#jesterwrites

the medical tent is bustling with other practitioners rushing around, digging through weatherproof crates for bandages and ointments. you were currently sitting at the bedside of a pyro slinger, carefully weaving a needle through the large gash across his back. pass, stitch, pull. pass, stitch, pull. a slow, methodical repetition as you concentrated on the work at hand.

“fuckin’ hoarders,” the pyro slinger grumbles, his head leaning on his arms. he stares at the tent opening watching the passing soldiers, carrying the spoils of their battle.

“stop moving,” you sigh. pass, stitch, pull… and finally tie. you grab for a pair of scissors and snip the thread before sitting back. archons, your hands ache. this must have been the fourth… no, fifth suture in the last three hours since the treasure hoarders.

“could you have worked any slower,” the pyro slingers says. he sits up and you pull a gauze from the table next to you, using tape to place it over the wound, anger rising the heat of your blood.

“make sure you keep that dry. if you pull any stitches, come back and i’ll fix you up again. Tomorrow wash around it and don’t…” the pyro slinger’s attention moves to behind you and he goes still. you watch his attention move elsewhere while you explained how to care for his wound. You snap your fingers in front of his face and scowl. “i was talking to—”

a shadow falls over you and the pyro slinger. you look at the impossibly long shadow, while the pyro slinger just looks up and up and up over your head. you pause and turn around to see what was so important and you suddenly feel cold.

for all the talk you’ve heard, you never realized just how large the fatui harbinger, il capitano, was. he must have been at least seven feet tall, bowing his head at how low the tent must have been for him. long black silky hair hung down over his coat, coming from the blacked out mask that shielded his face. he wore a thick white coat with the fatui symbol embroidered into the chest, black animal fur on the hood that laid on his shoulders and an expensive decorated shirt that’s collar rose up just under his chin. bits of armor were hidden beneath the coat, some shining in the bright white winter sun, it must have made him even broader than he already was.

the pyro slinger disregarded you and quickly rose to his feet, saluting the harbinger. il capitano lifted a gauntlet covered hand from his cloak and gestured for him to stop. he moved further into the tent and looked at each injured combatant, leaving you and the pyro slinger.

you narrowed your eyes on the slinger and pointed a sharp finger down for him to sit.

“as i was saying…” you re explain his aftercare and let him leave. you clean up your station quickly, wiping down blood and sanitizing tools when that very same shadow falls back over you. sitting the bloodied rag into a hot bucket, you turn around and look up, up, up at the harbinger, swallowing nervously.

archons, you think, where’d my fire go?

“il capitano, sir,” you give a slight bow. you’d salute but you’re hands are covered in blood and hot water, best to not get that in your eyes.

“have all the injured when taken care of?” his voice is deep, rumbling. it’s a thunderstorm in the distance, the deep resonating sound of a earthquake miles below the surface.

“Uh, yes. i mean, i believe so, sir,” you respond. archons! has your mouth always been this dry?

he hums and nods, crossing his arms under his cloak. “it would seem you and the rest of my medics have performed your duty, even in such extreme conditions. it's admirable and commendable. that shows good sense, fortitude, and dedication.”

“oh… thank you, sir, i’m sure everyone here has been doing their utmost,” you answer, appreciation sending a warmth through you. “is there anything the medical tent can do for you?”

“no. i’m just doing an inspection. i like to make sure all the soldiers are doing well and that the medics are taking care of them properly. if there is an issue, it is better that it is caught now and taken care of, rather than let things get bad when there aren't many options left to fix the mistakes,” il capitano says. your eyes go wide slowly and in the same breath, he continues. “it's the little things that can prevent larger problems later. that is why i make sure to check on everyone, to make sure everyone is operating at maximum efficiency. i need as many strong soldiers ready, just in case an emergency comes up. does that make sense to you?”

“uh, that’s rather considerate,” you say quietly. no fuckin’ wonder everyone respected him greatly, the man is a saint to his company. “i suppose i should give my thanks for giving the approval for my transfer. i didn’t get the chance to meet you before the mondstadt adventurers thing. so, thank you, sir!”

he regards you silently, your reflection shining back at you in his helm. it was a hefty reminder that your hands were still blooded and… were those dark circles, archons, you needed sleep. bad. after the moment passes, he speaks.

“you earned your position in my company. you may not have the combat experience of some of the others, but i am sure you have other valuable talents and skills that will prove valuable in your role as a medic. otherwise, you would not be here. you have earned the right to be here, and to prove yourself. so, in terms of thanking someone, thank yourself first.”

the hustle and bustle of the medic tent seems so far away as you look up, up, up at him. he’s right, you think, i spent years of my life studying and working under that doctor so that i could help to save the lives of my comrades instead of experimenting on them until they were monsters. had there ever been a moment when someone acknowledged that? no… you think. it was your job and everyone expected it, but would it ever kill someone to just thank you for saving their life? No!

“right…” you say mostly to yourself, but il capitano nods and pats you on the head with a large hand that seems to engulf your head. embarrassment spikes to your cheeks and you clear your throat stepping back. “i’ll leave you to it then, captain.”

you dismiss yourself and set off through the tent, body humming at the light praise of the captain’s words and embarrassed at the thoughts that cross your mind. he’s so big, everything about him is. presence, body, mind. what else was big about him?

