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Chapter Text

It was the night of the Full Moon Ritual, the night that the clergy held their church-wide orgy in honor of their Master. No one was compelled to attend, but they all came willingly anyway, for once one was open to the love and devotion their Master provided, they reveled in sharing that love with each other.

They would start in the chapel, decorated with wreaths and garlands strung all about to give it a festive and seductive air. Papa would make his entrance, robes flowing, with all eyes on him, and then he would saunter to the front to give the ritual prayer. He would speak to the clergy about reveling in their bodies and giving pleasure to one another, for to do so was the highest honor and praise they could enact in the name of their Master. Then, the clergy would move to the prepared ritual area, which usually consisted of the banquet hall and many side rooms and alcoves. Sometimes, during the summer months, they would even set up outside under the stars with massive cushions of down and only the soft lamps of the abbey and the moonlight guiding them. The ritual area was constantly beset by candles and various supplies, which they kept heavily in stock, including lube, condoms (if wanted), and various implements such as restraints, sex pillows, and harnesses. These rituals were strictly BYOD (bring your own dildo) for sanitary reasons, including any tool meant to touch the genitals like cock rings or massagers. Plenty of food and drink was provided to start the revelry, but usually, nothing too heavy. Ghouls were always a clergy-favorite at the rituals and always got top-billing due to their stamina, girth, and sexual prowess combined with their unique looks. Papa Emeritus would usually always indulge, as he seemed to be another clergy favorite. A running joke between the siblings was that one wasn't indoctrinated adequately to the church until they had a night with Papa. Some siblings needed extra special care and attention, and that's where Papa Emeritus III came in.

Every once in a while, Papa got a special request for a lesser-indulged-in side-ritual held during the Full Moon Ceremony. This was known as the Ritual of Essentia Comantem, translated from Latin to mean 'the ritual of sexual awakening.' When the church gained new members, often they would take in people who were deeply traumatized by past repression and shame of sexuality, and this ritual was to help them explore and unwrap their inner desires in a safe and non-judgmental manner. The ceremony wasn't just for those dealing with sexual repression, however. It was free and open to anyone who felt the need to explore and indulge out of view from the other siblings. And who better to facilitate such a ritual than Papa Emeritus III himself?

Sister Imperator dealt with the logistical challenge of setting up this ritual by providing a side room with a large, comfortable bed in the middle of it. She would pull a note from a sealed box with the inquirer's name on it, and then she would send them instructions as to the time and place of the meeting. When the sibling entered the room, they were met with complete darkness that not even an adjusted eye could penetrate. They would then be safely guided to the bed where Papa Emeritus waited for them. The participant would not be allowed to speak to safeguard their anonymity. Still, Papa would talk to go over the rules, and a pre-arranged safe-word was identified to end the encounter immediately. They would shed their clothes and climb into bed with Papa, free from the human gaze on their body. He would then use gentle touches, feeling for their responses, and adjust accordingly. A person who came to the room stiff and unsure soon wilted under Papa's hands, tongue, and mouth, their moans being the only audible noise allowed. Once the participant felt satisfied, they dressed again and left the dark room without Papa knowing who they were.

That night, Papa lay naked in the dark, quiet room, waiting for the clergy member who petitioned Sister for this ritual. He sat there with a sense of anticipation building in him. Papa didn't often indulge in this ritual, but he was always happy to accommodate them when someone requested it. Something thrilled him about not seeing the face of the person he was making love to, nor knowing their identity at all. While he loved the many physical attributes of all clergy members, it was the indulgence of the act itself that really set a fire inside of him. Hearing the moans of the attendee and feeling for their responses was something that brought him great joy. At some point, when the participant would eagerly embrace him, taking control of the situation for themselves, that was the moment of ultimate pleasure for him. To know that he guided them in opening up to their desires and becoming more confident with themselves as sexual beings were incredibly gratifying. He often left feeling immense satisfaction, and he carried that energy with him for the next couple of days to a week. Whenever a clergy member gave him a sideways glance or smile, he prided himself in knowing that one of them could have been the participant and he knew what he had done for them was unique.

As he lay on the bed and waited, happy, rapturous thoughts swirled in his head. He really did have the best job in the world. He ran his hand down his body, over the light dusting of hair on his chest, navel, and belly, down to the bush of pubic hair where he grasped himself in his hand, already hardening. He gave one good stroke in anticipation and sighed, feeling the effects of the wine he had drunk earlier. Being in complete darkness, his mind wandered to an entirely imaginative realm as he replayed memories in his head or thought of new ones soon to be made. It was the crack of the door that awakened him from those thoughts.

Soft light illuminated the room briefly, but he could not see any detail through the curtains that surrounded the bed. Quickly the door closed again, plunging them into darkness, and his breathing quickened, excited over the moment finally came. He heard the participant shuffling slowly over the carpet as they used the guides that would lead them to the bed and a waiting Papa. They paused outside of the curtain, and Papa listened. He could hear their breaths, too, coming quick and heavy from anticipation. This excited him, and he rolled to his side, propping his head up in his hand. The sound of fabric met his ears as the attendee dropped their robe (having changed into it from the previous area), and then the curtain was pushed aside. He could almost feel the clergy member trembling as they got on the bed, their weight depressing the mattress slightly.

"Hi," he said softly. He was allowed to speak to give instructions, and he reached out a hand to brush a hairy arm.

Ah, so perhaps his participant was a man? This was one of the most exciting moments, as he began to discover the attendee's body through touch alone.

The clergy member was breathing heavily, clearly nervous about their clandestine encounter, and Papa soothed, "Relax. We'll go slow. I won't do anything you don't want me to. You know the safe word, "rhubarb." Just say it, and I stop immediately. You may leave at any time you wish. There are no expectations here. Just enjoy yourself."

He heard the person take a deep breath, and he reached out again slowly, drifting fingers over the hairy arm which prickled with goosebumps under his touch.

"I'm going to touch you slowly now," Papa said, continuing to caress the skin. "If you don't like something I am doing, you can push my hand away, or you can move. I will listen to your responses, and I will do only what you are comfortable with. If you end up wanting to just lay here in silence or cuddle, we can do that too. Nothing you do will disappoint me. This night is about you, not me. I am here only to give you pleasure in whatever way you want."

Papa trailed his caress further up and down the arm and listened for the person's breathing to slow. When it finally did, he brushed his fingers down to his hand, exploring the back and then the front. The fingers were long, and the palm was soft, free from calluses. He traced circles in the palm. The person lay unmoving as his hand ran back up the arm and over the shoulders that sported sparse hair. He trailed down to the collarbone to trace over them with an index finger. He felt the person shift and his hand drifted down the chest to the patch of hair he found there where he caressed his fingers through the thick of it, feeling the coarse texture. He shifted closer to the man and kept exploring his body, carefully, one caress at a time. He reminded himself of the attendee's specific request: no kissing or touching on or around the mouth. Papa would be sure to keep his hands and lips away from the head, even if he was dying to touch the man's face and study it with his fingers to feel closer to the participant and to build a picture of them in his mind.

Papa leaned into the man to gain access to the other side of his body. Their skin touched, sizzling from the shared heat, and the man leaned into him, relaxing and feeling more comfortable. Papa's hand caressed the neglected arm, finally trailing down to the man's side, which was not taut nor firm but squishy, although not to any significant degree. The man stiffened slightly, and Papa stopped the descent of his hand at his side, leaning in to brush a kiss against the shoulder as he waited. The man responded by releasing a breath when Papa's lips touched his skin, and then the body pressed into him more.

Papa continued his ministrations, drifting his middle finger up to the man's chest, where he rolled it over a hard nipple and felt around the uneven edges. He placed his mouth - which continued kissing the warm skin - on the closest nipple to suck the bump into his mouth and swirl his tongue over it. That was when the man finally released a tiny moan, and Papa smiled inwardly, feeling self-satisfied.

His tongue continued licking while the hand traveled down the side to the man's hip, which felt firm and large. He massaged his hand into the hip, liking the full feeling of it between his fingers when his arm brushed across what must have been the hard cock between the man's legs. He bucked slightly, turning his head towards Papa, who could feel the man's hot breath against his ear. Papa saw this as an invitation to move his palm to the man's cock, which eagerly met his hand while the man moaned louder.

Papa was leaning over the man now and dragged his lips across the chest, burying his nose into the thick hair and inhaling the heady aroma of the man's scent. He could feel the man's heart hammering in his chest, the skin quaking slightly under his lips from his solid and rapid heartbeat. Papa took the man's cock at the base and closed somewhat over it, pulling the skin up with his hand until he could feel the pre-cum on the man's tip grazing his palm.

The man stifled a moan as Papa continued stroking and licking his chest, coming up to the neck where he felt the evidence of stubble. He sucked and kissed the soft planes of the neck, which quivered from his breathing and shook as the man swallowed. Then a hand came up to grasp Papa's arm, and Papa pressed into the man, knowing that secret individual was opening up to his touches. He was starting to respond.

Papa continued stroking slowly, ever so slowly, and his hand drifted down to cup the balls and then continued to touch the hairy inner thighs. The man seemed disappointed at the loss of sensation on his cock and pressed himself into Papa, seemingly wanting more.

Papa's mouth trailed down the man's body until finally, it enclosed the dripping head of the man's cock, and he gasped, twisting his hand through Papa's hair. This was the part Papa loved – a man's hand guiding him, forcing him to meet the owner's wants and needs. The other hand wrapped around his head, and the man bucked into Papa's mouth. He felt the man's dick hit the back of his throat but having trained himself to have almost no gag reflex, Papa was pleased over the haggard moans coming from the man's mouth. The dark Pope knew he was very good at what he did, and he reveled in it.

Papa buried his nose deep into the man's pubic bone and bobbed his head up and down, tongue dragging across the man's entire length. When he slowed his motions to luxuriously attend to the balls, the man whined, forcing his dick back between Papa's lips with an insistent guiding hand. Papa eagerly accepted the man's cock back into his mouth and sucked with a fury, drool pooling on his lips as the cock pounded his mouth with slick sounds. The man stiffened beneath Papa, digging his hands into the sides of Papa's head, and gripping his hair, the sounds coming from his mouth those of ecstasy and need. Papa loved making men cum. He loved sucking them dry and milking every last ounce from them until he had all of their cum down his throat. If he could have any other profession in life, it would have been that of a professional dick-sucker with how much he enjoyed it.

