Chapter Text
Enki had been wandering the Oldegårdian forests for what must have been days at that point. His pursuit of knowledge had brought him to the country after hearing about a curious object during his tour of Rondon. Enki had no desire to obtain this object for himself, he simply wanted to know more about it. That was all that ever motivated the Dark Priest – the need for ultimate knowledge over this world.
But now, as he stumbled through the thick Oldegårdian snows, he was beginning to fear that coming here had been a mistake. He had no knowledge of this land, and the villages (that were few and far between) ignored him at best, and were openly hostile at worst. For days Enki had been surviving off whatever roots and nuts he could find amongst the frozen land, and getting his water from the snow that fell in thick clumps throughout the day.
It was beginning to dawn on him that he was dying. His frail body would not be able to handle the cold for much longer, his body long having reached a constant state of numbness. His spindly legs cramped painfully as he tried to manoeuvre his way through the snow, the physical exertion weakening him even further with every step.
Enki wondered when his body would finally give in. Could he manage another day? No, it was more likely to be hours. Perhaps even minutes. It was a wonder that he had made it this far at all.
The thoughts of his demise were consuming his mind when he suddenly found himself upside down. His brain was so frozen from the cold that he barely even registered the rope tightening around his foot and yanking him up towards the treeline. A small, hoarse noise of surprise left his throat as he was left dangling upside down, but that was all he could manage. He did not even have the strength or cognisance to struggle.
Through his blurry gaze, he saw a small group of Oldegårdian men approach him. ‘Ah’, he realised somewhere in the back of his brain, ‘I’ve been captured’. At least now he might be granted the relief of a quick death. An arrow between the eyes and then brought back to the clan for dinner – he had heard that particularly savage tribes partook in such sin. Not that it bothered Enki; his dead body would not care what happened to it.
The men were speaking to each other in Oldegårdian, and while Enki did have a vague grasp on the language, he could not possibly hope to translate their words in his state.
Blood rushed to his head as he gently swung side to side, and Enki felt his vision begin to darken. Was he about to die? Or was he just passing out? Would they kill him while he was incapacitated anyway?
Enki did not find himself losing consciousness, however. In fact, when one of the men pulled out a dagger, it was to cut Enki down from their trap. He collapsed clumsily into the snow, his body going limp as his face was buried in the freezing snow.
“Up. Dark Priest.” One of the men spat in Oldegårdian, yanking him up out of the snow by his arm. It only took one of them to carry him all the way back to their village, the rest of the men eyeing him suspiciously during the three-hour hike. Enki was fading in and out of consciousness the whole time, the man dragging him along eventually throwing Enki over his shoulder with ease rather than trailing him through the snow.
When they finally made it to the village, Enki saw quick glimpses of women and children gawking at him curiously, before he found himself being dumped on the floor of a hut. A fire was roaring somewhere, casting the room in a faint orange glow and seeping warmth into Enki’s frozen fingers and toes. The dark priest let out a low moan of pain mixed with pleasure, before the warmth fully washed over him and caused him to collapse right there on the wooden floor.
Enki did not know how long he slept. He had brief flashes of an elderly woman coaxing warm broth down his throat, and big men in furs standing over him with a mixture of animosity and fear in his eyes – but he was unsure if these were real scenes or visions in his dreams.
When he finally found himself waking up, he let out a soft groan as he nestled his face into the pillow he was lying on. Had pillows always been this soft? After sleeping in the woods for days, Enki was not so sure. Eventually, he found himself fluttering his eyes open, sighing contentedly and pulling the furs closer to his chest.
There was a sharp intake of breath, and Enki turned his head to see a young boy holding a sharpened spear sitting at the door. Before Enki could even begin to process why the boy had been watching him sleep, he was bolting out of the door and leaving Enki alone. That was when he remembered the events that had preceded his slumber. He had been captured and was probably about to meet his demise. Although, it would have been much quicker to kill him in his sleep... How curious.
Two bigger men soon entered the room, the smaller boy peering at Enki meekly from behind them. Without speaking a word, they hauled Enki up from the bed, the Dark Priest going limp and letting them drag him out without a fight. Keeping his eyes on the floor, he didn’t pay much attention to the layout of the hut until he was dumped on the floor, once again in the hall that he had been placed in however many days ago he had arrived here.