-

you don’t talk to him after that encounter, but you do see him sometimes. coming into the medical tent to assess, walking through camp to spectate over training and ordering supplies to be moved here, here and here until he was satisfied. he didn’t eat in the mess tent with everyone, so you never gained the opportunity to see his face and while you had asked around, apparently no one else had seen it.

the gossip mill said he was half monster, that he was missing parts of his face, that he was so ugly he couldn’t stand look in the mirror, that he was insanely beautiful that people would throw themselves at his feet, that he was a renowned figure in a different country that was a spy for the tsaritsa. either way, the rumors you heard were of no help to your curiosity, only leading to more questions.

as the company travels to natlan, the weather warms and grass grows on the ground rather than hard packed ice and snow. the sun isn’t accompanied by snow so it doesn’t blind you as you travel, instead, the sun is warm and welcoming, but the weather is far too hot for the people of the company who had never ventured out of the icy wasteland of snezhnaya.

of course, il capitano’s company doesn’t travel with leisure, there are several bumps in the road, including fighting treasure hoarders and many of the local do-gooders that wanted to impede their advance. and while the fatui soldiers could handle treasure hoarders and some of the weaker enemies, there were a few times when the captain stepped in to make their advance even quicker. it worked, because who could stand straight up when the imposing giant that was a fatui harbinger, il capitano, stood in front of them with clawed gauntlets and a hidden face? no one.

and with the skirmishes came the injured once more, slow ebbing waves of broken bones and gashes that required tending, so you go back to working. for days, you work feverishly, making sure to be extra diligent in your tasks so that no one has to come back with torn stitches or re-sprained joints. but even as you push yourself harder, even as the work starts to tire you out and your body starts to need rest, your thoughts turn to the captain.

he’s a fierce and imposing man, and even at your height, you felt dwarfed next to him. it wasn’t… a bad feeling, but it did send a curl of something hot and strange down into your stomach each time you thought about it.

you shake your head as you walk back to your tent. while the morning had been busy, tonight was quiet, eerily so, but your fellow medical officers gave you the green light to leave early and rest. your body aches a bit from all of the work you've been doing hunched over backs and legs and arms and chest suturing them or resetting them back into place… but even with your body hurting a bit, you feel accomplished, like nothing can wipe off the satisfaction of a job well done. you know that you've done good work, and as you head into your tent, it gives you a little bit of pride to realize that all of that work has paid off.

as soon as you get into your tent, you can't help it. you can feel the pull to think about the captain. your body might be tired, but your mind is buzzing and as you lay in your tent, the memory of his gentleness still lives in your mind. you want to know more, and now you hope for his attention.

wait! he doesn’t even know my name, you think, but… maybe he could. will he even want to talk to you further? do you think you'll get another chance to speak with him? what would even lead to such a turn? how would it go?

you shake your head to clear the thoughts and sigh. he’s a harbinger and i’m just a no-name medic in his eyes, you think, why would he even care?

you need to get some rest. you snuff out the lamp in your tent and close your eyes, trying to get that much needed sleep, you know, the things you’ve been neglecting since the skirmishes and all the injured patients.

bugs buzz and chirp in the dark of the night and you sigh, rolling over onto your side to get comfortable.

chirp! il capitano…

chirp! il capitano…

chirp! il capitano…

your eyes are wide open and anger builds in your bones, steeping your blood in it. you grind your teeth and snatch a fresh pair of clothes up from your pack, throwing open the tent flap and stalking out. maybe a quick dip in the lake with soothe your nerves.

it’s rather lucky that the company settled where they did. through a small patch of trees is a glistening lake. the company fishes out of it for fresh meat, but they mostly use it to bathe and relax as the captain plots the next move through this unfamiliar territory.

it's a peaceful night, in contrast to the hustle and bustle of camp. if the peace is nice, and if your luck holds, you’ll are able to relax. you make your way through the trees slowly, taking in the night air. something about the air at night is always more soothing that during the day, maybe its because its cooler, but whatever it is, it makes the ball of stress that knots up and grows in your chest relax. the water of the lake is quiet and still through the trees, and the stars in the sky reflect off of the calm waters. as you make your way down the side of the camp, you hear some movement up ahead.

greeeeaaat. Someone beat me to a midnight dip.

there’s someone in the distance. from the tree, its hard to make out any details, but… could it be a spy? could it be some nosey ass treasure hoarders? fuck… if it’s a spy, maybe you can be stealthy and put a stop to them.

a little voice in the back of your head whispers mockingly, you’re a medic. what are you going to do, heal them to death?

as annoying as the voice is, it’s right. clubbing someone to death, isn’t exactly where your skills lie, but being quiet and calm is. you make your way carefully, hiding behind brush and tree trunks as the lake gets closer and closer.

as the lake comes into full view, it is clear that there is only one man, sitting by the water's edge on a boulder. he's alone, as far as you can see, and sits with his back turned to you. he's silent, not making a sound nor moving, except for every so often when he takes a deep breath. even from the hidden spot you watch from, you become increasingly more bored as he just… just stands there, doing nothing, saying nothing. after a few more brave steps forward, you get a better look at him. he has long hair that hangs down his shoulders and a blacked out helm covering his head. he’s shed the heavy cloak and instead wears a thin buttoned shirt that strains across his muscles as he breathes.

huh?

you step out of the shadows and announce your presence quietly. “capitano, sir?”

he stays still and silent as if he hasn't heard you, but after a few seconds, capitano’s head swivels around to the source of your voice. he rises to his feet and even from this distance, he's tall and imposing. just seeing him gives you a little shiver as his face turns to you, and your heart skips a beat at being seen by him.

“what is it?” there's a certain coldness to his tone, but as far as you can tell he's not angry… maybe. you did just interrupt his—well whatever he was doing. one thing you are sure of right now is that you have his full attention now. whether that’s a good thing or bad is still under debate, you think.

“sorry, sir.” better to start off with an apology, you’ve learned, especially when it comes to harbingers. “i didn’t mean to interrupt you, i wasn’t aware anyone else was here. i’ll take my leave.”

you turn and begin to pick your way back through the underbrush and even as you turn to leave, you still feel capitano’s presence at your back. you can feel the weight of his eyes on you like a hawk, even through the helm that obscures your view of them.