The man shuddered beneath Papa, his dick thrusting a final few times before Papa felt the heat of the man's cum shoot into his throat. He lapped at it all, swallowing eagerly as the man continued to jerk and cry out, his fingers pulling Papa's hair hard into fists.

Papa waited until the man seemed spent, and he had gulped down the dregs of semen from his tip before he pulled off and listened to the man breathing heavily. Papa laid down beside the man, his own erection stiff and needy. But this wasn't about him. His head swirled with desire as he listened to the man's reaction from using his mouth as a fuck toy, but he would save his passion in case the man wanted more from him.

Then the man did something surprising; he curled into Papa and put his arm around him, kissing his forehead. Papa felt what seemed like the brush of some facial hair against his skin, but it was hard to entirely tell. The man's chest was pressed into his face acting as a soft pillow as he closed his eyes and listened to the man's breathing returning to normal. Papa rested, gently caressing the man's back with his hand while holding him. The man also started to caress Papa's arm as he held him tightly. Now gone was his initial shyness.

Papa lay there, letting the man explore his body. He felt the hand run over him in much the same way he had done. The orgasm had given him a boldness that he used to explore, feeling every inch of Papa. Papa let him. This was part of the process of learning to give oneself over to another.

The man's fingertips glided across Papa's lips, feeling their plump fullness before pressing into his mouth to explore the wetness there. Papa sucked on the salty skin of the man's fingers, rolling his tongue over the digits while listening to the man's breath quicken. Papa could feel the hot breath on his face as the fingers explored the mouth where the man's dick once had been.

When they pulled out, Papa felt an absence that he lamented, but the hand traveled to his butt instead, squeezing the flesh between fingers. He was thoroughly pressing with interest, and the man's breath came more heavily as the hand slid between each one, taking in the fullness with considerable appreciation until a finger trailed lightly down the crack, causing Papa to shudder.

The hand moved from Papa's buttocks to his front, cupping his dick. When the man felt his hardness, Papa heard a gasp escape his lips as the man carefully palmed Papa's cock. Papa moaned appreciatively as the man tentatively explored him, running his thumb up the cock until it brushed across the tip, wiping off the pre-cum there. Papa heard what sounded like a finger going into the man's mouth, and he smiled at the thought of this nervous parishioner tasting him.

The hand came back eagerly to stroke him, and then it drifted lower.

"Here's the lube if you need it for anything," Papa said, grabbing the prepared bottle next to him and handing it over.

The man took it and then he heard the cap open and then there was a sound of squirting liquid. The cap closed again, and Papa opened his legs, already guessing where the man wanted to explore next. Papa felt chilly fingers brush across the ring of muscles below, and he inhaled slightly from the cold sensation. Then the man was slowly pressing into him with a finger as his breath grew ragged from excitement. The finger slid deeper, and Papa let out a thankful moan, so the man knew that what he was doing was correct.

"Angle it upwards," Papa said roughly as he felt the man's knuckle brush his entrance.

The finger crooked, and so did Papa's body.

"That's it," Papa cried. "Yes, right there."

The man audibly licked his lips, his breath faltering as he pushed another finger inside, stretching Papa open. Papa almost heard the man mutter something before he caught himself and sucked in air through his teeth as he rubbed two fingers upward into the soft, spongy mass inside of Papa. Papa clenched around the man's fingers, which scissored him open, and Papa pressed into the hand, savoring the feel of it inside of him.

Papa bit his fist as the third finger entered him and then expanded his hole wider, the man's hands exploring him gently and with interest.

"If you keep this up, I'm going to cum," Papa said.

The man's fingers rubbed inside of him slowly, so achingly slow that Papa groaned. He knew if he so much as even touched his dick that he would cum instantly.

Suddenly the fingers pulled out, and Papa heard the cap from the lube open again as the man squirted out a generous amount onto his hand. Papa listened with anticipation. If this clergy member was going to fuck him, this would be a new one for this ritual. They usually let Papa do all the work and reciprocated when they felt they could, but to be fucked on the first meeting was bold of whoever this was.

Papa felt a hand at his side, prodding him to turn, and Papa smiled in the dark. It had been ages since he had gone ass-up, so he was going to savor this one. Papa turned and got on all fours, his ass proudly in the air as he pulled a pillow under his stomach and buried his face into the bed. He listened to the heavy breathing behind him as he felt hands gripping his sides as the man positioned himself. Thumbs caressed over Papa's buttocks, and then those thumbs spread him, and he felt something warm and moist pressing into his ring of muscle and flesh. Papa moaned into the bed as the pressure increased until the man's cockhead finally slipped past the entrance and was buried eagerly inside of him. His ass opened to welcome the cock, pulling it deeper into him, and Papa was now the one gasping for breath.

The fingers at his sides trembled but then finally steadied themselves and dug into his flesh. Slowly the man pulled out until the head was almost at the ring before he drove it back in again, knocking the breath out of Papa once more. The man did this again several times, pulling out slowly and then slamming back into him with such force that Papa could feel a puddle forming as his pre-cum dripped down his thigh and settled onto the sheets.

The man moaned, fingernails scoring Papa's skin as he began fucking Papa with a good pace. Papa was so turned on and ready to cum that he felt like he might cry and piss at the same time. Each time the dick head hit his prostate, he cried out into the sheets, drool sliding from his mouth and his body clenching around the cock inside of him. The slow and luxurious fucking was almost too much for him to take, and Papa wanted to drive himself back against the cock until he exploded. Still, he had to remind himself to let the clergyman control the pace, even if it was driving him absolutely mad.

Papa cried out loudly, his face raised from the bed and the man behind him choked in response, straining to go deeper and harder. The moaning of the sibling fucking him grew louder, and his balls slapped against Papa audibly. The man leaned over Papa's back and trailed a tongue down his spine, which was something he didn't expect but was entirely welcome. When the man grabbed a fistful of his hair once again and tugged, Papa really went wild.

The man fucked into him so wildly that Papa's ass felt absolutely blissful, and his insides were burning with intense waves of pleasure that ran all the way through his body and to the tip of his dick. Each thrust hit a new high point as Papa cried out lewdly, the hand in his hair holding him firm while the other one raked down his back and side.

Papa felt the crescendo building in him, and he knew that any moment he would spill over, and he hadn't even touched his dick. When he finally came, it hit him in a blinding wave as the clergyman pounded him raw, his own guttural noises combining with Papa's loud utterances. The wave hit him and rolled through him, tearing him apart as he arched himself back and slammed himself hard into the dick that was impaling him. His insides clutched hard around the cock as his cum erupted, hot, and forceful from the head of his dick as it splattered his thighs and the bedsheets.

The man, hearing and feeling Papa come under him, bottomed out, shooting his own load in loud exclamations and desperate thrusting as he rode out his own orgasm, his cum filling Papa up like a cream puff getting stuffed. The man thrust a final few times until all the cum inside of him was deposited, and then he pulled out limp and wet and fell back on the bed next to Papa. Papa rolled over so as not to land in the puddle he had made, and they both tried catching their breath. Papa's skin was damp and warm from exertion, but the man wrapped an arm around him anyway, burying his face into Papa's back.

The man cradled him as they came down from their bliss, and Papa's head swam with pleasant feelings from his injection of endorphins. He was happy. How could he not be? He just made this clergyman's night.

Papa drifted in a haze of warmth and serotonin. In the back of his mind, he wondered if the man would want to go another round. He didn't know if he could, but Papa could probably get something together again if he did.

He was almost disappointed when the man pressed a kiss into the crack of his back between his shoulder blades and then, after squeezing his arm, got up from the bed. Papa listened to the man dress and wanted to say something to him, but what was there to say? Thanks, nobody has been fucked like that since Patroclus fucked Achilles.

Dim light cast a glow on the bedroom as the man opened the door. Papa was facing the other way, so he couldn't see when there finally was some visibility, but he almost turned when he realized that the door wasn't being closed right away. The man must have been looking at him lying there in the bed, naked with his back turned to him.

The door finally closed, and Papa too closed his eyes, resting while giving the man enough time to gather himself and his belonging before leaving the side room. Papa waited the allotted 20 minutes and then pushed himself up from the bed. He made his way to the anteroom and dressed. Papa would still attend the church orgy some nights, but this wouldn't be one of those nights. He just wanted to shower and crawl into his own comfy bed. Admittedly, he would probably be thinking of that encounter later and might even give himself a hand in the shower while thinking about how hard and thorough he got fucked.

Papa Emeritus III stared out the window of his office. He glanced back at the paperwork scattered over his desk – ledgers of purchase and sale, documents for signing, and other boring matters that Sister Imperator threw at him throughout the day, and he sighed. The memories from last night kept replaying in his head over and over. He had given himself a hand in the shower last night and again this morning, and he still couldn't get the encounter out of his mind.

That afternoon as he walked to have dinner, he kept glancing back and forth at the siblings Papa met as they smiled and greeted him, and he imagined which one of them had taken him last night? Under normal circumstances, he never would have wondered as profoundly as he had been, but last night wasn't normal. His encounter did something to him, and Papa couldn't get it out of his mind to the point where it was beginning to make him obsessive. Typically he would have welcomed the mystery, knowing that he made someone out there cum harder than they had ever cum in their lives, but to have that turned around on him unsettled him in a way, he couldn't explain or describe.

He picked over his plate, barely eating anything as one of the senior clergy members chatted in his ear. He could at least rule out about half of his clergy as they mainly were evenly split between male and female-presenting, not counting the people who considered themselves non-binary or gender-fluid. Remembering how the body felt under his hands, he thought about who could fit the description of what he remembered and realized it was so vague that it didn't narrow his options by much. When it dawned on him that it could have been almost anyone in the clergy, he felt frustrated and rose despite hardly eating anything. As he walked back to his office in a huff, he reminded himself that he wasn't supposed to know the identity of the clergyman for a reason. This was to avoid any unwanted encounters and for the ultimate comfort of the clergyman who undertook the ritual. If they chose to reveal themselves to Papa, they could do so anytime they wanted to. They hardly ever did, though.

As Papa sat staring at the papers on his desk, Sister Imperator walked in with a stack of new ones from her nearby office.