Enki hesitantly lifted his gaze to take in the room. It was a simple place, a little empty but quaint. The only thing that stood out was a carved wooden chair in the middle of the room. The crackling fire cast the chair in an orange glow, illuminating the dark furs draped over it and highlighting the intricate carvings that were etched deep into the ancient wood of the chair. Enki was so fascinated by the artifact that it took him a moment to realize that there was a man sitting in the chair.
Their eyes met, and Enki felt his stomach twist as the man’s intense gaze bore into him. He was an imposing figure, his large, muscular body mostly exposed aside from the scant furs and leathers that he wore. Enki could see the scars that littered his body, a faint cut visible across his face that sliced through his eyebrow and down by the side of his eye. This was clearly a seasoned warrior. If Enki had to hazard a guess, this was the leader of this village. He held himself like a leader, sitting in the throne-like chair like he was born to the power. The other men seemed to shrink around him, submitting humbly to his authority and hardly daring to even look at him.
“Dark Priest,” The man spoke in Oldegårdian, his voice a low rumble like thunder trembling across the sky, “Why have you come here.”
Enki fought the urge to scoff. “I was dragged to this place by your men,” He replied in the same language.
That seemed to surprise the man, the emotion flickering quickly across his face before being quickly replaced by his expression of calm loathing. “You speak my language.” He stated.
“Well enough to converse, but I admit I am no expert,” Enki replied.
The man paused for a moment, before continuing again. “I was not talking about my village. I was talking about my country.”
Enki’s brain was running at a million miles a second, his heart hammering in his chest as he tried to figure out what would be the right thing to say. All of the men in the room were armed, including their leader, and Enki was certain that they would not be afraid to use their weapons if they needed to.
“I yearn for knowledge,” Enki said eventually, and he was not lying. “I have travelled the country of Rondon, and now I have come here. All I wish is to learn more about your land and culture; let me leave and I will be of no bother to you.”
The man’s gaze darkened, and he gave a sharp shake of his head. “No. You know of our village. I cannot let you leave alive.” His grip tightened on the arm of the chair, and he leaned forward menacingly, “So the question becomes: why should I not kill you where you kneel?”
Enki swallowed thickly. “I can be of use to you. I am a Dark Priest, as you so astutely noticed,” He said, sarcasm dripping thickly from his voice. “I’m sure you have heard the tales of what a dark priest can do. You kept me alive for however long I slept, after all, I’m sure you’re smart enough to know what I can offer you. My body may be frail, but make no mistake, I could take your arm clean off without moving an inch.”
The man reached for his axe reflexively, his large hand gripping the handle tightly.
“I won’t, of course,” Enki added hastily. “In exchange for my life… and if you would teach me more about your culture.”
The man glared at him intensely, the grip on his axe staying firm. Enki did not look away; as frail as he was after his near-death experience, he would not show weakness to this brute.
“Take him back to his room.” The man said eventually, his jaw clenched tightly.
The two men who had brought him down nodded, lifting Enki back up off the floor and dragging him back to the room where he had been sleeping in before this meeting.
Now that he was fully conscious, Enki could look around the room properly. The door had been locked from the outside, of course, but as prison cells go, Enki had had much worse lodgings.
Like the rest of the hut that he had seen, the room was bare and modest. It was spacious though, furnished only by a modest chest of drawers, a small wooden desk and chair, and the surprisingly comfortable bed that Enki had slept on for days. It was clearly only made for one person, but Enki was a thin man who did not take up much space.
There was also a small window in the room that let the light from outside shine through, casting the room in a white brightness. Pulling the chair over, Enki peered outside and watched the village thriving below. There was a small group of children playing in the snow, their laughter rising up to Enki’s room. Nearby were a group of older women sat in a circle with their knitting, a small fire nearby with a small pot cooking over it. The village was small, as Enki had anticipated, but seemed to stretch out further than he had originally expected. If he squinted, he could even make out a small market in the distance, and Enki wondered what there could possibly be to sell amongst such a small community. He sat by that window all day, enthralled by watching the people beneath him. The sun soon began to set, and night fell, the children and the women making their way indoors in dribs and drabs until all that could be seen outside was the white of the snow on the ground and the dark outlines of the other huts and buildings of the village. That was when he heard the sound of a key scraping in the door lock, and he turned in his seat to see the man from earlier standing in the room.
