Work Text:
Father Shane Hollander had never performed an exorcism before. But he was sure his faith in the Lord was strong enough to do this.
Exorcism was not technically performed on objects, not anymore. But he was certain this necklace brought to him by a distraught member of his flock was a cursed object that was demonically possessed and needed to be disposed of properly.
He had taken the necklace to Father Theriault first, believing his superior would know best what to do. The necklace sat on the desk between them, glinting brightly in the afternoon sun. Theriault steepled his fingers beneath his chin, observing Shane carefully.
"You think this necklace is... possessed."
"Demonically possessed," Shane stressed for him, wanting to be absolutely clear.
"Shane," Father Theriault said in a low, calm tone. Shane had heard him use this voice before, usually with a congregant on the verge of a panic attack. "How can you be sure this isn't just a regular piece of jewelry?"
Shane frowned. He wasn't panicking, he was calm and collected, as far as he could tell. And he was certain about this. The woman who brought the necklace to him had found it at a flea market. Ever since it came into her home, she'd been haunted by nightmares, whispers in the dark, an oppressive sense of dread consuming her whenever the necklace was nearby. And even just touching it —
"Father," Shane said in a rush. "Please touch it, hold it in your hand and you'll see —"
"Shane," Father Theriault continued as though he hadn't spoken at all. "I don't need to do that. It's just a necklace."
"No, it isn't," Shane said, leaning forward in his chair. "You can feel the darkness, you can hear whispers —"
"Shane." Shane frowned again. He was getting tired of the father saying his name like that. "How long has it been since you slept?"
"That isn't important," Shane muttered.
He'd taken the necklace from the distraught woman, promising to deal with it appropriately. But over the two nights he'd had the necklace in his possession, he had experienced the nightmares which had plagued its previous owner. Dark, demonic visions, his skin burning like hellfire. He couldn't lie and say he hadn't tried to avoid sleep as much as possible, preferring to spend hours on his knees, hunched over in prayer, rosary clutched in his hands and he fought to banish the darkness from his mind.
"I think some real sleep would do you good, Shane," Father Theriault said. "Do not trouble yourself with — with trinkets."
Shane bit his tongue against the frustrated outburst that threatened to fly out. Instead, Shane lowered his head and swiped the necklace back into his pocket, using his handkerchief to avoid touching it with his bare skin.
"Thank you, Father," he muttered obediently. "I'll do that."
Father Theriault nodded sagely, looking pleased that Shane was dropping it and leaving him in peace. That was fine, let him believe that. Shane was already formulating a plan.
That night, he found himself alone in the church. It was well past midnight, even the most ardent parishioners at home in bed, the building dark and empty. The windows arched into the darkness around him, reflecting nothing but the flickering candleflame, the silence absolute, broken only by Shane's light footsteps, his mumbled prayers.
Shane set himself up before the altar, lighting candles and sprinkling holy water, blessing the area fully before reaching for the necklace in his pocket. Again, he tried not to touch it directly, the heat that coursed through him when his skin all but grazed the gold chain was certainly demonic and evil. He laid the necklace on the floor, its shining surface catching the candles' light in a glittery refraction. A gold pendant on a thin chain, simple and even innocuous seeming from afar, but up close, Shane could feel the evil pouring from it, like a stove giving off heat. It lay upon a white altar cloth Shane had spread on the floor, its chain coiled like a snake.
Hands shaking slightly, Shane adjusted his glasses and dipped his fingers in the chalice of holy water he had blessed this morning in preparation.
"In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit," he began, allowing the holy water to drip onto the necklace. "Amen."
His words sounded clear and bright in the dark church. Shane fingered his rosary for a moment before moving on, counting the beads as he had a thousand times before, seeking strength from the Lord. He felt something hot rising inside him and he pushed it away, focusing on the cool, calming presence of the Lord, the holy water in his hands.
"In the Name of Jesus, I break any unholy ties, links, relationships, and bondages between this necklace and all evils sources and spirits," he said.
The candles around him flickered, as though caught in a sudden wind. Shane could feel it on his skin as well, a burst of heat like a person's breath across his face. He swallowed thickly, fingers worrying the rosary beads wrapped tightly around his hand.
He repeated the words twice more, his voice growing weaker and less steady with every word.
"I command all spirits associated with these unholy ties, links, bondages to go immediately and directly to the foot of the cross of the Lord Jesus!"
