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“Demon sign?” It’s almost a little endearing how alarmed Father Jeong is when he speaks, like he wants to speak so quietly, yet so loudly at the same time. Jongho says nothing and opts to stand near the back of the group so the others might ask the questions he has first before he says anything. “But, how is that possible? Unless we weren’t as thorough as we thought…”
“Nonsense,” Father Song scoffs and brushes his shoulders off a bit. The only one who stood as tall as Father Jeong, he turns to look the man in the eye. Father Jeong blinks a few times, almost like he was trying to gauge the meaning of Father Song’s statement. As if on cue, he continues to explain, “We didn’t miss anything. We work too hard for that. They’ve evolved.”
“Evolved devils,” Father Choi, the elder one, nearly scoffs, “Okay, Father Song. You spin compelling fairytales.”
“I’m serious,” Father Song says, almost like a pouting child, “Father Kim, you watched us put up the charms. You know that this should have worked.”
“I don’t think that matters,” Father Kim finally speaks once he thinks he will get the chance to be heard. He dusts off his vestments, clutches the burnt crucifix in his hands, before striding towards the pulpit. The group of priests follow like ducklings, and Jongho hears Father Song and Father Choi whispering to each other. Hushed, childish arguments and petty squabbles. Jongho keeps his mouth shut. “We spend the rest of the day praying.”
“Good idea, Father,” Father Jeong says. Father Kim nearly rolls his eyes, as if to say ‘Yes, I know it’s a good idea’, but doesn’t respond verbally. Rather, he holds out his arms before kneeling before the pulpit. The others follow, before Father Kim starts them off in a prayer that slowly breaks off into more silent, private prayers.
Jongho prays respectfully.
As told, they spend the rest of the day praying. It was no surprise to Jongho that, with the demon sign, Father Kim wanted them to spend the next day praying and setting up protections. He had said nothing almost the entire time, and he wasn’t sure why. He would do what he was told, though.
It was a shock, admittedly, walking into the temple and seeing a burnt crucifix at the doorstep. Jongho had been the one to find it, which was perhaps why he was so quiet. Father Choi was with him and nearly thought Jongho was tricking him until he saw how truly perplexed Jongho was. He wasn’t necessarily afraid. No, he knew God would take care of the devil. He was just… confused, was all.
Confused, because it seemed that devil sign seemed to follow him wherever he went nowadays. Passing down the halls of the church he would see crucifixes turned upside down, or paintings scorched and unrecognisable. Jongho found himself praying nonstop about it, but truly, he’s not sure if he thought much of it. It was a church, so of course there were devils. That’s what they did, attempted to break into the holiest of places to desecrate and mock the Lord. It was just surprising, was all. That their church of all places be a target for this kind of attack. And, Jongho, in particular, it would seem. Maybe it was because he was the youngest, or maybe he was imagining all of this happening to him alone. It was selfish to assume so, so he prayed about that, as well.
After prayer, Jongho was the first to make his way to the rectory. Father Jeong wanted to ask him a question, but was stopped by Father Song, so Jongho simply left. He was amicable, but quiet, as he had been all day. Once again, he couldn’t exactly pinpoint why.
As he stepped foot into his room in the rectory, the acrid scent of burning rubber and sulfur hit his nose. Jongho moved with a sense of purpose, checking his items to make sure nothing had caught fire somehow, but he found nothing. After turning over a few proverbial rocks, he hitched a painting off the wall and found a symbol burnt into the wall behind it. A pentagram. Jongho quickly put the painting back and took a moment to smooth his vestments and hair out. Maybe he wasn’t imagining it. Maybe this really was happening to only him, because if it was happening to the others he’s sure he would have heard something about it with the way the others were. Should he tell Father Kim? He would have him pray, most definitely. But, what if he blamed Jongho? Somehow cast doubt on him, he wasn’t faithful enough, wasn’t pulling his weight and that’s why demon sign followed him. Or worse, Father Kim suspected him as a devil.
Jongho takes a deep breath and turns on his heel to go grab some incense from his desk to hide the horrid scent. As he walks and opens a drawer, he hears a brisk knock at his door. He contemplates opening it, wanting to hide the scent, but whoever was behind the door knocks again with a sense of urgency. So, he sighs and places his things back into the desk before making his way to the door to open it.
He’s met with the wide eyes of Father Song, who immediately rushes them both into the room without so much as uttering a greeting. Jongho grunts as he’s shoved, harshly, back into his dwellings.
“Good to see you too,” He says a bit dryly, perhaps the first thing he’s said in hours. Father Song, usually rather receptive to jokes and teasing, looks at Jongho with a dark expression.
“Do you have time to talk?”
“Well,” Jongho sighs, “You have forced your way into my home… So I guess I have the time now.” He tries to ignore the headache that the scent is giving him, “Is this about your theory?”
“Not a theory,” Father Song urges. Jongho just nods along, not wanting to argue, “Jongho, you have to take this seriously,” The others rarely called him by his last name, as was usually customary. One, because it would be rather confusing, considering the elder Choi. Two, perhaps it was because he was the youngest, the others felt inclined to call him by his first name. He didn’t really mind it.
“Who said I wasn’t?” Jongho says with a small grin. Father Song rolls his eyes before he stands to his full height and begins to walk around the room. “Okay. Make yourself at home.”
“Where is it?”
“What?” Jongho asks. He finds himself following Father Song, titling his head as the man starts moving random objects and putting them back, haphazardly, in the space where he thought they originally went.
“The symbol,” Father Song says. Jongho raises an eyebrow. Internally, he feels a spark of slight panic settle in his stomach. Did Father Kim send him here to punish him? To outcast him, or to bring him for trial? Jongho considers playing it off, but he knows he’s caught, and he didn’t feel right lying to a priest… even if he was one himself.
“How did you know?” He asks. Father Song picks up a rug, searches beneath it, then tosses it back onto the floor.