"I see you're hard at work, Papa," she said.

"You've caught me red-handed," Papa said, grumbling in response.

She stopped at the edge of his desk and dumped the papers in front of him.

"Please do look these over when you've had the chance," she said, giving him a look.

As she was about to leave his office heard himself saying, "Who was it?"

She stopped to turn and gave him a wary look. "Who? Whatever do you mean, Papa?"

"Last night," he said. "Tell me who the petitioner for the ritual was."

She studied him carefully as if thinking it over in her head and then said, "You know I can't do that, Papa."

He sighed. "You could if you wanted to."

"But I don't. The anonymity of the ritual is there for a reason. You've been one of the biggest proponents of those rules up until now," she said. "Is there a reason why I should just disregard all of it now?"

She had a good point, but he didn't like it. "I think as Papa, I should be able to override those rules," he said.

"I am here to follow the laws of the church as well as your orders, but when those orders are at odds, I must make a decision as to whose I should follow. In this instance, I choose to keep the rules of the ritual as they are, without any sort of compelling reason from you," she said.

He hated how reasonable she could be. He still wasn't sure what his father had seen in her. Still, she did do the dirty work, the stuff he absolutely hated doing, like all this mindless paperwork and the day-to-day running of the church. At the same time, he just came out to look pretty and basically be the toastmaster of their events when he wasn't focusing on the Ghost Project.

"I just need to know," he said. "I don't know why I should have to tell you."

She gave him another look and then turned to leave his office without saying another word.

"Damn!" He slammed his fist on the office table.

Papa exited his chambers, looking around him as he walked quickly down the hall. It was about three in the morning, and he was pretty sure the old bat was sleeping right about now. And if she weren't, he was going to put her to sleep himself, Papa thought grumpily.

He kept tiptoeing to the office area when suddenly a brother came out of a side passage. Papa looked at him carefully, took a mental image in his mind to see if he measured up with the man from the other night. He didn't. Way too short.

"Good evening, Papa!" the man thundered. Papa was really hoping no one would recognize him without his face paint on, but it seemed like that was a futile wish.

"Shhh!" Papa said, putting his finger to his mouth. If this brother woke anyone up and alerted them to his goings-on, he was about to put a second clergy member to sleep.

The brother's face looked stunned, and he nodded thoughtfully as Papa kept going.

Papa finally made it to Sister Imperator's office and tried the handle. Locked, of course. He took out his church keyring from his pocket and twisted it, finding her key. There were definitely benefits of being the head of the church. He put it into the lock, and it turned. It creaked open loudly, and he winced, quickly stepping in and shutting the door. He flipped the light on, looking around the room. She had a personal altar against the wall, and various pieces of satanic artwork hung around. He really didn't think she had much taste before, but apparently, he had misjudged her. He always avoided going into her office if he could help it.

Spotting the black wooden box in the corner decorated by goat skulls, he rushed over. That was the box the petitioners used to request the ritual. He definitely recognized it. He pried at the lid, but it wouldn't open, and turning it, he saw that it had a small, depressed lock in the front of it, too small for any of his keys. He cursed and looked through the slit in the top, but all he could see was blackness. He shook the box to see if he could hear any paper rattling around inside, but the material was too thick and muffled any sounds.

Placing it back where he found it, he looked around. Any old petition papers might still be lying around or on Imperator's desk, so he went over there. The desk was immaculately clean on top, polished, and shining a deep red. He tore open her drawers and began to sort through them. They were mainly orderly, but he only found supplies and some official-looking documents and scribbled-on notepads. It's when he finally got to the bottom drawer when he thought he saw the jackpot. He picked up a black leather-bound journal with a red gem that looked like an eye on the front, and when he opened it and realized it looked to be Sister Imperator's journal, he was giddy with glee. He flipped through the pages, eagerly going back to the latest entry. He thought there was a good chance she wrote about the petitioner, and besides, he loved church gossip, and this was sure to be the juiciest of them all.

Latest entry: "Emeritus the Third is really getting on my last nerve. He's just as bad, if not worse, than his father. He has absolutely no business running this church and would run it into the ground if I wasn't keeping this place afloat. He may think he looks pretty and has a good singing voice, but that's about the only thing he's got going for him. If the Ghost Project wasn't as popular as it's ever been under his fronting, we'd be in serious trouble. If I can convince Papa Nihil to come back to the church and finally pay attention to what's going on around here, we may have a chance at righting this sinking ship. My only hope now lies in a successor."

Papa slammed the journal shut, chucking the book across the room, so it hit into the corner and fell to the floor with a loud thud.

"That rotten bitch!" Papa said, feeling seriously scorned. He had better keep an eye on her. The last thing Papa wanted was for her to coax his father back to muck everything up. Everything he had built, not her! And the church was doing fantastic, he wanted to add. Just fine and dandy.

He sullenly crossed the room to retrieve the journal but decided not to read anymore. His blood pressure was already bad enough as it was. Right before he put the book back where it came from, a thought came to him, and he grabbed a pen from Imperator's desk. He turned to a page near the back and scribbled a dick and balls complete with veins and pubic hair, and once he felt satisfied, he placed everything back where he found it. Finally, he felt better enough to go back to sleep.

That week Papa Emeritus III did the best he could trying to figure out who his mystery petitioner was. Every sibling who vaguely looked like they could be a match was scouted out. Papa would go up to them and drop little hints, hoping one of them would answer the way he wanted them to.

"How did your full moon ritual go?" he asked one clergyman as he sidled up next to them with a look in his eye.

The brother looked startled and blushed. "I got to spend the night with a ghoul," he said bashfully. "I can die a happy man," the brother sighed.

"Really? Which one?" Papa asked.

The man stepped in and whispered, "Omega!"

Later, when Papa found Omega lounging around in the kitchen and looking for something to eat, he pulled him to the side and asked, "did you fuck a tall skinny brother with medium-length brown hair?"

"Geez, so specific," Omega replied, shrugging. "I've fucked so many humans at this point it's hard to remember them all."

"Did you?" Papa insisted. "Try to remember. At the full moon ritual specifically."

"Yeah, yeah, that sounds about right," Omega said dismissively. Finding a block of cheddar cheese in the fridge, he unwrapped the end and bit into it, his mask morphing into a set of teeth. "Cheese. So good," he said between a full mouth.

Papa gave him a strange look and turned to leave. One more to cross off his list, at least.

Papa sat slumped at his desk, stacked high once more with papers given to him by Sister Imperator. He made sure to scowl at her back once she turned to leave, and he sat there looking glum. Papa had just about given up trying to find out who the petitioner was. He had approached as many people as possible, throwing a hint their way, and no one seemed to show any indication they were the secretive love match from the other night. Either they really weren't, or one of them was an outstanding actor.

There was a minor knock at Papa's office door, and then it opened. He half-turned to look, seeing Cardinal Copia, one of the senior clergymen, walk-in.

"Yes, what is it, Cardinal?" Papa asked, looking away as he stared out his window.

The man cleared his throat and then spoke, "Ehm, yes, Papa, I have a favor to ask."

"What is it?" Papa responded dully.

"Well, you see," Copia stammered as he began speaking too quickly about some matter, tripping over his tongue a few times before finally blurting out the rest of it with a red face.

Papa turned to look at the spectacle, not entirely sure what the man was talking about.

"And that is why I am asking you for the funding." Copia finished and then took a deep breath as if he forgot to breathe during that whole thing.

"I have no idea what you just asked me," Papa said.

"Funding… for the library…." Copia answered.

"Why can't you ask Sister Imperator? You know she handles the budget," Papa asked.

"I just came from there; she said I had to get your approval on this." Copia shifted.

Papa stared, still not sure why he would need to give approval.

"Fine, whatever it is, it's approved," Papa said, waving his hand dismissively.

Copia kept standing there as Papa rummaged through some papers on his desk, and finally, Papa noticed the man hadn't left and looked up again.

"Yes, Cardinal? Do you need anything else? You're dismissed, you know," Papa said.

"Just like that?"

"Just like what?"

"The funding. It's approved?" Copia asked.

"I said it was approved, didn't I?

"The scope of this project is…."

"Yes, yes," Papa said, cutting Copia off. "I'm sure you'll do the right thing."

Copia acted as if he didn't know how to respond, and finally, he mumbled something like a thank you before shuffling off.

What a strange man, Papa thought, and for a moment, he vaguely wondered if the mystery petitioner could have been Copia but immediately struck the idea down. There was no way he could see that rat-like man as the one he shared a bed with on the full moon. Besides, Copia had been with the church a long time, and he was pretty sure that those who revealed themselves to him were always new. It didn't seem very likely that an older clergy member – especially not a senior member – would request a sexual awakening ritual. If they didn't have it together by now, they never would.

Papa couldn't even tell through glancing at Copia's loose cassock if he fit the description of the hairy figure he remembered with the soft stomach and the large thighs. Either way, he was reasonably sure that one wasn't a match.

Papa picked up some papers and was reading over them when his door opened again. Feeling irritated over another interruption, he slammed his reports down to find Sister Imperator standing there and looking at him with that same haughty look she always had on her face.

"Sister, what can I do for you?" he asked.

"Papa, I have something for you. It appears you have another request for the next full moon ritual."

Papa stared at her. "Is this the same person?" he asked. She didn't reply, but there was a look on her face. "If you know it's the same person, you had better tell me!" he demanded, standing up from his desk.

"Well then, I shall give you further details closer to the date," she replied smoothly and walked out on him.

Chapter Text

Papa Emeritus the Third waited eagerly on the bed in the dark room. He was requested for the ritual of Essentia Comantem once again and it had taken everything in him not to go mad in the intervening time frame. In the interim, he kept his eye on the clergy, looking around to see if any particular brothers or sisters looked extra eager leading up to the full moon. He was sure it had to be the same person requesting him again. The petitioner couldn’t just leave Papa like that, having to deal with unresolved feelings. He had quizzed Sister Imperator repeatedly but she was being tight-lipped, not even giving him a clue. So he resolved to wait until the ritual when he would actually just ask the petitioner to reveal their name. He wasn’t supposed to press, but he was Papa. Why couldn’t he press just a little?

