"Sho?" Though her soft, sultry steps allowed her to walk up behind him like midnight descending upon the close of the past while opening up the future without a sound, courtesy of the controlled, fluid sway of her hips; a motion he had memorized in his dreams as she rode him, he could hear the need in her lips that dripped with sin and feel it in the hands on his back as she pressed herself against him. Draped in her own insanity, wandering their own madness she would bring a whole new level of salvation to this tortured soul should he give in as the curves of her body teased the clothed flesh of his resolve in false prayers lined with empty devotion.
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She loved to visit him like this after services; an act he had chosen to do to escape the daily torments being in her presence created. He imagined it was mostly because after that night she had bared her body to him, showing him the scars of her abuse as they connected on a level of detached sanity, she held no reservations about what bonding to him via their seals truly meant to her.
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Being a man of propriety and blind belief, he had never indulged in the flesh the way most men did, a fact that remained true after his torture and eventual death. Since bonding to her though he was faced with the prospect of physically redeeming his modern Mary Magdalene on a daily basis. And oh how he wished to redeem her into his loving arms. No matter where he went, her visage followed. She was in the air as it rustled his hair, in the food he ate as it sustained his physical hunger, and rampaged through his dreams as his mind wandered the roads of Dante's inferno while his hands replayed its seven levels all over her body.
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Breathing in with a controlled effort, he closed his eyes. "Mistress, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
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"Pleasure..." she purred and he shuddered against her succulence. "That's what brought me, my dear priest, as it always does." Then a finger traced along the rim of his ear.
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"Is that so?" He knew his voice was strained. "Would you be willing to allow me to finish up here? I am almost done cleaning and then I will be happy to take you somewhere you will enjoy." Pulling away from her slightly, he bent and began wiping down the white marble altar that serviced many of the other religions and services the Church of Chaldea catered to.
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It pained him to feel her body recede, at least until she came to sit on the altar to his right with a coy smile before tucking her legs up and laying like a virgin sacrifice upon its cold surface.
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"What if my pleasure doesn't involve something you can do to appease me but something you can do for and with me?" She raised a hand and gently fingered his cross, her eyes pleading playfully as they tested the boundaries of her willingness and his sanity.
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His eyes tried to focus just on hers and not the pliant, vibrant woman he had unexpectedly come to love that now lay prone below him as if offering her very existence to his will. Dressed only in black silk, hip-length robe with large purple flowers scattered tastefully over the surface, she was the visage of the Lord himself fainted in Mary's arms during the Pieta. The curves of her body, the withheld ecstasy that would only come to fruition through his acceptance of her entirety, all things he could almost taste in his complete and silent worship of her.
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Taking her hand in his, he gently brought the knuckles of her fingers to his lips to kiss; revering her in the chastity of the gesture instead of the raging inferno that was his desire. "I will do anything that allows me to worship the purity of your heart my dear you know that." He had deterred her advances so many times with gestures like this that it was now so intrinsic to their relationship he no longer expected them to go anywhere with the emotions they left warring inside.
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"That's good because it's my heart and soul I wish you to save."
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He was surprised his face didn't show any of the confusion that the statement created in his mind. "And how do you wish me to do that?"
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She sat up, hand still cupped in his and smiled sweetly. "Will you go to the cabinet and bring me a glass of red please?"
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"Of course."
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The feel of his hand slipping from hers felt like his soul was being ripped from his body. The very air changed in density as the heat in his whole hand disappeared the moment he lost contact. It was excruciating to turn away, but it also gave him a moment to collect himself. With each step forward, his resolve solidified. He would not give in and taint her with how broken she was. He didn't want his love to be a salve but a radiating heat that withstood the test of time and bolstered her belief in her own salvation. So caught in his own thoughts, he poured the wine without thinking and turned to an image that planted him in place.
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The robe was gone and she was left softly illuminated in golden light as the gilded embellishments surrounding the walls of the church radiated on her skin at the same time the white marble enhanced her fleshy pinkness creating a godlike glow to hover around her body. She lay with her eyes cast to the fresco of The Creation of Adam that decorated the underside of the dome above her head, one leg bent at the knee with the foot planted on the slab beneath her. Her arms were bent with both hands overlapping the other on top of her heart as if she wished to feel the beat of the painting within her own body. She was breathtaking and pure despite the scars covering her that traced the history of a tortured past.