“... come back.” his words fill the stretch of distance between the two of you, strong and unmoving. his voice is deep and confidence and filled with a strange certainty that makes it clear this is not a choice.

the air is punched out of your lungs. you must obey the orders of a harbinger, this well-respected and gentle giant is not different, so you slowly turn back around, clutching your clothes in your hand. each step forward feels heavy and like they stretch miles and before you even realize it, he stands just a few feet away from you.

his arms are crossed over his broad chest, like he’s taking a moment to think. every second, makes your heart beat just a little faster and all you can think is that you should get your blood pressure checked soon. his helm bore down at you and in the dark, it’s much more terrifying. this must be what enemies see and feel when they face him.

archons, i think i’m gonna pass out. is this normal? are my hands sweating? i can’t fucking tell because everything is sweating.

the coldness from before is still in the air, but he seems patient, thinking, then finally he speaks. this tone is plain, as if he doesn’t have the time to embellish the word he says. it's clear that he likes things to be straight to the point and not to repeat himself.

“sit.”

the air is far too warm and with your heart beating like a drum in your ears, it’s hard to say if you heard him right. you stand there for a moment, staring at him from the respectful distance you’ve kept and blink in confusion. sit? where? does he…is he trying to make me sit at his fucking feet? what?

“i’m…i’m sorry?”

“sit,” he repeats, his tone soft. he gestures to the boulder he’d previously occupied and you go wide eyed and let out the breath you were holding. you want to laugh, because—archons!—what were you thinking!? i mean, shit, have i become a total pervert these days?

you cross the distance, your nervous shot to hell and back, and sit on the boulder, slowly looking up, up, up at his masked face. your heart still hasn’t slowed its panicked rhythm and, honestly, the darkness and the whole ‘sit’ things was kinda hot, if not completely stressful.

his words are soft and slow, like with each word he’s trying to carefully and purposefully choosing what he's going to say. his voice is deep and the words seem to come out easily with a quiet intensity that is hard to really understand unless one was him.

“you are very obedient…”

jaw dropping would not be an accurate way to describe the reaction you have, but it’s close enough. your eyes grow even wider and your clothes fall out of your hand, dropping into your lap and electricity shoots up your spine and heat pools in your belly and and and and…

“um,” you try to think of a way to respond, but nothing really comes to mind.

then, he begins to laugh and it's deep and hearty, but not in a mocking manner. he reaches a clawed gauntlet out in an offer of a hand. you can only stare at it, while confusion crosses your expression, but you take it and he helps you up to your feet. he withdraws his hand, but something about the way he does it seems…reluctant? maybe you were just projecting. yeah, that must be it.

“not very brave though!”

you blink at his hand that raises up and crosses over his chest, then to the lake water that laps just a few inches shy of his boots. clearly, this was just a test or just something, but more than anything you were embarrassed. who in their right mind just obeys so quickly? you, that’s who apparently. archons, you feel like an idiot as you blush deeply and refuse to look at capitano, speaking slowly, “i’m still working on it, sir.”

he hums and it sounds like it was done so with a smile, but its really hard to tell with that helm covering. “that's fine—bravery is not always about your physical strength. often, bravery is about having the will to do something even if you're afraid. Sometimes you must do things that scare you, and in those times, it's important to have a strong will, even if you're not very brave. so I suppose if you're not brave yet…” He pauses, thinking for a moment, then he tilts his head down, catching your attention again. you look up and he nods as if to himself. “...at least be strong-willed.”

the lake is so quiet except for the light sounds of waves hitting the sand and the bugs that watched from the trees, chirping and buzzing. the stars above twinkle down and if it weren’t for the rather strange and awkward circumstances, it might even be romantic in a sense and that thought alone makes your mind run wild.

he watches you think, watches you try to take in his words and in the silence between the two of you, he exudes a wisdom that's almost impossible to put your finger on. his cold presence is still there, you can feel it—he has not lost any of his intensity, but this time, he uses these traits for something different. this time, as he uses that intensity instead of putting you in your place as most other harbingers might have, he’s using it to build you up.

you're being praised, you're being supported and recognized... and it feels good. good enough to send a pleased shiver down your spine and bring a small smile to your face.

he tilts his head and his gaze feels intimidating, yet it doesn’t frighten you anymore. despite the terror you started this off with, you begin to feel comfortable in his presence and it's a strange, oddly comforting thing to realize.

“you had the willpower to do something you were afraid of, and you did a good job…”

the praise is one thing that makes your stomach flutter, but the fact that it’s from the well-respected capitano is another reaction altogether. your heart skips and your breathing hitches and your hands sweat and your mind goes staticy with euphoria from him praising you. a harbinger praising anyone below them is enough to be considered honorable, but this takes the cake, because it isn’t just any harbinger, it’s il capitano.

you nod and he just stands there, giving you that same sense of calmness and comfort that the stars give off before he sighs and speaks quietly again, “enjoy the lake, there might not be much time to relax in the coming days.” then he steps passed you and steps through the trees. for such a large man, there is not a single sound of snapping branches or rustling foliage, but you can see his silhouette growing smaller and smaller as he leaves fully.

you stand dazed for a while, watching the trees, before you smile to yourself and decide that you should take advantage of being alone, relaxing and floating in the cool waters of the lake, replaying the conversation and praise from capitano over and over in your head.

-

in the following days, in light of il capitano’s warning, there are plenty of fights that break out. hoarders and locals and wild animals that deter the advancement of the camp once more. despite all of this, you do see capitano around the camp more, still doing the work he did before, but now he seems to mill about with some unknown reason behind it. since most of your time is spent taking care of ungrateful assholes, you don’t receive much thanks or praise from anyone around you, but the thought, the very memory of il capitano acknowledging you, makes you strive for more.

the praise from capitano becomes a strong motivation for you; it's something you can't help but work hard towards achieving. every day that goes by, you push yourself more and more, all in the hopes that he'll notice and give you more praise. hope he gives you that little bit of satisfaction that comes from being told you're doing a good job, that its well worth staying around, well worth doing. the motivation and encouragement is something that you feel deep down in your bones, so you put in plenty of hours treating patients and keeping watch over everyone while the other medics take time to eat and get some sleep. you don’t want baseless praise, you want to earn it, so you work yourself to the bone, leaving just enough energy to drag yourself to your tent when you get off and sleep the rest of your extra time away.

