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The Goddess has chosen a new priest.
It’s been twenty years since the last priestess abandoned this world, leaving the temple empty and the people heartbroken. It’s been twenty years since the children of Murata had received her last prophecy.
They have been praying — singing, bringing fruits and crops to the altar, burning the highest of flames in honour of the Goddess. But it’s all been in vain.
Until now.
They say he is arriving today, the priest. The monks found him in one of the villages secluded by mountains and forests, hidden from the world. The boy marked with the Goddess’ blessing, his hair as red as the flames, eyes shining like the most precious rubies. He is beautiful, they say. He is the true embodiment of Murata’s will.
The ceremony they prepare in the temple is grandiose beyond belief: earth covered with flowers, golden windchimes decorating every tree, lanterns and red ribbons everywhere, and the biggest crowd the temple has ever seen. The priest is supposed to arrive with the first rays of sun.
And he does. Dressed in white, his wild red hair braided and embellished with flowers, he is walking down the passage to the temple with the grace of a royalty, his head held high, gaze fierce and straightforward, and people bow before him.
His name is Diluc as they announce him — and what a fitting name it is, “The Dawn”. Diluc is standing in front of the temple, people throwing golden coins under his feet as a sign of prosperity, but nobody dares to approach him close. Nobody dares to touch him.
Because the priest is supposed to stay untouchable, and nobody should defile him.
The priest belongs to the Goddess — Diluc belongs to the Goddess.
No one else can ever have him.
But as Kaeya looks at him from the far corner of the temple, he yearns to touch. To kiss. To possess.
Kaeya is a godless man living under the blessed roof — and he is not above committing blasphemy, as long as it’s worth it.
Diluc is worth eternal damnation.
***
“Don’t you fucking dare tell me what to do!”
An intricate ancient vase, priceless in its historical value, crashes into the wall and breaks into hundreds of small pieces, delicate porcelain crumbs littering polished floors.
Diluc stands in the middle of the ceremony room, and he is fuming with anger.
The monks that are supposed to survey the morning ritual are staying close to the walls lest their touch taints the skin of their priest, and Diluc uses it to his advantage, destroying everything and anything he can reach.
“I didn’t ask to be your goddamn priest, so just let me go, because I would rather kill myself than serve your Goddess till the rest of my days.”
It’s blasphemy — the words he says, the damage he inflicts on the precious artefacts, but no one can touch him, thus no one can stop him from his fit of anger. All they can do is watch — and Diluc gives them something to look at.
He is wearing his white robes, now in complete disarray, and the floor beneath his feet is covered in white powder he is supposed to cover his skin with. Alas, he is very insistent on not doing so.
“Your Holiness, I’m afraid I have bad news to deliver.”
It does nothing but rile Diluc up even more, and the monk who dares speak to him barely dodges another precious vase that is thrown his way. But he is still there, his gaze focused on Diluc.
“The Goddess has chosen you, and there is no denying her blessing, no running away from it,” the monk with hair so white they seem to be tinted blue says. “So there are rules to follow.”
“You can shove these rules up your ass for all I care,” Diluc hisses out. “I didn’t ask for this, and I don’t want to be here, so take me home. Now.”
The monk smiles, and there is something sinister in his expression — something that makes Diluc step back.
“I’m afraid there would be no home to come back to if you refuse to fulfil your duties.”
Diluc stops mid-movement, his whole body tense, and there is something in his eyes that betrays his fear.
“What exactly are you implying?” he says, and the monk bows to him.
“The laws of the Goddess state that the priest shall find his new home within the temple’s walls, abandoning his previous life behind. So if you shall think of your village, of your whole homeland — Mondstadt was it? — then it needs to be destroyed to make sure that you can’t go back to your old ways.”
The monk’s face is calm and serene, but there is still something in him, something dangerous, that says that he will do as he promises without any hesitations.
Diluc clenches his fists, and his shoulders go limp in defeat. His gaze is still full of fire, dangerous and all-encompassing, and nothing could ever put it out.
The favourite child of Murata.
“And now, if you may, we shall conduct our ceremony,” the monk says, retrieving yet another ornate box filled with white powder.
Kaeya watches the whole scene from behind the columns of the room, hidden in the shadows, and he can’t help but let his eyes linger on the lithe frame of Diluc’s body as he slowly unties the cords that hold his robes together and lets them fall to the floor.
Standing there, white fabric pooling at his feet, he looks like a divine creature of snow-covered mountains and foaming seas.
Kaeya envies the Goddess that staked her claim on that boy first.
***
The ceremony is supposed to happen every day in the morning. There is a large bath where the priest is supposed to wash his body under the scrutinising eyes of the monks, scrub himself clean and make his skin soft with fragrant oils and rose water, and then towel himself dry.
