was finished.

His great frame trembled, Reinhold's moans vibrant in his thoughts.

Oh, he was silent for once. He was enjoying this.

Silence, at last.

Victarion's hands were at his stubbled face. The look he gave him swallowed Tancred's thoughts deep into hunger, appetite. He could feel himself growing hard and strong against his belly, felt the pretty young thing above him roll his hips.

"How long have I admired you..." Victarion sighed, rubbing his hands over his helm, looking into those eyes bleeding resolve. "My brute of a man. My dear Tancred so exquisitely broken..."

It was true, then. He was broken. After the loss of the church, what else did he have? He had nothing but this man who had come to him. Passed him and filled his head with such thoughts of sin.

"I have fallen..." Tancred moaned, after a moment. He mourned it all; his loss of purity, his loss of conviction. His hands clutched Victarion's against his head. "I have lost. I feel so...disgusting."

"You are not." Victarion hummed, tilting his head and smiling, his pretty, clean-trimmed face so bright in his eyes. "Be beautiful then, now. I will comfort you."

Sin.

Yes.

"Do you want it?"

For once, Tancred felt his body relaxing as Victarion's hands were at his collar, lifting him to his knees. Even though he towered over Victarion, Tancred felt so small in his presence. The way his hands touched that raven hair on his head, felt the heat of that creature residing within him.

He wanted it.

He would spoil himself on that Rhogar flesh.

"Yes..."

It confirmed it all. What he needed. What he desperately wanted for so long. He was tired of denying it to himself and Victarion was there for him.

"Show me the real you, then." he grunted, body shaking.

"That's what you want?" Victarion's voice hummed with surprise, but thinly veiled lust.

"Yes." Tancred attempted to command it of him, but his force fell so very short.

Victarion smiled now, that single eye darkening. He backed away, slowly undoing his brilliant silver armor and letting it clatter to the floor. His flesh, scarred and chest peppered with black hair rippled with raw muscle and he couldn't help but clench them, let Tancred get a lovely view of what he was soon to have.

It teased his intrigue and Tancred watched as his flesh melted away in smoke and fire. He saw the true face of the Rhogar Lord that towered over him, large horns curled across that terrible skull.

His flesh was blackened, leathery and scarred, lipless maw filled with razor teeth. Yellow, glowing veins had stretched all over his skin and his thighs rippled with strength to wrap around his waist and -

Tancred gasped, awestruck as he felt his splintered mind finally break at the sight of something so frightening.

So beautiful.

Victarion's jaws clicked, his thoughts filling Tancred's in a rush of fire and need. [Orius abandoned you. But I can't.]

His clawed reached down, cupped the Master of Castigations' head, long tongue licking his throat, seeking that mouth beneath that helmet. Tancred accepted it. He wanted it. To be ruined so wonderfully and blissfully by this being who adored him.

[How can I abandon you?] Victarion sighed, throaty and raw.

The smell of blood and sulfur filled his brain, scorched every pure thought left away. Victarion was monstrous, but so very gentle, even in this form as he picked up Tancred in his claws, turned him to kneel.

Claws undid the armor straps of his back, his gloves. Tancred's mind vanished in the wake of his dream, reduced to this.

Victarion remembered his word. He did not touch his helmet.

Reinhold chanted "yes, yes," over in his head, but it eventually faded when Victarion's tongue circled his throat, caressed his broken flesh.

[Beautiful...] the Rhogar husked. [I will give this world's highest pleasure to you.]

Tancred clenched his fists tight, feeling that tongue stroke down his back, tease every muscle along his sides and thighs. It went further toward that tight pucker, slipped inside and he groaned deeply, feeling that intense fire overwhelming him. Victarion was growling thickly, caressing, slipping inside of him, twisting and preparing him for what was to come.

Orius, forgive him. He needed it.

[That's so good.]

[Yes, so good.]

The blood, sticky on his body warmed him as much as the Rhogar Lord's searing flesh. He spent quite a bit of time torturing him, twisting inside of him before he moved over him, thighs pressing against his backside.

"Now!" Tancred roared.

Shameful to beg in such a position.

But Victarion wasted no time. And he felt that hard member press against him, felt the saliva drip from those frightening jaws onto his shoulders. That stretch, that deep pooling heat that twisted inside of him ignited and Tancred let out a snarl he did not recognize.

Victarion groaned, a deep animal sound and his claws came down on either side of Tancred's head. He seemed intent on taking his time, but Tancred would not wait. He thrust himself back, forcing the rest of him inside and Victarion let out a fierce snarl and began to thrust.

Those claws clutched his ribs, held him down as his body was screaming from every rough thrust of the Rhogar Lord behind him. Sharp pleasure shot straight from the base of his spine to the nape of his neck and Tancred's noises were drowned out by the fierce, powerful grunts of effort behind him.

Senseless words left him, broken sounds of pleasure and madness he did not recognize. That strong, rigid cock pounded deep inside, filling him so wonderfully he never wanted anything else again.

[Finally...] a whisper came from somewhere in the cloud of his hungers. [Yes, finally.]

Where had that come from? Oh, he didn't care. Not when that scorching leathery body pressed against his back, fucked him so deeply.

He was close. He felt his come boiling deep inside. He just needed a little more.

[Touch.] Victarion commanded it.

Touch?

Oh yes.

Touch.

Claws took Tancred's wrist, guided it between his own legs to his hardened cock. He understood and grasped himself, stroking hard enough while Victarion gave him everything. Long ago, he would have spilled his seed in the confines of his own room. But here, he would see it all.

Victarion soothed him with his tongue around his neck, caressed and the scorching heat of his breath was a comfort amongst the sticky mess of blood and sweat.

So much.

Pathetic.

