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He’s waited a long time for this. Prepared for longer still.
His heart is beating steadily as his fingertips brush lightly across the carvings etched on the wall in front of him. He’s finally reached his destination, the place he’d been seeing in his dreams, calling out to him.
It’s time.
—
It started out after his last mission.
His team was stationed at an undisclosed location when one of them stumbled upon a cave while doing a sweep of the area. He’d gone inside, curious to see if there was anything of note, and come back some time later bringing with him an object to the base.
A small black stone, smooth oval marked by a symbol carved on one side. A skull resembling that of a bull placed inside of a triangle, jaw missing, sharp teeth bracketed by long canines.
The other soldiers dismissed it as some sort of a prank, or maybe a hiker’s lost trinket. But the symbol wouldn’t leave Soap’s mind. Something about it had made itself a permanent place in his thoughts, always circling back to it no matter what he did.
At first he tried sketching it. Thought it would appease whatever part of his brain had fixated on the damn thing. But soon enough he found himself tracing the markings everywhere, in his sketchbook, on his reports, even on the fogged up mirror inside his bathroom.
So one night he asked the soldier who’d found it if he could have it. Said it would make for a nice souvenir, wanted to show it to his sister who had an interest in the unusual. A lie. He hadn’t seen or heard from his family in a decade. He couldn’t understand why he was so drawn to the stone, only knew he had to have it for himself.
Thankfully the soldier yielded easily, saying the thing creeped him out anyway. Felt weirdly cold to the touch, almost burning, so he’d put it in a drawer and tried to forget about it.
Except…
Except he could still feel its presence in the room. But that was just silly wasn’t it?
John laughed and agreed, said he’d be glad to take it off his hands if that was the case.
It had been icy cold when he’d first held it in his palm, but slowly warmed by his skin. He thought he could feel it thrum slightly, almost as if it was a heart thawing out, as if it was waking up at his touch. What a ridiculous thought to have. How could a rock be alive?
—
And so the stone was now safely held in John’s fist as he made his way back to his own room. He traced the lines as he sat at the edge of his bed. The skin at his fingertips tingled where it touched the black object and he could feel a hint of a foreign presence slither in the back of his mind. Too far away to grasp but somehow soothing, almost gentle.
His eyes snapped open as his body jolted. He hadn’t realised he’d closed them.
Setting the stone on his nightstand, he laid down on the bed, ready to let his tired mind rest. He was pulled into a deep sleep before his body had even fully settled against the sheets.
And then the dreams came.
—
A city. Vast and unknowable, impossible dark shapes spiralling up endlessly until they seemed to scrape against a crimson sky. Symmetrical and not at all, wrong at every angle. A sound like drums echoing in the distance, beat reverberating everywhere until John could feel it in his core. The power of this place was both dizzying and terrifying to behold.
John felt himself swing wildly between horror and curiosity, torn between wanting to leave this nightmarish place and delving deeper into it. His thoughts were an incoherent mess, strands fraying at the edges as they passed through his mind, fleeting and vanishing before he could grab hold of them. There was a pressure growing behind his eyes like nothing he’d ever felt before. Growing larger with every shallow breath, prodding at the edges of his consciousness as if testing how much he could take.
Before he could break, the sensation eased to a soft press, something almost careful.
No voice spoke, but the intent was clear in John’s mind. Approval hummed through him as his feet carried him forward. He hadn’t realised he was moving, but all this time he’d been tugged ever forward, his goal unknown to him.
He passed by unfathomable creatures unseen, their shapes vague as if he wasn’t fully able to comprehend their existence. Through it all a sense of safety gradually enveloped him, calming his heart. He knew he was a guest here. Invited to be a witness to something in a place he hadn’t yet reached.
It was impossible to reason how much time had passed when he was suddenly pulled to a stop.
What towered above him was a temple, one inhabited by whatever force had led him here. John knew it as instinctively as he drew breath. His heart hammered wildly against his ribs again as he stepped inside. A large figure seemed to untangle from the shadows before him, its contours flickering like flames caressed by wind, before it settled into something more solid. As his eyes adjusted to the thing that was coming closer, he recognized the shape of the creature’s head.
A bull’s skull, the bone a dripping bloody red, the outline of curving horns as black as the wisps of shadow still clinging to it as if unable to fully let go. The rest of the thing was massive and vaguely human, its limbs overly long, the digits ending in sharp talons. But what caught John off guard were the eyes.