And then, the true ceremony begins. With a wide brush, the monks apply a special powder to the entirety of the priest’s skin, every part of his body — and that thin layer stays throughout the day until the next morning, when everything repeats again.
This powder is a deceiving thing — it seems translucent on skin, but if someone else touches it, there is a red mark, like a seal of shame, blooming on the priest’s skin, and that means only one thing. Death.
Death to the blasphemous fool who dared taint the Goddess’ possession. Death to the priest who is now tainted.
Diluc stands there, his soft skin fragrant with ointments, while the monk applies powder to his whole body. He is careful not to touch, yet be thorough with it, and Diluc desperately tries not to look at him when the brush gets lower.
“Just do it already,” he says through gritted teeth, but the monk is nothing but meticulous in that task.
Kaeya watches as it goes on and on, till the ceremony is complete and Diluc gets his new attire — equally as white as the previous, adorned with golden flowers and intricate ornaments. He looks like a heavenly vision, and Kaeya can’t help but imagine his blood-red handprints that would bloom on Diluc’s skin as Kaeya makes him unravel under skillful touches.
“Can I go now?” Diluc asks, visibly irritated and uncomfortable, and the monks nod in unison.
“Let me show you to your quarters,” says the one with white hair and points in the direction of the main entrance. “After you.”
Kaeya waits till they all leave to approach the large bath still filled with water and flowers, and dips his hand into it. It’s warm, most of the heat gone, but it still feels nice. As Kaeya takes a white cecilia from the surface of water, he places a chaste kiss to its delicate petals, imagining Diluc's soft lips.
***
Diluc’s quarters are the largest in the whole temple — for obvious reasons. The same reasons dictate that there are no walls — just sheer white fabric to imitate the partition between the room and the halls.
Kaeya is careful when he pulls the fabric aside and steps inside, balancing a tray with food in his hands.
Diluc is sitting in the middle of his bed — an atrociously big thing, covered with blankets and pillows of all sorts, and he looks so small among it all. But Kaeya knows better. Diluc might seem delicate under that divine disguise, but he is more forest fire than a person.
“Here’s your food, You Holiness,” he says, lowering his head, and Diluc just rolls his eyes, crawling closer to the edge of the bed.
“Don’t call me that,” he says, irritation in his voice obvious, and Kaeya lets his lips stretch into a delicate smile.
“What shall I call you then?” Kaeya tilts his head and watches Diluc huff in irritation.
“I have a name, you know,” he says, leaning back on his hands. “It’s Diluc.”
“Okay, Diluc,” Kaeya smiles, and this time it’s wider and more sincere. “Here’s your food.”
He puts the tray on a small coffee table in front of Diluc — just at the same time as Diluc reaches out to take it. Their fingers don’t touch, but they get dangerously close, and Diluc withdraws his hand so fast he nearly falls down on his bed.
“I’m sorry,” Kaeya says.
He isn’t.
“I will make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
He won’t.
Diluc watches him take a step back and just stand there, and he is still hesitant to take something off the tray, but hunger obviously wins.
“Are you here to supervise me so I eat and don’t starve myself to death?” he says as he takes a piece of fresh bread and puts a generous amount of butter over it. It’s honestly endearing how he tries not to hurry with his food, but Kaeya knows hunger in more ways than one — so it’s not difficult to see it in Diluc’s eyes.
“Not at all,” he laughs. “I just want to make sure that the food is to your liking.”
“It’s decent,” Diluc says, stuffing his mouth with bread, and Kaeya feels his heart soar. How he wants to feed this beautiful boy from the palm of his hand, bring fresh berries to his lips and put them on his tongue one by one, till there is nothing but sweetness and red juice. So much red juice.
“Do you want me to go now?” Kaeya says as he comes to his senses, and Diluc freezes for a second, clearly torn between his desire to be left alone and longing for company. As it always is with people, longing wins.
“No, you can stay.”
Diluc pours himself a cup of fresh tea from a small teapot, and the smell of osmanthus fills the whole room.
“Are you one of the monks here?” Diluc asks as he carefully blows on the surface of hot tea, trying to cool it down enough to drink. “You are not dressed like them.”
Kaeya knows that he doesn’t look half as regal as the monks here, let alone Diluc himself — he wears grey and blue, so unfitting to the Goddess he is supposed to serve, which indicates his lower rank. He should probably deem himself unworthy of being in the presence of such a person as Diluc, but he can’t just bring himself to do it.
“Oh no. I’m a novice — a fancy way to say that I’m their errand boy,” Kaeya shakes his head, and Diluc gives him a small smile.
“Yet I am more at ease with you than with them,” he says.
“I tend to have that effect on people,” Kaeya smiles, and for the first time he hears Diluc laugh. It’s a wonderful sound, so heartfelt and joyous, and Kaeya wants nothing more than to taste that laughter on his lips.