The crucifix above the altar loomed large in the darkness. Shane could see its shape, feel the weight of it. He tried to derive courage from it, from the Lord, but although the necklace looked as it always had, harmless and innocent and still on the white cloth, Shane could feel heat crawling over his skin, sweat dotting his forehead and running down the back of his neck. His chest felt tight, skin prickling with sensation. He tugged on his collar, panting slightly as the air grew thick. He could smell smoke.
"Father in heaven, we ask You to bind and cast away from me and all those who have come into contact with these materials, any demonic entities that may have been attached to these — these materials," Shane bit out, mouth stumbling over the words.
The candles all around him shuddered, the flames flaring up and casting large, hulking shadows on the walls and then guttering out almost completely, the darkness deepening around him, before they juddered back to life again. All the while, Shane could hear the voice of the necklace, whispering to him as it had before, calling to him in his sleep, in his dreams. A dark, low, seductive voice, no words he could understand, but it seemed to be asking for something, calling for him to come closer.
Shane bit the inside of his cheek, searching for the next words. He licked his suddenly dry lips, pushed his sweat dampened hair from his forehead, rosary beads dragging across his skin.
"We plead the blood of Jesus over these materials — we —"
The words he was to speak next fled away from him into the darkness. His hands trembled, the chalice of holy water spilling over the sides. Shane fumbled for the cup but whatever demonic forces now filled the room made his hands slow and clumsy. The chalice slipped through his fingers and fell to the floor, holy water splashing onto his pant legs, soaking the altar cloth and snuffing out several candles.
It was now fractionally darker and Shane scrambled to retrieve the cup, heart pounding. The rosary in his hand felt heavy, the crucifix swinging as he fell to his knees. The carpet was damp, the white altar cloth splattered in drops of water. The necklace glowed in the darkness and Shane was struck suddenly by its beauty, its enticing luster, the bright glitter across its chain —
"Our Father, who art in heaven —" Shane called out, voice weak and trembling, groping for any prayer that came to mind, anything to fight the darkness.
The whispers in his mind grew louder. The empty chalice in his hand dropped to the floor again, rolling away into the darkness outside the circle of candlelight. He clutched his rosary so hard it hurt, the wooden beads biting into his skin.
"Hallowed be thy name —"
The candles all around him shuddered wildly and then blew out. In the darkness so total that even his own body disappeared, Shane could see the faint outline of the necklace catching some dim, unknown light.
"Thy kingdom come —"
His breath came past and hard, the panic inside him rising as the smoke from the blown-out candles filled his nose. His glasses slid down his nose, face slick with cold sweat. Something was calling his name.
"Shane —"
"Thy will be done —!"
He tried to shout the words, but his voice was a weak, reedy whisper against the onslaught of sound swallowing him, the only word he could pick out being his own name.
"Shane! Shane! Shane!"
"On earth — as it — as it is —"
Even the simplest prayer seemed far away from him, difficult to grasp. He could no longer see the necklace in the darkness but he could sense something else, something larger, looming in the blackness like a shroud, huge and hulking, filling up space like a living shadow, one that breathed and moved and spoke to him —
" — as it is in heaven!"
Shane screamed the last words even as the deafening sounds around him cut out completely. In the same moment, the candles lit up again, spontaneously and all at once filling the church with light. Shane's mouth hung open, the last words of prayer dying on his lips as he saw the figure before him.
Tall, clearly a man, naked as Adam before the fall. But also not a man, no man on earth had eyes that burned like flame, had skin like ivory yet glowing as if from an internal furnace. No man had cloven feet or horns like a goat twisting from his temples.
But despite the demonic qualities this creature so clearly possessed, he looked so much like a man. A perfect man, carved from marble and displayed in a museum. His face was almost angelic, sharp cheekbones, perfectly formed mouth, large blue eyes. His hair was a crown of thick, golden-brown curls, falling over his forehead and around those hideous horns. His naked body was so perfectly sculpted, as though Michelangelo had made it himself, but it was not smooth marble but living flesh, speckled with dark moles and dustings of body hair. A thick path of hair led right to the manhood between his legs, girthy and heavy, monstrous in size despite laying flaccid on his thigh. Shane had to tear his eyes away.
The demon spoke to him and Shane let out a soft whimper of fear. The language was unfamiliar, sinuous and smooth, filling Shane with heat as he watched those perfect lips move.
" — hello? I am talking to you?"
