Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rhulk had no purpose in affections, but being a monument of his own kind lent preservation of a great many things that he had no care for.

(The memory of favored air on Lubrae, when the light of both suns kissed the sky) 

He could not bear it, instead thinking upon the making of his mural, the stars upon it emitting their faint light in the room it resided in (as dim and unreaching as their final purpose). He bathed in their light as he contemplated the mural’s creation; the elation of completing it reminding him of the freedom bestowed upon him. 

(being lifted out from the abyss) 

(formless hands submerging him) 

(a voice that embraced his entire being, surrounded him with its echoes) 

A shiver ran down his spine. He had no use for cold embers or the taste of warmth; no use for this…reflex. But pleasure was such a rare thing in this honed shape. He wished to feel it again, even for a moment.

He thought of its emanating power focused on him (only him). 

He thought of its dark hands; how their fingers were often clasped together.

He wondered if they would ever meet his chest and hold him down;

He wondered if they would wander, inspecting the shapes they had rebuilt eons before. 

His sex partly unsheathed; he ignored it in favor of the slit beneath it. 

The Subjugator leaned back, legs bent and tilted just so. He thought of dark, thrumming fingertips as he traced around his entrance. Strength unwavering…tips of hands larger than his, they would fill him easily. But would his savior deign to give him release so quickly? One, first. He let one clawtip inch into himself. He could not keep himself from sliding his hips forward, allowing the digit to graze the ridged walls within him before it retreated. 

Rhulk gasped and moaned as he encroached slightly deeper with every tentative motion. The arm bracing him aloft on the platform began to give as he spread his legs further; (more, another, need -) it had been so long …

He was cursed with only two digits that could reach well into himself, but his opposable digits could tease around his entrance as he worked the sensitive folds.

“Aah… Witness.. .” he whispered to nothing, but the thought of one day being in its audience in such a way siphoned the invocations from his mouth.

[Disciple?]

Words reached him but were not lucid; they were as ephemeral as the touches he envisioned in his mind. He curled his fingers into his inner frills and (spasmed) as they wrapped into his touch, clinging to his fingertips as some young vine would. He found himself completely on his back; when had he managed to fall into this state? It didn’t matter. He thrust into his own hand, using his other to rub his half-sheathed length.

“Please…”

[Dear Rhulk, why do you invoke us?]

A moment of trepidation stilled his hands. 

“Hello?”

[Your calls are being answered.]

The hand within him was imbued with lightning, removing itself to his side, but he could not propel himself up before distant voices met his mind again. His armor could only partly hide such damning evidence as he sat on the marbled pyramid floor. 

[What afflicts our disciple so?]

“Witness, I…it is nothing, really -”

[Nothing? From words spoken in such desperation…we had hoped for more than a prayer.]

Cool tones filled his mind, but were formless. The Witness was not with him, at least not physically. Rhulk began to rise, but stopped as words filled the air around him; their resonant fury binding him to the pyramid floor.

[Have we not rewarded you enough?]

His legs bent inward; hiding what his voice could not.

“I— of course you have, my Witness — I am eternally —”

[But you still find something wanting, our endless machine of domination…]

“I,” Rhulk started, rather surprised at the closeness of the voices despite his solitude, “it is some mere burden, a thorn, but it is a fault of mine alone-”

— - Dear Rhulk, — -

His will melted, he could not believe how immense his Witness sounded, as if it was—

— - This was given to you unwillingly, — -

Here —

— - From the shape of what you used to be, — -

Reality bends and breaks before him; he fears his Witness would c—

— - You deny a lesson from us? — -

“No,” and it was true; he could not fathom declining its attention, even now, as some cruel irony had finally allowed him to receive his Witness' attention. 

“Please, let me–” (continue,) 

Pleasure unrelenting filled his form, and his resolve buckled, and his right hand slipped underneath his waistcloth again, this time grasping his hardness. The slick on his hand had dried quickly in the arid pyramid, but he himself had not. He shamelessly gathered the slick to aid himself, lathering it along his dark, ridged length; stifling a moan as one thumb gently rubbed the crest.