“Well then, you can stay a little longer and tell me about that place.”
Diluc puts aside a plate of honey-covered berries and pushes it in Kaeya’s direction, inviting him to join, and Kaeya can’t find it in himself to refuse. Not that he ever wanted to — he is no monk that bows his head in the presence of the priest. There are many other ways to worship. So he sits on the floor in front of the table, legs crossed, and looks up at Diluc.
“What would you like to know?” Kaeya asks and takes a berry in his hand, sweet sticky honey marring his fingers.
“You can start with your name.”
Kaeya puts the berry on his tongue and makes sure to lick his fingers clean, still looking up at Diluc, and he can see something dark glint in his eyes. No heavenly messenger can resist carnal desires.
“It’s Kaeya,” he says. “And I’m all yours for as long as you wish.”
***
The priest conducts all the ceremonies and main events, gives his blessings to the crops and to the people, leads the prayers and visits the cities. But there is one more thing that priests do.
They conduct trials.
There are three criminals that are brought in front of Diluc today: a thief, a murderer, a rapist. The guards make them kneel on the ground, right in front of the stairs leading to the temple, and only the priest can decide what will happen to the convicts. The innocent will get to walk up the stairs and receive their forgiveness in a cleansing ritual. The guilty will get their fate decided by the priest.
It’s that simple.
Diluc is standing on the stairs, his clothes white and hair fiery red, and he looks like a wild flame in the bright light of the summer sun. The golden wreath on his head glints like stars. The crowd looks enraptured.
One of the guards reads the charges for all three criminals. The thief, arrested after he stole a sack of potatoes to feed his family of five. The murderer, who avenged his late father and settled a long war between two families. The rapist, who brought a little farm girl to the forest and violated her.
Diluc is silent when he listens to the charges, his gaze calm, his expression collected.
“Please, mercy!” The thief cries out, bowing his head lower, and his whole body shakes in fear.
“Mercy!” Pleads the murderer, tears spilling down his cheeks.
“I beg for mercy!” Screams the rapist, clawing at his own skin.
Diluc is silent for a moment, but when he raises his hand, the whole crowd turns silent — and there is nothing but the rustling of leaves and bird songs.
“Behead them,” Diluc says, and the crowd gasps. “Behead them all.”
“But Your Holiness…” the monk with the white hair says, but Diluc stops him with the wave of his hand.
“That’s not all,” he continues, and his voice is loud over the crowd’s whispers. “I want their beheaded bodies hanging on the walls of the temple for all to see.”
And then, he turns away from the crowd and the convicts and walks up the stairs.
“Please, please, no!” One of the criminals screams, his voice desperate and hoarse with fear. “Please, Your Holiness, have mercy!”
But Diluc doesn’t listen — he isn’t interested neither in the murmur of the crowd nor in the screams of those condemned to death. As he passes the priest with the white hair, he stops for a second and leans closer.
“Our Goddess is merciless, and so am I,” he says with a finality in his voice, and then he is gone.
Kaeya watches the whole scene unfold in front of his eyes, his gaze focused only on Diluc — and that’s exactly the moment when he realises that Diluc might as well be the embodiment of the Goddess herself.
Vicious. Cruel. Untamed.
Oh how he wishes Diluc could burn this whole place to ashes.
***
“What, you think I’m a monster for what I did?”
Kaeya just shakes his head as he puts a tray with food on the usual coffee table.
Diluc takes off his golden wreath and carelessly tosses it aside, and it clinks as it falls in the corner of the room.
“I don’t think you are a monster,” Kaeya says and picks up the wreath, twirling it in his hands and admiring the intricate handiwork. They truly lavish their priest in the finest of things.
Kaeya could do so much better.
Diluc ruffles his long red hair, and how Kaeya wishes he could do it himself — card his fingers through the soft locks, tug at them gently till the exposed column of Diluc’s neck is just his to caress, to kiss, to bite. Diluc seems to notice that stare, because he looks right at Kaeya, and there is something in his eyes that is so desperate and wounded — as if he is longing, too.
“Priests are supposed to convey the will of the Goddess, and you did exactly that,” Kaeya says finally as he turns away and places the wreath on a special stand with luxurious jewellery. “And nobody should dare judge you for your duties.”
There is an apple in Diluc’s hand — crimson-red and ripe, and its juice drips down Diluc’s chin as he takes a bite. Kaeya wants to kiss that sweetness off his lips.
“And what if I told you that it was my will, not the Goddess’?” Diluc’s voice is soft, yet not faltering — steady and sure, and Kaeya knows that he is not ashamed of anything he’s done. Kaeya doesn’t believe a person like Diluc would ever regret his decision.