you keep working hard, and as you do, you keep catching yourself looking up, hoping for a moment to catch a glimpse of the captain, hoping he'll come and give you more encouragement, give you what your crave. you pause each time, stunned with yourself and confused; you’ve come to a realization that you've never felt this way before. you've always been dedicated to your work of course, always dedicated to being a good medic and a good fatui, but this... this is something different. his praise was something that you can't help but want more of, can’t help but yearn for, can’t help but find yourself craving his approval, his praise.

ha! maybe i need to take a break, this can’t be healthy…

but you never do. work, work, work, like a good little fatui footsoldier. you heal, you work, you sleep, rinse repeat. every hour of every day.

the camp doesn’t move forward, stuck in the same place beside the lake, but it’s not all bad. the workload lessens after capitano descends on the skirmishers that prevent the company from moving on, clearing the way. the camp doesn’t pack up in the aftermath, but stay in place via the command il capitano issued stating his soldiers need rest and to heal. the reaction of the collective camp was more a cheer and sigh of relief. and finally with the issued order, you now have time to yourself. sure, it’s not a whole lot of time, but it’s enough to sleep more than three hours a night and enjoy the cool waters of the lake once more after all the stress of the last few days.

you choose a secluded corner of the lake to bathe, to enjoy the water and let the tension seep out into the lake to be washed away. the sun is hot overhead, beating down ruthlessly, but you can’t bring yourself to care much because, archons it’s so nice! not far from your little corner, you can hear the laughing and splashing of the rest of the company playing around and enjoying the day off from duties and it brings a smile to your face to hear them letting go of the stoic, hardened persona they usually portray to the rest of the world. after all, the fatui are human too, and you are all just children that grew up quickly in search of ways to help their families.

in the peace you relish in, something—someone— is there. you can feel eyes on you, watching with an intensity that makes the hair on your body rise and your skin crawl with warning. you open your eyes quickly, still and cautious. if you turn suddenly, the intruder might run and you’d never get to see who is peeping in on you, so you try your best to use your other senses. there’s no sounds of movement, no sounds of breathing, nothing. just utter silence, but you can feel the eyes. then, out of the corner of your eye, you see movement. before you can even think about turning to look at the person, a looming shadow falls over you and a deep voice speaks up right behind you.

“are you enjoying yourself?”

you tilt your head back, looking up and up and up. somehow, the fatui harbinger, il capitano, had snuck up behind you without so much as a sound. and he seemed keenly aware of this fact because despite the masked helm over his face, he was wearing a smug air around him, like this was a sort of game, a sort of payback for you sneaking up on him several nights before.

you flush with embarrassment at your predicament. fully naked in the water; water that was crystal clear, but luckily distorted with your movement. you sink further into the water until the only thing above water is your head and you quickly cover your chest with your arms and curl your legs up to at least save face in the presence of the captain.

“um, y—yes, sir,” you mutter. you turn your eyes away from his masked face, but can’t keep your gaze away for long. he’d managed to sneak up on you without you knowing, he could probably leave just the same.

capitano's mask stares at you unwaveringly. you can feel the intense energy he usually carries with him, like the presence of the cold winter wind. you might not be able to see his eyes, but it’s clear he’s focused on you, taking in your nakedness, your shame, your surprise and it makes you want to wither under the feeling of eyes. he's watching you, and you can feel his eyes moving across your body.

you flush darker at the realization and clear your throat, trying to be brave and strong-willed, because while this is definitely wet dream material, this is real, this is your waking life and it’s unnerving just a little. “sir. do…do you need a medic right now?”

he shakes his head and his clawed gauntlet hands that hang by his side flex into fists slowly before he notices you watching them and stops. “would it bother you if i watch?”

gone. you are gone. lights are on, but nobody's home. shock, bewilderment…curiosity maybe, just maybe, is clear across your expression. a terrible curling heat stirs in your belly; terrible in the sense that you might like that, but you can’t show that. this is your superior many times over and that would be disrespectful in ways that can’t even begin to cross your mind at the moment. perhaps this is his way of abusing his position, but if that was the case rumors of him doing this would be swarming with the women of the company, swarming through the women of the whole fatui.

and in the time all these thoughts have shot through your head, it’s only been moments of your silent shock. you try to manage your expression into something professional, but despite your efforts, the deep blush on your skin seems to counter you. the masked harbinger tilts his head like he’s waiting to hear your answer.

“s—sir, i do not, um, think that’s appropriate.”

“oh? do i make you uncomfortable?” his voice is quiet, but powerful. he expects honesty and he wants an answer no matter what it might be.

in general, you do not feel uncomfortable with him, but at the moment? just a little. it’s not a situation anyone would truly be okay with in terms of their superior watching, but the spike of something in your belly and feeling of heat curling in your pussy tells of something different.

you look down at the water ahead of you and swallow, trying not to stumble over your words as you explain, “that’s…that’s not it, sir. i just…don’t think it’s…professionally appropriate or acceptable. if i, uh, let you watch, the company might assume i’m trying to seduce you for my own gains and if they see you watching me, the company might think you're using your position to be…inappropriate with me. it’s not a good outcome for either of us, sir.”

he’s quiet for a pregnant pause, then he hums as if he’s come to the perfect answer. “so if it weren't for the company…would you think it was fine?” everything about him seems to be so calculating, so deliberate, you can't help but be transfixed by his presence. then adds something quickly. “assuming it was just you and me, of course.”

you can still hear the horseplaying from the other fatui just on the other side of the sandbank and it is nerve wracking. just feet from them, their superior is revealing himself to be a peeping tom and they are none the wiser, but…but…

but what if they see, whispers that tiny rational voice in the back of your mind.

“well?”

you look back up to his masked face and he clearly finds this amusing, especially with the smug way he holds himself now and if that isn’t killer already, then the fact that he’s looming over you roving his eyes over whatever body parts are still exposed is. a little part of you wants to rise out of the water and let him see the rest, but the more prominent part of you sinks her claws deep and screams, what if they see?! what about your position!

