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Adultery is one of the greatest sins man can commit, but no sin before the eyes of the Lord is too heavy of a weight to bear. The stifling silence in the chapel was heavier than lead, yet overflowing with interest as the Venator took his place behind the grand lectern. The church allowed him to preach, giving an evening sermon every full moon to remind the public that he was nothing more than a priest. Standing before a small congregation of fellow brothers and sisters in Christ, he spoke vivaciously about the life of king David. Instead of lightening the blow of the king’s sins, Venator boldly condemned the actions taken by him. Though the hand of God guided David, the king had been led astray by temptation. As every man was. Treacherous debauchery that he tried to cover up with murder. Before the prophets and the court of his own followers, before God, David repented and confessed to his crimes. Murder, adultery, and deceit.
Venator thumbed at the gold-accented pages of the ancient book before him. An original English copy from nearly three hundred years ago that had been used to spread the word of God for generations. He closed the Bible, dusting his hand across the cover as he looked back at the men and women seated in the pews. “David was a man like any of us. It’s important to remember that despite his sin–despite his attempt at hiding from the eyes of the Lord–he was forgiven. Sin does not come without trial, it comes with punishment, some too harsh for man to bear alone. The fall of his kingdom to his sons should remind you that sin is not without consequence, no matter how often you confess. I’ve seen men like David, men who should’ve never been forgiven. Men who I have no room to judge. These men raise their eyes to the Lord and are forgiven. Remember these words and be quick to repent.”
With that final statement, he departed from the lectern and ushered for the congregation to leave. It was nearly ten o’ clock, far too late to be walking home in the dark. He whispered a silent prayer for them as they left through the grand doorway, wishing them safe travels. The pews were mostly clear by a quarter after the hour, only one soul remained seated. Venator sighed, trying to suppress frustration as he noticed the man was idly reading through the sample booklet of Psalms. A familiar face greeted his stoic expression. Unnatural cyan glowed brightly and ethereal energy swirled behind the man’s eyes as he looked the priest over. Copper hair hung loosely from beneath his cap, ochre red with gold accents, elegantly matching the rest of his suit. He looked content, pleased even, as he smiled warmly–eugh that was unnerving.
“Do you have a reason for staying after service hours, or do you just wish to try my patience?” Venator asked. To emphasize he was done preaching, he pulled his sash off of his shoulders and set it down alongside his biretta. A sigh left him as he re-clasped his vest, adjusting the stakes to make sure they were properly hinged.
Doorman’s eyes trailed every single one of his actions, the subtle upturn of his smile becoming ever-so-slightly predatory. As his eyes grazed the expanse of Venator’s arms, he couldn’t help but to let his gaze linger for a moment.
Venator cleared his throat, still expecting an answer.
“Oh! I don’t mean to test your patience. I simply need help with a sort of conundrum I’ve found myself in. You see–”
“Hold it. You’re coming to me for help? Must be a big deal then if a patron can’t handle it. So what is it, a vampire?” He spat, growling as he referenced the god before him. He despised the patrons, even the fledgling ones. Especially this one.
An uncontrolled blush ghosted across the ginger’s face for a moment, swiftly being dismissed. The way the priest quite literally despised referencing him as a patron (begrudgingly) turned him on. “I have no qualms with any monsters at the moment.”
“That so?”
Doorman blinked owlishly, his jaw tightening as Venator closed the distance between them. “Father, I have no business with monsters. I’m only a humble bellhop.” He said coyly, baring a grin at the other.
Venator scowled, narrowing his eyes at the patron. “The grapevine told me something different.” He reached out, grabbing the patron’s shoulder harshly. “I know you have ties to that damned vampire, so I don’t really think I should help you.”
For a moment, Doorman’s grin faltered. He winced as the priest gripped his vessel harder, crumpling the fabric of his freshly pressed uniform. “This isn’t about that, no, I genuinely need help.” His voice was a choir of echos, like hundreds of voices were uncomfortably stitched together in abhorrent unison.
“Tell me what you need, then I’ll decide if I should let you leave here without a stake jabbed through your blasphemous windpipe.” Venator was being completely serious, his mind had already made itself up.
If any false god was to leave his presence, it wasn’t going to be in one piece.
The patron cleared his throat, his adam’s apple bobbing nervously as he looked the man directly in his eyes. “My influence over this realm has dwindled in the past century. In order to maintain my function in this vessel, I require worship. I thought that maybe you would be able to provide, given your expertise.”
Venator looked the god up and down, taking his words into careful consideration. Curiosity got the better of him. It wasn’t every day a god presented itself to a priest in order to beg for attention. With the maelstrom having proved most of the good book was a sham, it wasn’t like the priest had anything left to lose. He took it upon himself to shove Doorman back onto the pew, letting him crash back against the semi-soft surface.
