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The chapel is dark, lit only by dying candlelight and the coloured moonlight stains through the windows. The faint smell of frankincense from what seems to be a day worth of masses permeates the air, leaving it thick with an oppressive, too holy smog.
Omega closes the door quietly behind himself, surprised as always that this supposed hallowed ground doesn’t set him aflame immediately. He flicks the lock, something these normal Catholic priests would never deem to do, and ensuring no wandering parishioner will stumble upon Hellspawn in these sanctified walls.
The Ministry has been sending members of the Church into failing or struggling dioceses to save the poor, manipulated souls driven by the Catholic greed that is all but consecrated into the bloodline of each and every priest and Pope that has been churned out of the machine. Is what the Ministry is doing any “ better ” than said manipulation? Perhaps not, but Omega is a faithful follower of the Church first, and a ghoul with his own brain second.
Omega strolls down the line of pews, each smelling of its own sin and deceit, encapsulated in the veins of the ancient wood. He drags his fingers along the carved backrest, fingers tingling with the onslaught of emotions left behind. Aching, grieving souls hoping that they would find release, find absolution, only to be turned to a divinity who abandoned them all long ago. He feels sorry for them, these souls. Omega doesn’t really care for humanity, not truly. His job is to serve the Church, to serve his Leader.
So why he is defying an order of Papa Nihil, and not staying in the infirmary doing his off-project duties is beyond him. Something drew him into this specific church, on this specific night, and Omega was choosing to ignore every part of his instinct to obey and listen .
He is letting more and more of his glamor go with each step, until he is standing before the altar, face to face with an oil painted lie. He tilts his head to the side, meeting the dead eyes of the painting, the mother and babe before him.
“Forgive me,” he drawls, sarcasm interlacing his words in an iron embrace. “For I am sin .”
He chuckles to himself, frankly quite pleased with his joke. It falls on the ears of corpses, of course, as the graveyard of the church continues to live in its silence. Omega looks away from the supposedly intimidating painting, looking at the beads of wax clinging to life as the pillar candle slowly burns down. Candles, he figures, are much like humans. Burning fast, hot and then unable to cling as the oxygen is withheld.
Speaking of humans, though.
A door behind the altar swings open, and dressed in basic street clothes, hair slicked back in his signature swoop and free of face paint, is Terzo Emeritus. Omega’s infernal heart swoops in the awkward way it seems to around him, a distraction that has been getting ever more present the more he works with his Papa on the Ghost Project . Terzo has a cigarette perched between his lips, unlit, and he is grumbling around it. Something about stubbornness and immaturity. It is endearing to hear, when it shouldn’t be.
“Are we open?” Omega asks, and Terzo jumps like a spooked cat, dropping the cigarette as he does.
“Fucking Satan in Hell ,” he swears, looking over in Omega’s direction. “We are closed, dammit–”
“And you take the Father’s name in vain?” Omega sneers, the false words tasting of sulfur and poison on his tongue. Terzo blinks a couple of times, and then realises who he is looking at.
“Satanas, Omega ?” He picks up the cigarette, and clears his throat. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Omega snorts. “I went on a walk.”
“You’re supposed to be in the infirmary, for one,” Terzo says, stepping closer to him. His entire body language has changed, from the grumbling, worn down adult to a child facing their idol. It is a sword to the heart, cleaving Omega in two as his thoughts run sinful and wild. “And two, that infirmary is in the Swedish parish. Why are you in fucking Oregon, il mio cuore?”
Omega knows he was supposed to learn the native language of the Emeritus’, but in all honesty, he was lazy. He learned English perfectly well, as well as the Latin that was all but forced upon the Hellspawn in Hell. He never really felt like learning Italian, when the Papa’s barely spoke it themselves.
“I got bored,” Omega supplies as an answer, shrugging. “I wanted to not be bored anymore.”
“Again,” Terzo gestures at their predicament in the church. The continent, even. “ Oregon . Do you ghouls have teleportation powers I don’t know about?”
Omega regards the plucky cardinal, his satin button up a royal purple and three buttons undone, exposing his inverted cross. His chest, shaved and pale, rises and falls rhythmically, intoxicatingly. Omega can hear the racing of his heart, forcing light into Omega’s constant darkness. His own heart aches for the image in front of him, sending static to his mind and pressure to his loins. Omega swallows, his distraction eyeing him curiously.