“i think the answer to that is clear, sir,” you say, meeting a happy medium between both sides of your hormonal brain.

he seems satisfied with the answer and lowers into a crouch which doesn’t make much of a difference in height because even with lowering himself down, he still seems to tower over you. he reaches a clawed, covered finger out and tilts your chin up, your reflection showing in his mask and holy shit, i look fucking desperate.

“i see. so if we were alone, you’d show me more?”

you can’t look away, forced to look into a face that you can’t see, but that can see yours. you slowly nod, and whisper out, “yes.”

his whole structure shudders, behind the helm, his breathing catches, and air feels charged, electric, volatile. it’s enough to make you regret saying no before. what could he do to you? would he be gentle? would he be rough? would he take his time stretching you out before sheathing his cock into you? archons, how big was he?

his finger slides down from your chin, tracing the column of your neck, the sharp point turning to run thin raised lines over your collarbone before abruptly pulling away. he rises and stands tall, looking down at you and it sends a sick rush through you.

“tonight. i’ll need medical care,” then the hulking man turns and leaves you breathless and in awe, like he didn’t just do the single hottest thing you’d ever experienced, like he didn’t just almost send you bursting into flames from his touch alone. you watch him leave and just like before he’s completely silent as he vanishes into the trees, back to the camp.

are you sunburned? yeah, that must be why you’re so red. no other reason.

you quickly finish up with your bath and climb up onto the beach to pull clothes onto your soaking body, uncaring if they stick to your skin. you stumble through the tree and set off to find something to distract you from your nasty thoughts. it doesn’t work, but hey, you tried. that has to count for something, right?

the day passes painfully for you, your mind replaying to feeling of his finger trailing your skin, the feeling of how your pussy fluttered thinking about where else those fingers could be. you feel a mix of excitement and anxiety, not knowing what to expect… but archons, isn’t that the best part? not knowing? the anticipation, the heart beating like a drum, the blood pumping through your body? but for now, at least, you have to wait for tonight to find out what kind of man lurks under the mask and armor.

you try and try to distract yourself, but it's no good all you can seem to think about it making time speed up so you can go to his tent. he’s like a brain leaching parasite, trapped in your skull wandering around and prodding at every thought, infecting it, changing it into something about him. you can't get him out of your head, and the conversation on the lake keeps running through your mind a thousand times over.

tonight tonight tonight tonight…

-

from the rosy orange hues of the setting sun and the night reaching its star covered fingers up to cage the land in darkness, the night falls slowly. your nerves are getting the better of you as you watch with rapt attention as patrols start their nightly rounds, passing with torches through the darkened routes of the camp, keeping an eye out for any intruders. but you aren’t an intruder, you are one of them, but the thought of getting caught leaving your tent for an unexpected visit to the harbingers tent is terrifying, thrilling. it’s gut wrenching.

you don’t really have much to worry about though. you know the patrolling route and when they move through each circle of tents, so braving yourself, you wait for the patrolling officer to pass then you dart out. each step closer makes your heart pound, makes slick collect in your underwear, makes your head rush. you weave through the tents until the largest of them all becomes visible.

the tent is made of heavy material, blocking light from entering and to keep the noise of whatever fatui harbinger information stays inside. it’s tall, made to accommodate the man it houses, but you don’t give it much more attention as you take notice that the usual two guards that stay stationed outside are…missing from their post. either you’re very lucky or capitano planned this before patrols went out.

you push the tent flaps open and slip inside, head still rushing, heart still beating like you ran a mile.

inside the tent, the lanterns are dim, but let out enough light that you're able to make out the presence of someone inside. they're standing perfectly still, and at first you're not sure, but as you move closer you can make out the figure of capitano: his tall, well-built body leaning back against the tent pole. he’s not wearing his full armor, instead he’s done to a dark shirt, his arms covered by his gauntlets and the pants he usually does, his arms crossed over his chest. he turns his masked helm towards your intrusion, like he was waiting, waiting for you.

he watches you, letting his silence linger in the air of the tent for a moment, as if he's waiting for you to make the first move. Finally he speaks, his tone soft, but there's a heat to his voice. this heated voice sends a shock down to your pussy and you swallow as you look over him one more time, taking in the stretch of his clothes, the sharp shine of his gauntlets, and how imposing and large he is. 

“come on, follow me.” with that, he turns and walks deeper into the tent.

you take a hesitant step forwards. if you didn’t want this, you wouldn’t have come here and he would know that you were wary. but you’re here and now is not the time to back down. besides, his commands are not easily disobeyed with the intensity and strength he holds in his voice.

he leads the way, moving through another thick, thick sheet separating his office area from the rest of his tent. he’s silent as he moves with slow and deliberate steps, disappearing behind the sheet and as you follow him, you take note that he doesn’t seem to be messy with his area, of course, it helps that his company is always on the move, but still. he's not the type of man to be sloppy.

you pass through the sheet and come to a stand still. his living quarters are meticulous and clean. his armor hangs on a mannequin, he has a table near you with a single chair for himself, and his bed… which is honestly the most shocking things so far because why didn’t you have a bed, why didn’t anyone else have a bed instead of a rollup sleeping bag, then the answer rings through your head, a reminder: he’s a harbinger, and as such, he can have a bed if he god damn well pleases. his bed is huge and contains a single large pillow and layers of blankets. it looks like heaven, looks like eight full hours of sleep and a pep in your step.

he stands a little ways from you, hands flexing slowly by his side and his masked helm turned towards you, silent, intense, calculating. capitano takes a step towards the bed and stops short of it when he notices you aren’t following. the darkness of the mask looks back at you and it makes you feel like he's seeing through you, makes you shimmer below the skin. what really sets you off are his next words.

