RATING: NC-17 Shota Yaoi Lemon
PAIRING: ??? x Duo
WARNINGS: I don't really want to say anything because it will give it all away, but I'll say this because with me, I have to say it or I'll get sued by multitudes of disgruntled parents out for Tatum Juliet blood, and as we all know, there's only that one vintage and I possess it. BEWARE THE WEAK OF HEART AND MIND! There, I have said it so nobody can get on my case about it. >.~
My Religion Doesn't Hate
Father Maxwell sat on the stairs of his church watching his orphans play. There were 285 residence at his humble abode, boys and girls ranging in all ages, all parentless because of the war. His favorite was a boy with violet eyes, wide and untrusting to anyone but himself and Sister Helen. The boy had been with him for little under six months, attentive to his fellow orphans and always begging to lend a helping hand when ever the two superior people in the Church needed it even if they didn't ask. Such a sweet boy. A boy with no last name and only a nick-name for a first, a cute nick-name but not a real name at all. He'd gotten that from a boy on the streets with the opposite as that name, even though the two words coincided with eachother.
The boy giggled, playing freeze-tag with his friends around the church yard, screaming and having a gay old time oblivious to the smut and ashes coating the air and filling his lungs. He loved it there, among the dirt and rubble from the town that once surrounded the peaceful church, now nothing but piles and piles of horrible memories of a people Father Maxwell could do nothing to save.
The boy was caught, attempting to freeze with his foot in midair, stumbling a bit as he tried to stop his forward motion and falling hard on his knees. A wail of pain went up from the heap the boy had become, the little ball of plump flesh rolling on the ground and clutching a bloody knee. Father Maxwell sighed and rose, kneeling by the boy when he came to his side. Immediately the child threw himself into his arms, ignoring the crowd that had gathered to see if their friend was all right. The boy sniffed, tears streaking down his dirty little-boy face, his chin all quivers with no hopes of stopping.
The priest hefted the boy up, holding him close and whispering to him through the unruly mat of hair that was one long dread lock, supposedly a braid. He carried the boy into the church, telling the other children to continue their play, that their comrade would be good as new in a few minutes. The man carried the boy to the spare room that was more like a closet than anything that served as his office and set the child down on his desk, his hold loosening even as the boy's grew more tight.
Father Maxwell sighed, smiling at the child and lifting him up again, walking around to his desk draws and drawing from them bandages, a sewing kit, and peroxide. He set the boy down again, but still the desperate hold would not be released.
"Duo," he said, rubbing the small back even as dirt flew forth from the dark black jacket of the priest's outfit the boy was garbed in and to the surface of his desk. "You have to let me go if you want me to clean your cut."
"But I don't want to let you go," Duo sniffed, burying his face into the cloth of the identical black jacket
"Please let me go, Duo," Father Maxwell tried again. "I won't go anywhere, I promise."
"You really promise?" Duo asked, "Cause Solo promised too but he left."
Father Maxwell felt a pang of pity for the boy. He loved Duo, that much was true, loved him perhaps more than the other orphans at the orphanage, and it tore him apart to see his little one hurting like that. "I won't go anywhere today, Duo."
Slowly, the little arms unwound themselves and Father Maxwell looked down into puffy little eyes. He grabbed Duo around the waist and said, "You're going to have to take your pants off so I can see your cut better."
Duo nodded and undid his pants, sliding them off and handing them over to the priest. It wasn't that he was bared for all to see even if he didn't have underwear on, as the shirt he was wearing fell just past his knees anyway
Father Maxwell took the pants and placed them aside, looking at the little rip in the leg. It wouldn't take many stitches to repair, just one more battle scar for the handed down garment to boast about to the rest of the wore out clothes in that place. He took the needle and thread and sewed the hole in silence, delighting in the way Duo watched him, sitting back down slowly and wincing as the scratched skin stretched a little. "Itai!" he hissed, rubbing the cut on his dirty knee.
Father Maxwell grabbed his wrist and shook his head. "Don't do that, Duo. You could hurt it more that way."
"Sorry, Father Maxwell," Duo replied, once more wrapped up in the way the needle moved, glinting in the sparse light of one single lamp on the desk. "Father Maxwell?"
"Hm? What is it, Duo?" the old man asked, glancing up from his sewing job.
"Do ya think I could be a doctor?"
Father Maxwell paused and looked at him. "Now it's a doctor? Last week it was the King of the World."
Duo shrugged. "I want to help people, save them from death."S
"But I though you were Shinigami," Father Maxwell said, beginning to sew once more.S
"I can still be Shinigami and save people from death," Duo said. "I heard Sister Helen call it 'Merciful Death'. That's what I want to be. Is that okay?"