The man looked at him, and Enki looked right back. He did not stand up from the chair that he had been sitting on, deciding that he was refusing to show this man any sort of respect until his life was in certain safety.
After a long stretch of silence, the man finally spoke.
“My men. They do not like witchcraft.” He said simply, in his deep, low voice.
“But you do. At least, you see the benefit of what I can offer you.” Enki countered.
He nodded sharply as if he did not want to admit that Enki was right. “You slept for three days in this room. Every hour that you slept, my men told me to kill you. I refused, until we heard what you had to say.”
“And now you have heard. So, what will you do?”
The Outlander’s jaw clenched. “Is it true? You can do… spells?” He spat the word as if the very shape of it in his mouth disgusted him.
Enki gave the man a little smirk, and simply stood up from his chair and turned his head towards the torch on the wall. As it lit up, the Outlander flinched harshly, his large muscular arms twitching as if he was physically fighting the urge to run away.
“Pyromancy trick,” Enki explained simply, “Very basic magic. There is a lot more that I can offer you and your people… a lot of women and children, I noticed. You’ve not got many fighting men, have you?”
The Outlander exhaled sharply throughout his nose. It appeared that Enki had hit the nail on the head. “You are dangerous. We would be safer if you were dead.”
“I value my life, Outlander, I have no reason to betray you. Casting spells takes a large toll on my mind, I wouldn’t be able to make a dent in your village before losing myself to insanity.”
The man huffed again, his fist clenching and then unclenching at his side. “Fine. I will accept your magic in exchange for your life, Dark Priest.”
Enki gave him an (only slightly mocking) bow. “Enki Ankarian, at your service.”
“Ragnvaldr. I am the head of this village. It will be me that takes your life if you ever dare to betray us.”
It was the end of the conversation, but Ragnvalder – as Enki now knew him – did not move to leave. The Outlander gave him a once over, looking at him with that intense, burning gaze that had been roaming over Enki’s form all day.
“Why do you look at me like that?” Enki asked sharply, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinised the larger man.
“… I have never seen a person that looks like you before,” Ragnvaldr admitted with a strange hesitance after a significant pause.
It was then that Enki noticed something else in his eyes. Alongside the fear and hatred, there was also a hint of lust. Enki would have never detected it earlier, but it was undeniable now that they were standing face to face, the torch illuminating the Outlander’s intense face for Enki to unpick as he saw fit.
The Dark Priest’s lips curled up into a smirk. By Rondonian standards, Enki was not an attractive man. His hair was too long, his face too pinched and sour, his body so thin and brittle that he looked as though he could be snapped in half by a harsh breeze. But to this Outlander… perhaps the thinness of his wrist was alluring, the narrowness of his eyes sultry, and his long, pale hair reminiscent of a Rondonian maiden.
“Perhaps there are other services I can offer you… Something to sweeten our deal, so to speak.” Enki offered, lowering his voice and taking a step closer to the Outlander. The art of seduction was not his forte, admittedly, but he was not completely inexperienced. There were certain ways to raise oneself higher in the priesthood, after all.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ragnvaldr grumbled, but he did not move away from Enki’s advance.
“I suppose I should be flattered. I imagine that I must be as fair as a maiden to you; all those years looking at women that are more beast than beauty-“
A large crack sounded out as Ragnvaldr smacked him clear across the face with the back of his hand. The force of the hit turned Enki’s head to the side, knocking the breath right out of him. He imagined that there would be a mark there by the next morning.
“You will not disrespect the women of my country again. Do you understand me?”
If Enki was one thing, he was an ingratiating prick, and so he used the force of the slap to stumble dramatically against Ragnvaldr. “Forgive me, I beg.” He said, pressing his good cheek against the Outlander’s chest and looking up at him with his grey eyes, “Let me make it up to you.”