Eerily human, a deep brown one could almost mistake for warm. They gazed into his own as if they could see straight into his soul, his very being laid bare as he was beckoned forward.
The creature circled him as John stood motionless, struggling to breathe. He knew he was dreaming, a distant voice screaming at him to wake up, leave this horrid place, but he couldn’t. The beast had him in its clutches, its pull too strong to fight.
It needed something. Needed him.
A whisper in his head told him as much, although not spoken in words.
No sound never passed through his ears, intent echoing through his brain instead. John gasped, clutching at his temples as his head felt like it was being split in two.
The creature had stopped its slow prowl, moving to stand in front of him instead. He could sense an air of amusement ripple along its form.
The pain in John’s head ebbed away, his mind once again struggling to adjust to the nightmare he was trapped in.
The beast raised a hand, sharpened nail dragging across John’s cheek, a mockery of a caress. His breath left him as if trying to escape a body it knew was doomed. He distantly felt words leave his mouth, a choked off whisper tumbling from his lips.
“What are you? Why did you bring me here?”
The creature stepped away, its head tilting slightly. Its eyes held him in place as much as the fear coiling in his gut. He could still feel its touch ghosting against his skin.
The answer came in the form of images rushing through his mind’s eye, death and destruction on an unfathomable scale, rivers of blood drowning all they touched as desperate screams filled the air. The air was filled with smoke, an acrid smell making him choke as he saw he was surrounded by bodies, broken and mutilated, those who survived chained by unending agony as they pleaded and begged. It was too much, the pressure returning, growing tenfold to bring him to his knees as the visions came faster, voices growing louder, the suffering and despair a physical force, the drums in the distance now deafening and he was cracking, splintering into too many pieces, his mouth hanging open in a silent scream as agony overtook him, driving deeper and deeper until–
It stopped. Between one moment and the next, John’s mind was released. He struggled to catch his breath, body trembling as he heaved, his head feeling too light on his shoulders.
The world tilted as he felt himself being lifted, his surroundings drifting in and out of focus as he found himself laid down on a cold hard surface. His fingers spread across it, eyes flying open as he made out the black slab beneath him.
Stone. The smooth black of it greeting him, same as the small token sitting next to his body worlds away.
John lifted his gaze upwards, breath caught in his throat. Red flooded his vision. The creature was looming above him, eyes locked on his. And instead of fear, this time he was overtaken by another feeling.
Pleasure.
Blooming underneath his skin, spreading like wildfire. Before confusion and dread could take over, he felt claws sink into his mind slowly, carefully. He was a wild animal caught in a snare, a snake gripped between steady fingers, and he was so much less. An insect wriggling beneath the weight of a giant, insignificant and inconsequential. Something to use up and discard, so much smaller than the thing his being couldn’t even begin to comprehend.
But just as the force of that realisation threatened to crush him, a whimper escaping his lips, the claws withdrew. The Other’s presence unfurled in his mind as a deep, insatiable hunger gripped him. Sensations beyond what he’d ever experienced, was capable of experiencing.
Heat enveloped him once again and he felt his body’s reaction as tendrils of inky black slithered across his chest, his legs, his groin, inside of his head. The creature’s form was undulating and John could feel it all around him, soft as a sigh, igniting the places it touched.
Inaudible whispers pulled him further down into the darkness forming behind his eyelids, the only thing he could make out those deep brown eyes that he could’ve sworn were human if he didn’t know what they belonged to.
His body was lax and pliant against the surface of what he knew now was an altar, mind reeling, feeling the first touch of shifting tendrils from far away as they roamed across his body, coiling around his limbs. He no longer felt the fabric of his clothes scratch against his body, gone as if it had never existed at all. His breath left him in shallow gasps.
There was a pull at his thighs as they were slowly spread open, a thick tentacle-like appendage moving to wrap around his already hard and leaking length.
He thought he cried out at the touch, but he couldn’t tell anymore which sounds came from him and which belonged to the indistinguishable voices that’d made their way into his mind.
John was a vessel drifting on a dark and endless sea, unmoored and half-sunken, left at the mercy of forces beyond his fragile existence. The sensations fading in and out as he was brought closer to the edge.