He took a deep breath and turned over in bed. What was taking so long? It felt like he had been in the ritual room for a good forty-five minutes now. In reality, his anxiety was making the time stretch out. He was nervous too about getting to meet the mystery man again and potentially finding out who it was. He, Papa, was actually nervous! He laughed a little at how silly he was being and restlessly shifted again.

Just then he heard the doorknob click and soft light crept in from the crack in the door. He sat up straight, straining his eyes through the opaque curtain that surrounded the bed. His breathing echoed loudly in the quiet room as the guest closed the door and silently made their way to the bed. He loved the mystery of the ritual, but it had never done this to him before. It had never taken a hold of him and made him obsess over a person he couldn’t even see nor hear.

The curtain was drawn back and Papa conjured up all sorts of vague images in his mind to overlap the darkness. Without external visual stimulus, the imagery in his fantasies was rich and detailed with his mind’s eye automatically manifesting the most tantalizing visuals thinkable to him.

The bed creaked softly with the weight of the body depressing it and he immediately reached out to stroke the arm. He had to know. He had to see with his fingers.

“It’s you,” he said, immediately recognizing the hairy arm.

The mystery man’s breathing was heavy and nerve-laden, just as his was. He thought maybe their first encounter had relieved a bit of the nerves, but they seemed just as intense as ever.

“I wish I could kiss you,” Papa said, running his fingers up the man’s arm and over his clavicle. The requester had once again stipulated no touching or kissing of the face. He heard a heavy sigh in response as the body turned toward him and interlaced their fingers. Searching for Papa’s other hand, the man pressed him back against the bed with his body on top of Papa.

“You’re allowed to tell me who you are,” Papa said. “Do you know how much I thought about this, about you, during the time between the last ritual?”

The man holding Papa down started to tremble. It was slight, but noticeable.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Papa soothed. “I’m sorry for asking. I know I’m not supposed to pressure you.”

The man dropped his head until he was resting in the crook of Papa’s neck with his face turned away and the back of his head pressed into Papa’s nose. Comparing their bodies like this, Papa could tell the other man was taller than he was, which really wasn’t saying much considering he was usually shorter than most of the men in the clergy (curse his brother for getting the tall genes).

Papa pressed his nose into the head of hair and inhaled. He smelled delicious, like coconut and mango and must have been freshly shampooed. The scent made his head spin.

Taking his hands from underneath, Papa snaked them around the warm body and held tightly. This was the feeling of heaven, he thought. No one had ever made him feel this way. At this point he didn’t care who the mystery petitioner was - sure, he had a few people in mind that he found attractive and wouldn’t mind if it turned out to be them - but there was something special about this person and the way they made him feel. He wondered why he couldn’t tell immediately who it was by just looking at their face in the light. He imagined a scenario as he walked the halls of the abbey where they would lock eyes and immediately both would know, without speaking any words. Papa had to believe that the clergyman felt the same way he did. Why else would the petitioner make another request?

Papa caressed the man’s back, running a hand up and down the trail of the spine as he kept inhaling the other’s sweet scent. Soon he was kissing the man’s neck. How desperately he wanted to take his face and kiss his lips. Why had the other requested no kissing or touching of the face? Was it some insecurity that the petitioner held or would doing so reveal who had made the request?

“Please, let me kiss you,” Papa begged, but the clergyman didn’t turn toward him. He felt like such a fool, pleading for this. He felt ashamed as well for pressuring the brother in ways he knew he wasn’t supposed to.

“I’m sorry,” Papa mumbled. “I must be making you uncomfortable. I’m not supposed to act this way. I don’t know what’s come over me.”

The brother turned his head toward Papa so that they shared the same breath with their noses almost touching and he caressed Papa’s bare face. There was no need for the skull paint, so he had washed it off earlier and gave himself a fresh shave.

They were so close, yet so far apart. Papa wanted all of him. He craved him. He needed him.

The man’s hand traced over Papa’s face gently, following every line and every angle. He even carefully followed each ear and then ran a hand through Papa’s slick hair. When a finger came close to Papa’s mouth, Papa took it and kissed it reverently before allowing it to roam again.

When the mystery man rose and placed deep kisses on top of Papa’s head near his scalp, Papa licked the shallow groove at the base of his neck which caused a slight gasp from the recipient.

“Let me taste all of you,” Papa said insistently. “I will savor every inch of your body.”

The quick and shallow breaths that met Papa’s ears gave Papa the signal to continue as his lips roamed even further down. He was growing hard now and felt the other man’s response on his hip.

“Your skin…” Papa said breathlessly as his lips suckled and kissed every part he could of the man’s chest, arms, and shoulders. “It’s so sumptuous.”

Papa nestled his face into the full chest of hair, nose deep into the other man’s sternum. The way the hair cradled his face, soft but springy, it was incredibly intoxicating and he couldn’t get enough of it.

Soon, Papa’s tongue and lips were carefully grazing over the man’s belly, which was round and soft and then down to his cock, which he took in his mouth. The man dug a hand into Papa’s hair and moaned when Papa swirled a tongue around the head, relishing in the salty taste. Papa was going to enjoy every inch of this. He deliberately licked the whole shaft from top to bottom as slowly as he could. It was so full and hard in his mouth and he savored the weight of it on his tongue, he never wanted to take it out. It gave him so much pleasure to have the throbbing dick deep in his throat and he reached down a hand to palm his erection as he continued to encourage soft noises from the receiver.

Papa’s lips popped off the tip and then he said, “You are delicious,” as he rolled the ball sack between his fingers. “If you came for me now I would drink you down.”

“O- oh,” the clergyman whispered huskily.

Papa was loving what he was doing, bringing pleasure. He was so good at it too and the man seemed like he was nearing his climax when a hand pushed Papa’s face away as the brother gasped for air.

“What is it? I can give you something else,” Papa said. “Perhaps you’d like to fuck me again?”

The sibling took hold of Papa’s arm tightly and Papa knew that the man wanted something. Usually Papa took charge, giving the sibling all the pleasure they could handle, but he knew the petitioner would try to communicate with him through touch in order to get his desires across.

“Show me,” Papa said and the man took Papa by the wrist and then climbed to his knees so he was facing Papa. Then the brother guided Papa’s hand to his hip and turned so his back was to Papa and the man's face was in the pillow.

Papa’s hand, still being on the man’s hip, could feel him turning and he reached his other hand out and made contact with the clergyman’s ass in the air.

“You want me to fuck you,” Papa said breathlessly, barely believing it was true.

The man made an assenting moan and Papa eagerly scrambled to reach the lube on the bedside stand.

Papa was about to ask if the brother had done this before, but that was a silly question, wasn’t it? This was a sexual awakening ritual and he should automatically assume that the sibling was inexperienced.

“We can take it slow,” Papa whispered. “I’m not that big either, so no need to worry,” he said with a slight chuckle.

Papa’s hand ran across the backside propped up in front of him and he felt the skin prickle beneath his touch. The room was perfectly climate-controlled, but Papa knew that he could take a sibling from chilled with goosebumps to hot and moaning in minutes.

“I’m going to touch you down there,” Papa said. “Signal to me if anything I am doing is uncomfortable.”

Papa took his finger and dragged it slowly down the middle of the man’s cheeks and past the forest of hair until it lightly brushed across the entrance and he felt the clergyman instinctively shudder.

“You’re doing well,” Papa encouraged. “I’m going to lube my finger now and touch you on the outside. I won’t go any further until you signal me.”

The sibling exhaled as Papa flipped the cap open with his thumb and squirted a generous amount onto his forefinger and middle finger. He then put the bottle down and reached out again in the dark to explore with his lube-coated digits. Papa parted the man again and ran the finger gently in a swirling motion around the bumpy rim. There was a hitch of breath as the fingers tantalizingly worked their magic and they danced across the radius and back outward again, rubbing the folds of skin in a massaging motion.

Papa was so hard his cock almost hurt and he fondled himself with his other hand. He considered using a cock ring earlier because he was so nervous, but there was clearly no need as he tugged at his length which was eager to fill the wet space that his fingers caressed.

On the next pass of his exploratory probing, the clergyman pushed his ass backward, allowing the finger entrance. He only went as far as the first knuckle before he stopped and let the brother accommodate himself to the wanted intrusion.

“Let me know if I’m hurting you,” Papa said again to a stifled moan in affirmation.

With this acceptance, he pushed in further and deeper until the clergyman was finally ready for more.

He was two fingers deep when he leaned down and ran his long tongue from taint to scrotum, which caused the brother to clench around him and further utter noises into the pillow and bedsheets.

Papa lavishly worked his tongue in the tight space, pressing in with both the tip of his tongue and fingers on opposite ends, working towards the same goal. His tongue massaged the prostate from the outside while both fingers rubbed it from the inside and very soon he was eliciting shaking and moans from the brother, who arched back into his face.

He very well could have milked an orgasm from the other man, but a hand came back and grabbed him by the wrist, pulling at him defiantly.

Papa let up from where he had been lapping the tight skin of the man’s taint, his face wet and covered with his own saliva.

“Do you want my dick now?” Papa asked and the reply was an intense insistent squeeze.

His fingers were still deep inside the clergyman and he felt around the bed to grab the lube with his left hand. Popping the cap off with his teeth he slicked himself up with his left hand while continuing to fuck slowly into the man with his right hand. He slid up behind the clergyman only to realize that the ass was too high in the air and he was too short to reach it.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “Slight technical problem.”

His fingers pulled out easily with one slick motion as he maneuvered himself off the bed until he was standing, one hand still holding the hips in front of him.

“Slide over here, I can’t reach you like that.”

He guided the clergyman his way with a tug until they both had their feet on the floor and the man was leaning forward, his torso on the bed. Papa grabbed a pillow and shoved it underneath the man’s belly and then felt around for the positioning. It was perfect this time.

“Are you ready?” Papa asked and a hand found him again and squeezed.

He guided the tip of his cockhead against the man’s ass in the dark and he knew he finally found home when his head was enveloped suddenly in warmth. He slid further in, like a hand fitting the perfect glove and his breathing staggered and hitched. The feeling of him, just the sheer and utter ecstasy of burying his dick deeply into the one his heart most desired was magnificent. His legs shook and his hands tightened around the handles of the man’s hips and he had to stop, for fear he would already cum. Papa’s head was spinning and the sensations were escalating over his whole body. He wanted this for so long. He dreamed all month of when they would finally join again, IF they would finally join again, and at last the moment was there and he was balls deep. It felt better than his hand ever did on those many mornings in the shower or the silent, lonely nights. It felt better than it ever did in his dreams and half-awake imaginations.

