"Are you alright, my child...?"
Child? She didn't feel like a child...not when she looked at him...his fine clear skin, his tousled hair...
A priest...for god's sake...he was a priest and she wanted to bury her hands in his black curls...burrow under his traditional cassock and taste his incense tainted sweat...
Get a hold of yourself, Marissa...this is bigger trouble than even you can handle...
He touched her shoulder...surely the approved priestly gesture to make when someone is on their knees in an empty church...tearstained and shaky.
She didn't have to see herself to know how she looked.
Mirrors were useless anyway...
Her skin prickled, hairs rising on the back of her neck...And not from revulsion.
How could this be? Obviously holy men were supposed to touch demons and make them weak and hungry with desire, because, right now, she was about as weak as one might imagine a 200 year old creature to be...
"Can I help you?"
He knelt beside her, voice deep and resonant...like church bells...and spoke again…
"I'm Father Nicholas...what's your name?"
Marissa. Her voice would not come. His heat was overwhelming...settling in her stomach...calling out. Her teeth ached. Not now...you've resisted for so long...you can't give up now...
"You don't have to tell me your name," he whispered, hand still heavy on her bare shoulder.
Did he feel the icy coldness, was he reviled by her and too well trained to show it?
His fingers stroked her back slightly. Her spine melted.
"Do you want to be alone?"
Alone...too much alone...the Others had abandoned her long ago, contemptuous of her need for absolution.
"Do you want me to stay?"
She found the strength to whisper yes...a raspy sound almost painfully loud to her ears...he leaned closer, unsure perhaps that he had heard right. She dropped her head back into her hands.
His arms came around her, he shifted, somehow he was behind her, holding her. Was this still a Vatican approved gesture? Had he crossed a line, driven by pity…or more?
"You are in God's arms now, child, you are safe...you are loved...everything is alright now..." His whispers were choral notes...angels chanting. Shivers went through her cold skin...caught fire...heated to a wild flame in her belly.
She had not felt the urge to feel a man inside her since the Turning. All desire was blood-based situated deeply in her fangs, in a heart – if you could call it that – that beat in rhythm with mortals when she was near them.
These familiar urges were present...but more...there was more...wildfire in her groin...tingling notes of pleasure that traveled through her torso and made her breasts heavy, her nipples hard.
He pulsed with a hymnal rhythm that pulled her.
She could smell him, all his mortal fluids...blood, sweat and semen. She could feel her nostrils flare as she breathed him in. Could taste his salt. Wanted to swallow him whole.
He kissed the top of her head.
"God is with you," he promised.
She swallowed a bitter laugh...
She felt his crucifix brush her back as he leaned in...it left an imprint in her skin...invisible but as permanent as a tattoo. She wanted him to press the metal against her belly, her breasts, her thighs...to lay the heavy chain against her hairless groin.
Further damned...was it even possible?
A sob escaped her without knowing. She pressed closer, turning her face to his shoulder.
He gathered her in his arms...This had to be an action not recommended at the seminary, too physical...to earthly for such a holy office. She was in danger of pulling him too close to condemnation in his god's eyes...but she was too overwhelmed by this fire to care. Her fists lay against his chest, his heartbeat like a purring kitten beneath her touch.
His robe was satin against her but much too rough somehow...all she craved was his skin, his heat, his blood...his cock sliding into her.
What about the aching for salvation that had driven her here?
Be damned, she thought, this is sweeter.
She dropped one hand, found his lap. Lay her fist there as though by accident.
Down, father...down you go. You can't save me...I can't save myself...but I can have this.
Her tongue caressed her aching teeth for a second then darted out, found his stubbled throat...tasted.
He tasted like saints...and hellfire...fallen angels unrepentant.
His cock stirred beneath her hand.
She could feel his sincerity, his innocence. He was not one of those false priests...the licentious kind that hid their carnal natures behind cassocks and crosses. His anguish was plain...and sweet.
"Forgive me father, for I have sinned…"
A sound, purely animal, came from him. She licked his lips, full and hot. He sighed against her mouth, met her with a kiss. Caught by the lure and no longer in control of his thoughts, his actions.
She moved, straddled his kneeling form. Pressed her breasts against the cold crucifix, pressed her groin against his hot erection. Her hands grasped his face, pulled it back so he was looking into her eyes.
His were green...and haunted. His lips hung open as he gasped for breath. She wet them, then her own. Tongues twined in wet communion.
His hands, slightly rough...huge...tore the dirty rags from her body. His thumbs, grazed her breasts, then softly, like a benediction, he lay his palms over them, nipples crushed beneath the ecclesiastic pressure.
"God is in here, child...he abides within your breast...no matter how you stray..."
"Stray with me," she whispered against his mouth, biting his full bottom lip, sucking up the red droplet. Everything within her trembled, then roared.
He managed, with inhumane strength to rise to his knees with her in his arms, turned...
Dropping her tangled rags behind them he placed her, naked on the altar and stepped between her spread legs. Seeing her hairless silken mound, he groaned and sank to his feet.
"Cleanse me father for I am unclean," she whispered as his tongue caressed her swollen labia, tickled and flitted inside her briefly. Her belly tightened, filled with heat and weight too much to bear.
His teeth grazed, sank into sensitive skin.
"Absolve me," she whispered, reaching for his hair, pulling him up by tangled sweat-damp curls.
He rose, fought for release from her grasp, lifting his robe over his head and sending it to the floor. Her nails shredded his shirt as he fought to free himself from clothes grown too tight…
His crucifix swung against his slightly hairy chest. She grasped it, pulled him to her, rubbed the metal against her stomach. He bent to kiss her again and the silver cross dropped into her lap, slid against the damp aching flesh between her legs.
"Now, father, save me now..." She reached for his cock, used it to push aside the cross, and slid the hot tip of his sanctified length against her wet opening.
Her breath slipped from her at the hot touch of him. Her fangs slid free, pierced her lip gently.
His hands grasped her thighs, bruising as they forced them further apart. He lay his head back as he thrust into her, full length...so thick and long she was sure it pierced her heart. His throat was exposed, supplicant to her whim...her need.
She pulled his face back to hers, eyes meeting his, fangs exposed for a moment before finding the hot groove of his throat with her starving mouth.
She broke hot wet flesh, ripped in, felt the familiar long-denied rush of sweet blood...heady as wine.
She drank as he thrust into her...fluids making a circle...unbroken, of need, of desire.
She had thought her flesh dead but she felt the orgasm as it rippled through her, beat against her like waves...her head fell back, blood dripping down her chin as she gave a strangled scream.
"Father forgive me," she cried as she thrust her hips back at him in punishing fury and joy.
"Oh God," he screamed.
She tightened like a vice around him, her other hungry mouth milking him dry.
They stayed locked, like feral dogs, for a moment before he moved, licked his own spilt blood from her breast. Slowly he drew himself from her body.
She shivered with sensation, blood rich now and satiated.
His eyes were glazed and she knew he would not recall this in the morning.
Untangling herself she leapt down from her perch on the bloodstained altar. She'd been a virgin when she had been given the dark kiss...had thought she would never bleed...
As she walked, naked, up the aisle to the stained glass entry of the cathedral she knew one thing for certain...
She would know one again...
And again...and again...