Kaeya slowly approaches Diluc, and it’s so weird to look down at him, because it’s Kaeya who is supposed to kneel and bow before the holy vessel, but for now he doesn’t. He wouldn’t insult Diluc like that at this moment.
“Then I would still say that any man should be happy to die by your wish alone,” Kaeya says, and he can hear Diluc’s breath hitch.
He sits by the table, legs crossed as usual, and pours sweet plum wine into a small cup for Diluc — and gently places it close to him, inviting to taste. The porcelain cup suddenly seems so delicate in Diluc’s pale hands, but Kaeya knows — he’s seen it. Diluc wouldn’t hesitate to break it and slice someone’s throat with a shard.
“If I’m not a monster, then what do you think I am?” Diluc asks as he lifts the cup to his lips.
“I think you are beautiful,” Kaeya says simply, and that’s the truth he is ready to die for.
***
The priest of Murata is one of the few Gods’ chosen ones who don’t live in relative seclusion from the world. People should not make a long journey to reach the temple — it stands tall and proud, towering above a big city, and there are always people there: praying, meditating, enjoying the gardens and small ponds.
It changes, however, when Diluc keeps condemning the criminals to brutal deaths, exposing their bodies for everyone to see. He orders to drag the bodies of the convicts along the streets of the city, tied to a chariot, and people watch in horror as they leave a bloody trail and mutilated limbs behind.
A tavern brawl or a killing spree — it’s all the same to Diluc, and there is no escaping his judgement. He is calm and serene when he says the most horrifying things for the verdict in front of the crowd.
It gets bigger each time, that crowd — people come from different cities out of morbid curiosity to witness yet another brutal punishment for those who defy the will of the Goddess.
They seem to enjoy that cruelty.
And so does Diluc.
But when he conducts the prayers — oh, that’s when he is equally as divine. He lights up the torches and fills big golden bowls with embers, he rings the golden bells and slices ripe fruits with a sickle over the fire.
Fire never burns him — and that’s yet another proof of his divinity.
Diluc’s face is aloof during those ceremonies — there is no reverence or ecstasy that the monks and the commoners share, there is no malice or hate. It’s like he is not really there, and Kaeya desperately wishes to follow.
***
The Blood Moon is special.
Once a year, the priest is supposed to conduct a ceremony in the temple — and then, in the dead of night, roam the streets of the city, drawing sigils over the doors for protection — with sacrificial blood.
But first, he has to slaughter a lamb.
The animal thrashes and screams while the monks put it on the altar and keep it there in front of Diluc. Today he is dressed in red, and he, himself, looks so much like the moon that hangs above their heads tonight.
The ritual knife dimly glints in his hands — black obsidian and gold, as Diluc raises it above his head. The whole crowd freezes in reverence, enraptured, as Diluc looks into the lamb’s eyes, and then lowers the knife in one swift motion.
It’s a clean cut, precise and quick, and life drains out of the lamb’s body along with its blood. Kaeya silently watches as Diluc holds a golden chalice to gather it, and his hands look as steady and unwavering as his gaze. It’s a calculated and cold cruelty — something akin to indifference, if it wasn’t for a glint of resentment in his eyes. Diluc hates it, that much Kaeya knows.
He wishes he could take him away from here.
The Blood Moon ceremony is wild, carnal in its nature, reminding people of the ancient days when the Gods walked among them and took whatever they needed. Today, Diluc is their God, and Kaeya desperately wants to see him take, take, take.
Diluc lights up fires, the wicked flames not daring to burn him, he crushes delicate flowers between his hands, scattering them through the cruel winds, and he sings hymns with the crowd. That song — that chant, — is just as old as time itself, and Diluc looks like a vision of every wicked power that hid in the dark, manifesting in the darkest fears of humans.
Kaeya is in love.
Late at night, Diluc is supposed to walk through the streets of the city and bless it with the sacrificial blood, but as the crowd awaits, he doesn’t move to go through the temple gates. It’s silent, only the roaring of fire disturbing the silence of the night.
“I will not bless your homes, for none of you deserve it,” Diluc says, and his harsh words make the crowd freeze in horror. “The Goddess has spoken to me, and she is not pleased with your senseless cruelty. With your hypocrisy. With your lies.”
Diluc looks at the monks, and there is fire in his eyes — the one that is stronger of all the fires lit up in the temple since its very foundation. It’s like he wants them to burn — in agonising pain and suffering, till there is nothing left of them but ashes buried in the soil that will never bear fruit.
Diluc raises the chalice full of blood to his lips — and Kaeya watches in awe as he drinks it, red pouring down his chin and onto his crimson robes.
Diluc tosses the chalice aside, the metal clinking as it rolls away, and it’s deafening in the silence that has covered the temple grounds.
“So pray you shall, till there is nothing to beg mercy for anymore.”