He leaned over, pressing his nose in between the clergyman’s shoulder blades and rasped heavily for air.

“Oh sweet Satan… fuck… I…”

He couldn’t even form words. He was so delirious.

The hand found him again, twining fingers through his and when he regained himself he had enough sense to continue his momentum. Each small thrust sent electrical currents through his burning abdomen and down his legs. The clergyman had also begun to cry lewdly into the bed as if he had never been fucked in his life.

“This is…” he began to say and then it devolved into a jumble of un-recognizable syllables.

His hand ran up the line of the spine again and back down as he fucked into the clergyman’s hot, wet hole.

“I can’t believe how tight you are,” was the first sentence he managed to say. “Unbelievable.”

Before he knew it, and with quite a surprise, he was cumming, and way earlier than he expected. He had held out for close to a week in order to make sure he had enough stamina for the night and it felt like a geyser was pouring out of him now.

“Oh, fuck!” he cried out and dug in, slamming himself deep into the clergyman as his essence was expelled from him in a climactic spasm of waves. Like a hose that had a knot in it and was suddenly released, he burst over and over again, each crest less voluminous in product and less intense than the last until he gave one final thrust and almost fell over.

The brother beneath him was gasping and Papa realized with shame how unfulfilled the clergyman must feel with his quick orgasm. His face burned in the dark and he was thankful for it because he hadn’t remembered the last time he came that quickly. His reputation in the church could be ruined if anyone found out - not really, but he was dramatic and so it felt that way.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Papa said quietly. “That hasn’t happened before, I promise.”

That was a lie and he knew it. There were probably points in his life when it did happen, especially when he was younger, but as a middle-aged man now it seemed like a far-away memory.

When he pulled out his cum gushed out behind him and he leaned forward to swipe a lick at the river rushing down the man’s thigh, eager to taste himself in the aftermath of his own pleasure. The man moaned beneath him when Papa’s tongue made contact and he pushed back into Papa’s mouth, wanting more.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” Papa said.

He reached over to the side table with all of the items he had memorized and pulled a small towel out of the top drawer to help wipe up his own mess.

After the clergyman was clean, Papa ordered him back on the bed and he reached out to feel the man’s cock, still stiff and engorged.

Papa flopped down next to the petitioner and then whispered, “Use my mouth. Fuck my throat and fill me up. I want to swallow you.”

Short, nervous breaths came in reply and Papa lay prostrate, with the man gingerly positioning himself to kneel over Papa’s mouth. When the tip brushed his lips he opened and the clergyman dipped himself in only a slight amount. Papa took hold immediately, engulfing him with his tongue and sucking his length in. The man gasped and fell forward, his hands planted on the bed as he fucked Papa’s mouth. With a roll of his hips, the clergyman pushed himself in and his cock moved past the point where most people would have gagged. But not Papa. The head hit the back of Papa’s throat and then it slid down even further. This seemed to surprise the petitioner because he kept gasping, as if he couldn’t catch his breath. Finally, there came a point where Papa was doing less sucking and more letting his mouth just be fucked like there was no tomorrow by this shy and nervous man.

The clergyman let out a guttural cry and Papa’s throat was suddenly being flooded by hot, sticky cum. This time he almost choked by the sheer amount of it that went down his throat, but he soon regained control and sucked the cock dry.

The clergyman shook sensitively as Papa’s tongue ran over the supercharged skin to take the last drops from him and then the brother fell down in a heap next to Papa, chest heaving with every breath he took. Papa placed a hand next to him and ran it down the sweaty back and cupped the ass of the sibling. Even more than his own orgasm, he got joy out of pulling from another the most amazing feelings he could.

Finally the brother rolled to the side and placed his own hand on Papa’s chest, curling a finger through the thin, sparse hair there. He gave a sigh and Papa pressed into the man, almost kissing him on the mouth by instinct before he pulled back and laid there, arms and legs intertwined with his mysterious petitioner.

“Please don’t leave yet,” Papa said. “Stay longer this time.”

There was obviously no verbal reply from the brother, but his slight shift to be closer to Papa signaled something to the other that made his heart beat loudly in his chest. Soon, Papa was wrapping arms around the man, turning him into a little spoon as his nose rested perfectly on the back of the neck. When Papa’s eyes lulled shut, he pulled the nearby cover over them. Already the other man was breathing deeply and rhythmically, buried in the web of sleep.

“Papa.”

He heard his name and awoke groggily. He blinked in the darkness, momentarily confused at where he was. Then he remembered the ritual - the fantastic sex - and felt for the clergyman, who lay sprawled next to him, arms and legs out like a starfish.

The room was still pitch-black. It would have been early morning, he felt, but the room was sealed from all outside sources of light for a reason. Not only that, but the man called his name. Papa desperately tried to place it in the fogginess of having just woken up.

The clergyman bolted up suddenly, wide awake.

“It’s alright, I’m here,” Papa said.

The petitioner was feeling around frantically and his hand bumped Papa’s face in the dark with a slap. Papa could hear the man open his mouth as if about to speak before he closed it again and made a small whine.

Tearing at the blankets, the mysterious man seemed caught up in all the bedding as Papa tried to calm him down. Eventually, a ripping noise, a loud thud, and groan signaled that the clergyman had fallen backward off the bed, tearing the curtains down with him.

“Let me help you,” Papa said with concern, scooting off the bed.

The clergyman stopped struggling as Papa got down and felt around for him, his hand accidentally brushing across - something bristly? The petitioner hastily smacked Papa’s hand away and covered himself with the bedding.

“I’m sorry!” Papa said. “I didn’t mean to!”

But it was too late. Papa had already felt it. There was clearly some type of hair on the man’s face.

Papa sighed in defeat. “Please, I’m sorry,” he said. He leaned back against the bed, listening for the other man’s signal, but they both stayed still and silent.

Eventually, the clergyman stirred, pulling the sheet and curtain from his head and sitting up.

Papa wanted to say something impressive, maybe something witty or charismatic, but the words wouldn’t come from his mouth. The man was shuffling around and discarding the bedding and Papa knew he was about to leave.

“Just tell me who you are,” Papa said with a defeated tone in his voice, but there was no reply.

“Wouldn’t you like to do this more often?” he asked, and again nothing.

“Have I done something wrong?” Papa asked desperately as the petitioner got up.

Papa could hear bare feet on the floor make their way to the door and he tried the last thing he could think of.

“Please, I need to know!” he cried out.

The petitioner’s footsteps stopped, as if considering, then Papa heard a hand on the doorknob. He knew when the door was pulled open, there would be light.

Papa slumped, dropping his head in his hands.

“I’m not looking. You can leave,” Papa said.

There was a pause and then the doorknob was twisted. There was only a momentary brief flash of light behind Papa’s eyelids before the door slammed closed again.

That entire day Papa felt like shit. He turned a wonderful night into such a mess with his incessant prodding and whining and he was pretty sure the brother would never come back to see him again, nor would he ever find out who it was. Why had he pressured the man so much? Papa felt sick. This was all his fault.

Just when he was about to sink lower into despair, something came to him. He had found out some information that morning, mainly that the petitioner had some type of facial hair. Sure, it didn’t narrow it down all that much and the person could just shave to throw him off the trail, but it was something. And that was much better than nothing. Not only that but he recalled faint memories of a voice calling his name in his sleep. If he could just place it!

Papa sat up with a renewed vigor. He could do this. Although he felt queasy at how obsessive he had become, if he could just see the man face-to-face something would click for both of them and everything would be alright. The petitioner was clearly nervous about revealing himself, but if Papa just got the hard part out of the way, they could move on to the really good stuff.

That evening at supper he had laser-focused eyes on every sibling present in the dining hall. Papa sometimes sat at the head of a large table with his senior clergy members when he didn’t feel like dining in private and tonight was one of those nights. Using facial hair as a clue certainly helped, but after supper he was just as aggravated as before when he realized how many damn siblings sported facial hair these days.

That night he couldn’t sleep. His stomach twisted and he felt ill from the intense butterflies and the terrifying level of infatuation they insinuated. He hadn’t felt this way since he was much, much younger and it bothered him that at his age he would suddenly develop a crush with such intensity that one might think he was still a hormonal teenager. What really got to him the most was that his heart fluttered for someone he couldn’t even see.

He looked over at the clock which read two forty-five am. He had better try to fall asleep now because he knew Sister Imperator was an early riser and she was going to help him find the mystery man whether she knew it or not.

His alarm rang at six am and he groggily swiped at his phone screen to get rid of the distressing noise. He knew Sister Imperator left to go pray at the chapel every morning at six thirty. That was really the only time he could expect her to be out and he would need to wake and be ready.

At six thirty-five he saw her walking in the direction of the chapel and he hurriedly made his way toward her room. He tried the handle first, but of course it was locked so he once again used his master key to break in.

Once he was inside he had to fumble around for the light switch and when he finally found it what he saw made his eyebrows rise. A neon pink glow lit up the entire room and hanging on the wall were all types of crops, paddles, and leather BDSM equipment.

“What the fuck,” he uttered.

He momentarily forgot what he had come for as he gazed around, but then quickly went about his task. He had to find some evidence in here. There was none to be seen in her office so there had to be something stashed in her room. Now, if he could just find the key for the wooden lockbox, that would be his best chance.

He started hunting around, pulling open drawers when one of the many dildos on top of the drawer caught his eye.

“Huh, I have this one,” he said, examining the purple double-sided monster that twirled with the push of a button. “Good choice.”

Everywhere he looked was futile. Sister Imperator’s room was filled to the brim with sex toys and he was not about to start speculating who she was using them on either. He even pulled a large case from underneath the bed that had the really hardcore stuff inside. In fact, there were a couple of items even he was not familiar with. Quite a feat in and of itself and he made a mental note to look them up on the internet later.

He spent about 20 minutes looking but found nothing but traumatizing imagery of Sister Imperator with a cane or a whip and that made him shudder. There was nothing here that would give him any indication as to the identity of the petitioner so he left in defeat, making sure nothing looked disturbed and locking the door behind him.