Shane started, realizing that the demon had switched to English. His voice, deep, electric, accented from whatever language he'd been speaking.
"Get back, demon!" Shane cried, holding up the crucifix on his rosary, hands shaking. "Hail Mary, full of grace —"
The demon chuckled, low and dark, mirth dancing his glowing eyes.
"You are much prettier than the last mortal foolish enough to summon me," he said, advancing on Shane as he still cowered on his knees before him.
"Glory be to the Father —" Shane muttered wildly, trying clumsily to get to his feet.
"Now now, kotik," the demon said with another chuckle. "Don't get up."
It was as though a whip flew out from nowhere and wrapped itself around Shane's throat. He fell back to his knees, the long, snake-like something tightening against his windpipe. Shane choked, gasping for air before the thing loosened, just enough for him to breathe. His glasses slipped down his nose and fell to the floor.
"That is better," the demon said. "You look pretty on your knees."
"Please —" Shane moaned desperately, all prayers abandoning him as he was reduced to begging. "Don't kill me."
"Kill you?" the demon repeated with a wide smile that cut across his face, teeth glinting in the candle flame. "I would not kill you. Not pretty thing like you."
The end of the whip around his throat moved on its own, brushing against Shane's cheek. Shane jumped, realizing in a sickening flash that it was not a whip or a rope at all but the demon's tail, long and prehensile, ending in a fleshy point that stroked the skin of his face like a tender caress. Shane gasped in horror, trying in vain to twist away.
"Stop — please —" he all but sobbed.
"I do not think is what you want," the demon crooned. "I can see what you desire, Shane."
The sound of his Christian name on this monster's tongue made Shane shudder, skin crawling. But even as he shook in disgust, the tail's caresses on his face sent tingles coursing through him. There was a molten heat growing inside him, spreading to every limb, to the ends of his fingers and toes. He trembled, a weak moan escaping his lips as the tail stroked his cheek, flicked against his mouth, teasing his lips.
"Stop," Shane groaned, unable to escape its touch. "What are you doing to me —"
"I am doing nothing, Shane. I cannot make you feel anything, I am just... awakening the desire that is already inside you."
"No!"
Shane twisted pointlessly against the thick tail around his throat, fighting with all his might. The tail trailed over his jaw, slipping down beneath the edge of his collar, hot against his bare skin. The touch sent shivers up his spine, lighting up his skin with bright pops of sensation, like flashbulbs bursting in the darkness.
"Let me see what you have underneath, moy kotik," the demon said, hands groping for his clothing.
Shane wore his usual black suit and priest's collar and the demon swiftly pulled it all away, stripping Shane down to nakedness to match his own. Shane felt himself burn with humiliation as the demon's hands traced his chest, leaving hot trails wherever his fingers touched.
"Ah —" Shane gasped as the demon's hands wrapped around his waist, humming appreciatively at his exposed body.
"Why would boring little priest have this beautiful body hidden beneath ugly clothes?" the demon said, one hand dipping below his waist to cup his ass.
Shane kept himself in good shape, certainly not for vanity, but for health and discipline. Regular and regimented exercise kept his mind clear, his body strong and purified. But all his strength seemed to have abandoned him as the demon lifted him off his knees and touched his body as though it just were a thing for him to play with.
"Please, don't," Shane said thickly, still unable to twist away as the creature pulled him into his thickly muscled arms. "Get away from me, demon!"
"Tsk tsk," the demon murmured. "I have name, you know. You did not even ask."
"Azazel," Shane said, recalling what he'd learned in seminary. "Belial. Asmodeus..."
The demon laughed deep in his chest and he was so close that Shane could feel the vibrations through his skin.
"Ilya," the creature said. "Simple name, yes? Easy to remember for when you are screaming it."
Shane only groaned as the demon's — Ilya's — hand squeezed the firm cheek of his ass. The long tail sliding over his chest flicked over his nipple, raising it to a point. Shane gargled out a moan, arms heavy and useless by his sides as the tail teased his hardening nipple, twisting around it like a snake. Shane stiffened in Ilya's grip, hands trembling as he tried to push him back.
Ilya only grinned, thick fingers dipping between the cheeks of his ass and brushing against his hole. Shane's face burned at the touch and how explosions of pleasure seemed to radiate from that point. His skin was on fire, his senses heightened, insides tightening with every touch.
"You see? This is what you want."