— - How we pity you…— -Rhulk doubled down at the all-encompassing words, but winced as their meaning cut him. He halted his motions as he drew ever closer to release; equally a show of strength and a desire to prevent further embarrassment. 

— -Do you not desire this? — -

“Please, my Witness —” his words were but a whisper. The Witness would never come to his aid, yet insisted on holding presence with him; kindle for a flame that was becoming well out of the bounds of his control. 

— -You ask for that which can be taken? — -

“I am not… finished…” he spoke softly, as he had hoped to languish in his fantasy, but now the game had become real.

— - It is your own will that stays you… — -

[He did not want this to end. It must.]

Rhulk allowed his digits to resume their ministrations once more; his thoughts again clouded with whispers of what could be. 

— - Allow us…to share this burden. — -

Cold trickled over his hand; the formless touch on his knuckles acted as a silent inquiry.

Shivers ran up his arm and through his spine as he accepted the question with a breathless plea: “take it.”

Numbness spread from the divine caress; traveling from his elbow to the tips of his talons, the hand was no longer his to command. It was a strange thing to see his own fingers stretch and curl without feeling; to have half a limb taken from him by his Witness. 

He flushed as the main thumb and digit rubbed each other inquisitively, as if his Witness was feeling the texture of his pleasure for itself. He continued to watch with anticipation as his own fingers slid within him once more, but their movements were agonizingly slow and methodical; no amount of writhing or clenching could ease the desire built up within him. 

He distantly wished one would curl and gasped, head tilted back, as it did. His Witness commanded it to rub his walls as he shifted his hips to embrace it.

— - Exercise your will, Rhulk…we are listening. — -

He willed a third finger to join the others; felt his wrist turn to let it in; felt them curl within him every time their motions peaked. His mouth was open in a silent plea as the fingers slid back and forth, getting ever closer to his plateau. He cried out as, suddenly, the hand within him stopped; his core ached as his own hand pulled away so that he could not even move himself around it. 

— - We raised you from nothing, taught you inconsequentiality, built you into glorious irrelevance… — -

The disciple moved to squeeze himself with his other hand for some slight relief - long removed as he was from his pride or any need to hold himself upright - but the strength left him with the arrival of sharp words of the Witness in the air around him.

— - We freed you from your prison, and you have elected to be in another… — -

Time froze as Rhulk pondered the words, the disdain in them, and the subtle question within its tones. He wondered if his Witness would take him to his very limits – if mercy was in its aegis, surely, his savior would not torment him –

Two digits moved back within him exquisitely, prompting a disgraceful whine from his chest. Release was so close .

— - Let us free you once more. — - It made his digits curl in him again, flush with his most sensitive frills; each petal wrapped around his fingers in ecstasy, their ever-increasing slickness counteracting their own grasps. Rhulk used his free hand to rub his tip, catching a bit of fluid on his thumb.

— - Your will is your strength, dear disciple; use it. — - 

[for you, my Witness, anything…]

— - We do not doubt it…release yourself; be…elevated. — - Its collective voice was softer; more focused, and he could not help but picture it leaning over him in that moment, guiding him to relief. His thighs trembled with effort and the claws on his feet scraped the ceramic floor underneath him as he arched into his hand one more time, his Witness moving his hand as deftly as he would himself. Distantly, he thought he heard it murmur soothing tones of praise; whether it was real or fantasy, though, he decided he would not know. As the movements of his hips and hand slowed, Rhulk laid on the floor, breathless, soaking in his blessing. As the cold melted away from his elbow to his knuckles, he lifted and examined the newly freed hand; it was the same as it ever was. Before the resonant embers left his fingertips, he pressed them to his mouth in veneration.

— - We hope this was…enlightening. — - Ever quieter, the Witness’ voices encompassed Rhulk’s psyche like a calm sea until they faded, and the pyramid’s atmosphere was barren once again.

Chapter Text

The parable went well. The interfering species was culled; the final shape was fed. He stalked the dark city with pride, certain he would be called forth to enact his Finality's bidding once again. 

But as he walked the great halls of his dark city, no vocation came. He supposed he would keep tracing the Adversary's celestial path; then, at least, their purposes would be aligned. 