“I could smell it a mile away,” He says. When he nears the painting, Jongho grabs his arm to stop him. It wasn’t a well guarded secret that Jongho was the most physically capable of the lot of them. It was often hidden beneath his loose fitted vestments, but he reminds Father Song by holding onto his arm tightly until he sees a visible wince from the older man. He lets go once he sees the wince to avoid serious injury, “So, it’s here?”
“Can you tell me what this is about?” Jongho asks. Father Song takes the painting from the wall and his eyes are immediately glued to the symbol burnt onto the wall, embers still burning from how fresh it was. He takes two fingers and drags it across the outer edges of the symbol.
“Listen, Jongho,” Father Song begins. He sees the older man take a deep breath, then turn back to him, “You are in grave danger. You have to believe me.”
“Okay,” Jongho says flatly. That doesn’t impress Father Song who places the painting back and grips Jongho’s shoulders.
“I’m serious. Trust me on this, you’re not safe,” Jongho wants to brush him off, but he’s rarely this urgent. He feels that spark of panic again. What had he done wrong? Why was he in danger? Had the Lord turned his back on him, and that’s why there was demon sign? Is that the danger he was in, for falling short of his Father’s expectations? He blinks a few times and nods slowly.
“Okay, I trust you,” He places a hand on Father Song’s arms so the man finally retracts them, “What sort of danger? Can I prevent it, and how can you be sure?” They’re innocent enough questions, but Father Song bristles.
“The charms should have been enough, but something must have happened,” He begins. Jongho remembers putting up the protection charms and praying over them for hours. Had he messed up during that, somehow? But he had been surrounded by the demon sign for months now, it must have been. Had he messed up far before that? “A demon has attached itself to you. I don’t know how, but it’s been there for months. That’s why the charms weren’t strong enough, I guess. Your prayers are dampened by it.”
“Eh, I’m sorry?” Jongho can’t really hide the surprise in his tone. Father Song nods slowly and adjusts the glasses on his face, “Okay, I’m trying to trust you. But… Shouldn’t that not be possible?”
“Right,” Father Song says with a nod, “Which is why I’m so confused. I… think I have a solution, but… it’s already been so long…” He seems to be mostly speaking to himself at this point, almost as if Jongho isn’t there. He snaps a few times to remind him.
“Solution?” Jongho says with a pointed look in the older man’s direction. He doesn’t know what kind of danger he’s in, not exactly. He’s never really been haunted before… and the church hadn’t either that he knew of, not in his lifetime anyway. But he knows what devils were capable of. He wants this thing gone, now, whatever it was.
“Give me a few weeks,” Father Song replies. Jongho’s eyebrows furrow at that. Weeks. Father Song had known for months, somehow, that Jongho was haunted and he only now was coming up with a solution?
“Sure, I suppose. And how do you know all this?”
“I told you to trust me. You don’t want to know the answer to that.”
“Oh, but I’m dying to know,” Jongho says while quirking his eyebrows a bit. That breaks the first smirk out of Father Song that he had seen during this entire interaction.
“Just. Trust. Me,” and Jongho didn’t really think he could argue with that.
And truly, Jongho tries his best to trust Father Song.
It’s weeks, though, as he said. But then it’s nearly a month, and he still hasn’t heard word of anything from the other priest. And the haunting had been getting worse. Torn pillows, writings on the wall in what he hoped to God wasn’t blood, more burnt crucifixes, vials of holy water shattered and left on the floor. The worst of it all, though, he felt the other priests becoming wary of him. Perhaps he was imagining it, but he saw the way they looked at him, the side eye glances when they thought he wasn’t paying attention. Did they suspect him? Or worse, had he wrongfully trusted Father Song, and his glorious plan had been to rat him out and get him evicted all this time? Jongho grows paranoid, but only on the inside. On the outside, he’s the same as ever. Calm, level, decently cheerful to Father Kim who’s the only one who seems to be treating him the same way.
It’s night at the church and Jongho is spending a rare free evening in his room in the rectory. He writes down a prayer he had been reading out for the past few weeks in an attempt to not forget it. He so wishes Father Song would show up with a solution because, frankly, he was late on his promise. Jongho trusted the man for once and he did this. Not completely out of character, so really Jongho could only be angry at himself.
He begins to clean up so he can get ready to sleep for the night before he freezes. There’s a coldness in the air, a feeling that he can’t quite pinpoint, but makes his hair stand on end all the same. He’s rather calm despite it all, as he stands and straightens out his vestments before clearing his throat. Jongho strides to the other side of the room, grabs a bundle of sage, and begins to light it and walk across the room. He’s smudged the room before, but never while he’s felt so uneasy. It was usually when he woke up, or when he was about to go to sleep.
Jongho strides across the room a few times, about to pack up his things and finally rest for the evening before he hears a loud clattering noise coming from where his bed was. He quickly tucks the sage away and makes his way over, sure to grab a crucifix before he does so. What greets him is a painting that had fallen from its place, and a burnt emblem searing its way onto the wall… One he wasn’t quite sure of. It was riddled with intricate lines and swirls, placed in a deliberate way, but almost so chaotic one wouldn’t suspect it was deliberate.
Jongho kneels down to place the painting back on the wall. He knows the emblem will fade with time and prayer, so there wasn’t any use in making a huge fuss over it now. These sort of things had become part of his daily life, as much as he hated to admit it.
“It’s rude to cover up one’s work before they’re finished, Father Choi,” Jongho freezes. Immediately, he feels his hair stand on end again as his fingertips brush the frame of the painting that finds itself becoming increasingly warmer. Soon, he’s forced to drop the painting, but he stands with his back still facing the wall. There’s a presence behind him that he feels, but he dares not turn around. Foolish of him, probably, but showing his front where his throat and chest were was even more foolish.
“Maybe I was saving it to admire it later,” Jongho says. There’s silence, then a low laugh, sounding more like a predator animal making a noise of warning.
“How thoughtful,” The voice is deep, much deeper than most voices that Jongho has heard. Father Song’s voice was probably as deep, if not only a small bit deeper. It most definitely belonged to a devil. Jongho steels himself, still standing with his back facing the presence behind him, “I was told you’re off limits.”