He felt dirty, not because of what he had seen in Sister’s room, but because he realized he was stooping so low as to snoop in a woman’s room. Her office was one thing, but to look through her private belongings? How low was he willing to go in his depraved quest? Sister would absolutely kill and behead him if she found out what he had done, which then became another source of his woes.

He was moping at his desk and thinking lusty thoughts of the other night when Sister Imperator came in his office to bring him some invoices. His heart jumped when he saw her and he was sure she knew what he had done and began sweating profusely.

“Papa, you look ill,” she said.

“No, I’m fine. Really,” he said, wiping a finger across his brow and bringing it away damp. Good thing the makeup was waterproof.

So she didn’t know he had been snooping in her room then. He had forgotten that she normally glared at him like that when she saw him.

She gave him a funny look as a paper slipped out of her hand and she bent down to retrieve it. That is when he saw it - a string wrapped around her neck with a small key dangling from it. That was it, the key to the request box! She quickly tucked it back into her habit and he turned his head swiftly, pretending to look in a different direction.

After she left his office he grabbed the chasuble over where his heart was and scrunched it, feeling his nerves. Was he really going to do this? They key must be on her during the day at all times, which would mean if he wanted that key he would have to take it from her room at night. Which meant when she was in there, sleeping.

At two in the morning he made his way over to her room, which wasn’t that far away from his. He was wearing something comfortable and loose - t-shirt and sweatpants with bare feet so as to not make any noise and when he got to her door he looked around to see if anyone was watching and then pressed his ear to it. He heard nothing beyond but the low hum of a fan and then he swallowed, wondering if he was really about to go through with this. He quickly ran through all the possible scenarios in his mind of what could happen if he got caught, with death being the highest on the list and screaming and yelling being the lowest. He steeled himself. He was a man on a very important mission and he had to do this for the sake of his own sanity.

He steadied his breathing and then put the key in the lock, twisting it slowly. It made a loud click when it caught and forced the bolt into the open position and he winced, chest rising and falling rapidly with all of his adrenaline. Listening at the door for another minute, he made absolutely sure he heard nothing before twisting the knob slowly and letting the door sit closed with the knob fully twisted for a moment before applying the lightest pressure to the door as possible. It made a small cracking noise but mostly opened silently, letting a sliver of light into her room which he quickly entered into, shutting the door behind him just as quietly. He stood there, crouched low to the carpet, and let his eyes adjust to the darkness, ears sharp for any movement or noises that might alert him as to Sister Imperator awakening. His blood was pumping thickly through his body, his heart racing, palms sweaty as he remained crouched. He was a man and he was made for this, he told himself. This was some predator-prey type shit; it was the ultimate thrill of the hunt and he was the lion, closing in on his kill. With eyes finally focused, he could see the lump on the nearby bed and the illumination from the night light in the bathroom provided just what he needed to make his way to where he wanted to go.

He slunk across the room toward the bed and the nightstand nearby. He was praying the key was there for him to snatch. Oh Lucifer, guide my hand, he said in his mind.

Just then Sister Imperator snorted and her body turned toward him. He froze, eyes dilated watching her form with rapt attention. She settled and kept breathing slowly and he realized it must have just been the normal movements in sleep and he tried calming his almost hyperventilating breathing.

He made it to her nightstand and became very aware of just how close he was to her sleeping body. All she had to do was open her eyes and she would see him. He frantically looked over the space he thought it might be on and when it was empty his stomach dropped. It must be nearby - the drawer of the nightstand perhaps. His hand pulled the latch and it slid open effortlessly. Unfortunately, he blocked any dim light from the bathroom and he couldn’t see anything. He reached his hand in the drawer and searched, but nothing he touched felt like a key. So where the fuck was it? Was it on her body still? The worst part about this all was that he was so desperate that he was willing to steal the fucking key from her sleeping body.

Suddenly a hand grasped his wrist before he knew exactly what was happening as Sister Imperator shot up in bed. She hit the button on the nearby lamp as he gaped at her helplessly like a fish out of water. Her face looked tired and haggard, but her eyes were open and dead set on him.

“Emeritus the Third!” she screamed loudly, like a harpy might shriek, and his legs buckled underneath him.

Fuck, this was the absolute worst thing that could have happened and he realized in that moment just how unprepared he was for her wrath and how infinitesimally small he felt.

She seemed to launch herself from the bed, still maintaining a steely grip on his wrist and stood over him as he fell back onto the carpeted floor.

“Just what the fuck are you doing in my room in the middle of night, you little shit?” she shrieked.

Lucifer save him, he was suddenly a little kid again, making trouble around the ministry and she caught him red-handed and had him in her death-grip, ready to dispense her punishment with eyes ablaze, her painted nails digging into him like some horrible mummy risen from the grave.

“Answer me!”

His lip quivered. “I…”

“Emeritus! Answer me right the fuck now before I make this much, much worse for you than it already is!”

“Don’t!”

“Then talk!”

“The key!” he yelled, cowering on the floor.

“What fucking key? What are you talking about?”

“The key to the lockbox!”

She straightened, pulling him up and eliciting a pop from his arm and shoulder. A look of confusion washed over her face a moment before it dawned on her.

“Is this about the ritual lockbox?” she asked angrily. “Are you still trying to find out the identity of the petitioner?”

He nodded hastily, refusing to meet her eyes, but he felt her hand clenching tighter. She was surprisingly strong for an old woman.

“You absolutely disgraceful example of a Papa! If Nihil were here right now he’d take control of this church from you, that is how little you deserve to lead it!” she spewed.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a small child-like voice.

“You’re sorry,” she mocked him. “You will be sorry.”

He looked up at her, discomfort and shame evident on his face.

“Don’t move!” she growled, releasing his wrist as she stamped off across the room. He rubbed at where her fingers had dug into his skin as it turned an angry red and watched her warily. She snatched a paddle from her wall and he suddenly felt queasy as she made her way back to him, leaving fire and brimstone in her wake.

He swallowed hard. “W- what’s happening? I said I was sorry!”

She came up to him again and snatched him by the ear. Holy fuck that was painful, he thought. She hadn’t done that to him since he was a shitty little brat of a teen.

“Bend. Over,” she said to him, her voice deadly and cold.

“What?” he blanched and she released his ear.

“I said bend the fuck over!”

He quickly threw himself on the bed in front of her, glancing back with wide eyes.

“You think that just because you are older now and in charge of the church that you can still keep getting away with these shenanigans? Well I’ve had it! If I need to teach you a lesson like I used to, then so be it!”

“If I let you do this, will you promise to just forget about everything?” he begged.

She put her hands on both of her hips and glared at him. “I might,” she said.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” he squeaked and she raised the paddle to run her hand along its smooth surface. “Fine, do your worst,” he assented.

That was apparently the wrong thing to say to her because she slammed the paddle down so hard on his ass he felt like he had the wind knocked out of him.

“Fuck…” he croaked out as he buried his face into the bed.

“You’re not getting off that easy,” she said. “You know what to do.”

He pulled his pants down just enough so they sat under the ledge of his asscheeks and he looked at her defiantly. She slammed the paddle down again and he was momentarily dazed as it crashed against his bare skin. The sting of the implement soon turned into a burn that made his body shake.

The next crack of the paddle made him bite his lip, and hard, as he felt the tangy taste of blood in his mouth. At the fourth spank, he let out a loud curse and scrunched his eyes closed. This woman was absolutely going to town on his precious behind. By the sixth spank he was gasping, his forehead rimmed with sweat. The eighth blow left him screaming out.

“Only two more,” she said. “Do you think you can handle it?”

He managed to nod and get out, “yes,” as his lips trembled.

The tenth paddling left him feeling as if he had left his body. He didn’t know where he was and it took him a moment to come back and regain awareness as the burn set in.

“Get up,” she commanded as she set the paddle down nearby.

He obeyed her and climbed wobbly to his feet, pulling his pants up.

“Now listen to me,” she said. “I will absolutely not have you disrespecting the traditions of the ritual and most of all I will not have you taking advantage of that poor boy and the trust he has in you to obey the fucking rules and keep his privacy!”

Poor boy?

Papa nodded wearily.

“No more of this,” she said firmly, affixing his face with a look that only a parental figure could give their child to put the fear of God (or Satan, in this case) into them.

“I promise,” he wheezed. “No more. I’m done.”

“Good.” She nodded solemnly. “Because if I even hear that you’ve done anything untoward to anyone, I am coming for your ass.”

He dropped his face and nodded, cheeks burning as red as his posterior likely was.

“Now get the fuck out of my room and never make us speak of this again.”

He was just about to open her door when she added, “And I’m getting my locks changed. All of them.”

Papa hobbled from Sister Imperator’s room, ass absolutely on fire and leg muscles twitching. His lower back had lightning shooting through it from the sheer amount of force he put into clenching himself against the blows, but as he walked like an invalid to his quarters something in him had changed. He actually felt… good? All the deception, all of the craziness on his part, the shame about sneaking around and breaking into places, it was done. From here on out, he would be released from it. The pain had purified him and he did his penance. He would leave the poor man alone, whoever he was.

When he got back to his quarters, he took frozen items from the freezer and lay face-first on the bed, placing the ice-cold bags on his bare ass. It was going to be a painful and restless night.

The next day when he got to his office he saw a box sitting on his desk. He opened it with curiosity only to find out it was one of those blow-up doughnut butt cushions that people with hemorrhoids use. He groaned. This must have been a gift from Sister Imperator. How nice of her, he thought.

He blew it up and threw it on his seat, sitting gingerly down and adjusting until he was in the least amount of discomfort possible. He avoided looking at Sister Imperator in the eye for the rest of the day, but she acted like nothing had even happened, keeping her normal ‘cheerful’ demeanor about her and acting professionally.

That afternoon as he walked back from lunch, he had to take a pause. Why the fuck was the abbey so large? He thought as he leaned against the nearby windowpane of a glass window that looked out over the walls of the abbey to rolling green hills. He slumped over, his ass and legs still hurting as he took some weight off of them and he sighed, thinking about all the recent events he had been through. His heart still ached with longing, but now his ass ached too. How had he fucked everything up so monumentally? Why was he left feeling so unfulfilled by it all sometimes? He loved being Papa but fuck, what was missing from his life?