He stopped and stared at the mural before him. Less emphasis was on his old life in this one, and more was on the glaive. A crude weapon made magnificent with Lustre; a true gift in its remaking, such as his remaking was, but in both, a lesson of being. 

… A lesson. Yes. He remembered now. He still wondered if he should indulge in it once more, a study, in a sense, or if the point was to clear his mind of such things. Lust was never his vice. Bloodlust, a penchant for violence, perhaps, but never this. Still, he wondered. Why not recreate it, especially if he was unheard?

No. He would wait. He kept walking, for even as he rarely did, he sometimes found purpose in viewing his trinkets. 

He paused briefly as he passed a half-formed ochre statue in the dark hall, its forms devolved and disseminated beyond representation, but existing on the verge of taking the shape of a sitting figure. There were many like it, but this one was larger than those and lit with a muted violet light. 

A fleeting thought of finality infested his mind, but left as quickly as it came. Unbelievable. Though he served this abyss wholly, he would not live to do that . Of the few times he had been summoned to his Witness' presence, it had never invited him to sit beside it, whether for pleasure (impossible) or instruction. No, his Witness deigned to show him truths in the most subtle and elegant of ways. Its formless, admonishing lesson before his latest assignment was the most direct it had been to him since his reshaping. 

He could simply refuse to acknowledge its name. It would never need to know.

Chapter Text

[ He wants to serve us, to bestow a gift as grand as that which was given to him. 

…Impossible.]  

— - Your burden persists. You rejected our gift… — - 

Rhulk jumped, quickly turning away from the wall of symbols he had created and yanking his hand from the one he had been studying. “I would rather die than transgress against you, my –”

— - And therein lies your weakness, dear Rhulk…for if that is true, you shall surely drown. You must temper your will; blind obedience serves no cause but to insult us. You were raised for grander things; such things we value[...]your lethality, your resolve…ruthlessness…all divine instruments…but love was not one of them. — -

[He MUST learn.]

“I am devoted to finality…please, let me —”

  A greater hand moved him, disorienting him. After a moment in nothingness, the blinding shadow over his eyes lifted and he saw a great hall, a portal of dark fluid, and before him, his Witness. It stood with its hands clasped, arms alive with resonating scales; he bowed reflexively.

— -Show us this devotion. — -

His legs were still bent in a bow as he lifted his head. "My Witness… I do not know…" no, there was no hiding here. He continued after a silent pause, "is there any way I may please you as you have done unto me?" 

— -You are inquisitive. So are we. — - Hands held forward with palms upright beckoned him closer. 

"Does my Witness… not know an answer?" he internally winced at his own insolence, but it had admitted nothing. It gestured further towards him, an open and clear, though wordless, invitation. 

   Rhulk always liked those hands. He watched delicate geometry flutter down its arms; honed in on the pieces that sometimes wavered as if the Witness was breathing through them. He thought briefly of his savior coming towards him and lifting his face, lifting him from the floor, embracing him –

— - [You may] Touch us. — -  [Aggravating. Was the disciple still so dependent on command?] Rhulk looked up and down in disbelief and carefully contained excitement. After a short eternity spent approaching his Witness, he finally laid a careful hand on one wrist. And quickly, the other, inquisitive. The surface felt strangely heavy, as if there was some unseen layer of gravity just above the surface of the cloak that kept his hands there. The ridges grew in number and intensity as he ran a hand up the lithe arm.

A resounding sigh echoed around him and robes unfolded into…nothing he had ever seen before. Shapes upon shapes. The edges of the robes churned and roiled like waves upon a violent sea, and in the center…nothing. 

– - Do not be afraid, disciple. — - it spoke calmly, but the voices were louder than ever before. 

A slab appeared underneath his Witness, who reclined on it in one smooth motion, dragging him down with it as their hands were entwined. Its firm digits guided his own to either side of the Witness as it gracefully sat upon the edge. 

   A clawed hand tentatively reached into the void. His Witness reacted immediately; thunder in a gathering storm, waveforms heightened. Rhulk pulled his hand out with some effort as the dark chasm somehow tried to hold it in with a grasp of its own. But beyond a slight numbing buzz upon being freed, his hand was as normal as ever.

— - More. — - Rhulk’s eyes forced themselves away from its gaze, but he could not ignore the hands that ran up his arms to hold him in embrace.