“No,” Omega finally responds. “I took a plane, like everyone else.”
“And they just… Let you?” Terzo says with a laugh. “If you have that much sway over my father, I may need to use you for free holidays.”
“I asked your brother, actually,” Omega says, stepping closer. He smells copper from blood unspilled, grape and tannin from decades of wine, and the sharp notes of Terzo’s cologne, all of which makes music within the static. “Convinced him to allow me off for a few nights.”
“Hm,” Terzo puts his cigarette back inside the box, and leans up against the carved altar. Omega understands it is a sacred piece of art for the Catholics, but the Church of Satan is far more invested in the creation of things long lasting. The nails holding it to the platform groan with age, and the wood itself whines. “I’ll believe you, just this once.”
His voice has the signature sing-song quality it gets when he is teasing. Omega has spent many, many months seeking out the things that bring it out, an addiction he cannot shake. Something about Terzo, the way he conducts himself, the aura of leadership, the tendrils of darkness that wrap around his brain and soul, has captivated Omega like neither of his brothers ever managed to do.
Omega knows his role. He cares deeply for his brethren, and the Siblings of Sin whom he cares for. The respect for his Papas, current and past, is rooted into the Earth like an ancient oak. He is a loyal servant to the Unholy Father, and knows what is expected of him. He never goes against what is expected of him.
The push and pull of obligation and distraction within him comes to a head, and Omega steps into Terzo’s space. The mismatched eyes of the cardinal meet his, his lips– plush and full in a way Omega had never stopped to consider, to care about– quirk into a smile. Boyish. Teasing. Addicting.
“Are you still bored, Omega?” Terzo murmurs, arching his back against the stone in a way that Omega would assume to be painful. “The infirmary lost it’s excitement? My brother boring you with his lyrics? You had to leave the parish to seek me out?”
“You talk too much, Terzo Emeritus,” Omega responds, crowding the smaller man against the altar. The wood creaks again. “I followed my instincts, and it led me here. That is all I will say.”
Terzo swallows, and Omega hears how his heart skips a beat. Heat floats around through the putrid smells of corruption and manipulation that have stained the place they stand, as the candles around them flicker in and out of focus. Terzo’s hands– violinist hands– lift to touch Omega’s clergy appropriate shirt. Omega doesn’t flinch away from the mortal touch, instead, he leans into it. Terzo’s breath audibly catches.
“We have been dancing around each other for far too long, Omega,” Terzo says, slotting a knee between the quintessence ghoul’s thighs. Behind him, his tail swishes in interest, as his heart seems to speed up impossibly. “Do you see how I look at you? Have you thought about it, in your heats? In the moments where you are alone, have no reprieve except a hand and your mind?”
Omega hates how smug Terzo looks, because he is right. They have been in a dance with each other since Terzo’s previous work within the Ministry had ceased and he had returned to a full time position at the Swedish parish - their headquarters, as it were. Omega had wanted to ignore the feelings this Emeritus had evoked in him above his brothers, but this night had clearly broken down the mental wall around them.
Terzo’s hand has now pressed against Omega’s chest, feeling how his own heart beats in tandem. The pressure in Omega’s gut has blossomed, and his cock has begun to react and fatten. Despite his aloof words and sarcastic smile, the cardinal's hand is shaking. He is afraid , Omega realises.
In response, Omega cups Terzo’s jaw. His hand is much larger out of glamor, the image of a Hellbeast, but Terzo shows no fear of him . He closes his eyes, and his beautiful lips part. Omega can sense the arousal, reciprocated and burning.
“What are you afraid of, Terzo Emeritus?” Omega answers his questions with a question, because it should be known that, yes , Terzo has been in all of Omega’s sexual fantasies The flutter of his body around him, the salt of sweat and heat of sex, it had driven him mad. Terzo should know the answer.
“Rejection,” the softness of Terzo’s voice is a stake to the heart, and Omega gives in to distraction. He presses his lips to Terzo’s, his horns pressing into his forehead. Terzo’s fingers clench at the shirt, and a noise Omega cannot name is made deep in his chest. The allegrissimo of heartbeat breaks the static, and Omega allows himself to be consumed in Terzo.
The boards continue to groan as Terzo’s body weight is forced upon them, and the supernova of the kiss creates a black hole Omega is powerless against. The kiss only breaks when Terzo removes his knee from Terzo’s legs and exhales slowly.
