Author: polar.amity PM
When a man of God falls for a demon, which will he choose, love or faith? WARNING: MxM/Yaoi/Lemon/Religon REVIEW PLZRated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Spiritual - Words: 2,852 - Reviews: 5 - Favs: 4 - Published: 11-03-11 - Status: Complete - id: 2967120
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Warnings: MxM/yaoi/slash, Lemon, Religion/God/demons. Don't like? Don't read. Do like? Then please (PLEASE) review!
Father, forgive me, for I have sinned.
I have lusted.
Lusted for you.
My attraction to him is not one of the flesh. Though it most certainly has the potential to be, he is so beautiful. The Father is tall and slender, bordering too thin. Probably commits himself to too much hunger as penance; but it suits him well. His smooth flesh is a creamy white and it contrasts the sapphire blue of his eyes so that they sparkle brilliantly, piercing through your soul along with his long, dark lashes. Glossy, raven-black hair always seems tousled, his unruly curls lazing themselves into waves that frame his face, stopping just above his sharp jaw. Finally, but perhaps the most enticing feature on him, is his mouth. For more reasons than the plump pink lips that mark it. No, those are just shallow attractions, the appeal comes from the testament his mouth speaks. His gospel.
When the Father's silky-smooth voice attests to God's word it posses you. Wholly. Holey. So mesmerizing are the passions of his accounts that they enthrall, he will have you tasting the sweet fruit of The Tree of Knowledge, or feeling David's will being stripped down as he watched a goddess bathe. His gift. His curse.
Don't dismiss it as a talent for storytelling; though his characters have more personality than you'll find within the pages of your Bible, they aren't fiction. And it's more than plain conviction; blind faith cannot unfold the mystery of Gods purpose, sermon by sermon.
The Father's understanding of God's words came from a privileged source. From the very moment I heard him speak I knew that God had chosen this man.
How do I know? Because I am spoken to as well; only, not by God.
Others sensed it too. People flocked to him as sheep to the shepherd. And, among them, hidden in the multitudes of righteous and innocent, lay the wolf. I am that wolf, waiting patiently, savoring the dreamed taste of the blood of— not the sheep, but the shepherd!
Father, forgive me, for I have sinned.
I am a murderer.
You will be my victim.
It is a Sunday night. It's late and all the sweet lambs have been tucked in safely. My cathedral is empty save for me, and I sit, drunk on a drunkard's blood. That is until the priest approaches me, and the Father speaks to his son kindly, with a good nights kiss...and though intended to be innocent, the devil in me stirs, my pray too close to ignore.
I rise quickly, grabbing the young man to me and taking advantage of his surprised state, I danced us about at a quick pace, with a hymn on my lips and him trapped in my arms. He doesn't fight me. Instead he states,
"You know your hymns well, and you have a lovely voice, have you considered joining our choir?"
"I cannot, Father," I replied sardonically, "I can only sing for myself. Besides, God does not wish to hear me sing."
He did stop me then, and he looked into my eyes searching for something before pulling back gradually, "Wh-who are you?" He questioned tentatively. Whatever he had been searching for it wasn't found and it alerted him to the devil inside me.
I chose a vague reply, "I am not a man of God as you are."
"He doesn't care, you know…"
I moved us back to our dance, slow now, so that I could listen to his lovely voice as he began.
"People fear God. They think He's the enemy."
I was caught in his voice, in his sent, in the feel of him pressed against me.
"He loves us, and He wants the best for us. He tries to give us these rules to live by, but we are just as children, we come across such—"
I moved closer and leaned in, letting my lips run from his chin across his jaw lightly.
"…temptations." the word was breathy, almost a hiss as I pressed a kiss to the slender column of his neck, feeling the light flutter of his pulse just beneath increase.
"My son, come away from sin."
"There is no sin." I interjected, licking my way up to his ear and stopping to suck on the little lobe.
"Mhn! God will always welcome your praise and love—" the beauty tried to preach between quick breaths, "…no matter what you have done." He finished, grabbing my shoulders tight.
Had it been anyone else I would have laughed, but I had watched this young man from close and afar for such a long time that I knew he genuinely believed it. He believed that the men who asked his forgiveness in the name of the Holy Spirit were all penitent; and that if he forgave them, prayed for them, he could save their eternal souls.