“sit down.”

you don’t need to be told twice with the quiet, yet powerful command of his tone and with really wanting to lay down on that bed, you don’t hesitate this time. you cross the distance, sliding passed his hulking mass and sitting on the bed, scooching to sit while your hands hold onto the material of your pants. looking up at him would be too much for you right now, you don’t want to see yourself reflected back, so you focus on his broad chest and his moving hands.

capitano unbuckles the gauntlets and slides them off. the skin revealed below is scarred and rough, but otherwise normal. not the reptilian scales people gossip about, but they are big hands. thick, long fingers that you can’t help but think are perfect for splitting open your cunt. while in your thoughts, he tosses the gauntlets down where they clang together with a metallic pitch and it’s like the opening gunshot for a race. your eyes dart back to him as he approaches and reaches his hand out, tracing his fingers down your cheeks, down your throat, down to your covered collarbone and then he pauses as he hooks his finger on the collar of your shirt.

“you’re wearing too many clothes.”

no words can escape past your tongue so you only nod, turning your eyes up to his masked helm. capitano moves slow as his touch skims down your shirt and he lifts the hem, pulling it up and over your arms and head. his breathing shudders at the sight of your braless chest and pert nipples. his hands cup your tits and engulf them, kneading the flesh and rubbing his thumbs over the hardened buds. you push your chest into capitano’s hands and your breathing gets heavy as he squeezes them.

something about his presence is overwhelming now, an intensity that was previously unknown to you or anyone, but it doesn’t bring your fear, it just makes you rub your thighs together, letting out a light moan as he pinches your nipples. the heat in the air rises and you can’t tell if it’s because he’s so close or if it’s because his hands are kneadings your tits, but you do know one thing. your underwear is a mess already and you haven’t even started.

his touch recedes from your skin and it’s devastating, but it doesn’t take much for you to feel his hands pushing you to lay back on the bed. his chest is heaving like he’s feeling the heat of the room too, feeling the strain of his cock in his pants and it strikes a tinge of pride in your chest. you did this to him.

capitano seems to take in the view of you, taking in every part of you that he can see and slick dampens your thighs. he finally moves, his hands moving down your stomach, touching and squeezing your sides as he down until he reaches your pants.

“take it off. all of it,” capitano’s voice is labored, like the act of restraining himself is causing him great pain, and maybe it is, so you quickly struggle to unbutton your pants with shaky fingers, hooking your thumbs down and pulling both underwear and pants off in one fell swoop. your eyes fall to his own pants and archons, how the fuck is that supposed to fit if that’s just the outline?

“good,” he groans, standing at the foot of the bed. his black mask points straight at you, and the heat in the air has become almost unbearable now. is it the room or is it you? he gives you a slight nod, as if he's telling you that you're doing what he ordered you to do, performing it perfectly and the rush that hits your mind pushes out any embarrassment that might have tried to rise. he seems perfectly calm and unhurried, but the strain of his body, the coil of muscles in his arms and hands tells you a different story.

capitano takes a moment to look at you, and then slowly, deliberately, he leans toward you. every inch that he gets closer, every shake of his hands sends a shiver down your spine. his masked helm is mere inches away from yours as he leans over you and in the moment, you can smell his scent which smells of the wild, of the tang of sweat and of life. he reaches out and strokes your cheek again, down your neck, his finger tracing and teasing against your skin. his touch is cold and gentle yet it sends a wave of heat and electricity through you as he familiarizes his way around your body, your curves, the softness of your skin and the plushness of your tits, the jut of your hips, the thickness of your thighs. his hands pause as he leans forward, moving his head to your neck.

“...beautiful.”

you pant out and a soft moan rises out of your lips, escaping into the air. capitano’s hands pause for an infinitesimal second before a chuckle bleeds through the buzzing of your head. your skin burns as his path continues downward, slowly moving his hands even lower, below even your hips now. capitano’s touch lingers for a moment before sliding further down, his hands cup the backs of your thighs, spreading your legs open and smoothing his scarred hands down the sides. his fingers dig into the flesh, gripping and feeling every inch. capitano moves closer, positioning his body between your thighs to keep them open, pushing his rock hard bulge against your slicked cunt.

the whine that pierces the air only makes the room hotter, only makes capitano’s grip tighten, only makes him rock against you harder, a promise of what’s to come.

he seems to know what he's doing, that’s for sure. the way he touches, the way he goes to the most sensitive places makes you believe he’s completely aware of what you're thinking and what you want. his hands smooth over the tops of your thighs, his thumbs spreading the lips of your pussy and shuddering at the amount of slick that shines on your skin. the sudden cool air has you hissing as he runs a finger down your slit, smearing your juices up to your clits. just the brief feeling of his touch against the bundle of nerves sends a jolt through your body, tensing your muscles, hoping he  moves his knuckle just a little lower, hoping he puts just a little more pressure, hoping, hoping, hoping.

“fuck…” you whisper hoarsely, your eyes squeezing closed and your fingers digging into the sheets underneath. capitano’s finger slides back down over your slit, his touch light and teasing. his finger slows, hovering over your entrance.

you open your eyes and see capitano’s masked helm is turned up to you, waiting. when your eyes fully land on him, he pushes a finger in, slow and methodical, curving it up and immediately finding your g-spot. your eyes roll back and you drop your head back onto the bed, moaning. the wet squelch of his finger stretching you out is lewd, the sounds alone bring a blush deeper than before and you moan as he fingers you. in some attempt to stay quiet, you press your mouth into your hand to try and hide your whines and moans but it quickly becomes apparent you're losing the battle.

your body arches up as he begins to relentlessly attack the squishy spot inside you. it’s not that he’s being rough with you… yet, but in this moment, it’s like he realized he doesn't have to hold back. His movements are precise, hard, as if he's studied you in his mind and knows every little detail about you so well that he can push you exactly the way he wants. as if one wasn’t enough to make your head spine, the abrupt and quick addition of his middle finger into the mix takes you closer and closer to the shining white precipice of bliss.

capitano’s fingers squelch and his pace that started off slow, begins to pick up, just that much harder, that much deeper, that much faster. he's using his strength, he's using his power... and he's using it all on you. through the ringing bliss, through your pitched moans, through his quiet groans, it’s like he’s getting lost in you... he's losing himself in the moment, in your body, in your precious cunt that’s swallowing his fingers and sucking them deeper.