He was then spiraling, stiffening, every muscle clenching tight as he finally gave in. The pathetic choke, the low sob that left his lips, the heat of his seed spilling into his palm. He roared out and Victarion gave a triumphant grunt, almost human and less Rhogar as he pounded him through it, let him have that moment for as long as it lasted.

Tancred laid there, body shaking, aching and sticky from the mess they had made of their fight and themselves. Such a beautiful sight seeing him finally free of his doubts and fears.

Victarion shifted, the cracking of bones and wanted to comfort him with his soft, human flesh against his. He gave a kiss to the back of his shoulders. He was gentle, rolling him onto his back and he gasped beneath his helmet, chest heaving as the smaller man moved on top of him, rubbed his chest with two hands.

Without his eyepatch, Tancred would see the crystal in his eye. He remembered it; he followed Adyr, his followers whom he claimed abandoned by Orius.

Tancred would have normally killed a traitor of the church, but he was rendered silent, watching him gently caress his softened cock with his hands. He felt sensitive, but the muscular body beneath him was doing its work.

Still, he could ask.

"How do you feel?" Victarion asked. "It's normally intense after the first time in that form."

Tancred huffed, chest swelling. "You assume it's my first time?"

Victarion chuckled a little. He liked when Tancred reached up to run his hand over his chest, tease the hair there.

"No, I would never insult you like that." he said, affectionate. "A man like you? I'm certain most covet such a body."

"You would assume wrong."

Victarion sighed, made a face, but didn't tease him further. He would not spoil this moment.

Tancred looked down and seemed to notice the other man had grown hard against him and he rather liked the feeling of his gentle swaying against his own member. The feeling of closeness, that flesh. He had never known a touch like this in so long.

Victarion raised an eyebrow, amused. He worked on straddling him, staying at a suitable distance as not to take him into himself. He was rather large, after all. It would require a little stroking on his part, prepare himself. But he could handle it.

"It's my turn." he hummed.

Tancred was clearly more than ready to retort, flip him over and grant him the same treatment as he did. But it died the moment he felt himself enveloped by that warmth of his backside.

He grunted thickly, trying to keep his hips still as that exquisite tightness nearly drove him mad. He watched Victarion's face contort in pleasure, watched his eyes close and his head lean back. He took a low, deep breath and the smile.

Tancred watched him reach back, display his body for him and he knew he was trying to torment him. It was such a blissful feeling; so full and warm that he could not help but grab his waist, hold him down.

Victarion loved it. He wanted to remain in control, but he could not show his breaking resolve. It was about pleasing them both.

Once he bottomed out, he took a moment, released the breath he'd been holding and balanced himself on Tancred's chest, marveling every scar and wound he'd endured.

"It feels so good..." Tancred gasped out.

Victarion chuckled softly, pleased to see how much he'd worked him up again. Maybe a bit too much. A man like him? He'd gone so long without being pleasured he was surely more pent up than he thought.

"You feel good too." he moaned, letting him adjust.

"I can't move my legs," Tancred mumbled.

"You don't have to." Victarion assured him, slowly rising off of him, clenching a little and drawing a curse from his throat. "Let me take care of you."

Tancred's body rolled beneath him, breathless behind his helmet. Victarion set a slow pace, let him take his great hands against his waist as he began to build up speed on top of him.

"Y-Yes!" Tancred snarled thickly, "Show me."

A broken sob beneath his helmet. Was he hurt?

Or just overwhelmed by what was happening between them?

"Are you alright?" Victarion husked, as he rode him.

"I'm fine..." Tancred moaned, "Keep going!"

Even with his helmet on, he was stunning; he was straining beneath him, the groan he released long, deep and strained.

"Yes," Victarion took himself in hand, urging him on. He strained for his own release and Tancred seemed to like that; he heard the faintest laugh, the dry raspy noise that no one else had the pleasure of hearing but him. It made him smirk a little. "You like that?"

"Yes!" Tancred huffed, his hand stroking his chest and legs possessively. He was losing that battle. He would come soon. "Come. Now."

It was cute. He tried to keep control. Victarion would give him that. He tilted his head, barely holding himself back.

"As you wish."

One fierce drag along that length and he was done.

That full body response hit him; his eyes fluttered shut and he tossed his head back as stars burst behind his eyes. He spilled himself over his broad chest, hips stuttering unevenly against his own. That only seemed to fuel Tancred's lust further, blind him so ravenously as he fucked himself up into him. Such force would have hurt anyone, but none could handle the man as much as Victarion could.

The wonderful roar of pleasure searing fire in his blood, the way his ears drowned out the fierce shout of the man beneath him. He felt the guttural groan, his seed filling him and finally, he was spent.

He was so pent up, wasn't he? Poor thing. Tancred's pitiful thrusts in his body as he fucked him through his orgasm.

Victarion stayed seated on top of him, grinding through that delicious high. They were both bloody, sweaty and tired. Tancred was panting so harshly, so deeply and shaking so much he wondered if the poor thing was alright.

He leaned down, gave his helmet a kiss and Tancred reached up to take his arms. He almost seemed like he'd toss him back again and Victarion thought for a moment that he would.

But instead, he took his helmet off.

It was lovely.

His face, rough and bearded scarred and one of his eyes pale from a wound that had taken him. His grizzled features sweaty, lips parted as he kissed him fiercely, tongue and teeth scraping his own. It was sloppy, almost clumsy.

"I thought you didn't want it off?" Victarion panted, against his gasping mouth.

"I shall not hide again..." Tancred grunted, his gaze suddenly softer now.

"Good." Victarion praised him. "Never hide who you are again. Be free."

And he was.

And Reinhold laughed in his head.

#lords of the fallen #saved #(RABID NOISES)#I’ve been rereading this fic multiple times a day #ITS SO GOOOOOOOD 😭😭😭😍😍😍

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