Kaeya is a godless man — but right at that moment he has witnessed nothing short of divine.
***
Diluc’s face is covered in blood when Kaeya enters his room. Those ethereal features painted in red, those crimson eyes shining in the dim lights, this gentle smile on soft lips. Kaeya is ready to fall down to his knees, and that’s exactly what he does, right in front of the most beautiful creature he’s ever had the honour of knowing.
“I want to touch you so bad, but I wouldn’t dare,” he says, and this whisper sounds deafening in the eerie silence of the temple. “Just one touch, just a chance to put the tips of my fingers on your skin.”
It’s blasphemy, the thing he says, and he knows that just the thought of it is enough to earn him the cruellest of fates, but Diluc just stands there, calm and serene, splashes of blood like rubies on his pale skin, and looks at Kaeya as if appraising an offering.
Kaeya would gladly become a sacrifice if needed, a lamb to the slaughter, because Diluc makes him believe in higher power, in the great divine. But it’s bigger than that, this reverence. The way Diluc looks at him is equal parts that of a god, and that of a predator. The one who holds the knife above his head and whispers the words of solace before the cleanest of cuts.
“Do you really think I had the right to do what I did to those people?” he says, and Kaeya can’t help but laugh.
“Gods know nothing of us while watching from above. But you do. And whatever you want, you can take - because it’s your birthright. So take it.”
It pains him, this proximity, this ‘look, don’t touch’ oath.
Kaeya is a heathen, and he wants to ravish, to worship with his lips and hands, to tarnish and claim. But he doesn’t dare to.
“I want you to touch me,” Diluc says, and Kaeya’s heart stops for a moment. “And I want to touch you, and I want to spill your blood just because you’ll let me. Want you to ruin us both.”
Kaeya has never felt such pain, has never been this close to what he wants without the ability to reach for it. It’s a temptation and a trial. He wants to fail so bad.
Diluc steps closer, and Kaeya can’t help but touch the hem of those red clothes. He can imagine himself lifting this robe, hands gliding up the smooth soft skin of Diluc’s legs, slowly and reverently. It’s a sin, the thing he thinks of next - the heat of the thighs, the arousal, the moans. It brings him shameful pleasure.
“I want you to tear my clothes off,” Diluc continues, his hand hovering over Kaeya’s head as close as possible without touching. “Want you to pin me to the floor and take me right there, to defile me, to make us both scream. Would you do that for me?”
“Of course,” Kaeya says, voice hoarse with desire. It’s pure torture.
“Leave,” Diluc says, and there is so much pain in his eyes - unimaginable for such an ethereal being. “Leave before we are doomed.”
‘We are already doomed,’ Kaeya thinks, but he doesn’t dare to disobey.
And just when he stands outside of the sheer white curtain, Diluc calls out his name.
It feels like a dream - the way Diluc steps closer and puts his hands on the fabric, and Kaeya can’t help but repeat the movement. Their palms touch, the warmth of their bodies intertwining, flowing from one to another, and it’s the holiest Kaeya has ever felt in his life.
The way their lips touch through the cloth is nothing short of blessing. The touch is distant, muted, but Kaeya can swear he feels the sweetness and the metallic tang of blood of Diluc’s smile.
“Visit me in my dreams tonight,” Diluc whispers into Kaeya’s lips, hot even through the barrier. “Maybe this way we can have each other.”
***
“We should get rid of him.”
It’s the first thing Kaeya hears when he passes through the halls in the early morning, still haunted by the images of last night, by the burn of Diluc’s kiss on his lips. But those words pull him out of his reverie, make him hide in the shadows of the corridor just outside of the dimly lit room where the monks are gathered in a circle.
“It’s sacrilege!” Someone says, and the others murmur in approval.
“It will bring nothing but the rage from the Goddess!”
“The priest is untouchable!”
“The priest is just a human,” the eldest monk, the one with the white hair and wicked smile says. “And the priest himself will bring the Goddess’ rage with his actions. His cruelty is unheard of, his words and deeds unfit for the role. The Goddess never makes mistakes, but we do. Perhaps we have missed the signs and brought a deceiver to this holy place.”
The murmur of the crowd gets louder, now some voices bringing up their doubts and quiet words of resentment.
Oh, what a cruel bunch of fools.
“We can’t risk the lives of our people anymore. May the Goddess forgive us and guide us.”
Kaeya wants to laugh.
Even if the Goddess cared about them, she would never reveal her words to these people. And she would never forgive them for thinking about killing the only person that embodies the sun and the moon on this doomed earth.
***
“Take this tea and bring it to His Holiness’ chambers tonight,” the monk says as he hands a small cup to Kaeya, his face deceivingly kind and serene. “It’s a special gift, so make sure he drinks every drop of it.”