[Drink]

Fear could not counterbalance curiosity or, greater still, the Disciple's desire to obey. The tingling intensified into needles as he dipped his hand - past the wrist now - into the dark void again. Whatever part of him that did not touch his Witness trembled under the resonance between them and begged to be held in its song. 

— - More . — - his Witness’ right hand held him in place; his chest flush with the gnawing chasm. 

Rhulk adjusted himself higher, other hand on his Witness’ shoulder, his hips above the lower edge of the cavity. He was shorter than his Witness, and so his eyes still did not easily meet its own. Still, he strained to meet them, questioning its intent as his right arm very quickly lost all feeling. He strained, truly strained to pull it out of the void that went deeper than was possible. 

— - Disappointing…surely that is not the whole offering you have for us…after the lesson we gave you… — -

[Take]

   The Subjugator’s mask retracted in a flurry of folding shapes as he slowly leaned in. His mouth hovered above what could have been a collar bone in his species, but was now more like an edge to the cloak his Witness wore so diligently. The armor responded to his presence, lifting, asking the blades of his fangs to kiss its own. While there was no discernible smell, the sharp mass was certainly cold and a little uncomfortable; the thrill of placing his fangs upon his savior, though, warmed him deeply.

   Rhulk wondered if the void would like this as well. It was the last coherent thought in his mind as he opened his mouth and breached the hazy surface with his tongue. Uncounted hands grabbed his head and held it in; the bottomless core rumbled around him with the intensity of a cracking world. Other sets of hands ran over him and Rhulk instinctively flattened his hips down. Despite having nothing to press his hips into, he felt the edges of his Witness…tighten around him. Frustrated, Rhulk slipped his right hand underneath himself, tugging at his armor with haste. 

— - You require a shape. — - The disciple ached to hear the concern in its voices. As rewarding as pleasing his dear Witness was - if he was succeeding in doing so - he couldn’t be stimulated from…nothing. He closed his eyes - for what could they see as he bit aimlessly into nothingness, anyway - and continued to tease his emerging tip until unforeseen fingers slipped under him. He grunted in pleasure and inquiry as their forms became ambiguous, sliding around his girth, cold but welcoming. 

Rhulk moved his hand to what could have been a waist and tested the new space with a roll of his hips. He gasped as the new shapes reacted to him, a twitch drawing lubricating fluid from his glands. 

“My—” a hand silenced him with one small lift upon his chin. Two eyes bore into his six. 

— - This shape is…favorable… — -

“Yes,” his eyes shuttered closed and he moaned with another roll of his hips. 

— - Our magnificent…subjugator . — -

Rhulk preened at his Witness' praise. Iterations of smooth hands ran up his back, but one kept his face still. He leaned into it, reverence blooming in his chest. (Anything. Anything. )

[ So much devotion. He was rife with it…sown…ready to be reaped. ] The Witness’ dark collar parted, framing its face, but still covering most of its throat. A kiss above his sun-shaped eyes left Rhulk in rapture (oh, how he wanted to kiss his Witness’ neck…)

[ Our disciple..You must Take… ] It removed one hand from the disciple’s face to cup beneath his hip drape. It felt him jerk forward; Thumbs rested above the divots in his thighs. 

   He took, then, pushing away its collar and worshipping the pale throat before him. Red and black talons dug into the small ridges of the fluid-like armor that shimmered, flattening and rising again rigorously under his touches, surrounding him in a way not unlike the beat of a gigantic being’s heart would if he resided within it.

His desperation growing, Rhulk thrust harder into the void, feeling his Witness’s cold eminence bleed onto his entire body, both soothing and stimulating him.

— - Drown… — -

(I love you…no. No no no no…)

— -REPENT . —-

A—

Comforting bliss left him alone in that void; no lifeline, no means of finishing himself. His eyes strained to meet the other’s in the solid realm; pleading against those as empty as ever. 

They were completely black, giving only his distorted reflection. 

[Rise above this...and embrace…Communion.]