He had conviction that if I sang for God, I'd be forgiven, each life I've taken (so many I've lost count), every moment of rapture and peace I'd found in my victims' blood would be purified by His light and obliterated by His absolution.
It affirmed a suspicion that had begun to seed in my heart. His faith was why I wanted him. Why I loved him.
"Your words are moving, Father, so for you I will sing a song of God." I promised and pulled back slightly catching a glimpse of the beauty's face, caught in between the pleasure of sin and his fear of God. I dropped my voice to just a whisper, so that even the angels on the stained glass about us could not overhear, "Fair warning, Father, my song will test your faith, and when it is done you'll have a choice that you've never had before knock at your soul. My song will show you a truth you've never had the opportunity to see, in your vast innocence. You'll hear the devil calling."
He closed his eyes and a shiver ran through him, but I couldn't tell if it was an effect of our bodies pressed so close or my caveat burdening his soul.
A moment passed and the Father seemed to make a decision. He opened his stunning sapphire eyes and his voice wrapped itself around my senses once again, "Can you feel that?"
A dizziness swept through me as would a wave of loud bass, both in a corporal and spiritual sense, filling my soul with peace. I nodded my head.
"That feeling is God. He's here with us. He's watching. He knows our hearts and He wants you to sing. Let my temptations do their best. I will stand with God until the end."
I was surprised by the strength of his statement, not just the powerful idea behind it but the simplicity of his trust. But then, I too genuinely felt a presence.
Had there been one drop of love for our Lord left in me, I would have been moved. Instead the thought that God could truly be watching me at the priest's direction only served to enrage me. "Then, perhaps, God should listen to my song too." I snarled, "He may find it of interest."
I took the Father's hand and lead him the few feet from where we stood up to the altar and over to the organ; I sat at the bench and pressed a few simple keys in tune to my song. I needed no queue, nor any hymn book for this ballad. This is the tune that plays in my heart every moment of my perpetual existence. It is the song sung to me by the one who made me the wolf that I am.
It is the thrum of every tortured soul on earth and in hell, reaching out to a god who seems to have forgotten them; it's the account of the devil's solemn regret that God mistook his sympathy as pride and ejected him from heaven; It is a song of God's own jealousy, pride and love, all in a few simple notes and a slow rhymed handful of sentences.
I hit the last key and the haunting pain-filled echo of it swept through the chapel. My fingers shook with my renewed hatred towards our maker and I held a silent moment to try to tame it.
Once I regained control I turned to my companion and was a little shocked to see the same feelings I had just felt playing out on his face. It was a struggle, the anger at the realization of a dark truth, one pushed down by our own fears. Beneath all the exclamations of love, we as a people truly despise our creator and so there is a devil in us all. We are the fallen.
It hurt me to see that look on the face I know so well, the pure, innocent face of the priest I love…I couldn't bare it! I reached out and gently cradled the young man's perfect face with my palm.
This seemed to draw his soul back from the periphery. But the damage had been done, and there was now a futility in his soul, almost as tangible as his flawless body. I pulled the young priest to me and our lips met; and a passion I had been sure men of the cloth were incapable of feeling washed throughout him, so strongly it bled onto me.
It occurred to me, as our tongues fought for solace from each other, that the comfort I ached to provide him was anti-productive. This was what I had wanted, what I needed. I didn't want him dead, I wanted him destroyed. I would make God pay for abandoning me, and I would do it by killing the faith of His precious chosen soldier. That task was complete, and now was the moment to finish the Father!
But, his fingers were in my hair and with his love for God on hiatus he was almost hedonistic in his sudden lust. As I tasted the sweet cavity of his mouth and felt his warm flesh reacting to every simple touch I spared, I knew there was more to be had here then I'd planned.
We moved blindly together to the nearest surface—which I vaguely recognized as the dais; and I sat first, pulling the gorgeous man atop my lap and helping him to shed one layer after another, until he wore only a rosary around his neck and I could worship God's fine work freely. What angel, or devil for that matter, could have ever guessed that the beautiful creature writhing and panting, begging for more even as I filled him so roughly, was actually a virtuous man?