“Okay,” Terzo’s voice is breathy. “ Questo spiega questo, allora . You too, Omega?”
“Yes,” Omega responds, his hand dropping from Terzo’s jaw to his waist. His shirt hides the softness of the skin there, the vulnerability of ribcage and lung, veins and arteries. Omega could take a single claw and cleave Terzo and take his life like the sacrificial lamb. Terzo shivers, clearly aware of this. “Months, Terzo. You have distracted me from my work for months .”
Terzo swallows again. “Swap places with me, Omega.”
Omega follows the order, despite the fact that he does not follow nor take orders from Cardinals, bloodline aside. He senses this will become common in the future. Terzo holds his gaze as he unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, the fabric hanging from him like royal robes. The two scars beneath his pectoral muscles, dusty rose on alabaster, all but seem to gleam in the dying candlelight. Hair from his groin travels upwards, past his navel, ending at the perfect vertical with Terzo’s necklace.
Terzo falls to his knees and presses a hand to Omega’s cock. It has hardened throughout their kiss, straining against his pants and already leaking. Outside of a heat, Omega hasn’t dripped like this before. Yet another power Terzo holds over him. Omega moans softly, almost human sounding, and Terzo tugs the waistband down.
“I think about you,” Terzo tells him, as if admitting a holy prayer. On his knees like a pious man, candlelight casting the halo of angels around him. Omega finds himself lost for words. “During my studies. When I hear you sing. I think about what you might look like, feel like inside of me. I have never wanted another person, being , like I want you, Omega.”
Omega’s cock is brought out from the barrier of cotton, and Omega shakes at the sudden change of temperature and sensation on it. Terzo’s hand is much smaller than his own, and it barely fits around the girth. Still, Terzo moans softly and gives it a solid, generous stroke. One of Omega’s hands connects with the altar, holding it and chipping it slightly. The other grips the back of Terzo’s head. Omega is no stranger to someone’s hand on him that isn’t his own, but he certainly isn’t used to having feelings for said someone.
“You need to find a better use for your mouth,” Omega finds himself saying, and Terzo offers him a small laugh. The noise is music and a knife at once, inserting itself into his bloodstream and loosing black blood to the floorboards. Terzo guides him to his mouth and Omega pushes his head. The moan they both make could have brought the walls of the chapel down, as Terzo swallows and adjusts. Omega threads his perfect hair through his fingers, and looks down at the image. Terzo has already begun to drool, mouth stretched impossibly wide.
When Omega begins to move his hips, Terzo whines. His hand that has remained on Omega’s cock begins to stroke, and the combination of soft skin and warm mouth already has the flames of release licking at Omega’s insides.
“You look beautiful when your mouth is being used for something good,” Omega praises him, blesses him like some unholy priest. Terzo’s eyes glimmer in the light, almost black pools from the way his pupils are blown. He swallows around Omega again, and Omega presses forwards slightly more. Terzo doesn’t gag, of course he doesn’t, and takes him as far as he can, until the triangular tip of his cock is pressed at the back of his throat.
Omega makes a slow show of it, thrusting enough to get pleasure but not violent enough that he may actually hurt Terzo. The last thing he wishes to do is to see Terzo hurting, by his hand or anyone else's. Terzo’s hand is skilled where it works, applying the right amounts of pressure to the shaft and swell of his knot like he had been studying Omega’s body instead of psalms for the last decade.
“Unholy Father,” Omega finds it hard to not speak now. He isn’t much of a talker, not in comparison to the rest of his brethren. But as most things when he is around Terzo, he is changing. “I have never taken a mouth as good as yours.”
Terzo whines softly, and Omega watches as his other hand disappears from view, but the movement of his body tells Omega everything he needs to know about what he can’t see. Terzo rocks into his own palm, which he has timed to the way Omega thrusts, and the noises it elicits has settled into Omega’s chest cavity right by his heart.
“Pretty little thing you are,” Omega continues to praise, unsure who is getting the most benefit from it. “Taking my cock all in one go like this, do you know how special you are, Terzo Emeritus?”