   A dark flood spread and engulfed him as it had once before in his metamorphosis. Agony. Ecstasy. Bliss. Peace. It was not the release he expected, nor one he knew he could achieve, but it was a release nonetheless. Shapes reconvened in waves, gently pushing him away; enough to close the abyss in its chest, but not enough to remove his grasp. 

   Rhulk sat up, bones and sinew alight and weightless with newfound… no, not strength. Peace. He looked down and realized he had, in fact, climaxed in the material realm. He could not bring himself to care, still dwelling on that brief moment of communion within that empty realm that had terrified and thrilled him. 

   "My Witness, what…was that?" He looked back to its face, which was covered once more, but its eyes stared ahead of him; not through him, but at something beyond his face, his body, invisible to his own sense of self. He could only assume it found some release within that void as it did this, slowly running its fingers over his arm. 

He raised a claw to stroke the parts of its face that were not concealed, still astonished that it had invited him to do so what felt like forever ago. It raised its hand to halt him.

-– Enough. —-

Rhulk froze, momentarily saddened, but he did his best to conceal it in his motion to return his hand to its side. "Of course, my Witness."

[We ignore his agony.]

   He sat up, contemplating his next move. Most of his armor was still intact and seemingly unchanged by whatever forces or matter that had engulfed him. His Witness, too, was pristine. Everything in place, as if nothing had happened. Everything, that was, except himself, and the way its eyes wavered before him, pupils reshaping, finding focus in something immaterial.

The disciple begrudgingly moved to rise from his indecent perch. Where to go, he had no idea, but the overwhelming peace within him was quickly being replaced by apprehension.

But before he could get up, the hand upon his forearm tightened. 

It spoke without speaking, voices still multitudinous, but quieted. 

—- Let us mend you. —-

    Mend? He only stared in wonder before his mind caught up to the other hand which brushed his disheveled armor. Sated, he had no reaction to it beyond veneration (a ruthless affliction); nothing but utter bewilderment that his Witness would deign to amend his physical form for something so…trivial. Intimate. Yet, before his very eyes, its hand gently pressed against his torso and resonance rippled from its arm over his body in microplanes, each one turning his armor to its previous state as if every atom was a thread in a grand design.

—- You have done well, Rhulk…rise with us. —-

[We ignore his agony.]

Chapter Text

Come to us.

“Witness?”

A familiar resonant portal appeared before him. While it was unusual to be invited , the disciple reabsorbed his glaive and stepped through the gate without question, landing in a familiar hall of worlds. 

We were…dissatisfied.

Dissatisfied? He froze momentarily; what could he have done to aggrieve his Witness, to cause it to chastise him directly?

Not with you, child…with our(self). His Witness partially emerged from the wall of dark fluid, but did not step forward. 

Come to your Witness.  

What could he do but obey? Its hands stretched out to meet him as he reached the end of the platform, and he gladly placed his own hands upon them. He did not care much for the void between voids, the place he had been fully realized and, he supposed, the place he had last communed with his Witness. But its gentle pull guided him through the thick fog of memory and uncertainty and into an unexplored reality. 

The other side was a mirror image of the previous hall, but it was empty save for themselves and the familiar structures. Like the room before, there was another large wall of miasma, and the cubicles were filled with half-realized statues of figures Rhulk had never seen before. 

We offer you an exchange. 

+

Chiseled ridges cascade backwards from where his hand is laid upon his Witness, revealing a pearlescent white form underneath them. Rhulk stares in wonder, but his hand takes a life of its own and traces downwards, pushing back the dark armor to reveal more pale skin like a line drawn in sand.

The untouched angles ring sweet (songs of endings) and quiver before parting in interlocking cubic motions. Their whereabouts around his Witness become secondary to the canvas before him – matte skin with symmetrical inky patterns in constant flux. Rhulk’s eyes trail up and down, mesmerized, before stopping at the hips, where robes still cling to its form. He loops back up to its face and catches sight of its mouth. An unassuming thing, soft and framed by gaunt features, but he is entranced by the change.

His heart and mind raced as he thought of what it might feel like.

Soon enough, dearest disciple. Its mouth did not move as it spoke. [Attention. Diversion. A touch. It is an analogy. A memory. Rebuilt for you.]