Ilya whispered in his ear, sending hot shivers through him. Shane looked down, shame consuming him as he confronted his own hard cock, unclothed and bouncing lewdly in the air as Ilya forced him to his knees again.
"You're doing this to me," Shane said stubbornly, fighting against the tears gathering in his eyes. "You're making me — making me feel this way —"
"No," Ilya said with a delighted laugh as his tail flicked across his hard nipples again, making him shudder. "I can see what you want, moy kotik."
Shane felt the shame burn through him, his thoughts betraying him as they raked over the demon's chiseled form that stood before him. Carved from marble, undeniably beautiful. Masculine and strong.
No —
As an ordained priest, Shane fought to keep his thoughts pure from any stain of lust, praying daily, nightly, whenever he could. But what he didn't allow himself to think about was the nature of his thoughts, the bent of his lust. Men in his congregation spoke of lust for beautiful women on TV, models and actresses, even wives of their friends. Sinful, yes, but Shane had never felt that way about women. He'd known since seminary, living in close quarters with other men seeking a path of righteousness, where his predilections lay.
"Yes, give into it," Ilya whispered, low and seductive.
Shane moaned weakly, skin hot as Ilya's perfect body flexed. His cock — oh Jesus, his cock — was hardening, growing impossibly thicker and longer, the uncut head flushed a dark purplish red, beading with moister. It did not look normal, besides its massive size, the shaft stippled with thin, wicked looking spikes.
He sucked in a hard, panicked breath. No, no, he didn't want this, he couldn't possibly want this —
Shane had never given into his unnatural desire for other men. He barely allowed himself to think about it. He'd been so strong for so long, denying himself any and all vices, keeping his mind and body pure, a perfect vessel for Christ. But this demonic creature was filling him with lust so powerful that he was dizzy from it, chest tight, head swimming, thick with fog that clouded his senses. His lips parted as Ilya's cock rose before his eyes, saliva pooling in his mouth as though he longed to taste this monstrous member.
Ilya stepped closer, close enough that his cock brushed against Shane's mouth, smearing it with wet. Shane moaned, unable to help himself as his mouth fell open, the massive tip finding its way past his lips. His hands flew out to steady himself against thighs like tree trunks and Shane registered that his rosary was still wrapped firmly around his knuckles. He burned with shame, trying to pull away, but Ilya's tail was still around his throat, drawing him closer.
Ilya groaned deeply as his cock slipped into Shane's open mouth, the salty pre-come heavy on his tongue. The barbs along the shaft, so unnatural, so inhuman, dragged sharply against his skin. Not sharp enough to cut, but enough to leave a stinging trail wherever they touched. His lips, his tongue, the roof of his mouth. Ilya's cock filled him up completely, the barbs scraping along as he pushed in deeper. Shane squealed in alarm as the cock touched the back of his throat. There was still so much left and already Shane was choking on it, muffled yelps squeaking from his stuffed throat as Ilya fisted his hair and rocked forward.
"Good kotik," Ilya said sweetly, voice dripping with seductive syrup. "So perfect for my cock."
Tears filled Shane's eyes as Ilya nudged his cockhead down his throat. He tried to breathe through his nose, but struggled, going rigid as he tried desperately to take in more air. The tail around his throat tightened and Shane felt his head go fuzzy, whiteness filling his vision. Light faded for a moment before Ilya withdrew his cock, loosened his tail and let Shane heave in huge lungfuls of air, coughing and choking desperately.
"More training is needed," Ilya muttered a bit reluctantly. "But you have other holes, yes?"
"No — please —" Shane bit out, still panting hard, throat aching.
"You have such perfect ass, you expect me not to fuck it?" Ilya said. "And my little priest is virgin, yes? Untouched. Will be so tight and good for me."
"Please," Shane cried, doubling over as Ilya's tail unfurled from around his throat, finally letting him fall.
His arms shook as he tried to push himself up, weak as a kitten in front of this towering figure. The cock he'd just had forced down his throat couldn't possibly fit inside him, it was too big, he'd be split in half. The barbs along the shaft glinted wetly in the soft candlelight, Shane remembering with the shudder how they scrapped against the inside of his mouth.
The rosary was still in his hand. His fingers felt numb, weak and clumsy as he felt for each bead, muttering to himself.
"I believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth..."
"Hush, kotik, God is not here. Only me."