“so good f’me…” capitano groans, his thumb pressing down on your clit, the pressure a threat to fling you over the edge and he lets out a sigh before his thumb jerks in shaky, tight circles, watching through the masked helm. the pressure is earth shattering, the heat overwhelming, and it all builds and builds and builds and just when it can't get any more intense, it hits. your hips rise up and a muffled series of moans gets lost into the palm of your hand as you’re hurdle into your first orgasm of the night.

but he doesn’t stop pushing his fingers in and out, in and out, pushing them as deep as possible, crooking them up to rub your g-spot, he doesn’t stop, not for even a single moment, working you through your orgasm and then some. capitano keeps going, letting the squelching of your come become music to his ears as he moves onto a faster, more powerful pace, trying to build you up again.

“w—wait! i’m—!” your hand shoots down from your mouth and grabs at his wrist, but still, he doesn’t stop, in fact, it seems to spur him on as he looks from your creamy cunt to your dazed, panting face. he watches you grab at his wrist, watches as you can’t contain your moans anymore and tilts his head.

“w—what?” he mocks and then he pushes a third finger in without letting up the relentless pace and you feel the build of a second climax coming fast. your grip on his wrist tightens and your hips rise, trying to get away because, archons, it hurts! but it feels so good!

capitano uses his hand gripping your waist and holds you down as your eyes go wide and your head hits the bed, a stretched out loud moan ripping through you. Oh fuck! your second climax comes rushing to meet you, his fingers stretch your pussy open, making room where there was none. before you can warn him it hits. your eyes roll back and you gush all over his finger and hand.

he takes in the entire view, the sounds, the moment as you let out a scream. he seems to be enjoying himself immensely, the smugness of his posture, of the strain of his cock in his pants. only then does he slow down for a moment, to watch your second orgasm break you apart. you feel his pleasure in every move, in every touch. heat blankets the two of you, like he's burning with a passion as hot as the heat you feel through your climax, like he's burning with the desire to feel you, want you, lose himself in your cunt.

“Captain! Cap—! Captain! Captain! Captain! Sooooo good, sooo good! Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

then he stops, going completely still. like he’s listening, like he’s relishing in the sound of his own title, like he’s drinking up every moan, every word, every gasp of pleasure and with each second that flits by, the heat of the room rises to a greater, smothering degree. the fire, the intensity of his presence reignites, burning through you. capitano’s fingers plunge into you with more vigor, with more urgency this time.

“that’s it, keep cumming f’me,” capitano grumbles. he pulls one of your legs up to rest of his shoulder and prods his fingers against the soft spot inside you, insistently. there’s definitely a smile on his face, one hidden from you, but it wouldn’t matter if he didn’t have the masked helm on, because the white spots in your eyes are looking like stars and the rolling waves of your orgasm are blinding. 

“please! please! please!” honestly, you don’t even know what you’re begging for but your tongue is loose and babbling. your chants are almost incomprehensible, but one thing is clear, capitano’s not done. “oh archons!”

he chuckles like he knows exactly what you're begging for and in a soft, low, hoarse whisper that's dripping with passion, he whispers, “beg for me, good girl.”

the request doesn't exactly make sense because you don’t know what to beg for, but he wants to hear you beg, he wants to know that you want this, that you need this, no matter what happens. he wants to hear you beg for him.

you roll your head to the side, trying to get the stars to go away so you can drink up the large form of him, so you can see him, so you can see what he does when you do beg. “need you! need you so bad! pl—hah!—please!”

he rolls his hip, pressing his clothed cock against your ass as a reminder and his body shudders like it’s taking everything in him not to rip his clothes of and fuck you with everything he has in him. his breathing is heavy, but he manages to speak through it, “tell me what you want. tell me what you need.”

and this time, this request absolutely makes sense.

“in! need you inside! have to have you in me, please, capitano, please!” you plead, hands tightening around his slowing wrist. his head tips back and a groan rumbles from his throat before he’s pulling his cum covered fingers from your wrecked pussy. it’s ungodly how his fingers shine in the dim lantern light of the room. he begins to unbuckle his belt slowly, masked helm watching you writhing in anticipation and the slowly calming waves of your pleasure. when he pulls his pants and underwear down to his thighs, your eyes go wide as his dick springs free from its confines and archons, is that going to fit?

the tip is a deep red, aching and leaking thick rivets of pre that smear over the slit. in his hand it looks like a normal size, but to you, it’s a weapon. a thick vein runs from tip to base and as he runs a hand up and down, using your cum as a lube, you see him twitching, his cock jumping at his touch. he squeezes his fist around the base, pulling upwards until he reaches the tip, pushing for pre through the slit.

he groans when he releases himself, stepping forward and grabbing your ankles, pulling you to the edge of the bed until your ass is just barely hanging on. you push yourself onto your elbows, eyes glazed over and thighs wet, as you stare at him. he guides your legs around his waist and then holds himself, hot and heavy, putting the tip to your cunt.

capitano watches you through the masked helm as your breathing hitches and he slowly pushes himself into your pussy. your elbows aren’t enough to hold you up as you throw your head back and cover your face with your hands. it’s pain. it’s agony, it’s pleasure. it’s better than your previous imagination. and as your moans grow in pitch and turn into sobs, it’s all worth it. euphoria crawls up your spine, crawling into your skin and leaving no room for anything else.

every inch is torture, every inch is a delight. you can feel your very blood burning with every slow second, every slow inch, like capitano’s every touch is fire itself. his every move is like a flame consuming you, eating you up. every motion is building to a peak, every motion... every breath... every inch... a wave of pain and pleasure, consuming you, sweeping you away.