“By?” Jongho asks. He should be turning and thrusting the crucifix at the creature, but he doesn’t. A pause, then another wry chuckle.
“A friend,” It says. That’s just his luck, Jongho had become noticed by multiple devils somehow. If he were anymore logical he’d fall to his knees and pray for the Lord to smite himself and the devil where they both stood. “I appreciate you… not looking immediately,” The devil says. Jongho raises an eyebrow. A shy devil? The thought hadn’t crossed his mind. If this was the same one tormenting him, that would make sense. After the first few hauntings, usual devils close in and either kill or take over their target. This one was playing a game of cat and mouse, Jongho assumed. As it turned out, perhaps it was just… shy. An endearing, yet humanising, thought.
“Can I look now?” Jongho asks. He’s not really sure why. He hears a surprised noise from the devil. It probably wasn’t expecting him to ask for permission.
“I won’t hurt you,” It lies. But Jongho feels inclined to believe it. He brushes off his vestments a bit, still noting the crucifix he brought with him. He’s sure the devil knows he came prepared if it had been watching him for all this time. So, it wasn’t afraid.
When Jongho turns he’s not exactly sure of what he’s expecting to see. Perhaps a creature that stands 8 feet tall, hulking figure with red skin and sharp teeth. Or an ugly creature with 5 horns and 6 limbs, insect in appearance and alien in nature. He sees neither of those things, nor anything he expected when the word ‘devil’ conjured an image in his mind.
What stands in front of him is a humanoid creature the same height as he was. Its skin was sullen, slightly greyed and darker on the limbs. Its unifying colour seemed to be black, black hair that framed its face like curtains, black eyes with a thin, silver glowing ring that Jongho assumed was the iris of the eye, black clothing that covered skin but somehow still left it so exposed. Two small horns adorned the top of its head and Jongho faintly made out a shape slowly swaying behind it that he assumed was the creature’s tail. But no red skin, no fire, no blood or thousands of rows of teeth. It almost seemed… human, in a way.
The devil slowly raises its hands, showing clawed fingers, but made no effort to attack him. As Jongho’s eyes adjusted to the creature before him he could faintly make out a dark splotch near its left eye, almost like a birthmark or scar. The creatures could be born, no, made with human flaws? Jongho blinked in surprise.
“Don’t be afraid,” The devil says. His tone was slightly pushy, almost like he was nervous… almost like he was afraid.
“Strange,” Jongho finds his voice surprisingly quick, “That’s usually what angels say,” The devil didn’t seem too amused by that. Jongho’s ego is a bit bruised due to his failed joke, but he continues regardless, “I suppose I should ask why you’re here,” Jongho says. He was still on edge, but no longer felt the need to grab his crucifix. The devil nodded. His face was soft, almost familiar, and if Jongho didn’t know any better he would say it was almost beautiful. Almost like a statue that one would find in a museum. He wasn’t aware they made devils so beautiful. Perhaps that was the point, though. To lure someone in.
“Nothing more than curiosity,” His deep voice crooned. Jongho scoffs at that. No demon was just ‘curious’. They wanted something more.
“Sure. So that’s why you’ve been haunting me for months. Just curious?”
“Testing the waters,” He says. Jongho scoffs again and the devil furrows his eyebrows, “Like I said. I was told you were off limits.”
“So you were testing to see how far you could go?” Jongho asks. That elicits a nod and he can’t help but roll his eyes at that. Of course, that was a devil’s game. “So why reveal yourself to me now?”
“To make it clear I’m not a threat to you,” The words were so honeyed Jongho almost felt inclined to believe him. Almost. “I want to observe, is all.”
“And why me? Why not Father Jeong, or Father Song?” Jongho can tell the creature was trying to hide his reaction, but when he mentions Father Song, the devil’s lips curl into a smirk and he almost laughs.
“You seemed the least likely to kill me.”
“You judged very wrongly, then.”
“But… did I? Here I am… Alive,” He grins and Jongho sighs. Yeah, he was right. He takes notes of how the demon speaks and acts. He’s quiet when he speaks, almost like he’s still holding onto the facade of acting shy. His body language held the same conclusion. He was trying to make himself small without completely shrinking away from the priest.
After a few moments of silence, the devil begins to slowly back away. He makes no effort in getting closer to Jongho, he never had. The priest stands still and allows him to move.
“Can I continue?”
“Continue…?” Jongho asks. The devil seems a bit annoyed at that, tail slashing in the way a cat does when it gets annoyed.
“Observing,” He says. Jongho raises an eyebrow. No, this was wrong. He should have smited this beast as soon as it revealed itself to him, he should have doused it in holy water and prayed weeks long for forgiveness for allowing it to get too close. And, the devil… the devil should have torn out Jongho’s throat with its teeth, or possessed the man and spent the rest of its days pretending to be a priest and making a mockery of the Lord’s name. But neither of them did either of those things. Maybe that’s why, against Jongho’s better judgement, he allows the devil to stay under one condition. He tries to abstain from leaving devil sign.
He agrees.
So, Jongho and the devil continue this strange song and dance. Thankfully, true to his word, there is less devil sign. The other priests seemed to be back to normal, though there still wasn’t any sign of Father Song’s miraculous solution to his devil problem. Jongho wasn’t even sure he needed it now, as crazy as the thought was. He only needed it because he thought the devil would kill or possess him on the spot… but this one didn’t seem too intent on doing either. He truly did just observe. There had been times, when Jongho was getting ready to start the day, or he was writing a prayer in front of his mirror, he would see the devil’s face reflected in it, standing right behind him… watching. It had become less frightening over time, and now Jongho just expected it. Whatever strange symbiotic relationship they had was working. The devil learned about humans, and the human learned about devils.