Father Maxwell set aside his sewing, finished as he made the knot. He walked back over to Duo and placed a hand on either side of him. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to save people from death, Duo," he said, "I think it's a noble concept."
Duo nearly beamed. He didn't even feel it, Father Maxwell's fingers on his knee, prodding the cut lightly. "You really think so?"
Father Maxwell looked at him sternly. "It's a sin to tell a lie, Duo. Even for Shinigami it's a sin, I'm sure."
Duo thought about that. Never lie? That didn't seem so hard. He'd give that a try. His attention was thrown rapidly back to his injury once the peroxide hit it, bubbling, cleaning. "Owowowowowowowow!"
"Sorry, Duo," Father Maxwell said, leaning down and blowing on it softly. The cool air took the sting away mostly. Once that was done, after it bubbled no more, Father Maxwell applied black salve to it, then took a sterile cloth, something rare in such a desolate place, and cut it to fit Duo's cut, considering they had no Band-Aids, and placed that over the cut. "Hold this."
Duo did as told, carefully putting his fingers on either side of the cloth. He watched Father Maxwell cut some medical tape into four long strips, sealing down each side of the cloth. "There you are, Duo," the priest said, smiling down at the boy with appreciation.
Duo moved his knee. It didn't hurt anymore. Duo stood again on the desk, throwing his arms around Father Maxwell's neck and kissing his cheek. "Thanks, Father!" he said happily.
Father Maxwell wrapped his arms around Duo's small frame and pulled him away from the desk, the little legs wrapping around his middle. Duo was seven, but he was the size of a five-year-old, as insecure as one at that. He needed the anchor of someone. He needed to know someone was there. Father Maxwell moved his hand to where he could better support Duo to his frame, under the small buttocks and he hefted Duo up higher into his arms, his hold around Duo's back tight and possessive. Yes, he loved this little orphan more than anything. Duo was his light. His smiling little angel...
"Father Maxwell..." Duo said, unsure. "Father Maxwell, you're hurting me. Could you not hold me so tight?"
Yes... he loved Duo... his Duo... his sweet little angel... pretty little angel... beautiful little angel...
Father Maxwell sat down in his worn out leather study chair, Duo still plastered tight to his body. He stroked the dread lock/braid roughly, pulling on it, making Duo whimper.
"Father... Please, that hurts... Please stop it," Duo asked, trying to wriggle free but he wasn't able to, the strong arms of the man holding him ever tighter.
Yes... his... his light... his warmth... his angel... his angel... his flower... his pure little gem...
Father Maxwell loosened his hold on Duo, waiting till the boy's head pulled back from his neck to where he could look into the darling little face and then he leaned forward, his hand coming to cup the back of the small skull, his lips meeting with Duo's.
Yes... his... his and no one else's... his that no one could touch... his and his alone... his... his... HIS!
Duo whimpered and tried to pull back but the hand on the back of his head held him securely in place, not letting him move an inch even with his little hands pushing on the broad chest with all the might he could muster. But Father Maxwell was kissing him, his tongue invading him, lashing the insides of his mouth, not letting him breath. The stubble of the five-o-clock shadow scratched his face, it hurt him. He didn't like this. He pushed harder and finally, Father Maxwell's mouth was off his and he could breath. But Father Maxwell licked at the dirt on Duo's face making it mud and then it disappearing totally, cleaning off his cheek and the left side of his throat, moving down into the shirt collar, pushing it away as it was in his path.
"Father Maxwell please stop!" Duo whispered. He didn't want anyone to know because he knew they'd hurt Father Maxwell and Duo loved the old man, he revered him as friend and father, not just some church dignitary. He didn't want him hurt because Duo didn't want to be a tattle-tale.
His... all his and no one else's... his... his light... his warmth... his baby... his orphan of a terrible war... his...
Father Maxwell slid off the chair, coming to rest on his knees and then laying down, Duo under him, his left hand working on the buttons to the shirt and the other moving up Duo's thigh to his hip, his hand large enough to where he could rub Duo's little cock and nearly fully cup a globe of a little round rear end in his hand at the same time.
Duo couldn't breath again. He was being crushed and he didn't like it. He wanted it to stop but the only way it would stop would be if he were to scream and that would cause Father Maxwell's disgrace. He didn't want that. But this was hurting him and he didn't want that either.
His and his alone... his little prodigy... his little angel... his little demon... his... his... his... his... his... his... his and his alone...
Father Maxwell had Duo's shirt undone, and his was kissing the little chest, nibbling on the little nipples there, biting them ever so softly, moving lower. He didn't care about the fingers clawing at his face and pulling at his hair, all he cared about was the little boy, the little sweetheart he had saved from a life of poverty to live in the wealth of religion.
