In the dim glow of candlelight, shadows played across the walls of the ancient stone church. Stained glass windows filtered moonlight into shades of muted red and blue that sprawled over the floor like pools of dark water. The only movement within the church at this hour was a figure dressed in heavy black robes, nearly swimming in the fabric, despite his best efforts to pull the cloth tightly around his thin frame.
Vincent, the frail priest who presided over this sanctuary, could hardly concentrate on his prayers. The presence of *him* – the unholy visitor who appeared on nights such as this, shivering into existence from shadows and whispers, cloaked in the scent of brimstone and something dangerously enticing – it always lingered in the back of his mind. But this night, he was no longer just a thought.
From behind the altar, the demon moved forward, his footfalls silent against the stone. Rody didn’t care much for theatrics, but he did appreciate the pleasure of watching Vincent’s hands shake as they clasped tightly in prayer. He’d made himself known many times over the past few weeks, each visit pushing Vincent closer and closer to the edge of moral ruin, dangling salvation just out of reach. Yet tonight was different.
“Praying, my dearest?” Rody’s voice was a purr, warm yet taunting, like the press of fire on bare skin. Vincent’s hands stilled, his gaze unmoving from the floor, but the rosary beads slipped through his slender fingers as his thoughts began to unravel.
“Demon.” The whisper was as fragile as the man himself. Vincent didn’t dare look up, even though he could feel the demon’s gaze on him like hot coals, searing his flesh and his soul alike.
Rody took a step closer, catching a glimpse of Vincent’s face: the man’s cheeks were flushed, lips pressed in a thin line to keep them from trembling. Behind those pale, downcast lashes, Rody could sense every thought, every fantasy Vincent tried so fervently to suppress. It was like peering into a treasure trove of all the deliciously obscene, every sin the priest hid beneath his polished exterior.
“You don’t have to call on me so formally, Vince,” Rody murmured, the teasing lilt in his tone making the priest’s heart pound. “After all, you’ve already let me into your life. You’ve kept me secret from your congregation.” He leaned down, his breath brushing against Vincent’s ear, a sweetly poisonous whisper. “In a way, I think that makes you mine.”
Vincent shivered, his knuckles going white as he gripped the edges of his robe. He told himself that Rody was nothing more than a temptation, a test of his resolve. And yet, Vincent found himself unable to resist him, captivated by those sharp green eyes that seemed to pierce through all his carefully constructed walls, laying bare the hidden desires he’d tried to keep buried.
“I… I have duties,” Vincent stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. “You distract me from them….” His tone was one of helplessness, as though he were caught in a web he couldn’t untangle, all the while unsure if he even wanted to escape.
“Do I, now?” Rody’s smile was warm but wicked, and as he let his hand rest on Vincent’s shoulder, he felt the man shudder beneath his touch. “You can hardly blame me for that. You’re the one letting me stay, *Father*. You even bring me food when you know you shouldn’t.”
Vincent’s lips parted, eyes fluttering closed as if he could shield himself from the shame blooming in his chest. But Rody wasn’t here to let him hide; he was here to uncover every forbidden thought, every ounce of longing Vincent tried to bury beneath his priestly vows.
“Do you think of me often, Vincent?” Rody whispered, his voice smooth and inviting as he pressed closer, so close Vincent could feel the warmth of his breath on his skin. “When you’re alone in bed at night, do you wonder what it would feel like if I were there beside you? If I were to… indulge you?”
“Please,” Vincent gasped, but the plea was not one of rejection. His hands gripped the front of Rody’s shirt, fingers clutching desperately, his breath coming in short, shallow bursts. “I… I thought I could… that I’d have the strength to resist you.”
“You really want that, don’t you?” Rody leaned in, brushing his lips over the priest’s ear, savoring the way Vincent’s body seemed to melt against him, a man torn between duty and desire. “I can see it all, you know. Every craving, every little thought. You think that if you let me stay, I’ll love you, just like this.”
Vincent let out a shuddering breath, his face a portrait of confusion and want. “You… you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t care,” he whispered, his hands still tangled in the fabric of Rody’s clothes, pulling him closer as though he could tether the demon to his side.
In truth, Rody had come here with nothing more than a desire to corrupt and break. He had wanted to take advantage of how starved for love Vincent was, how he would cling to any scraps of affection Rody offered. And yet, over time, Vincent had begun to captivate him in ways he hadn’t anticipated. The way the priest trembled under his touch, the way his heart swelled with misguided hope that the demon might care for him beyond mere play-it stirred something foreign in Rody.
Without thinking, he pressed a kiss to Vincent’s forehead, a soft, gentle touch, so far removed from his usual mischief. Vincent’s eyes widened, a look of utter disbelief crossing his face as though he couldn’t comprehend the tenderness in Rody’s gaze.
“You… you love me….right?” Vincent’s voice broke, vulnerable and raw. His hands loosened on Rody’s shirt, fingers trailing over his chest in hesitant strokes, searching for answers that he didn’t dare voice.
Rody swallowed, his grin fading as he held Vincent’s gaze. “I never meant to,” he murmured, his voice softer than Vincent had ever heard it. “I came here to ruin you, to make you fall. But now…” He brushed a thumb over Vincent’s cheek, catching the tear that had begun to slip down. “Now, I can’t imagine letting anyone else have you.”
Vincent closed his eyes, his lips parting in a silent prayer, one not for forgiveness but for this feeling-this sense of belonging, however fleeting it might be. He leaned into Rody’s touch, his lips brushing against the demon’s thumb in a soft, reverent kiss.
“Then… stay with me,” Vincent whispered, his voice barely audible but filled with desperate hope. “I don’t care if it’s a sin. I just… I don’t want to be alone anymore.”
The plea was raw, and it hit Rody harder than he’d ever anticipated. This wasn’t mere weakness; it was something deeper, a need that went beyond carnal desire. Vincent wanted to be loved, cherished in a way he’d never experienced, and he’d found that, paradoxically, in a demon.
Rody wrapped his arms around Vincent, pulling him close. “Then I’ll stay. Just… don’t let go, Vincent.”
And, for the rest of that night, as the candles flickered and the shadows danced, Rody held the trembling priest in his arms, all thoughts of corruption forgotten. In that quiet, fragile moment, Vincent found the solace he’d been seeking all his life, and Rody, a creature of darkness, found something that felt eerily like redemption.
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