Kaeya wants to break his neck with his own hands and see the light leave these dull watery eyes, but he bows his head instead.
He just has to pretend.
***
It’s the night of the new moon, and the darkness outside creeps in through the large windows of the temple, kept in bay by the dim light of the small lanterns.
“They want to kill me, don’t they?”
Diluc is sitting at the centre of his enormous bed, endless covers and pillows surrounding him in a soft cloud, and Kaeya freezes for a second, admiring the beauty in front of his eyes.
Diluc’s gaze is filled with quiet resolve, his posture calm and relaxed, as if he’s been long aware that his life is coming to an end. Maybe he’s been waiting for it, even, hoping that death will arrive soon and take him from this place, but Kaeya came here first. He won’t let death take what’s his.
“They do,” Kaeya says as he puts the tray with the cup of freshly brewed tea on the small table. Diluc just huffs at that, like Kaeya stated something so obvious it’s stupid.
“A cup of tea, seriously? I expected something more extravagant.”
“Like what?” Kaeya says, still standing beside the table, too cautious to step closer. Diluc’s eyes glimmer with something wild when he crawls to the edge of the bed.
“A knife to my throat,” he says, and his white robe slips from his shoulder, exposing sharp collarbones. Such a delicate thing he is. Such a dangerous thing. “Cleansing fire to return me back to the Goddess I have never truly known. A noose around my neck.”
Kaeya can imagine a tight silk rope wrapped around Diluc’s pale neck, the loop getting tighter and tighter. It doesn’t fit him at all.
Diluc is better suited for immortality.
“But poison in my evening tea…” Diluc sounds disappointed. He sits at the edge of the bed now, knees planted in the softness of the mattress, the sheer white of his clothes painting a sinful picture. “Do you think I deserve it?”
There is such sincerity in his voice, like he is scared to hear the answer from Kaeya, and suddenly he sounds so… human. Kaeya knows it’s a lie. Diluc has never been just a human. A calamity, perhaps. A plague. A raging forest fire. Never a frail mortal. Never someone’s prisoner.
“I think that your life is worth more than that of any human that walks this earth,” Kaeya says, and Diluc chuckles at that.
“Even more than your life?”
“Especially more than mine.”
Kaeya watches, rapt and enchanted, as Diluc stands up and moves closer, not bothering to cover himself up.
“Will you do anything I ask then?”
What an easy question. Kaeya’s been sentenced to serve Diluc till the end of days from the moment he saw him, bathed in the morning light, dawn setting his silhouette aflame, frail petals crushed under his feet.
“Of course I will,” Kaeya whispers, his breath almost on Diluc’s lips, because they are standing so close now, so close he can feel the fire under Diluc’s skin.
“Then take me away from the Goddess,” Diluc asks, and it sounds like an order. “Make me unholy again.”
And how can Kaeya deny him?
It feels so sweet - kissing Diluc not through the thin veil of the fabric, but lips to lips, skin to skin, and Kaeya can’t help but put his hand on Diluc’s shoulder to bring him closer. Like he is trying to become one with him. Like he is trying to devour him.
Diluc lets Kaeya go with a bite to his lips, playful yet stinging, and Kaeya can’t help but lift his hand to touch where Diluc’s teeth scraped him.
But what astounds him the most is the colour of Diluc’s lips. They are red - red is smeared all over, like makeup, like a trace of fresh blood taken from someone’s flesh. It takes a moment for Kaeya to remember the ritual powder that will show every touch on Diluc’s skin - the print of his palm on Diluc’s shoulder as another proof of that.
A new claim. A mark of doom.
Sacrilege.
“Don’t hold back now,” Diluc whispers. “Take me.”
Kaeya is a godless man, but he knows a blessing when he sees one. And he will accept it without hesitation.
Diluc’s robes pool at his feet with just a single tug, and Kaeya falls to his knees in front of Diluc, his palms immediately finding their place on the curve of the pale hips. Red marks bloom under his touch, and Kaeya leaves more and more of them as he traces the smooth skin and worships it with kisses.
He bites into the softness of Diluc’s inner thighs, and a sharp gasp is his reward - music to his ears, and he wants more of it.
“I want to make you scream,” he confesses, and Diluc buries a hand in Kaeya’s hair, dragging his face up, up, right where he needs him.
“Make it hurt,” Diluc says, and Kaeya smiles right into the soft crease of skin where the thigh meets the pelvis.
Not yet. First, he will make Diluc feel good.
He is already hard - hard and leaking, and Kaeya can’t help but marvel at how unravelled Diluc already looks. How long has it been since anyone touched him? Has anyone touched him like that? Kaeya would be honoured to be the first.
He places a kiss to the head of Diluc’s cock, and that alone makes Diluc moan - what a sweet thing he is, how innocent he is still under all the violence that boils inside of him. He wants blasphemy? He will get it.