Shane sobbed softly, feeling nothing inside that resembled the holy spirit, his heart aching, his thighs shaking as Ilya lifted him to his feet. He was too weak to stand on his own, unable to do anything but pointlessly struggle as Ilya bent him over the altar. The altar cloth, candles and crucifix were all packed away, but Shane still felt a deep stab of shame as he was positioned over this holy structure, legs parted, a demon behind him caresses his ass. He tried to push himself off, arms shaking, but Ilya's tail flicked out again, wrapping tightly around one wrist and then the other, tying them together and keeping him completely immobile. His cock was still hard, brushing against the altar as he shifted and twitched, legs shaking.
Naked, bent over, Christ on the cross before him, Shane could do nothing but cry weakly as Ilya's fingers pushed into his hole, prying him open. Shane moaned helplessly as those thick, wicked fingers twisted deeper. He felt his body loosen by degrees but his heart was pounding, unable to imagine he would be able to take Ilya's entire monstrous cock.
All too soon, the fingers withdrew and Shane felt the massive cockhead press against his fluttering hole. He cried out, whimpering in pain as he was stretched, the cock breeching him with no care for his comfort.
"Hnnggg —"
"Take it, kotik. It feels good, yes?"
Shane wept, tears dripping down his chin and onto the altar. It did feel good, even as he was being torn apart, every inch that Ilya pushed into him seemed to light him up inside, the barbs raking his sensitive insides, sharp, painfully bright stabs of pleasure that made his cock leak and jump, his legs shake, his eyes rolls in his head.
"Yes, so perfect for me," Ilya said, his soft, melodious tones filling Shane up like a vessel of hot wine, making him drunk with it, lost in the depths of his voice.
He was so full, delirious with pleasure, all he could do was gasp sharply with every tiny thrust as Ilya pushed himself completely inside. And once he was in, Ilya started to move. Fucking him with slow, deep rolls of his hips, dragging out and then rocking roughly back in. Shane moaned helplessly, feeling the barbs light up his insides like tiny needles of pure pleasure and pain. He was nothing but a plaything, his only purpose to be used by Ilya and his monstrous cock, that thing which found that spot inside him which sent jarring, intense stabs of pleasure rocketing through him. Every time his cock found that place, Shane cried out, voice breathy and wrecked, his cock twitching and spurting out another blob of pre-come with every thrust.
Ilya's strong hands held him by the hips, fingers digging into his skin, hard enough to bruise. As he picked up the pace, his hand rose and laid hard, punishing smacks to the side of his ass, the sound echoing in the cavernous church, reminding Shane with a stab of shame where he was. Bent over and moaning like a whore on the very altar where he gave communion every Sunday. But still, every crack of pain from Ilya's hand spanking his ass just made his cock throb harder, his groin tightening and he felt the release coming, though he was desperate to stop it.
"Let go, kotik," Ilya murmured, hand squeezing the plump curve of his ass, skin stinging from being smacked. "Come for me."
Shane cried out into the dark silence of the church as his cock erupted, Ilya fucking him through it, drawing out his pleasure to an intense, unbearable climax. He was delirious, mumbling and drooling onto the altar as Ilya pounded him all the harder, his face dropping to the hard wood with a clunk that reverberated dully through his skull.
"Good boy," Ilya crooned, stroking his flank. "My pretty little priest, is perfect whore for me."
Strung out, mind filled with static, Shane could do nothing but moan weakly, face pressed to the altar, sticky with spit and tears. He tried to move, his hands still bound by that sinuous tail twitching helplessly. Ilya chuckled, still fucking him hard as he unwound the rosary from his knuckles, holding them up. Shane, slumped over the altar, was just a boneless mess.
"Do not fall asleep on me, kotik. Fun is not over."
He pulled his cock out completely, but only for long enough to turn Shane over, laying him down on his back on the altar. Like a human sacrifice, spread out with trembling thighs falling open. The tail unwound from his wrists and teased briefly at his sore hole for a moment, making his whole body twitch, before snaking around his spent cock. Shane yelped at his poor cock being squeezed as Ilya lined up his cock with his opening, pushing back inside with a hard thrust.
Shane cried out, pain zipping through him as he was fucked roughly from this new angle, the barbs scrapping along his sore, sensitive channel. Shane looked up blurrily, eyes unfocused but still widening in horror when he saw his precious rosary in Ilya's hand.
"Please —" he cried out weakly, voice small and shaky.
"This is how you pray to your god, kotik?" Ilya said softly, hips still pistoning into him. "Let us pray together, then."