Of course, this never did stop the guilt. The thought that he should be plunging a crucifix down into the devil’s heart. Turning the creature into a pile of burning ash for even daring to step foot into the Lord’s most holiest place. Jongho finds himself praying more often than not. He was never one to feel much guilt, so the feeling now is foreign. This is wrong. Letting a devil live among them is wrong, no matter how human it seemed. The hubris of it all, the heresy. Jongho deserved to be ostracised and jailed, punished and buried. The Lord most certainly knew, and Jongho was aware his punishment was coming whether he liked it or not. He supposed it was only fair.
The devil had been part of his routine for a few months now, perhaps 3. Jongho finds himself sitting in his study in the rectory, flipping through the pages of his bible and highlighting text he deemed important. He already had a few annotated bibles, but doing this helped ease his mind.
He drags the highlighter across the text as he feels the room grow cold and a presence apparate behind him. He's not surprised, not really, but he does feel a sinking feeling in his gut that he usually felt when the devil appeared.
“You’re a diligent worker,” The devil says. Jongho grunts in acknowledgment and strikes through another phrase. He feels eyes on him, then the devil shifts and is leaning over his shoulder.
“Devils usually don’t like holy texts,” Jongho says without looking up. He can’t see the devil’s reaction, but he can hear it. A low noise, almost like a hiss, as he coils back. But it wasn’t because he suddenly remembered he was supposed to hate holy text… it was for a different reason, Jongho knew it.
With a sigh, the priest closes his Bible and turns to face the creature. He’s the same as usual, dark eyes focused on Jongho as he stands by his desk.
“I never did get your name,” Jongho says suddenly. The devil seems taken aback, almost like he was surprised the man even cared to ask. There’s a hint of something in his eyes, like he’s contemplating. Jongho can’t blame him. He wouldn’t have shared his name either, but the devil already knew it. Thankfully, he usually just calls him Father Choi.
“Yeosang,” The devil says after what feels like minutes of silence. Jongho’s eyebrow raises and he nods slowly. That wasn’t a devil’s name and he knew it… and it seemed faintly familiar. He hated that he couldn’t place it, like a smell from his childhood that seemed so close yet so far away, “I just wanted to know what you were doing,” His words are hurried, like he’s rushing, “I should get back.”
“Alright,” Jongho nods and watches as the devil disappears in a puff of thick, black smoke. It always makes him cough a bit and now was no exception.
Jongho spends the next few days trying to find out exactly why that name is so familiar to him. The free hours of his day are spent in the library, and he hears plenty of teasing about it from Father Song and Father Choi. He tries to pay it no mind. He’s a man on a mission, and when he has his mind on something he’d be damned if he didn’t complete it. Lord save him for thinking that, though.
The answer comes to him on a rainy day, damp and dark in the library with Jongho surrounded only by the company of books and silence. He’s not sure exactly what he’s looking for. The origins of the name, political figures with the name, something. Sure, it’s possible it’s a common name, but the devil looked familiar to him, too. It could be his mind playing tricks on him, but he doubted it was. On the inside, he scolds himself for being so interested in a devil. But he can’t stop now.
In a dusty, old red book of old Bible stories and important figures, Jongho’s eyes land on one specific passage. One he’s familiar with. He’s read it before, Father Kim had read it to them before as well.
‘And so it was, that in heaven, the LORD sent 3 of his angels down to live amongst the people there and to report back in a year’s time.
‘The first angel found their place amongst a group of cattle farmers. Their days were spent herding and cleaning, but it was good and fruitful.
‘The second angel spent their days preaching the word of the LORD to crowds, and the LORD smiled fortune upon the angel.
‘The third angel found no such place in their life, wandering and searching fruitlessly.
‘And so, it came to pass, that on the eve of the LORD’s call, the third angel found the second angel. Knowing the second more successful and earning of the LORD’s favor.
‘The dawn of the day of the LORD’s call, he called his angels back into the heavens. Though, where there once was 3 angels, there now was only 2.
‘What happened to your brother, another one of my angels’ said the LORD.
‘I had not seen them in the full year’, said the first angel. ‘I was herding and selling cattle.’
‘I have been preaching your word, LORD, so I have not seen them either’, said the third angel. The LORD knew what had become of the second angel and he was unhappy.
‘You would tell me you have not seen your brother?’ asked the LORD to the second angel.
‘Not for a full year as you commanded’ said the angel.
‘Jealous of your brother, you killed them and passed off their work as your own’, said the LORD. The third angel denied, but the LORD cast down the third angel.
‘So it was, the third angel, Yeosang, was cast down from heaven and sent to live among the people as a poor beggar. When the third angel, Yeosang, died, they would never again see the face of the LORD. And so it was.’
Jongho takes the book without a second thought. He quickly marks the page, then scrambles back to the rectory. He’s aware he passes by Father Kim, who attempts to greet him, but he doesn’t stop to hear him. He would apologise for that later.
His fingers clumsily let him into his room as he lays the book down and rushes towards his study. Of course, it all made sense now, why the Devil’s name was so familiar to him. He had read his story countless times growing up and even now as an adult. It was a cautionary tale, similar to Cain and Abel, but one that warned that even angels weren’t exempt from the Lord’s wrath should they disobey. That explains why his face looked so familiar, too. Paintings of the Lord adorned the temple walls, paintings of him with his angels and creatures of the like. He’s certain he’s seen Yeosang’s face in at least one of those paintings. His face at a different time, when he was all things holy and pure.
So the devil wasn’t just curious. He was a killer, and Jongho was probably next. If Yeosang had killed once before, what was stopping him from doing it again? He was a devil now, had all the freedom in the world to do so. He could kill Jongho and take his place just as he did with the second angel.
Jongho is working so hurriedly he misses the coldness in the room and the obvious feeling of someone standing behind him until he turns and sees the devil standing there. He’s the same as ever, blank faced, though his eyebrows were raised slightly. The devil’s tail whips behind him curiously as Jongho scrambles to collect his things… that included a crucifix, which Yeosang notices. He takes a step back as Jongho thrusts it in front of him. Though he’s panicked on the inside, he tries not to show it on the outside.