Kaeya takes Diluc deeper into his mouth, sucks him in, caresses with tongue and fingers at the base, and it’s so easy to draw more of those sounds from Diluc, make him sing, and it’s better than all the hymns that the walls of this temple have ever heard.
“Kaeya,” Diluc whines and grips his hair harder, tugging at it as if trying to decide whether he wants to thrust in deeper or move Kaeya away.
Kaeya is a devout follower. He makes a decision for him.
There is cruelty in a way that he digs his fingers into the meat of Diluc’s hips and drags him closer. It’s easy to relax the throat and take Diluc’s cock deeper, deeper still until his nose touches the soft skin.
It takes just one look at Diluc’s face from below the wet eyelashes to make him whimper and push deeper into the heat of Kaeya’s mouth.
“Kaeya,” Diluc whimpers, pleading, and it does something terrible to Kaeya, the sound of his own name on those sinful lips. “Please…”
He should never beg, Kaeya thinks, but it suits him so much, this desperation, this unbridled lust, and there is a blasphemous thought in his mind. It’s like Diluc is ready to worship him, too.
It’s like they are equals.
He wants to bring Diluc to completion so bad, wants to make him feel good in the best way possible, and desire makes him groan, makes him swallow around Diluc’s cock as if he is hungry for it, and he can feel Diluc’s legs almost give up, tight grip on Kaeya’s hair being the only thing that grounds him. Good.
Cum for me, Kaeya thinks. Bless me.
Fall for me.
Diluc is silent when he cums, tugging on Kaeya’s hair as hard as he can, a suppressed moan barely slipping from behind his tightly sealed lips, and Kaeya swallows every bitter drop, nurses Diluc’s twitching cock in his warm mouth, eager to make this blessed boy feel good, feel cared for.
“Kaeya,” Diluc whispers when it gets too much, and Kaeya carefully slips Diluc’s softening cock out of his mouth. “I need more.”
The bed is right there - soft, warm and so, so inviting, but it is no place for the things Kaeya wants to do to Diluc, so unfitting, so he harshly tugs Diluc down, and he follows so willingly, so pliant. Just for him. It must hurt when his knees touch the wooden floor, but Diluc doesn’t care, because he is instantly clinging to Kaeya, his lips putting a seal of the kiss on Kaeya’s own reddened and swollen ones.
Diluc licks into his mouth as if he is trying to taste himself on Kaeya’s tongue, as if he is desperate, as if they are running out of time, but at this very moment Kaeya feels like the sun itself won’t rise so as not to disturb them. It won’t rise until he gets his fill - and it might just plunge the world into eternal darkness.
“Do you still want to be ruined?” He asks, and Diluc nods his head with such adorable need written all over his face.
“Yes,” he pleads, taking Kaeya’s face into his hands and placing a kiss on his cheek. “Ruin me, hurt me, take me, please, please, please.”
Kaeya pushes him back till Diluc is lying on the floor, his fiery hair a halo of blood spilling around his head, white skin marred with red marks so tempting in the dim lights, showing Kaeya exactly where he hasn’t touched Diluc yet.
“Then scream for me.”
Kaeya coats his fingers in saliva as Diluc watches him with rapt attention, and doesn’t hesitate to bring his hand between Diluc’s thighs, so strong yet supple. And Diluc does scream when Kaeya unceremoniously shoves his fingers in his hole, two at once, and arches his spine like a bow, exposing the pale expanse of his neck. Kaeya wants to bite it so bad, wants to take a piece out of him and swallow it like a sacrificial offering. And he does exactly that.
Diluc grips his shoulders so hard that his nails leave marks on Kaeya’s skin, but it’s okay, and he bites down harder as his fingers move inside Diluc, in and out, in and out, making his squirm and so lost in pleasure and pain, his body torn between wanting to get away and pull closer. The tang of blood Kaeya feels on his lips makes him feral - a desperate savager, barbarian ready to rob the holiest of temples, and Diluc cradles his head closer, inviting him to take his fill, to do whatever he wants. It’s an honour.
“Tell me what you want, love,” he whispers into Diluc’s ear once he admires the bloodied mark on this perfect neck, more wound than a bite. “Command me.”
“Fuck me,” Diluc whispers into Kaeya’s lips, and his eyes are so wide and wild, a perfect picture of both prey and predator. “Take me away from her.”
Kaeya can’t hold back any longer.
He forces Diluc’s legs apart, gripping those milky thighs so harsh it makes Diluc moan in pain, gets closer to where he wants to be the most.
“Am I the first to take you?” He asks, rubbing his cock over Diluc’s hole, pushing in for a second, barely there, and Diluc goes mad. “The first to be inside you? To see you like this?”