Ilya wrapped the rosary around Shane's throat, pressing the holy beads against his windpipe as he fucked hard into him. Shane gasped, hands fumbling clumsily as he tried to peel Ilya's hands away. But Ilya was too strong and Shane was too weak, choking him with the rosary around his throat while savagely fucking him onto the altar.
Shane gasped for air, thrashing weakly as Ilya used him like a toy. And that tail, that evil tail snaked around his cock tightening and twisting, squeezing him until his spent cock hardened again. It was too much too soon, his body still shaking with overstimulation as Ilya's cock pounded into his prostate.
"Ah — ah — ah —" Shane could only moan breathily with every punch into his trembling body, Ilya's tail working his cock relentlessly.
It was overwhelming, the cock carving out his insides, barbs dragging against his prostate, tail squeezing his cock, the end flicking over its sensitive head, Ilya's hand on his throat, pressing the rosary beads into his windpipe. Shane's mind went fuzzy, sliding into a dark, dreamy lower world, where sensation and pleasure lived and he could only lay limp and placid under Ilya's relentless assault of his body, playing him like an instrument, plucking his strings and pulling out high notes of pleasure tinged with pain. It was a gentle darkness, cocooning him in pillowy softness, dulling the edges of his shame and fear and letting the pleasure heighten and intensify.
"Ilya —"
And all too soon that pleasure was cresting, the tail around his cock tightening as he orgasmed again, crying out as Ilya kept thrusting into him, an unyielding rhythm that rocked something loose in Shane's fuzzy head and he was crying again, hot tears sliding down his cheeks as Ilya's fingers loosened on his throat, his beautiful, angelic face bending over him, tongue flicking out and lapping at the tears as they flowed from his eyes.
Shane hiccupped through his sobs as Ilya leaned back, hands still clutching his defiled rosary as they grasped his hips and drove into him harder than ever. Shane shouted through the pain and overstimulation, voice hoarse, wrecked from overuse. Ilya fucked him hard, his beautiful face transformed with pleasure as he finally came, filling Shane's sore body with pump after pump of thick, hot seed.
Panting, demonic eyes glowing but still a bright, ocean blue, Ilya leaned over him, claiming his slack mouth in a bruising kiss. His licked into Shane's mouth, sharp teeth nibbling his swollen lips. Shane moaned weakly, Ilya swallowing his yelp as his softening cock slipped out of him. His hole felt overused and sore, his insides scrapped out. He could feel the hot slide of come dripping down his thighs and he shuddered in disgust.
"Thank you for summoning me, kotik," Ilya muttered, kissing his burning cheek before straightening up. "Was fun."
"I was — I was trying to exorcise the necklace! Since it was demonically possessed by you —"
"Yes, is my necklace," Ilya said, stepping back and plucking it off the rumpled altar cloth where it had been laying. "I was trapped there for many years. You called me out."
"I did not!" Shane cried out, arms shaking as he struggled off the altar and managed to stand, if shakily.
He was still naked, covered in sweat and spit and semen. Since Ilya had tossed his clothes somewhere in the darkness, he grabbed the discarded altar cloth and covered himself with it. This made Ilya chuckle and he reached out to stroke Shane's cheek with a long finger. He flinched away, despite how his heart beat hard as he fought the urge to lean into that touch.
"You called to me with all your desires, kotik," he murmured softly, that deep voice threatening to enchant him all over again. "You are so full of passion but you try to fight it, to tamp it down. Is not good. But it made you so eager for me."
"I'm not," Shane insisted.
"Is OK, now that I am free, I will be back for you, my little priest. We are not even close to done."
Shane whimpered helplessly as Ilya cupped his cheek and leaned in for another kiss. Shane felt his hot breath on his face, closing his eyes against the strength of his desire.
But when he opened his eyes, Ilya was gone. The church was dark and empty as it had been before, candles casting a weak pool of light around him, the silence heavy. The only evidence that Ilya had been there at all was the aching pain in Shane's body and the mess he had made on the altar. Ilya had left his rosary discarded on the floor but Shane didn't reach for it, didn't try to find the solace he had once found there. It was tainted now.
I will be back for you, my little priest.
A shiver went through him, his bare skin prickling with gooseflesh. He should fall to his knees at once and beg God for forgiveness, for the lust that Ilya had forced out of his unwilling body. But he was so tired.
Tears leaked from his eyes as he snuffed out each candle, plunging him back into darkness. At least in darkness, he could hide.