“I knew I heard that name somewhere,” Jongho says. Yeosang stands there, hands raised, as he nods slowly, “Pretending to be docile, that’s just what devils do.”
“I’m not pretending,” Yeosang urges, “Think about it… If I had wanted to kill you I would have done so. In your sleep, while you shower. I could have done it.”
“Then why tell me your name?”
“You asked,” The devil says simply. Jongho wants to believe it’s not for that reason, a reason so simple and innocent, but that’s the only reason that made sense. He lets out an exasperated sigh before tossing the crucifix back into his desk and running three fingers through his dark hair. Oh, what a mess. He just should have told Father Kim about it when this first started and he wouldn’t even be here. “You don’t have any reason to trust me,” Yeosang continues. He cautiously approaches Jongho and the priest freezes. He’s never approached him, never in the months they’ve known each other. His face stays steadfast, however. “But… Against my better judgment… You’re… sort of like a friend to me. Which is why I told you,” His voice is soft and soon he’s standing two or so feet away from Jongho. A friend? Would Jongho consider the devil a friend? It would make sense why a fallen angel was so receptive to priests. That made sense why he was receptive to holy texts, too. He wasn’t the average devil. But Jongho was a priest, and a devil was a devil.
But he would truly be lying to himself if he said he didn’t enjoy Yeosang’s company. The thought of him being at his room in the rectory after a long day made it worth it, shamefully. Having a presence around was welcome… a presence that wouldn’t tease him like the older priests would.
Jongho sighs and rubs the side of his head with the palm of his hand.
“That makes sense, then. Why you’re so beautiful.”
“You think I’m beautiful,” It's not a question, but a statement. He sees Yeosang smile, the splotch near his left eye crinkling as his eyes squint. Jongho finds himself smiling a bit, too.
“Well… you were an angel. And angels are cute, I would say,” He doesn’t know what he said wrong, but Yeosang frowns and lashes his tail. It takes him back a bit. Was it his tone of voice? The devil curls his lip and bit before sighing huskily, almost like a growl.
“Cute isn’t the word I would use,” Yeosang says. Jongho’s eyes widen a bit and he nods slowly. He hates being called cute, then? He notes that down, then kicks himself for even engaging in this. No, the devil wasn’t beautiful. Even though saying he wasn’t was a boldfaced lie, he couldn’t admit to himself that he was. If he did, he’d be playing into whatever game this was, and surely the Lord would strike him down where he stood.
So he’s not quite sure why he’s sad when Yeosang leaves in the usual puff of smoke, or why he feels so alone when he doesn’t show up for the next few weeks. He knows he’s not alone, and that he should be struck down for thinking the way he does. But maybe it wasn’t such a crazy thought to think that Yeosang had become a friend. Worse, he knows he can’t go to anyone about this, even if they noticed something was off about them and he asked and brushed it off and they didn’t believe him. Even if they said he could tell them anything, he knows that wasn’t the case.
So he prays. He knows the Lord already knows of this, knows whatever these feelings deep in his chest were, so he can tell him. That doesn’t make him feel any less alone, though. For once in his life, he truly feels alone. Outcast, like God had turned his back on him. If he truly had, Jongho wouldn’t be alive and he knew it. That God would have taken care of him long ago, but still, he feels alone because of it.
Father Song never got back to him a solution. Jongho finds himself silently glad that he hasn’t, then kicks himself for thinking that. But, he would have to ask him about that eventually. A man of God should always follow up on his word. Ironic of him to be saying that when he’s told himself for weeks he would banish the devil, smite him, but he still hasn’t. That was different, he decides.
Jongho spent a cold winter’s day inside the church, praying at the door and making sure it was presentable and in well maintained condition. For anyone else it would be boring work, but for the priests it was as important as breathing. And for Jongho it was a welcome distraction.
He could never be distracted for long, however. The days ended faster than he would have liked them to with how short winter days were, and he was forced to return to the rectory to study and eventually rest. He would have liked to stay in the church longer, but Father Kim insisted. Overworked priests made sloppy conduits.
When Jongho enters his room he notices one thing and one thing only. The heavy, warm scent, like spiced apples or even cider. He didn’t put any tea on and most certainly didn’t give anyone else permission to enter his room to do so. He places his Bible and rosary down on the table closest to the door and makes his way into the tiny kitchen, truly only big enough to make small meals like oatmeal or soup. There’s nothing there, and Jongho feels himself bristle. As he turns on his heel he feels his hair begin to stand on end and a pit drop into the bottom of his stomach.
“Yeosang,” he says, much too eager for his own liking. When he turns he sees the devil there, radiant as ever, standing with his arms behind his back and placant expression on his face.
“Ah,” He seems a little lost for words, blinking his dark eyes before brushing a bit of his hair behind his pointed ear, “I didn’t mean to catch you as soon as you stepped in the door.”
“It's fine,” Jongho urges. More than fine, really.
“I was hoping you’d allow me to explain myself,” Yeosang approaches, cautiously, and Jongho tilts his head to the side while raising an eyebrow.
“Mm, explain what exactly?”
“The book,” His ashen grey fingertips point towards the red book Jongho had taken from the library, the one that held Yeosang’s past in it, “Explain what’s in the book.”
“It seems self explanatory,” Jongho says. Yeosang nods, face a little weary. Jongho doesn’t like seeing him sad, though it’s not like he showed many strong emotions anyway.
“Yes, but…” There’s a pregnant pause and Jongho moves to go and sit in one of the chairs in his study. He finds Yeosang following, much closer than he had ever been to the priest before. Jongho doesn’t mind it. “I don’t want you, of all people, to think I’m a monster.”
“Well…” Jongho scratches the back of his neck as he sits. Did he think that? Well, by all definitions, Yeosang was. He was a devil, a monster. He was a murderer, a monster. Very few reasons could justify murder, but Jongho had already made as much peace as he could with the fact that he was sharing quarters with a devil… and devils were devils, “I don’t hate you, if that’s what you think.”