Terzo blinks up at him, and Omega notices the tears beginning to form there, ready to meet with his drool at his chin. The sight makes Omega’s gut tighten dangerously. He could use Terzo’s mouth as a place to come, to let loose his orgasm and claim him that way, but Omega needs more, and the moments of silence, he realises, without Terzo speaking, are simply the worst ones he has encountered.
“My sweet thing, I am going to fuck you so hard you will not be able to focus on your work here,” Omega pets the back of Terzo’s head, and Terzo inhales deep through his nose. His hands are working furiously, and Omega wonders who could reach climax first from this position. He isn’t ready to find out today. “Get up, and take off your pants. I want to see you, all of you, now.”
Terzo disobeys, only slightly, by swallowing around Omega again and hollowing his cheeks as much as he can, giving his cock a tight squeeze as he strokes. He stands and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Shit,” he gasps out, swallowing again. “You’re fucking huge .”
“What else did you expect?” Omega asks, pushing Terzo’s shirt from his shoulders and then running his clawed thumbs over his chest scars. Terzo shakes underneath it, his hands making quick work of removing his very nice, and very soaked dress pants. He either wasn’t wearing boxers, or removed them at the same time as his pants, because he stands before Omega in all his naked glory. Omega beholds him like a saint.
“I don’t know,” Terzo responds, slipping his arms around Omega’s neck, pressing his soaking heat to Omega’s. “Never this. I craved it, but I never thought…”
“Me neither,” Omega agrees, slipping his arms around Terzo’s waist and lifting him from the ground. He makes a small noise of shock, and Omega turns them and lays his body along the altar. As he does, he knocks one of the candles over. The wax dribbles along the worn altar cloth like human blood, and the flame flickers weakly, but doesn’t go out. “But I have never been more sure of anything, I’m realising.”
Making Terzo blush is difficult, to the point of it being a joke of Omega’s Papa, but somehow Omega has managed it. A pretty flush kisses his cheekbones and the tips of his ears, and he flickers his eyes down. Omega wants to drink in the blush, the image in front of him like it is the last day he will have sight. He drags his hands down Terzo’s body, and spreads his freckled thighs.
Terzo’s swollen clit arches to the best of its ability, and his beautiful cunt is soaking and inviting. It clenches around nothing, a siren’s song to crash Omega against the rocks. Omega changes his hand, only enough to remove the claws. He drags two of them against the wetness of Terzo’s lips, and the heat could put a fire ghoul to shame. Terzo shakes, and his thighs squeeze slightly.
“Please…” Terzo whispers, and Omega looks back up at his face. The blush has made its way down to his chest, and fresh tears have streamed down his cheeks. “Please, Omega.”
“Gladly,” Omega says, wanting nothing more to sink into Terzo’s sex, and to claim him as they both want. He parts Terzo’s lips and presses one of his fingers in. It slides to the second knuckle without a protest, and Terzo moans throatily.
“Fuck,” he says. His hands are gripping at the altar, and his hips try to rise to get more of Omega in. Omega curls the finger, and Terzo clenches around him. “Oh fuck, Omega…”
Omega mirrors what Terzo was doing moments before, and begins to stroke himself. It is nothing like having Terzo around him, and Omega realises that he will be ruined now, as nothing will be as good as Terzo. He begins to thrust the finger, sinking deeper into Terzo’s cunt, stroking along the walls. Terzo’s thighs squeeze again, and Omega’s cock kicks in his hand.
Omega adds the second without warning, and Terzo throws one of his arms back, knocking over another candle. It too bleeds wax onto the runner, and the flame barely misses the aged fabric. Terzo pays no mind to it, and Omega scissors his sweet heat and ignores it also.
“You are going to feel so good around me,” Omega tells him, and Terzo’s clit jumps slightly. “How will you sound when I make you come, Terzo Emeritus? I have thought about it for far too long…”
Terzo’s lips part in a silent cry, and he clenches tight around Omega’s fingers. There is a small rush of fluid, and Terzo’s whole body quivers. Omega realises he didn’t even get to hear it.
“Oh, we can do better than that,” Omega pulls his fingers out and Terzo whimpers. “I am going to make you cry out my name, you will forget all else.” He smears Terzo’s wetness along his cock, and strokes his own precum along it. “You will be good for me, cardinal?”
“Yes,” Terzo breathes, his hole winking at him, bringing him back. “So good, so good…” He is almost unrecognisable like this, splayed out on an altar at Omega’s doing, picking apart the Hellspawn sinew and ichor and restitching them into a human capable of romance and love.