His Duo... his baby... his innocent... his little angel... his little infant of life...
Duo could feel hot kisses and licks and nips on his stomach moving lower. Then, he felt Father Maxwell's mouth on his member, suckling, making a fire in his stomach that hurt him. He didn't like it and yet it felt really good. Then, it was gone. He opened eyes he realized were closed and saw the man undoing his pants, moving his zipper down after his belt was undone. Duo knew this was his chance. His only chance. He dashed out from under the man, running under the desk and to the door, trying to open it but in his fright he'd locked it accidentally.
He had strong arms come around him, pulling him away from the door he tried to cling to. Then, he was thrown to the floor, his head hitting the wood surface hard, and his vision blackened for a moment. When it cleared, he found that his arms were over his head, his wrists bound around the leg of the chair with the belt around them. He tried to tug free but that made his hands hurt
Yes... his Duo... his very bad Duo... his little angel Duo... his rotten Duo...
Father Maxwell pulled Duo's legs up and held them round his waist, making Duo's back come nearly off the floor as he did so. "That was bad, Duo. You should know that I would never hurt you... I only want to love you. Will you let me love you, Duo?"
Duo swallowed, tears in his eyes. He loved Father Maxwell, but this hurt no matter what he said. But maybe love was hurt. He nodded.
Father Maxwell smiled down at him and said in a kind and gentle and quiet voice, "Then you can't cry, Duo. Love isn't supposed to make you cry. So don't cry, okay?"
Duo swallowed again, harder this time. He nodded. "I won't cry ever again, I promise, Father Maxwell."
"That's my Duo," Father Maxwell said, leaning over and putting a kiss on Duo's forehead. He pulled back, taking a more firm hold of Duo's legs. "Keep them like this, no matter how uncomfortable it makes you, okay?"
Duo nodded, still unsure but willing to make Father Maxwell happy no matter what. He tightened his legs around the man's waist, making himself more flush to it in the process. He saw Father Maxwell reach around his hips and take hold of something Duo couldn't really see. But he felt it. He could have howled in pain as a fire ripped through him, burning him and making him want to cry if he hadn't promised he wouldn't. His breath hissed through tightly clenched teeth, tears stubbornly sliding from tightly shut eyes.
Father Maxwell panted in the rightness of it all. His favorite little boy was allowing him to love him... allowing him to claim him. He didn't mind the little tears that escaped his eyes, but he wouldn't allow anymore. "No more tears, Duo. Promise me that. No more tears no matter what."
Duo nodded, his eyes still closed. Then the pain began again just as it started to fade, but he didn't make a sound, willing himself not to. He could hear in the back of his mind the sound like that of a fight when a fist would connect with skin, the smacking and the whoosh it always made, but there was no fight, only Father Maxwell.
His Duo... his baby... his infant boy... his and his alone... no one else's... his... his little angel... his sweet one... forever and always... no matter what...
Father Maxwell thrust into Duo hard, the boy skidding across the wood floor, splinters in his back, his little body rocked terribly in the furious need of the man's release. Finally, it came crashing down upon him, over taking him and he slammed harder than ever into the tightness engulfing him as if nothing but his little love and he mattered till he was empty, lax as he pulled away, a mixture of white semen and blood sliding out of Duo and onto the floor.
His and always his...
He laid on the side of the little one, undoing the belt and pulling him into his arms. "I love you, Duo," he whispered, kissing the forehead he'd cleaned.
"I love you, Father Maxwell," Duo answered, his body sore and pain-filled but he wouldn't show it.
Forever and always...
"Duo," Father Maxwell said.
"Yes, Father Maxwell?" Duo answered.
"You can never tell anyone about our love. All right?" Father Maxwell asked.
Duo nodded. "I won't, I promise."
"That's my Duo," Father Maxwell said, another smile on his face as he pressed another kiss to Duo's face.
Amen...
Wanna hear my thoughts? My wet wet dreams?
What if i told you my dreams were on you?
Your unbound hair? Your pale skin all sweaty under my caress?
I do think of you. You who are my weakness, you who
Are my strength. I want to hear you pant, I want to hear you scream
My name. I want to see you writhe, I want to see you bleed under my knife.
I will kill you and I will love you still. In death, you are mine. My bounty, my love, my prey.
I will love you still as I slice you skin and watch it break.
I will love you still as I put the pillow to your face and
I will love you still as I hold you down so you can't fight.
I will love you still as I hold the barrel to your temple and
I will love you still as I slowly squeeze the trigger.
I will love you still as I bury your body and
I will love you still as I let you rot.
I will love you still......
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