The Outlander did not protest as Enki sunk to his knees, running his gloved hands down his exposed skin. That look of disgust still resonated in his gaze and yet his lust was undeniable. Enki could tell that he was repulsive to him, and yet against his better judgment, Ragnvaldr could not take his eyes off him. Enki gracefully knelt in front of the larger man, doing his best to keep eye contact with him despite how tempting the way the outline of Ragnvaldr’s cock looked, twitching with interest beneath his leathers and furs.
“My magic may be a valuable asset to you, but I’m sure you’ll find much more enjoyment in my skills as a paramour,” Enki spoke slowly and deliberately, pulling his green gloves off by slowly pinching up each finger and sliding the fabric off as a woman might disrobe her stockings. Ragnvaldr watched him, enraptured by his movements. Just the exposure of his pale, thin fingers caused the Outlander’s throat to bob up and down, swallowing thickly with arousal. Pleased with the undivided attention, Enki moved his exposed fingers to Ragnvaldr’s hips. It was difficult to undo the straps and ties of his leathers and furs while maintaining eye contact, but after a bit of fumbling, the bits of clothing covering his nakedness dropped to the floor.
The Outlander’s cock was large, even at half-hardness, immediately drawing Enki’s eye as it bobbed obscenely in front of his face. “Your cock is as impressive as you are,” Enki murmured, grey eyes flickering back up to Ragnvaldr’s face for a moment before turning his attention back to his cock and wrapping a delicate hand around his length. It was a little intimidating, the way that his hand struggled to fit all the way around it, but Enki was nothing if not determined.
Tilting his head forwards, Enki pressed a couple of feather-light kisses to the tip of his cock, occasionally adding in a little kitten lick as he began to stroke his thick base, encouraging him to hardness. It was not a difficult task, as within a couple of minutes Ragnvaldr’s cock was as hard as his muscular body, dripping salty precum onto Enki’s lips as he kissed around his head.
“It appears I am to your liking, no?” Enki asked, a smirk playing at his lips as he nuzzled his nose against his large length. Ragnvaldr refused to comment, letting out a low grunt and reaching down to grab Enki by his hair, tugging his long locks down sharply and forcing him to look up at him. “What? Do you want something from me?” Enki asked, his amusement apparent in his voice.
“You know what I want,” He muttered lowly.
Enki tutted at him, stopping the slow strokes of his fist around Ragnvaldr’s cock. “If you want me to do something, you must command me to do it. I thought we agreed that I am at your service now?”
Ragnvaldr’s jaw twitched. “I want…” He struggled to say it, knowing that Enki had him right in the palm of his hand. “I want you… to use your mouth. Pleasure me with your mouth.”
“As you wish,” Enki breathed, opening his mouth lewdly and taking Ragnvaldr inside of him. It was a struggle, at first, and Enki masked that by focusing his attention on the tip of his cock, using his hand to pump what he could not fit into his mouth. He bobbed his head contentedly for a while, slowly taking more of Ragnvaldr into his mouth as he gradually inched his way down. The slow pace was not good enough for Ragnvaldr though, as soon enough he was grunting impatiently and tightening his grip on Enki’s hair. Enki tried to force himself further down on his cock, but only made it about halfway down before gagging obscenely and pulling his mouth off, a string of spit connecting them as Enki gasped for breath.
“Forgive me,” Enki panted before Ragnvaldr could say anything, “I have never serviced someone as impressive as yourself. Oldegårdian men are so much larger than what I am used to,” He grinned up at his partner between his breaths, giving off an air of ease before diving right back in. Enki swallowed Ragnvaldr’s length again, making his way down to the same point before gagging again. His brow furrowed with irritation as he tried to inch his way further and further down, spit dribbling down his chin as the room was filled with the most disgustingly indecent slurping and choking sounds. Enki tried his best, trying to force himself down with increasing frustration until Ragnvaldr grabbed his hair and roughly pulled him off.