The tentacle stroking him had picked up its speed and the thing in his mind let him feel it splitting apart, a tendril snaking into the slit at his tip, a larger one sneaking lower. It was as if he had been given a glimpse from behind a veil, the sensations he experienced belonging to both him and the creature, their minds intricately linked as it overtook all that he was.
He could feel the stretch as the dark shape pushed inside of him, unrelenting. Another made its way into his panting mouth, his tongue rising up to greet it as it was thrust further in. The feeling of being stuffed full was driving him mad, the glide of the smoky appendages on his skin, in his body, too much and not enough. Claws dug into him as the creature’s hands grasped at his chest, sliding lower to scratch stripes across his trembling thighs and back up again to grip his throat.
The tendril relentlessly sawing in and out of him kept a steady pace, making a home in his soft body, as the one milking his shaft squeezed harder, John’s back arching as his body and mind pulsed with need.
But just as he could feel himself tipping over the edge, everything stopped. The black mass around him withdrew swiftly, his mind suddenly released as the only point of contact between him and the creature were the hands slowly relaxing against his throat.
John drew in a breath, mind hazy and slow, drunk on desire he seemed to have been cruelly denied. He blinked tears away as he tried to focus on that comforting brown again.
There was a final feeling of a hunger that didn’t belong to him before black engulfed him once more and he was falling deep into a dark abyss.
—
He woke slowly, mind struggling to separate the dream from reality. John glanced at his nightstand, the stone sitting where he’d left it the night before. He sat up carefully, something telling him he hadn’t been dreaming after all. A fleeting look at the mirror across from him revealed a dark circle of bruises around his neck, skin purple and tender.
He lifted a hand before he’d even realised it, fingers hanging in the air right above the stone. It emitted a barely there light, red like the sky at that place had been. He pressed a tentative finger to the skull’s outline and felt it pulse beneath his skin, a thought lodging into his brain.
John had work to do.
—
The first disappearance was noticed too late. The soldier who’d found the stone had been discovered near the entrance of the cave it had been hidden in. His heart was missing, a look of sheer terror frozen on his face. Eyes clouded by milky white. He’d been there for nearly four days.
The second followed three days later. Their temporary base was properly riled up now, everyone on edge as they tried to find out who could have done such a horrid thing.
By the time the third victim was found, panic had taken over completely. A few of the more superstitious ones going so far as to choose desertion, knowing they wouldn’t be allowed to leave until the killer was pinned down. They were the lucky ones. The only people who survived that place, even if they never spoke of what had happened in fear of drawing the attention of the dark thing hanging over the base to themselves.
John had plans for the rest.
—
It takes time. But with every heart torn out, every drop of blood that’s been sucked into the black stone, the mark glows brighter. The light shining from it has gone from dull to a luminous glow that surges with every throb that vibrates through it. John has been devoted in his worship, eager to prove himself worthy of his new god.
For this is a deity he has seen, felt, been touched by. There is no doubt about its existence, only the surety of its coming. And its loyal disciple will welcome it to its new realm, wants nothing more than to offer up his body and soul and mind as it takes everything and makes it its own. A beautiful terror coming to claim what rightfully belongs to it.
It’ll be here soon enough.
John’s been so busy. His squadmates seem to think so too. He can’t tell for sure over their muffled cries. He’s had to drag them deep into the cave one by one, only three out of the five still cognizant enough to realise what’s happening. The other two have been blankly staring at the walls for a while now. He may have miscalculated how much of the paralytic to give them.
They should be grateful really, he could’ve let them burn alive or be blown to pieces with the rest of the soldiers at the base. But the people surrounding him are dear to him, so he has special plans for them. They are a gift, a token of his devotion. Of his love.
For are bonds forged in blood not the hardest to break, the greatest sacrifice to be offered to one who is beyond everything?
The cave walls surrounding him are covered in symbols giving off a faint red glow, the only things he can make out the stone altar at the centre and the shapes of the people laying around it. His heart is a steady drum in his chest as his fingers find a hollow, oval and smooth. A perfect fit for the stone in his hand. He pushes it in and for a moment, there’s silence.
And then the walls are shaking, his companions’ cries growing louder as the carvings bleed black, the viscous liquid pooling into a slowly rising mass, revealing a tall horned shape.
He’s here.