Rhulk makes an inquisitive noise as the robes that still remain rise up around him. Parted legs envelop him on both sides as his Witness sits up and caresses his face (movement blurred, impossible to see, its touch was lighter, as if straining to be). He grunts in surprise as he is smoothly flipped over; all too willing to be handled; to be wherever he is desired. 

You will touch us…

A (deceptively) frail hand lifts his own to its shoulder. Fine, dark dots dance in unison beneath his claws while scale-like structures waver in unison upon the joints, dissipating and leaving more bare skin. His Witness arches into him as he slides one hand down its florid chest.

“Hah—”

The disciple startles as dense weight settles upon his waist. He impulsively grabs its hips to steady them; a pleased, resonant hum thrums between them. Whether it is from the robes themselves or his Witness’ vocal chords, he is uncertain. It leans over him to give a kiss; the soft lips run over his face and teeth graze his mask. He retracts its shape to reveal his own fangs and he runs his hands up its back, lending one to cradle its multitudinous, sublimating skull. He opens his mouth to its every inquiry; submitting to it as it moves his face as it sees fit. Impossible weight pins him; he thrusts his hips up into it. [His eyes intensify, his prowess is taken by urgency…]

Calm, our disciple … His heart betrays his excitement as its soft face presses against his ribbed breastplate in a kiss. 

Weight shifts; he misses it dearly, but his throat hitches when he realizes where his Witness is going. Its hands ply away his segmented armor with gentle, sweeping movements, removing it from existence. Barely-formed echoes rub the plating that is revealed underneath it in waves as his savior continues down. That soft, divine (perfected) face, the wetted tongue inside it, all for him. His. He trembles, anticipating it upon his hips, but uncertain if he is deserving. He cannot not hold back a strangled cry as one hand (so quickly, without a sign) grasps his emerging member. 

He tries to thrust into its gentle grip. 

Be still.   [It would not do for him to have release so quickly.]

Its hands run up and down his body with deliberate pressure, as if testing the strength of his making. The thought of being a subject of admiration could have stilled him if he was not so wrought with need and eager to please.

You are ready. We are not… It rose to sit upright, its hips resting upon his once more. 

Rhulk lends his fingertips to its chest, careful to keep the ebony claws upon them off the soft skin, just in case. His Witness’ eyes flutter shut and its hips collapse upon him as he uses a thumb to rub the faint markings that decorate its chest. Pleased with this reaction, he raises the other hand to do the same. [An arch, an echoing moan…armor retreats off its hips, which roll onto him again.] Something tenses in him as he feels unmeasured strength in his Witness' restraint seep through the hands on his dark hips. 

"Witness…" 

The remaining plates upon its form raise and flatten in a shiver. 

Very good…we need…more…

Eyes lock onto his, no longer empty and distant, but glossy and…hungry. 

(What am I getting into?…)

[The body we have made moves of its own volition, a sharp thrust forward. How novel…long-dormant mechanisms now awoken and coiling like rings around singularities.]

[for lack of better phrasing, something twitches.]

[We worry, distantly, if Rhulk could still be at risk of becoming subsumed in their chase for pleasure.]

[…He will rise from it.]

“Let me…please…you..my Witness…” Rhulk runs his hands down that alabaster torso, watching it flex at his touch. He then sits up with some difficulty and trepidation, but his Witness does not push him back down. He places one hand on its back and slowly leans down, switching their positions once more, with the other arm [so gently, the antithesis of his purpose] around its neck, grasping a faintly sublimating shoulder. 

[Yes, disciple… take…] Pale legs spread, shifting out from beneath stark, voided drapes that spread out so radiantly beneath them, as rays of a dark sun. Though Rhulk cannot read its whole expression, lost as he is in his own agony, his savior’s eyes are wide at his confidence, (disbelieving).

[We will let him have this one victory…how it ruins him so.]

Rhulk mirrors his previous attentions with his mouth, starting at the jawline. Rhulk reels that his infinite trusted so dearly and deeply that he would not open that pearlescent throat with his fangs, as he had done countless times in war on far lesser beings. It watches, appeased, as Rhulk adjusts himself above them, but all reasoning is ignored in favor of his alien tongue on its collarbone…then ribs…those [strong] thumbs returning to supplement his mouth in holy ministrations upon its patterned skin.