Enki had been so focused on his fellatio skills that he had not noticed the dark smirk that had spread across the Oldegårdian’s face. “Look at you,” He muttered, almost cooing at him. “You’re pathetic.” Enki almost nodded in agreement; he certainly felt pathetic, with spit coating his face and chin, his throat raw and sore as he knelt like a whore beneath the big, powerful Oldegårdian man. “You’re a proud man, aren’t you? Arrogant. And here you are, unable to do something as simple as suck my cock.”
Enki’s face flushed with embarrassment, genuinely humiliated by his inability to pleasure Ragnvaldr. “Forgive me,” He breathed again, unsure of how much of him was putting on a seduction act, and how much was genuinely begging for forgiveness.
“I thought you said that I would find much more enjoyment in your skills as a paramour?” Ragnvaldr crouched down and grabbed Enki roughly by his chin, forcing him to look at him. “I am not impressed, Dark Priest.” He murmured.
“Please,” Enki whispered, “I am your servant, my body is yours to use. If you are not impressed with my services, then you must take your pleasure as is your right.”
Ragnvaldr’s eyes scanned over Enki’s face for any sense of hesitation, but he would find none. Enki was determined to pleasure this man, his stubbornness leading him to take any resort to bring the Oldegårdian to climax, even if it meant humiliating himself.
“You really are pathetic, aren’t you?” Ragnvaldr grinned, letting out a low chuckle and getting up to his feet again. Holding Enki by the back of his head, Ragnvaldr forced the Dark Priest back onto his cock.
He went slow at first, a mercy which Enki was grateful for as Ragnvaldr guided him up and down his cock. Enki made an effort to relax his throat, allowing Ragnvaldr’s cock to be swallowed down his wet mouth as the larger man began to thrust deeper and deeper inside of him. The look in Ragnvaldr’s eyes grew wild as he started to buck his hips against Enki’s face, his hands winding into his long hair tightly to steady himself. Enki began to splutter and choke as Ragnvaldr’s cock slammed against the back of his throat, being forced to take him deeper than he could possibly manage on his own.
“Fuck, you’re a disgusting little man, aren’t you?” Ragnvaldr growled, fucking Enki’s face in earnest and driving his cock deep into his wet mouth. “So fucking eager to get on your knees for me, like a common whore. I have never met anyone with as little self-respect as you. But I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised; you pathetic, filthy, evil man.” His words were punctuated by harsh thrusts of his hips, and Enki gagged and moaned shamelessly as the Oldegårdian degraded him. “Gods, you’re getting off on this aren’t you, you freak?” Ragnvaldr’s lips twitched with disgust as he rutted against Enki’s face like an animal. “Listen to me – listen to me,” He demanded, yanking Enki’s hair harshly, “I am going to finish down your throat, and you are going to swallow every last drop of my seed, yes? Do not dare dirty the floor of my house, do you understand me?”
Enki whined affirmatively, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he watched Ragnvaldr closely as he approached his orgasm. He went completely limp as the Oldegårdian’s thrusts became wild, the larger man tilting his head back in ecstasy and letting his red hair flow elegantly down his back. It truly did not take much longer, and with a few more ragged thrusts, Ragnvaldr let out an animalistic moan and emptied his load down Enki’s throat. As promised, Enki eagerly swallowed every drop, his throat convulsing as he tried not to let any of Ragnvaldr’s seed escape from his lips. Ragnvaldr was panting hard, letting out a few grunts as he rode out his orgasm. As he finished coming, he closed his eyes briefly, taking a moment to catch his breath as his hips twitched with sensitivity in the aftermath.
When he opened his eyes again, he pulled away from Enki sharply, pushing him to the floor with disgust. Ragnvaldr turned his back on him and snatched up his furs and leathers from the floor. He quickly readjusted himself before striding out of the room and slamming the door, not sparing another glance at the Dark Priest left behind him.
Enki stayed there on the floor, his body a mess of sweat and spit and semen. He lay still against the hard wood as he tried to catch his breath, a smirk spreading across his face as Ragnvaldr stormed out of the room.
Oh, wrapping the Outlander around his finger was going to be so much easier than he had originally intended. All he needed was a little patience… and perhaps some work on his fellatio skills.