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He stood for several breaths taking her in before returning to her side. When he was within reach, she turned her head slightly and smiled before reaching for the glass with her right hand. He was surprised her hands were suddenly cold when she took the glass from him. How had she lost so much heat in so little time? Yes she was naked but she had always had an internal fire that drove even her skin to an unnatural warmth. She left him little time to ponder the issue, however,
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"Thank you, Sho. Now, will you honor my one request?" Her hand lingered a moment longer on his before the glass slipped from his grasp.
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"And what would that be?" Somewhere deep inside he knew he couldn't hold her off forever. She was a woman that always got what she wanted and now, he knew, would be no exception.
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Her left hand came up to snake behind his scalp before tangling in his hair. Bracing himself emotionally he waited with a small smile on his lips, staring into the endless swirl of her eyes as they waited in limbo for her judgment. Finally, her hand pulled him down so her lips brushed his ear and her words struck him like a hymn from heaven.
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"I want you to baptize me in the way only you can." Then the red wine poured over his head and down his face to drip over her prone body staining it in a muted red in the places it hit as she released him. When the torrent of God's blood eased to rain like a river, he leaned back to drip its traces down her body as if crucifying her in its remnants.
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"If that is what you wish Mistress." It was not the act he had anticipated, but as he watched her body become bathed in the lord's visage he began to lose control on a primal level. She looked virgin, willing and raw as her body screamed a devotion he had longed to lose himself in.
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Without thought or reason, he smiled before bending down and placing his lips to her ear as his index and middle finger came to rest on her clavicle. "Are you sure that is what you want? There is no turning back once you receive his blessing."
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Her left hand cupped the side of his head as her face pressed back against his. "I don't care about his blessing, I want yours because you are my everything."
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Why that caused him to snap he would never know nor care to find out. All he wanted was to release his all into her as his devotion for her and God mixed into one as she became both his savior and his companion. Tracing his fingers across her breasts and then down her clavicle he chanted.
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"The most beautiful things in the world can not be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart. Don't be afraid to start over. It's a new chance to rebuild what you want. On this day of baptism may God, who loves us all, smile lovingly upon this child, so innocent and small...and may he guide this girl throughout the years ahead as blessings light the pathway where those tiny feet are led."
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Then as the cross met its final destination at her navel, he hovered above her face so noses almost touched and stared into her eyes waiting.
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"May you be absolved of your sins and live anew in God's grace, Amen."
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They had always been seamless. As if prompted by forces engrained in their very mana signatures she grabbed the back of his skull and pulled him against her, crashing her lips to his as he braced on scrambled elbows that came to stand firm on either side of her head.
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"Now Christen me priest to whatever god lets me worship you as the one and only completion of my soul," she said with the fire of a long stoked passion in his mind.
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His souls melded as ultimate ascension was reached. His once short white hair lengthened and the scars that littered his body were erased as her absolution bound him to both pasts in an instant. He was no longer just the zealot who spread God's word in an attempt to salvage a dying segment of humanity. He was a breed of warrior knight bound to a cause beyond God and country.
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"As you wish my lady." Then his clothes were gone as he came to rest on his hands and elbows above her on the altar. They would both sacrifice themselves before God in a bond that would outlast even his grace.
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Wanting to hear her chant his praise, he kissed her neck biting here and there before she could even begin to succumb to the regular intervals of his touch. As his lips trailed down her, her hands scoured his body in serrated streaks as her nails replaced the whip of the cat of nine tails the day he had received his punishment.
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Grinning in a pleasure derived from deprivation and absolution he began what would be known as the Trials of Dante, a self "flagellation" of sorts for breaking the vows they had sworn to each other as a way to purge their past lives. Limbo, the first ring, had been reached before ever mounting the table and her. Thus came ring two through four known as lust, gluttony, and greed. Here he kissed her hard as he entered her forcefully, using his upper body to brace himself as his hands shot to her hips, yanking them up so he could sheath her instantly while holding her against the altar. She cried in first pain than pleasure as he held her to him, pulsing against her walls as he forced her to accept him and the salvation he promised with each potential thrust.
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He should have been ashamed, but he wasn't. He had wanted her since that first day, a fact that resonated as he allowed his body to feel every inch of her core as he stood rock hard inside her warmth. She was everything he had wanted, everything he had dreamed and now that he was here with her, God be damned. Sliding in and out slowly, he bent over to watch as her belly distended with the imprint of his cock as he pushed against the very walls of her stomach with every movement. He had become her entirety, the essence of her existence as she lay prone to God's will.