“Are you afraid of me?” Yeosang asks. He stands in front of the desk so Jongho looks up at him from his seat behind the desk. Jongho’s lips curl into a small smile and he chuckles a bit under his breath.
“No. I’m stronger than I look. If you wanted to hurt me you would have, and I could hold my own,” He says. Yeosang seems to nod. He was strong, too, of course. Physically, Jongho could see his biceps and tight abdomen even through the clothing he wore. It was tight, long sleeved, but with a cutout where the navel and middle of the chest were. But, Jongho was strong too. Beneath his loose fitted robes he could admit that. Yeosang wasn’t an idiot. He knew that, too.
“Did you mean it?” Yeosang suddenly asks. Jongho looks up at him and finds he’s not looking at him, but rather at the wall. Almost as if he was shy. Jongho feels his chest tighten a bit at that and he bites down the feelings in his stomach.
“Mean what?” The priest replies with another question. Yeosang still doesn’t look at him, just looks at the wall and blinks slowly.
“When you called me beautiful,” He replies. Now, he turns to look at Jongho who’s caught a little off guard. There’s something in his eyes there and the priest feels his cheeks warm a bit under his gaze. This was very wrong, but wronger than anything he had been doing thus far. God truly would strike him down where he stood now, or he would need to pray endlessly about this. But the way Yeosang looks at this moment, hopeful, Jongho pushes down the guilt like he had been so accustomed to doing.
“I meant it when I called you cute, too,” He says with a sly grin. Yeosang’s shy expression momentarily hardens into an annoyed one, but quickly melts into something more. Adoration. He risks coming closer, leaning over the desk slightly so he’s able to be face to face with Jongho. There’s silence for a few moments. They were both weighing their options.
For Yeosang, this was something like redemption, something like revenge. It was at first, anyway, but he truly was curious. This would be like a giant fuck you to God, but something riskier, too. Devils had their own rules, and though landing a priest was an accomplishment, they didn’t mean land one like this. But the more time he spent observing, the fonder he grew himself becoming towards the priest. His round face and wide eyes, the way his arms moved beneath the vestments that told Yeosang he was stronger than he truly let on. He would allow himself this one weakness. Happiness was something he could ill afford where he was from, or where he had been for the past however many years. He would like to afford himself some happiness right now.
And Jongho had been praying about this for a long time. Maybe not about this exact circumstance, but about the devil that was coexisting with him. At first, he prayed that the Lord would take it away. Kill it, or at least make it become uninterested in him so he didn’t have to deal with it anymore. Then, the prayers shifted. Praying that no one would find out, to keep the other priests away long enough for Yeosang to leave or lose interest. Then, Jongho was lonely without the devil’s presence, and that’s when he knew he had screwed up beyond belief. He had already dug his own grave, he might as well lie in it.
It’s Jongho who acts first, grabbing the fabric of Yeosang’s shirt before pulling him the remainder of the way to him. He has to stand up from his chair and lean over the desk slightly, but their lips connect eventually. Jongho feels the softness of it all, the heat, the taste of Yeosang’s lips. Whatever he imagined burnt leaves to taste like, that’s what it was. Crisp, smokey. He’s never done this before. Priests were celibates, chaste, so he hopes that he’s doing this the right way. If it’s the wrong way, Yeosang doesn’t show it. He momentarily bites down the guilt that’s starting to bubble in his stomach again. He could pray about this later.
It feels like they separate much too quickly for Jongho’s liking, but he allows Yeosang to pull away. The devil is leaned over his desk, halfway crawling on top of it in an effort to reach the man sitting in the chair. Jongho’s eyes flick from Yeosang and into his own lap. Yeosang catches on quickly, crawling the rest of the way into the priest’s lap so he can press hot kisses back onto his lips. It had been a while since he had kissed anyone, and he knew priests were celibates… so maybe he and Jongho were in similar boats. He never would have guessed, though, with the way Jongho was kissing him breathless. His hands found their way to Yeosang’s hips, grasping and pawing at whatever he could find while he licked into Yeosang’s mouth.
Jongho wasn’t even aware he was capable of this at all. Sure, he had thoughts. He was only human. Usually he could pray those thoughts away. Not these ones, though. He didn’t want to pray these ones away, not right now. He would gladly act on instinct at this moment. If God could forgive the most heinous of sins, surely he could forgive this one.
“Father Choi,” Yeosang breaks apart again, chest heaving with his laboured breathing. When Jongho looks at him he feels all the air get punched out of his lungs. Pupils blown wide, eclipsing those pretty brown eyes of his. He could see his honey coloured skin darkened around his cheeks and ears with a blush that suited him. Yeosang gulps.
“It’s Jongho,” The priest says. The devil nods in response, allowing himself to be pulled further onto the priest’s lap. They stay like that, a tangle of limbs looking at each other, until the devil speaks again.
“This is a sin, you know,” He says. There’s a grin on his lips when he says it and the priest can’t help but return the same grin.
“Leave it to a devil to make me sin,” comes his reply, before he’s pulling Yeosang’s lips back to his to continue where he left off. Biting, kissing, and feeling with his hands. Yeosang’s hands do some exploring of their own. Admittedly, he was curious about what the priest hid under his robes. He saw the way he carried himself and the faint outline of his arms or his legs when he moved a certain way, but feeling it up close with his hands was a different thing. His hands trailed up Jongho’s arm, fingers grasping and sizing him up. Yeosang wasn’t weak, but the way Jongho’s muscles flexed and tensed against his grasp made him feel slightly more minuscule.
Jongho is the one to take it further. His lips leave Yeosang’s, instead moving to his neck to place gentle nips and licks on the skin there. A noise of surprise leaves Yeosang’s lips, and Jongho swears it sounds almost like a prayer. Soft and sweet, like a refreshment he would have liked on a hot day. He’s already made up his mind at this point. Thoughts of sex, his body on someone else’s, they weren’t completely foreign to him. Acting on them, however, was. But he was already damned, had already sinned, so he may as well go all the way. He would deal with the consequences later.