John smiles and bends his head down, moving to kneel before the growing figure. It solidifies, its red skull reflecting the low light as it towers above him. A clawed hand tilts his chin up until his gaze falls on brown eyes, an appraising look in them. John lets out a small sound, caught between a moan and a sigh, mouth opening as a claw scrapes at his bottom lip. His tongue darts out to taste, the metallic tang making him shudder in anticipation.
There’s a familiar push in his mind and he welcomes it, the blissful smoke curling inside him until it takes over and he feels weightless, just a flickering flame ignited by something ancient and unknowable.
Eyes glazed over with exhilaration, John takes one of his knives out to begin cutting into the fabric of his clothes, needing to be free of the friction on his overly sensitive skin. The creature’s hand snakes lower to wrap around his throat, lifting him up gently. As he falls deeper into its hypnotising gaze, he sees tendrils reach towards his terrified squadmates out of the corner of his eye and as their screams fill the air he feels their anguish mix with his own building excitement.
Inky appendages wrap around his limbs, raising him up to lay him down on the altar, knife dropped at his side, a willing sacrifice ready to embrace the coming rapture. They caress his body, slithering across it as his breathing becomes harsher, scattered gasps falling from his open mouth. The creature’s hulking body bends as it crawls forward, draping itself over him, his legs opening to welcome it. John’s hands reach out to touch the horns on either side of its head, reverent in his silent worship. Their ridges are sharp and he feels them bite into his skin, streaks of blood trailing behind his exploring fingers.
The being shudders at the offering and he feels something hard and heavy push between his legs, slowly making its way inside of him. He can’t help but moan at the intrusion, feels himself tremble at the spread. He can hear broken sobs from around the altar, his sacrifices reeling, the terror in their minds mingling with the ecstasy that overtakes him. Their fear echoes through him like the drums, like his heartbeat, like all his life has been leading up to this moment of pure bliss.
The creature begins thrusting into him roughly, feeding off his pleasure and the tributes’ distress as his form grows larger, the sounds of wet squelching and prayers whispered between sobs filling the cavern. John squeezes his eyes shut, feeling it shift inside of him, tendrils spreading further as it hits a spot inside of him so harshly it makes him scream and suddenly he’s balanced on a razor's edge, ready to fall, to lose himself in the sensations engulfing his consciousness, the entity whose hold he’s cradled in letting him feel its own pulse of ravenous greed.
Large arms lift him up until he’s sitting, impaling himself on that massive girth that feels like it’s splitting him in half over and over again as claws dig into his hips. He holds on to the creature’s horns, opens his eyes in time to see its mouth fall open revealing a tongue, long and twisting. It licks across his neck, dives between his lips as it meets his own, driving in and out of his mouth and leaving a trail of slick to drip between their chests. It tastes like smoke, like blood, like fire made flesh. A taste so divine it steals the breath from his lungs.
John can feel a desperation rising inside of him, a need for more. Just as the thought spills into his mind, a tentacle moves lazily across his length making him whine and twitch. It wraps around him, squeezing in time with the creature’s thrusts, and one of his hands moves down to press at the bigger one bulging his stomach from the inside.
Before the pleasure can overwhelm him, his hand drops lower until his fingers reach the hilt of the blade still lying next to him, clenching around it in a tight grip. He can feel the being rumble in approval, movements turning desperate in its impatience.
The pressure builds and builds and he doesn’t even feel the blade tear into his flesh, pain forgotten as blood gushes freely from his chest, the knife clattering to the ground, and his fingers are tugging, pulling, searching for the one thing he has left to offer. A smile splits his lips, eyes adoringly soft as his fingers finally reach their prize and as he presses them into the pulsing heat he feels himself tighten around the creature, a moan violently ripping from his throat.
His hands are squeezing at his ribs as he pulls them open wider, exposing his violently beating heart, blood spilling, and a tongue hungrily falls from the creature's mouth to lap at his blood, twisting as it pushes its way inside and he feels it lick at the muscle in time with its thrusts.
The chorus of screams inside his head reaches its peak and he feels claws mercifully easing on tender scars as he’s falling over the edge, blinded by his release.
“ Mine .”
A single word echoes through his mind, drowning out all other sounds.
“Yours.”
A sigh from bloodied lips, turned up in an eternal smile.
Joined together, until the end of this world and every other.