“c—capitano! too big! too big!”

he doesn’t stop until all of him is in all of you, until he’s bottomed out in your fluttering cunt, until he pauses to take a deep breath. his hands slid along your body, squeezing, pinching, pulling at your skin before he smooths them to your belly, hovering over your skin.

“you took all of me,” he says, amazement in his words. “fuck…” then he presses on the outline of him in your stomach and you arch, squeezing around his cock and gasping out. “so good f’me.”

his hand slides from your belly and both run down to grasp at your hips. his grip is strong and firm, his touch soft and blisteringly hot.

capitano’s first thrust is slow, but strong, meeting your hips with a bruising force and that’s the last time he’s slow. each squelch of your cunt stretching around him, taking him down to the base, sucking him back in drives him to do more, give more, take more. it hurts, he’s so big, too big, but the force of his every movement sends wave after wave after wave of the most incredible pleasure through you. it's all consuming, it's like a tide, a push and pull of heat and passion and pleasure so overwhelming you can barely speak a word, and the words you can are hardly coherent, just the babblings of an already fucked out cocksleeve.

there are no thoughts in your head, only the feelings of him stretching you out and filling you up and pleasure like nothing known before. between the sensual touches at the start and his fingers before, this leaves you brainless and dumb.

already there’s a building of pleasure in your belly, building up up up up with each hard, strong thrust of capitano’s cock into you, pummeling you, abusing you. your moans reverberate through the room, picking up as he bullies his cock into you, like he knows you're getting close again. his pace speeds up ever so slightly and his grip gets even stronger, fingers holding you in place with bruising strength.

“so tight, so perfect,” he groans, dropping his head a little, panting. “made f’me. this pussy was molded for me!”

“fuck, fuck! i’m…i’m—”

he gives a particularly hard thrust, choking you up and he chuckles darkly at the noises you make, his own personal orchestra. he shakes his head and pulls you more flush against him, his hands start to roam, plucking at your tight nipples, squeezing at the flesh of your tits. his touch moves up to your neck, soft, restrained like he wants to wrap his hands around your throat and feel you tighten around him, but his hands return to your hips as he looks down to see your pussy swallowing him up and your belly poking out with each slam of his hips against yours.

“such a good girl. ah… fuck,” he breathes, his body solid and heavy. His thumb moves down to press at your clit, rubbing quick circles on the nerves, trying to throw you into another orgasm, craving to feel you clench down around him and pulse.

“capitano! i’m gonna—i’m gonna…!”

“let go, my good girl. cum f’me,” capitano growls out putting more pressure behind his thrusts, behind his rubbing thumb.

every move he exacts is making the building pressure turn into something incredible, building to a height you didn’t know existed, building to a high. and for the third time this night, you hit the wall of pleasure and arch up into him, biting down on your hand and screaming as your climax sweeps through you.

“capitano! i’m cumming!”

he throws his head back as your cunt grips him, and stills your hips against his. you feel the heavy warm twitches of him reach his peak, letting his cum coat your walls in the same moment as you and it’s euphoric, devastating, mind blowing. you stay still, body flushed in sweat and eyes glazed over, heart jackrabbiting in your chest and voice still letting out light moans as he heaves.

when capitano finally moves, he pulls himself free from the suction of your body, his masked helm pointed to where you’re bodies connect. he watches as his still hard cock pops out and cum leaks down your legs, sliding down the curve of your ass, spoiling the sheets below. he hums and presses his hand down on your belly, pushing down and enjoying the way you tense and moan as more of his cum spills out in thick milky globs.

“you shouldn’t waste gifts, darling,” his voice is guttural and heavy with desire. a tone that lets you know he's not done. a tone that lets you know he's thinking of other ways to fill you up and make you feel pleasure.

you pause and rise shakily to your elbows looking at him and noting he’s still hard.. Is it shock? Is it horror in a good way? He wants… more?!

“i…i don’t… i can’t feel my legs, sir. and you want… to keep going?”

capitano leans his body towards you, his posture screaming that he’s dead serious and in fact the fire around him seems to grow hotter. he seems to radiate more heat now as he nods slowly. “Yes…” his voice is deep, calm, strong, and intense. he has a certain determination to him. this isn't an ask, isn’t a request. this is a declaration of want and he wants more from you and he's going to get it.

you swallow and look into the black helm visor. a fucked out expression greets you, sweat slicking your hair and theres a little bit of drool on the corner of your mouth. you feel a heat pool in your belly again and slowly nod. this is an opportunity you aren’t going to miss out on.

capitano’s body radiates something. is it prideful? is it amusement? is it something else? whatever it may be, it's clear that it's the feeling of a man who's going to get what he wants. he leans back and seems to be looking you over one last time, as if he's taking one last look at you, taking in your beauty and your body and the sweat and your bliss.

Instead, I found Him in a small town in Texas, sitting on the couch in someone’s dingy basement. He was watching a group of boys play beer pong- they were laughing and talking and sometimes their hands would grasp each other’s arms or shoulders. It was natural, the way they touched. They didn’t think anything more of it.

I sat beside Him, and maybe I was hoping He’d bestow some wisdom on me that would change my life for the better. That’s what I thought He’d do, anyways. That’s what they said He did for them. Everyone always said that when their life got tough, they found God, and He saved them.

I wanted to be saved.

I needed to be saved. There was something wrong with me, wasn’t there? Something wrong with how I felt. Something was wrong with the way I looked at her. The way she made the butterflies in my stomach come out of their cocoons and flutter around.

He offered me a drink in a red cup. I took it with shaking hands. Maybe it was an elixir, some potion or concoction that would fix me. That would make these thoughts stop.

A sip told me it was just beer.

He said nothing, not yet. But when the couple in the corner got too close, and their lips met, I turned to look at Him. Their hands slid over each other- her hands explored his back, his hands rested on her hips. I expected Him to say something about it- to stop them. Wasn’t it a sin, to kiss so freely? To love in such a way?

Instead, He smiled at me.