Jongho’s hands find their way beneath Yeosang’s clothes. He decides they’re getting in their way. Admittedly, Yeosang never thought the priest could be so bold. He should have assumed so, really. The man allowed him to coincide with him for so long, he had to be bold. He allows Jongho to press his warm hands to his cold skin, lets himself be undressed by the priest beneath him who’s still kissing his neck, and then his shoulders, and then his chest. There’s a hot trail on his cold skin by the time Jongho pushes Yeosang back slightly so he can grab ahold of his vestments. He’s thankful, because he had begun to think to himself that it was unfair he was nude in front of the other man who still had all of his clothes on.
“You’re beautiful,” Jongho pauses to take in Yeosang’s naked form. His strong arms now plastered to his side, his thighs spread across Jongho’s lap. His eyes flick downward to the growing hardness between his legs and Yeosang turns his head so he’s not looking directly at the priest. He’s vulnerable. If the other man had a change of heart he could easily kill him. And yet, somehow, Yeosang thinks that would be okay.
Jongho easily pulls the robes over his head and Yeosang lifts his hips a bit so the priest can pull the remainder of the clothing off of him. His undergarments go next, a lot quicker than the robes went. Yeosang is glad he’s just as strong as he imagined him to be. A built chest and arms to match, skilfully hidden beneath his loose fitted robes. He feels something flare in his stomach, a possessive thought in his head that he should be the only person to be able to see Jongho’s body like this. His eyes darken as his needy hands immediately find Jongho’s achingly hard cock.
Jongho’s body suddenly tenses at the feeling. The cold hands around him have him bucking up into the touch as his teeth find the bottom of his lip. This is a largely foreign feeling, and a thought crosses his mind that God must be cruel to not want his children to experience something such as this. A hand goes up to his mouth so he can bite at his knuckles to stop the noises quickly spilling from his lips.
“Jongho,” Yeosang warns when he does so, free hand moving the priest’s hand down. Jongho makes a mirthful noise at that as his eyes squeeze closed at the movements on his cock.
“Yeosang, I can’t—be too loud,” He tries to warn him by keeping his voice as straight as possible, but when the devil drags a clawed thumb across the head of his dick he feels like he may die. His hips jerk up harshly and a sharp cry leaves his lips, “Yeosang…”
“I’ll make sure we won’t be heard. Be as loud as you like,” As much as Yeosang would like the others to hear, he knows it’s too dangerous. Jongho nods, trusting, as his hands begin to wander Yeosang’s body again. He could almost imagine how he looked as a holy being. Sun-kissed skin and platinum hair that just reached his shoulders. Perfect lips, perfect everything. The Yeosang before him was just as beautiful, a different kind of beautiful. More dangerous.
After a few strokes, Yeosang’s hand is coated in prerelease that makes the glide smoother, easier. But Jongho is growing impatient. A strong hand grabs Yeosang’s arm to stop the movements on his cock.
“If you keep going I won’t be able to…” He trails off, unable to bring himself to say it. Yeosang grins before he reaches off to a drawer he knows contains the priest’s anointing oil.
“Won’t be able to…?” Yeosang tilts his head while coating his fingers in the oil. Jongho watches as he tries to catch his breath and just scoffs, “How will I know unless you say it?”
“Say what? That I want to ruin you?” That's not the exact wording he was going to use before, but it works fine now if the way Yeosang whimpers is any indication, “Will you let me?”
“A little late to ask that,” Yeosang bites as he lifts his hips off Jongho’s lap and begins to move his slickened fingers beneath him. That is, until he feels strong arms against him and he’s pushed face down onto the desk. It happens so fast he doesn’t have time to catch his breath before Jongho is pressed against his back and breathing hard into his ear like a man who had been drowning moments prior.
“Can you reach?” He asks. Yeosang nods. Yes, but only barely. Jongho helps, grabbing Yeosang’s slickened hand and moving it behind him so he can slowly slip a finger inside of himself. Jongho stands up so he can watch, hands going on either side of Yeosang’s ass to help by spreading him. Yeosang’s cheeks flush a deepened shade of crimson. He felt oddly persecuted under the priest’s gaze, but maybe it was only natural for a demon to feel so under a holy person’s eyes, “Fit two for me. I’m bigger than that,” Jongho teases after a few moments. Yeosang scoffs.
“How did you even become a priest with such a dirty mind,” He prods a second finger before slipping it in to the second knuckle. He tries to imagine they’re Jongho’s fingers, and it’s not hard at all with him so close. The answer doesn’t come verbally, but he feels the priest’s hands squeeze against the flesh of his ass, and somehow he knows he has his answer.
“Three. You want to be ready for me, don’t you?” Comes Jongho’s honeyed voice. Yeosang was whimpering at his point, rocking his hips against the desk to give his aching cock any kind of relief.
“I’m ready,” He replies. Jongho grins, satisfied with this answer. Despite never doing this before, he knows exactly what to do. He wasn’t an idiot, and despite Father Kim’s thorough combing, some certain pieces of literature did happen to fall through the cracks. Though, just because he knew what to do, that didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous about it. He tried not to show it on the outside, but Yeosang wasn’t a fool. He knew the priest was a virgin. He’s proud of the fact he somehow was so appealing a priest would break the vow of celibacy for him. He’s sure he would never hear the end of it from their shared friend.
Jongho coats himself generously with the oil. He’d ask for more from Father Jeong later, he owed him some anyway. A hand goes to Yeosang’s back to steady himself, and the other gently guides himself inside the devil.
Despite the devil being so cold, it’s almost unbearably hot on the inside. Or, maybe it felt that way because Jongho had never done this before. He feels the air immediately punch out of him as he gasps and leans forward to catch his breath.
“God—God above,” the words slip from his lips before he can stop them. If Yeosang was in any state to tease him, he would. But, currently bent over the desk with a priest halfway inside of him but still so impossibly full, he can’t find the words. His claws drag across the wood of the desk and he finds himself gasping out into open air.