“Papa?” a voice said behind him and he turned, stirred from his thoughts.

“Hmm?”

It was Copia who looked like he was just coming from the direction of the offices. The Cardinal looked nervous.

“Are you alright?” Copia asked. “You just looked…” he trailed off, not finishing the thought but glanced up at him. “Can I help?”

Papa stood up straight, stretching his back some and wincing.

“No, no,” Papa replied. “I’m alright I just. I… I think I’d rather not talk about it,” he said.

How odd, Papa thought. He rarely ever paid Copia attention, despite him being a Cardinal in his church, and they didn’t speak much aside from formal matters. Copia just wasn’t very memorable, in Papa’s opinion, but the gesture coming from him was rather nice and he did appreciate it.

“I’d better get back to work,” Papa said.

Copia nodded and they went to move past each other.

Something came to Papa suddenly and he remembered the man had facial hair. Copia had those sideburns and that mustache, that counted as facial hair. And there was something about his voice too that reminded him of the other night. Papa turned to look back, but Copia was already long down the hall and turning the corner.

Papa scoffed to himself. No, it can’t be, he thought. There’s no way.

Papa had settled back into his office and was about done with work for the day when Sister Imperator came in. He looked up at her and shame burned on his face that he tried to repress.

“Papa, I have something for you,” she said, holding out a slip of paper.

Curiously, he took it from her and opened it. It read:

“April 23rd, night of the full moon.

Ritual of Essentia Commantem

9:30 pm”

Papa looked up at her, folding the paper and placing it in the top drawer of his desk as he nodded in reply.

He wanted to ask her if it was the same person, of course, but he wouldn’t. He promised her that he was over searching for the mystery man. He couldn’t put himself through anymore of this longing and desperate searching and he couldn’t keep breaking the rules of the church that he swore to lead with a gentle, guiding hand. How could he lead others if he couldn’t even get a hold of himself?

Sister Imperator stood, watching him and he looked back up at her with slight confusion forming on his face over why she was still standing there. Just when he was about to ask her what she wanted, she smiled at him, a slight knowing tug pulling at the corner of her mouth on the right side, and then she turned and walked out of his office, leaving him with a look of astonishment upon his face.

Chapter Text

Even though Papa Emeritus had promised that he would no longer hunt for the identity of the mystery petitioner, that didn’t stop him from daydreaming and fantasizing about his past encounters as well as the upcoming one. He continued on his work about the church, leading mass, holding various rituals, and practicing with his ghouls, but his head was in the clouds. Almost every person he talked to had potential for being his secret crush and he treated them as such, hoping they might divulge some all-important information to him. Alas, no one outed themselves, but he was still hopeful as the next full moon grew closer that he would finally know once and for all. 

Meanwhile, Sister Imperator was oddly nice to him which he found highly suspicious. She kept dropping little comments to him about the upcoming ritual, which irked him a little considering they made a deal and for her to suddenly bring it up almost seemed like she was rubbing her secret knowledge in his face. 

“Please do take extra care at the next full moon,” she would say. “Try not to hurt any of our clergy member's feelings, even if they do tell you something you may not like.”

Papa gave her a strange look. “Since when have I ever not been overly conscientious about the feelings of our clergy members?”

“You know what I mean,” she scoffed. “Don’t build your hopes up, is all I am saying.”

“I do my utmost to make everyone feel loved and welcomed. I assure you that no one will be leaving my ritual feeling anything other than complete bliss,” he replied.

“It’s you I’m talking about,” she said as she turned to leave the room.

He considered what she said for a moment. It was true, not many people cared about how he felt or if he was satisfied, but that wasn’t what mattered to him. It was his job to take care of his flock and not the other way around. Although it did give him pause to think that maybe someone out there was thinking about if he was satisfied and if he was happy with his position. Damn it if it had to be Sister Imperator though. 

That got him thinking about his future. His future was the church. He poured everything he had into it despite what she may think. Some of his happiest moments were when he was on tour, taking on the adoring crowds, free to be himself completely unrestricted there up onstage. He loved what he did and he saw himself doing it long into the future. He hoped to remain the head of the clergy into old age like Primo. Hell, he even wanted to keep singing and touring as long as his voice and body would allow him to. 

But what about the other side of things? He had to admit that he never really felt comfortable being alone. He craved the attention, the interaction, and the energy of others and when he was by himself with just his thoughts, he felt a gnawing inside of him that something wasn’t being fulfilled. It was one of the reasons he always welcomed anyone to his door and sometimes had a never-ending supply of siblings in his bed. The truth of the matter was that he couldn’t stand being alone with just himself and his own introspection. Sometimes he feared those lonely nights when it was just himself in bed, staring at a roaring fireplace with a bottle of brandy on his nightstand that he sipped on like a baby would a bottle. 

He had finally come to realize that his fascination with the mystery petitioner in the ritual was due to a projection of his own fantasies on this blank canvas of a person. He was putting his inner desires into this perfect avatar who was showing him the attention he so craved and desired. He really hoped it wasn’t all there was to it, though. The man kept coming back, didn’t he? That must have meant something. Papa could have anyone in his bed that he wanted to, but how many would stay? How many would come back the next day and the next? How many people could see him at his worst and still desire him? How many siblings cared for who he was just outside of this sexual paragon who could give a person their every bodily desire? How many people wanted to have a conversation with him about what he liked and wanted and felt and strove for? Despite being surrounded by a loving throng of people, he felt deeply alone. He wanted so desperately to believe that this thing he had going on with this clergyman was different. 

“It’s some Satanic convention, I don’t know.” Papa sighed, looking over the apprehensive Cardinal the next day.

“There must be someone better suited for this sort of thing,” Copia replied, looking down at his foot which he kicked at some imaginary dust on the floor. 

“There isn’t and we need to have representation there. You know I would otherwise go, but I have an assload of meetings with some very important individuals who are crucial to the ongoing operations of this church.”

“I see,” Copia replied, sounding disappointed.

“You can take Sister Anilah with you to help set up the booth. I already have her printing off the information packets which she will bring to the convention,” Papa said.

“Yes, Papa,” Copia mumbled.

Papa looked up into Copia’s dour-looking face, the ring of black around his eyes not helping much. “Look, this is the perfect opportunity for you to show the church what you are made of. It would really do you some good to get out of your comfort zone, don’t you think?” Papa asked.

“I’ve been trying,” Copia said. 

“That’s good to hear. As a Cardinal, this church expects a lot of you. It’s nice to see some initiative coming from you.”

“And uh… the full moon ritual next week?” Copia asked, inspecting his two leather gloves suddenly.

“Yes, yes, you two will be back in time to attend, now leave me and go get packed as your ride will be here within the hour. I have a lot of work to do,” Papa said.

Copia shuffled out the door as Papa looked over the proposal he had for the entertainment company. More deals meant more income, meaning an ability to increase their global reach and more pull for their church. He had to get this right and show not only Imperator but himself that he was worthy of leading this operation.

A thought suddenly came to him as he was deep into his work. Why was Copia concerned with the full moon ritual? He had never shown an interest in participating before and it didn’t seem very high on his list of things-most-important-to-Copia. Maybe he was asking for Sister Anilah? But no, he had just informed Copia that Sister Anilah would be traveling with him so there was no way he knew of her involvement before. Could it be he had an interest for a different reason?

A funny feeling came over Papa as he sat there staring at his screen. A familiar phantom sting on his backside warning him about nosing around in places he wasn’t wanted. He looked up at the clock. The entertainment representative would be there in less than an hour and he had to make sure the presentation was ready, he couldn’t go snooping now. 

As he read the information on his slides, he found his focus slipping as he kept re-reading the same paragraphs over and over again. What Copia had said was eating at him and he couldn’t get the feeling out of his mind that Copia might be involved somehow, but there was only one way of being sure. Copia was set to leave to go to the convention, a last-minute decision as Papa had the industry meeting scheduled so suddenly. That meant that Papa would have to confront him when he returned to the abbey. But could he stand waiting that long to get some answers? 

Papa glanced up anxiously at the clock and then back to his screen. Fuck it. This was as good as it was going to get, he thought as he saved and closed the program and then ripped the thumb drive out of the laptop and shoved it into his pocket. He leapt up from his chair and bolted to the door, throwing it open. He tore down the hall, not knowing which way he was going. Where would Copia be now? His quarters? The meeting was in ten minutes and he had very little time, so Papa decided to check the quarters first, hoping this was the right decision. 

When he got to the room, no one answered the door and panic began to rise in his gut. Five minutes. Fuck, he was going to be late. He had to go to the meeting on the other side of the building and it wouldn’t be a good look if he was late so he rushed off in the opposite direction.

He entered the main hall and was just about to dart across the way to meeting rooms when something caught his eye and he stopped dead in his tracks. At the entrance to the building stood a man dressed in a white suit and a black hat rimmed with a white stripe holding a silver-tipped cane. His back was to Papa, so he couldn’t see his face, but his breath caught in his chest as he looked at the tailcoat of the man as he bent over to tie his shoe. Instead of bending at the knees, as one would do, the man bent over at the waist, his ass poking out between the two tails and Papa could see absolutely everything in his form-fitting white suit pants. Ass, taint, thighs, *everything* was perfectly outlined. That body, had Papa seen it somewhere before? Maybe felt it even?

Sister Anilah rushed out from the hallway next to Papa and he blinked, confused for a moment. She had a small suitcase in her hand and a backpack over her shoulder as ran up to the man in the white suit like she knew him. He rose from his shoe-tying and picked up his own suitcase next to him on the floor, facing the sibling.

“Ah, Sister Anilah, the cab waits outside for us,” a familiar voice said. 

Papa knew that voice. The man reached out and pulled the latch of the door and it swung open, showing a taxi in the round driveway. Just then, the man glanced back and Papa saw his face and his jaw almost hit the floor. It was Copia. It was fucking Copia wearing that tight-ass white suit looking like he was about to go moonlighting at some club where he played saxophone with a jazz band. He wouldn’t have believed it for a second if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes and he stood there in the middle of the main hall looking dumbfounded.

Copia looked almost just as surprised as he glanced back and saw Papa staring so intently at him.

“Father Copia?” Sister Anilah asked, as she gave him a confused look.