Omega lines himself up, and presses in. It’s tight, and Terzo whines but doesn’t make him stop. The intoxication of his slit, the heat of his body, and Omega is lost to it. Terzo’s body welcomes him, was made for him. He is ready to stake his claim.
“Omega…” Terzo moans softly, a benediction spoken to an absent being. “Show me you love me, Omega…”
The word. It’s so disgustingly human, and yet it settles in the place Omega thought would be untouched. “I’ll never stop,”
He begins to move then, the movement of his hips burying him deeper inside of Terzo’s warmth, stretching him and enveloping Omega in an inescapable eternity with the man below him. Terzo’s arms scramble along the altar, scrunching up the runner and causing one of the flames to catch a fray. Smoke dances into the air as the flame makes love like a mirror to the fabric, and Omega presses his knot against Terzo’s cunt.
“You are going to scream my name, Terzo,” Omega moans softly, the feeling of his lover below him breaking him to nothing. In the few short moments of giving into his addiction, to his distraction, Omega has been resummoned, ripped from the ideals he once followed. He would start wars for the Emeritus beneath him. No longer would he follow rules not given to him by Terzo. “I am going to claim you as mine, and no one else's.”
“Yes,” Terzo begs. “Yes, Omega, give me your cock, please. Show me, show me…” The begging trails off into a litany of moans and small noises, and Omega presses his fingers to Terzo’s swollen clit. It jumps as Terzo clenches around him, and Omega moves faster. He rolls the bud around, and Terzo cries out audibly this time. “Fuck, fuck, please don’t stop…”
Omega squeezes his clit between two fingers, stroking up with tight pressure along his dick. Terzo’s muscles contract, and the smell of flame mixes with the smells of his sex. He feels the pressure building, a spark to an inferno. The fire from the fallen candle begins to spread, the way the heat of arousal spreads through Omega’s being. Terzo is grinding his hips upwards to the best of his ability, head tipped back towards the wax and flames, dark pools of his hair on stone. This is the oil painting churches should hold up high, the image of a lover in ecstasy.
“You were made to be speared on my cock, lamb,” Omega murmurs, the petname leached from his earlier thoughts. Terzo gasps, and scrunches the burning runner in his hands. “You were made for me, perfectly crafted…” He trails off into a moan, the pressure in his gut winding him for a moment. His knot presses hard against Terzo’s slit, and he pushes slightly. The tight walls give, and he slips in with a shout. Terzo has started to cry once more, tears glistening in the ever growing flame. Omega grips the edge of the altar again with his spare hand, rhythm becoming harder to maintain.
“I…” Terzo begins, his voice reedy and wet. He makes a choked noise as Omega presses onto his swollen dick, and his hips stop moving in tandem as the muscles in his abdomen contract. Omega can hardly watch, hardly warn, before he has met Terzo at the precipice, ready to come down together.
Omega comes first, warm shooting into Terzo as he milks rope after rope of come inside of him. Terzo’s clit quivers beneath his fingers, and with a cry that Omega definitely didn’t know a human could make, he shakes his way through an orgasm with the prayer of Omega, Omega, Omega.
The flames come closer to Terzo, and Omega uses what little mental hold on his power that he has to manipulate the particles to snuff it out. Terzo shakes below him, and Omega slips gentle hands along his body, soothing.
“A sinful distraction you are,” Omega prays, voice low. The chapel stinks of rotten hope and deception, and yet the bloom of life on the altar lives within the panting chest of Terzo Emeritus. “Maybe I will have to take you on unplanned holidays…”
Terzo gasps out a breathy laugh, running a shaky hand through his hair. “I can’t believe you did all that on the first time…”
“Hm?”
“The knot. The petname. The…” Terzo looks down, almost sweetly. “The response to love.”
“You have many things to teach me in that department,” Omega says. “but it was not an unwelcome name to the feelings I feel.”
Terzo smiles softly. “Also,” he murmurs, arching to meet Omega’s touch. “You’re going to get me fired.”
“More time to spend with you,” Omega responds, leaning down to kiss the man below him.
Omega remains kissing him, an unholy act upon what is considered a holy house. He is an embodiment of sin, of course, but sometimes he can enact some holy thing, the one holy thing these churches will ever be surrounded by.