“J-Jongho, please…” The devil’s tail wraps around the priest’s throat and Jongho nearly faints. Not tight enough to cut off air, but just enough pressure that the threat was there. Only barely. That voice was music to his ears, who was he not to obey?
By the time he bottoms out inside the devil the pair of them are panting so heavily they swear they can see their breath. Jongho moves his hand from Yeosang’s back to underneath him, pressing onto his stomach and pulling him back onto his cock. The devil goes without resistance, sobbing out a broken cry as the priest begins to move his hips. He almost doesn’t want to believe that this is his first time with the way he bulls into him like he’s been inside of him more than a dozen times. Yeosang’s jaw drops open as his face drags across the desk, Jongho’s strong thrusts moving him on his own accord.
“So good, Angel,” Jongho’s lips press against Yeosang’s ear to whisper the sweet words where he can hear them best. He nearly faints. The nickname makes his chest flutter as he nods and cranes his neck to try and press his lips against the other’s. A particularly hard thrust has his head falling back against the desk, “I’d sin a thousand times over if it was all this good,” Jongho is speaking without meaning to now. Not like either of them truly mind.
Yeosang’s body feels agonisingly hot now. He’s so used to being cold, ironically. Jongho’s body against his is damp with sweat, but he can’t really say he minds it. For the first time in a while he prays, prays that the enchantment he had put on the room actually worked. If someone were to pass by it would be no secret what was happening in the room telling from the loud sounds of skin on skin and the creaking of the wood beneath their combined weight.
“J-Jongho, I’m…”
“Yeosang, I can’t last much longer,” It was a miracle he even lasted this long. When the devil clenches against him he feels himself react without thinking, hips drilling forward until he hears the desk creak harshly beneath the force of his movements. There’s a tight feeling in his gut, one that’s foreign to him, though he was aware of what it was. He almost didn’t want this to end. Yeosang sounded heavenly beneath him. His choked groans and desperate whines. He looked just as angelic, his dark hair slick to his head with sweat and almost ashen skin covered with a sheen of moisture. Jongho grabs ahold of the devil beneath him and pushes in, hard, “I’m sorry, Angel. I’m—I can’t… too good, I’m…” He buries his face in the crook of Yeosang’s neck while he sobs and chases his release with a few hectic thrusts. He doesn’t remember Yeosang ever mentioning he was close, except maybe before when he didn’t get to finish his sentence. If he were capable of feeling shame right now he would be embarrassed that he came so quickly from being inside a devil. Right now, though, shame was foreign to him.
Yeosang feels Jongho cum before anything else. The harsh twitching inside of him and the flood of warmth that has his claws scraping against the wood and face buried into the desk beneath him. Jongho keeps their bodies close, a hand snaking down to quickly pump Yeosang’s cock to bring him to release, too.
“Yeosang…” Jongho sounds breathless above him. His hand still moving and Yeosang still sobbing and writhing beneath him. He stays inside, feeling himself soften surrounded by warm flesh as he tries to bring Yeosang over the edge with him. The devil cries beneath him and Jongho mimics the same move performed on him earlier, thumb teasing the slit of the devil’s cock. Yeosang’s body stiffens beneath him and the devil cries so loudly Jongho thinks God may have heard it. His body spasms, coating Jongho’s hand in thick ropes of white. He doesn’t mind at all, especially not with how beautiful Yeosang looks like this.
It takes a few moments for the two to collect their breath. Eventually, though, Jongho does remove himself from the devil. Yeosang nearly crumples to the floor, but Jongho’s strong arms catch him and help him into the chair. The priest can hardly feel his own legs, but he stands while Yeosang collects himself.
“You… you called me Angel,” Yeosang whispers after a few moments of silence. Jongho’s head perks up a bit. He wasn’t even aware that he had called him that. The nickname must have slipped out when he wasn’t truly paying attention. He liked the way it sounded, though. Liked the way Yeosang’s cheeks flushed when he mentioned it.
“I hope it’s not offensive,” the priest says. Yeosang smiles and laughs while wiping sweat from his brow.
“I like it.”
“Then I’ll say it more,” Jongho leans forward to press a soft, sweet kiss onto the devil’s lips. Now, without a sense of urgency, he can feel the way the devil kisses all he wants to. The way his teeth graze his own by accident, and the soft noises he makes as Jongho brings the back of his hand up to caress the devil’s cheek.
“Would you really sin more, just for me?” The devil asks once they separate. Jongho ponders the question while he straightens up in preparation to bathe. Yeosang knows he has to go back soon… though he would like to stay.
“I think you’re the only one who could make me sin,” Came the priest’s answer. He flashes his devil a grin as Yeosang returns the smile. If this was the worst sin there was, then surely Jongho would go to the hottest part of hell. He didn’t plan on stopping.
“Do you still need a solution to your devil problem?” Jongho sits in one of the pews of the church, reviewing one of the hymns as he hears Father Song’s voice and heavy footsteps approaching him. Jongho raises an eyebrow and turns towards the older priest with a bored look.
“I could have been burnt and eaten alive in the time it took for you to come back with your solution,” He says. Father Song rolls his eyes and gives Jongho a pointed look.
“But… you’re not. Do you still need it?” He repeats his question and Jongho sighs while closing the hymn book. The answer was no, not really, but he didn’t want Father Song getting suspicious of him, so he nodded after giving a small shrug.
“I mostly have it under control. But in case it comes back,” He lies. He has no qualms about lying to a priest now, well, at least not to Father Song. The older priest grabs Jongho’s hands, deposits something into them, then slowly walks away while brushing off his vestments. Jongho stares as he goes. He doesn’t think he would ever understand Father Song.
When he opens his palm he finds a small sheet of paper folded neatly into a small star. Unravelling the paper, Jongho nearly gawks at the message written in ink on the browning material.
‘The angel was tempting, wasn’t he?’