“Yes,” Diluc says, canting his hips up, begging Kaeya to sink in with just his body. “Never needed anyone before you. Never wanted anyone. So take it.”
And take it he does.
Diluc is tight when Kaeya slides in, tight and so hot that it’s almost impossible to bear, and Kaeya thinks that it’s the closest he ever felt to Gods. Diluc screams and writhes underneath him in pain, a fallen priest, a sacrifice, a violated offering. Kaeya feels powerful forcing his way inside Diluc’s body, feels high with this piece of heaven in his hands and on his dick. It feels so good to taint something so pure.
Feels good to ruin.
Feels good to take.
“Move,” Diluc breathes out, barely finding it in himself to hug Kaeya’s waist with his legs, crossing ankles behind his back to bring their bodies closer. “Fuck me till I’m yours.”
‘You are already mine,’ Kaeya thinks, but still he moves, because it’s impossible to disobey Diluc. Even on his back, moaning and crying on Kaeya’s cock, he is still the creature of absolute power, a force of nature, a deity in his own rights. Kaeya is there to worship.
He fucks into Diluc’s tight body as hard as he can, just as he dreamed every night since he first layed his eyes on this beautiful boy, since the first time he saw the rays of sun paint his silhouette red. Red like death, red like wildfire, and Kaeya wants to burn with him so bad. So he does.
“I wish I could do it sooner,” he says into the crook of Diluc’s neck, right next to the bloody mark he’s left there. “I wish I could have you all to myself the moment you came to this wretched place, could save you from this cruel fate and become your curse instead.”
“You have me now,” Diluc says with a wet sob as Kaeya mercilessly rams into him. “And I have you.”
“All yours,” Kaeya says like an oath.
He licks the tears from Diluc’s cheeks, kisses his lips and murmurs sweet words into his temple, hands roaming his sweat-slick body. When he hoists Diluc's hips so they rest atop his thighs, Diluc almost loses his mind - this new angle is just right, makes Kaeya ram his dick right into the right spot, and Kaeya feels like a wild animal. Maybe that’s what he is right now.
And he wants to maim Diluc till there is nothing left.
The sound of their bodies colliding against each other echoes through the hall of the temple, a hymn more ancient than anything that graced these walls, and Diluc sings so beautifully - just for him to listen and marvel. It’s a ritual, and Kaeya is happy to worship at the altar of Diluc’s body.
“Yes, right there, please don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop…”
“Cum for me, love,” Kaeya says, and it sounds like both a plea and an order. “Be mine.”
It takes just a few seconds before Diluc arches his back so hard that it seems like he will break any minute, and then he cums untouched - what a beautiful sight, oh how he falls, how beautifully he takes his defiling. Just the sight of it makes Kaeya groan and follow him over the threshold too, stuffing Diluc full with his cum, making him take it again and again until he has nothing left to give.
He falls to the floor right next to Diluc, painting and exhausted, and Diluc is on him right the next moment, body still lax and weak, yet he desperately clings to Kaeya, demanding an embrace, a kiss, a caress.
“I’m yours,” he whispers into Kaeya’s ear, so pliant and soft in his arms. “I’m finally yours.”
Somehow Kaeya knows that Diluc has always been his.
“If you wanted to kill me right now, I’d let you,” he says, bringing Duluc’s hand to his lips.
“If you wanted to kiss me right now, I’d let you,” Diluc smiles, and Kaeya can’t deny him - will never be able to deny him anything.
They lay on the floor, entangled and still panting from exhaustion, but the impending doom above their heads makes them uneasy. Kaeya has a plan.
He always knew what he would do after getting his hands on Diluc.
“Run away with me,” he says, placing a kiss on the tip of Diluc’s nose. “I am from the land of godless men, heathens, but there will be no Gods to take you away, no higher power to serve or tell you what to do. But I will always worship you as one, just the way you deserve.”
Diluc seems pensive for a moment, but then his face lights up with a smile - a bright, genuine one, and Kaeya falls in love with him again and again.
“I’ll follow you wherever you go,” he says, words quiet yet determined. “But first, let’s take care of this place, okay?”
There is fire dancing on the tips of his fingers - bright flame that doesn’t burn his skin, and Kaeya watches in awe. Diluc is a miracle. Diluc is a curse. And there is so much violence in his eyes that Kaeya can’t help but vow to be his most devout follower. Forever and ever.
***
They watch from the hill as the temple burns down - old wood flaming up as easily as paper, fire so high it reaches the sky, and Diluc looks so beautiful with those orange shades dancing on his face, lighting up in his eyes.
They watch for a while, holding hands, as the fire ignites the trees, as it spreads to the houses below, as the first light of the dawn paints the horizon, and then Diluc turns around, beckoning Kaeya to follow him.
And who is he to refuse the great divine.