Power and control are beget by unabated pleasure at his kisses…surrendering waves of pride overcome him every time his Witness writhes and sighs in pleased tones. He cannot help releasing a raspy hum as he stops before its lower abdomen. A flattened palm gently trails down, turning as it reaches the apex. One pale leg raises itself, more than permission, unfiltered desire; his heart coils, elated, as his Witness lifts its hips into his touch. 

Looking up one more time, he found that the faces in the smoke were scarce, unable to be easily found in the increasingly abstract fluid forms. 

[Become lost] 

[He freezes for a moment and brings his hand to his mouth; nimbly clipping lethal talons into something sweeter.]

[Rhulk's fingers became electric as they returned to us; we lean into that touch, we cannot have anything else]

[He returns the lesson we gave him, his fingers…enter…we are breaking, a stronger call fills the macrocosm of our void]

[We cry out, uncontained. He actually halts, foolish with worry, and we turn a vicious gaze on him. Reassurance that he cannot hurt us. A hand holds his firmly, one more guide…] 

[He takes control, deftly tilting his fingertips; our moans elicit his own breathlessness…he is focused on the monumental task before him, six eyes shifting between his hands and looking upon our disheveled face, but he will break.] 

[His other hand is stroking his member… symmetrical thumbs glide over the dark thing with as many curved ridges as the rest of his armor and plated skin; gently squeezing in rhythm with his movements inside us…we cannot care except to look back at his eyes in silent command as he stops, seeing us watch him, feeling us contract upon his digits as we look upon it.] 

Rhulk braces himself, betraying nothing of his urgency in his slow motions to balance himself above his Witness.

[We will drink of him.]

“Why not an…intermission, my Witness…” one hand holds its face as he presses their hips together, but he does not enter. The Witness’ form tremors below him, edges phasic and numbing under his touch, as he slowly grinds on the slick he revealed until he begins to slide in smoothly.

Disciple…Rhulk… it sighs his name louder, and its voice is closer to his beating heart than he has ever heard it before.

[It] was no wider than those previous two fingers, really, though it did have more to give. Rhulk wished he could have filled his Witness more, but it had no complaints, one hand gripping his arm…he would not fail.

[A body forgotten. Pieces left behind, echoing in pleasure, trying to stop time, wanting to move forward.]

Iterations of lean, pale hands run up his back and claw at his spines as he eases deeper. (anything. Anything.)

[Rhulk is lost…uncontained, he can barely steady himself; his movements are erratic.] 

“My Witness, I -” he growls between gasps of useless air.

Be still, my disciple.

Rhulk could have wept, for it took all his might to obey. Yet as he meets his Witness' gaze again, he realizes its composure is in not so different a state; the irises in its eyes glow in a way he has never before witnessed. 

We remade you…we can remake you again in this divine embrace. 

He lets the new depths of his Witness' gaze carry him near the end, but feels its composure drowning in every passing second. Divine forces upon his arms weaken as control is relinquished for trust. [Selfless.] Rhulk pulls nearly completely out and thrusts in slowly, savoring the way every ridge is slowly engulfed by his Witness’ sex. 

Again . 

Rhulk's voice joins the thousand as he repeats the motion, growling in effort and ecstasy. 

[The actuation of air is almost painful; we do not need it, but the shape remembers.]

Faster . 

He obeys lividly, and his Witness shudders and curls around him:

For this offering, we are your Witness.  

He came, then, completely lost, barely aware of his climactic cry against the cacophony as tendrils unfurled and he spilled into his savior. (A gift.)

It stroked his head in that embrace; he remained inside as he stole one more kiss on its neck. 

We see this form has satisfied you…it will end.

[We ignore his anguish; It cannot be fed any further. He removes himself from our form, but clings to us, giving in to his basest instinct to coddle a partner. Nothing more.]

Rhulk knew he couldn't stay here. Caring was…not in the final shape. But he had to know . 

"Did I please you?" His voice is uncharacteristically quiet, and he does not call his Witness by name. 

A pale hand cups his face in return, and its own face is distant with long-unattained peace.

[We can only think of unspoiled truth as we say yes.]

[Nothing more.]