“Hold on–I think there’s been a–” Doorman closed his mouth as the priest mounted him, straddling his hips unabashedly. “...a misunderstanding.” The words came out as a whisper, barely meaning a thing. That was made obvious by the way his body moved into the touch, his back arching as soon as he was pinned.
“No misunderstandin’ here. Just a needy god bowing before his servant.” Venator chuffed, beginning to undo the buttons of his shirt. “Isn’t that right?”
A coil of embarrassment nearly snapped Doorman’s composure in two. He rolled his eyes as he shifted his hands upwards, resting them on the other mans thighs. It wasn’t in his nature to test the waters, so he dove right in. Moving his hands higher, massaging the tense muscle beneath his fingers until he felt Venator flinch in response. By the time he looked back up, the shirt and vest that the priest dawned beforehand had been cast onto the floor. He moved his hands up the man’s body, delicately tracing his fingertips over each inch of exposed skin. The god was enamored by the sight. Before he could protest to his own vices, his body simmered with carnal heat as his core shifted.
“Will you recite for me, please?” Doorman pleaded, letting his voice fall into disarray once more.
There was not an inkling of hesitation as Venator began to undo his pants, freeing himself in seconds. Doorman sighed impatiently, finally bothering to shimmy his way out of his own suit. Coat, cap, and trousers–not neatly folded–discarded in what felt like seconds.
“Father, please. Please recite–” The patron choked on his words as Venator seized his throat.
A firm and unbreakable grip, stealing the rest of his words away. The vessel tensed, heart pounding and lungs burning as Doorman was robbed of precious oxygen. Tension building until it snapped, crashing over him in a searing wave of relief and sin. Slick dribbled down his thighs as they tensed and relaxed around nothing. A heavy cock rested on his lower stomach, twitching as the man indulged in the sight. Small whines came from the back of the patron’s throat. He needed this more than anything. A hum of satisfaction left the priest as he moved his hips into position, lining himself up with Doorman’s eager cunt. Venator leaned in, ghosting a warm breath against the gods neck.
“I like your renovations, but I refuse to tarnish the words of my lord in your name.” Before a response could be uttered, he pressed his hips forward.
Sharp pain faded abruptly as all of his length easily slid into the patron. Doorman gasped, nearly crying out as every inch sent shockwaves through his vessel. Before he had time to fully adjust, Venator began experimentally thrusting into him. Uneven and sloppy, each jerk of his hips hitting a brand new spot. Carnal desire blossomed with each movement, causing Doorman to shift his hips toward a better angle. It didn’t take long for the pace to settle in. A tempo that the patron could keep up with, rutting his hips with each slap of skin. Even though his insides were rapidly becoming jelly, he tried to keep his composure. Soft moans were exchanged as a reward each time Venator groaned in pleasure. Eventually the back-and-forth echoed loudly in the church, quickening as their bodies melded closer together on the pew.
“Father, I won't last long like this…” Doorman keened, jerking his head to the side as he tried desperately to catch his fleeting breath.
“You know my name.” Venator lifted the patron’s legs up, speeding up his pace rapidly. A rapturous cry of pain and pleasure rang from the fledgling god’s throat at the brutal adjustment. “Say my name, damn it.”
The words barely registered as Doorman climaxed around him, pressing forcefully against the cock as it continued to plunge deeper. Somehow it kept going. Hitting new spots, new spaces–the patron wasn’t sure what was down there anymore. He didn’t care. It felt good–like nothing any human had ever allowed him to experience before. The death of a star was less powerful than the pleasure that overtook him. Burning even brighter as Venator continued to pound into him. The searing from before welled, an overflowing basin that splattered against his own skin. Their souls entwined, driven by animalistic and carnal desire for more. Till the wellspring overflowed with heat, tearing through the god until he could barely catch his breath. Each thrust earned shortened gasps and cries as vitality poured from his core. It was too much, then it was so much more than that–the tension snapped again.
“Cain! Fucking worship me, please!” Vulgar, uncharacteristic, a choir of voices screamed for him.
Simply uttering the words–the false name given by the false prophet–caused Venator to finally reach his climax. He didn’t dare to pull out, refusing to displease the god. Displeasure might incentivise the god to fuck him all over again, which was not going to happen in his current state. After one round, his muscles ached and his body trembled in pure ecstasy. The god had siphoned him of his worship, taking every single bit of energy that Venator offered to his vessel. He pulled out, collapsing atop the fledgling due to his exhaustion. Doorman simply grinned, reveling in the afterglow as cum dribbled down onto the pew below them. The two basked in the silence, sincere and unabashed, naked like they had been transported to the garden of Eden.
Maybe they had.