As I pulled the shaking priest onto my self one last time, I became lost to my own needs and cupped his head, turning my lips to his neck to sink my wolf fangs into the soft white column of the Fathers' neck, drinking deeply the pure, holey blood of my lover. I felt the warmth of the man's seed flow over my stomach as virgin muscles massaged my cock and a moan that started in who knows whose throat ended with a pleasured cry of ecstasy from both of us. I was only barely able to pull myself away in time….
When my sentient mind returned I looked to the beauty spread in my lap, every bare inch of rosy flesh covered in one fluid or another and I was surprised to find his retuning gaze to be blameless, almost admiring, and he smiled,
"Ah, I know you now, devil."
With a small smile back I kissed his cold, bluish lips for long seconds and enjoyed the soft, feeble return. It wasn't until I pulled away, spotting the dark stain of his own blood on his lips like faux rouge, that I realized: it has come to the end.
"Where is God now?" he asked solemnly. "All I can feel is you and it's so cold." He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around me as he began to shiver.
"That coldness is death, Father, don't be afraid. I've made a choice. I'll save you from the fate that lies ahead." I promised even before I'd thought it out, but I knew he was too precious to let go like this. He deserved more.
The priest looked up sleepily into my eyes searching a moment again before he shook his head slowly. "No. I am a man of God still. Though I may have failed your test." He giggled lowly, shame coating the light sound. "I cannot sustain my life by taking the lives of others, as you do. I'd die anyway."
The thought of loosing this man was beginning more and more to seem unbearable, and as cruel as I knew it to be I could only think to appeal to his marred faith. "God won't want you now! You have sinned too deeply: besides failing my test and questioning your almighty God— if I didn't count that, you, a man who swore to uphold the sanctity of The Cloth allowed yourself to succumb to my seduction. There's still the fact that you disobeyed a direct tenet and laid with a man. Without the forgiveness that your religion demands of you at this crucial time He'll cast you aside."
The priest closed his cerulean eyes to hide the pain I could see filling them, "He is God. If that's what He wants...who am I to question?"
"You're the one I love." I demanded, angry at his self doubt, "I've loved you for so long now. I've watched you for so long. I cannot lose you." Silence met my words and for a long second I feared my lover had passed, but then a whisper touched my soul.
"Come with me then? Join me in Hell. Eternity there wouldn't be so bad with you by me."
I laughed and it sounded so sad and bitter, I barley recognized it as my own voice. "Some priest you are. You should know, your sins are enough to keep you out of heaven, you might have to sit just outside the pearly gates for an eternity. But I will burn deep in the bowls of Satan himself for the things I've done." I assured him, petting his dark hair back. "What little sanity I might hold will be spent wishing I had no sanity at all. If you love me, you must stay with me!" I begged time was running out.
"I do love you. I see that now…. Even though you took God from me. …All I feel now is you."
His words were far apart, slow and sloppy. He was dying. It was now or never. I'd force him to stay if I had to. Field test his theory about not being able to kill. Once it was done, he would not only be able to kill but, like me, enjoy it.
As though he could hear my thoughts he went on, "Please. If I can't live by God…let me die by you?"
It shook me. Even after all I had done to him, ripped apart his faith, endanger his soul, destroyed his purity and threatened his life. And he loved me. Loved me enough to ask for death by my hand.
"Perhaps, Father, on my way into hell I will see you. If only in passing."
"Then I have something to look forward to in all of eternity, my love."
I leaned in to kiss him again but he placed his fingers on my lips, "My son. Dominus noster Jesus Christus te absolvat; et ego auctoritate ipsius te absolvo ab omni vinculo excommunicationis et interdicti in quantum possum et tu indiges. Deinde, ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen."
I held back the cry that threatened to rip apart my soul as he spoke the words of forgiveness. I couldn't bring myself to thank him, or curse him or tell him again how much I loved him. One more word and I knew I would join my love in death. All I could do was press a last kiss to those blood sticky lips before sliding back down to his neck and taking the last few drops of the priests' life away.
Father, forgive me, for I have sinned.
I have loved you.
I have killed you.
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