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Unable to control his desire, he rode her like he was pounding the nails that bound her to a cross. With each cry that escaped her lips, he nailed her harder, wanting her salvation to permeate his desire so he too could find release in her rapture. It wouldn't be until she grabbed his ass that he would start feeding into his own gluttony. He had wanted her so long that her desire for him sent him into a realm of greed he wasn't prepared to combat.
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Yanking out of her he plunged down between her legs to gorge on her clit as he forced her legs to spread wide with hard hands. There was no escape for her, no depth he wouldn't go to purify her loneliness and loss. With each lick of his tongue and grip of his hands on her inner thighs he took and took of her nectar as it poured like mana from heaven out of her core.
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She was sweet and warm as her love coated his tongue. Why had he waited so long? The thought no longer seemed relevant. All that mattered was what was in front of him. Delving his tongue into the wetness that coated his lips, he sucked and teased until her back remained permanently arched and the altar became slick with her juices as they mixed with the wine. Greed, the embodiment of self-fulfillment. The endless desire to take without recompense or consideration of the receiver. He had never indulged in such personal savagery, but now as his lips and tongue wandered the caverns of her core and lapped at the slick sides of her lips he found no other course than to indulge in that which God had placed in front of him.
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Clamping her legs at the sides of his head, he pressed into her until he himself almost lost all sources of pure air. Though breathing in the succulence of the fruit she bore gave its own sustenance, it was not enough to fill his lungs so he could survive. Pulling back regretfully he saw the rise and fall of her ample bussom as her erect nipples marked the depth of her arousal. Partially angry at himself for not seeing her want as a passage to enlightenment, he grabbed first one breast and then the other, pinching the nipples with a strength that fostered whines and sharp intakes of breath as he took out level five through seven on her most sensitive appendages.
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Wrath, heresy and violence, the epitome of hate ad self loathing were the things he tortured himself with daily as he tore at his own desire for her and broke it down to some watered down chivalric quest to leave her untainted when really all it did was keep her in her own limbo unable to ascend both him and her beyond their own limitations.
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Pinching her nipples roughly between his thumb and index finger, he bent down to bite her lip as his hip continued to slide his cock into and out of her at a steady pace. He would absolve them both or neither by the time they were done and make her so bound to him she could never leave. He had never admitted to himself how vital her existence was to his happiness but now as she lay writhing beneath him he knew there was no God if she did not share his promise of serenity with him.
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With her nipples rough and sore, he lifted her up and scooted down the slab. When enough room was behind him, he lay on his back, forcing her into the scene he had replayed every night since he could remember. She wobbled a little until she gained some purchase around the altar but within moments was riding his hips as her hands dug into his chest; marking every crevice with her unending passion. She was as beautiful above him as she had been below. Her skin still aglow in the ethereal light, she became his icon as he betrayed all he held dear in this sacred place for a moment of indulgence beneath this sanctuary.
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Sliding his hands up her legs, he gripped her hips and pulled her into him as she bent back and clutched onto his calves, riding him in the same arc her body had taken as he gorged on her core. His cock still threatened to break the wall of her stomach as it pressed into its soft flesh from the inside. She seemed to enjoy it, so he increased his depth until he bottomed out. Wanting more and lost in the lust, he reached around to grab her hair and yank it down, forcing her into an even deeper bow.
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It was intoxicating and freeing at the same time. Riding her to the point of piercing her flesh, yanking her to his will and taking her in this place...each thing on its own freed him of his own sacrilege at the same time it bound him and her to a level of intimacy only known to the damned. He would now be his for al eternity.
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When her cries became erratic and her breathing short be known she was close. Releasing her hair he rose up and had her ride his lap as he wrapped his arms around her and crushed her against these lips. He would steal her will to exist without him as her ecstasy came and nothing could change that. Moving his hands from her hair to her back, he traced the lines of her beating in the same way she sought his, daring the other to flinch as they rode the waves that would ultimately bring them past their superficial musing.
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"Shirou..." She called in sexual agony before her body convulsed her his breath stole her cries.
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Her passion washed him clean, cleansing his sexuality and spirituality in the same frame as inch by inch was baptized by her own holy water. When she stopped convulsing and they had come down from their high, him having lost his in her first throws of passion after calling his name, he curled her against him and held her stroking her hair as she nestled into his chest. It didn't' matter that they were bare for any passer-by to see. They were awakened to the gift of God having reenacted his own ecstasy in each other's arms. Nothing from this point mattered. It was just him and her and the faith they held. Both in each other and in the salvation of man as they took each day hand in hand.
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