The first thing that Papa felt was the flush of heat to his face as the blood rushed to fill every vein and capillary in his head. It wouldn’t be noticeable through his skull paint, but his ears were probably turning a cherry red right about now. The next thing that happened was the feeling moved down to his stomach and he suddenly felt very lightheaded and queasy. It continued on through him, quicker than a couple of breaths. He was sporting a semi now, his hands were clammy, his pupils dilated, as his heart continued to pump quicker and faster making him feel even worse than the moment before. His mouth sat open, sucking in the air as his brain tried to make sense of what he was seeing. 

Just then a stern voice commanded, “Papa!” and he turned to see Sister Imperator, looking at him from the other direction of the meeting rooms. 

“They are waiting for you,” she said, her eyes boring into his.

He stood, rooted to the spot and looked back at Copia, whose eyes were still on him. Those soft eyes…

The moment was broken by the loud honk of the Taxi’s horn.

“We need to leave, Father Copia!” Sister Anilah insisted and Copia turned away.

Papa felt like he was no longer in his body. Every movement was foreign to him. He walked in a daze and met the industry executives in much of the same state. He didn’t even know how the meeting went. He could think of nothing else but Copia in that devilishly tight white suit looking at him with his intense gaze. 

When it was all over, Sister Imperator looked at him angrily and poked a finger in his chest.

“You better get your shit together,” she growled.

“It’s Copia, isn’t it?”

Sister Imperator crossed her arms and stared at him for a moment before making a dissatisfied noise in her throat.

“I guess you’ll just have to wait until the ritual to find out, now won’t you?” she said rather sarcastically. 

She left him in the meeting room and he stared out the window, seeing everything in a sudden new light. He couldn’t comprehend any of this. Was it even possible to identify someone solely by their backside? If so, what if he was right? What if it was Copia?  That weird little rat man - no, that sexy mysterious rat man.

Papa realized he was breathing heavily and put a hand to his chest as if to quiet himself and he felt his heart through his shirt, beating swiftly underneath his trembling fingers. 

“Lucifer help me,” Papa said. 

His mind was reeling and he left the office in a daze, not even remembering how he got back to his chambers. He proceeded to get very, very drunk and stare into the fireplace as his mind went over the possibilities in his head. He took out his cell phone from his pocket and pulled up the clergy’s internal website on his phone, clicking on the directory until he found Copia’s contact page. There he was. A small square framed his ordinary looking face as it peeked out of it’s tiny window on the screen. Papa’s eyes blurred the longer he looked at it, imagining the possibilities in that face, barely believing any of it was true. At some point he remembered the empty bottle and the phone both slipping from his fingers as he drunkenly stumbled towards his door. He vaguely recalled the next day that he had stumbled down the hall towards Imperator’s room and banged on her door. After that, everything went black.

He awoke the next morning tucked under his sheets dressed only in his boxers with a raging headache and a terribly dry mouth. He groaned and stumbled to the bathroom as he splashed cold water on his face and then cupped his hands to drink from the faucet. When he looked up into his mirror, he was shocked by the sight. He looked older than he remembered, his face puffy and wrinkles showing through under his completely smeared black and white makeup. His eyes were bloodshot and his mouth tasted of bile so he grabbed his toothbrush and went over his tongue and teeth multiple times. When he got into the shower, the hot water started to make him feel sick so he turned the faucet to cold and shivered through the worst shower in his life. 

When he got to his office he put his face in his hands as the room continued to spin around him. He threw up a couple of times in his wastebasket before calling a ghoul to bring him something from the kitchens. By noon, he was starting to feel a bit better. He really couldn’t remember the last time he had gotten that drunk. The hangover was so awful that it compelled him to swear off alcohol forever - which was, of course, unrealistic considering it was him.

Sister Imperator came into his office at some point and acted like nothing was amiss, but when she went to leave he stopped her and sheepishly asked what had happened the night before.

“What do you mean, what happened?” she asked, looking confused. “Nothing happened. I slept peacefully through the night.”

He nodded at her and she left him. He hoped that was the truth. 

Most of the day he spent in misery which left him very little time to consider the crucial evidence before him. Later that day, however, his mind started to wander back on the previous events of the day before. What was he to believe? He couldn’t be sure of anything. In fact, the more he thought about it he realized there was a good possibility that he was wrong. How foolish would it look if the brother that met him in the ritual happened to be someone else?

Papa essentially spent the next couple days gas-lighting himself, trying to convince himself that he was making up scenarios in his head and that nothing that had happened that day was real. After all, he had drunk so much, how reliable could his memories truly be? But  as the night of ritual drew closer, the more anxious he became, no matter how hard he tried to rationalize his thoughts. Copia and Sister Anilah were supposed to be back the day before the ritual and Papa roamed the halls and looked out the windows to the driveway every five minutes and they were still nowhere to be seen. 

Finally, it came time to prepare for that evening and he had to stop searching and instead focus on what he needed to do that night. 

He usually bathed himself quite thoroughly and spent extra care on grooming every part of his body until it was perfect. Fingernails, toenails, hair, all perfect. Calluses, scrubbed off. Skin, moisturized. He used the best and most expensive products on himself, a jar of eye cream, vitamin serum for his face, lip balm, and much more. He groomed every inch of hair on his body until it was all shaped perfectly. He douched himself completely for preparation of any backdoor fun and had stopped eating after lunch. 

Once he was immaculate, he sat naked before the shrine to Lucifer in his room and prayed. For him, prayer was a way to meditate and dissociate away from the real world and sometimes thoughts would come into his head that would make sense and sometimes they wouldn’t. 

When he asked for guidance, he hoped that some answer would come to him as he sat there in the dark, lit only by black and red candles and the softly-lit ram’s head looking back at him. Images of Copia swirled in his mind, those of him with a quiet demeanor juxtaposed with that man in the white suit, cane, and black hat. But nothing in his head told him anything. He had no answers on who was to meet him that night.

He rose and dressed himself in his finest papal robes. He would need to go to administer the opening part of the full moon ritual that would call Lucifer to watch over the carnal delight of the clergy as they partook in their orgy and then he would steal away to change out of his clothes and head to the specialized ritual room. Despite being sick recently, he took a swig of brandy to calm his nerves and snuffed the candles before he left the room. 

The opening of the ritual went as planned and he looked around to see if he could spot either Copia or Sister Anilah, but they were nowhere in sight. They should have been back at the clergy already and he received no calls or messages telling him otherwise. What if Papa went to the ritual room that night and no one came? What would that mean?

He rushed the ritual ceremony, despite having plenty of time before his own individual ritual. He couldn’t focus on the festivities and chatting like he usually did and instead rushed off to be alone and get himself in the right head space. His heart felt like it was beating abnormally fast and his hands remained clammy and gross. He washed the paint from his face and changed into something casual and then paced in the antechamber to the ritual room, a million thoughts going through his head.

He glanced up at the clock, which read nine twenty and he disrobed and went into the room to inspect that everything was set up in the right place. Since it would be pitch dark, everything had to be where he expected it. 

Papa sat on the edge of the bed, feeling nervous and slightly sick. He had slept with hundreds of people, he didn’t exactly keep count, and no encounter made him feel like he was going to hyperventilate and die. He was always a master of those situations because nothing was out of his control. He made people feel good, that’s what he did and he did it well. But he never had so much emotion wrapped up into one sibling’s well-being to the point where his own emotional satisfaction depended on how they made *him* feel. 

Papa turned off the light and lay back, trying to calm his breathing. It was nine thirty and the sibling should be there any moment. They usually weren’t late. He drummed his fingers on his chest, trying to imagine what he would do or say when the time arrived. For once, he was utterly lost. Would he even know? Would he be able to confirm in fact if it was Copia or not?

Not once did he even stop to think about the possibility that it was indeed Copia. How did that make him feel? He never looked upon the odd man in a romantic sense before, but would doing so really be such a bad thing? There was a certain appeal to him, Papa thought. He had a handsome face and apparently also a banging body, which was always hidden by his huge, loose cassocks. The possibility was just so astounding to him that he just couldn’t make sense of imagining a sexual union with Copia.

But the mystery petitioner he could make sense of. The smells, the feel of him underneath his hand - his smooth skin and the wiry feel of his hair. The way he tasted was exquisite too. He longed for that man. He craved that man.

Papa clicked a button on the small digital clock next to the bed. The red numbers lit up dimly. It was nine forty five. At nine fifty he would leave had the petitioner not shown up, such were the rules of the ritual. Papa had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that the petitioner would not be arriving. The worst possibility being that the man abandoned Papa completely and he would never know the truth.

The sinking feeling in his stomach grew until it filled his chest and he fell into despair. He kept clicking the small button on the clock and it crept further closer to the deadline. This wasn’t going to happen, he told himself. The man definitely would have shown up by now. 

Finally he clicked the button and it showed nine fifty. He sighed, knowing he would have to leave. His greatest fears had come true. He had been left in the dust. He, Papa, had been abandoned. It was hard to believe as the head of the church and so desired for his body that the one person he wanted to return to him would not. He thought about making an appearance at the orgy. He could have his physical needs met there, but he felt such a heaviness in his heart that all he wanted to do was to be alone and drown himself in a bottle of brandy. 

The door to the room burst open with such force that Papa nearly jumped out of his skin as he bolted upright in bed and stared through the curtain. The door slammed again, plunging the room into darkness and he could hear heavy, labored breathing beyond. Next came the sounds of clothes being pulled off. He recognized the sound of fabric as it was loosened from the skin. The petitioner sounded frustrated and grunted as the sounds of tugging could be heard. Finally it sounded like the person had disrobed completely and stumbled over to where the bed was, tearing back the curtain inelegantly. 

Papa should have said something. He wanted to say something, but his words were caught in his throat. The petitioner jumped on the bed, his weight depressing the mattress and then a hand grabbed Papa’s arm.

When their skin made contact, Papa melted and he heard a sigh escape from the other man’s mouth. Papa felt the man sink into the bed, still gripping his arm tightly and he reached over to put his hand on the outstretched arm. They lay there together like that, while Papa stroked the hairy arm gently. Papa should have said something. He always was supposed to say the pre-planned welcome speech, but now when faced with this reality, he realized he was scared.

A few minutes passed and Papa slid his hand further down the arm to the body he had come to recognize and cherish so. He moved in closer so their knees and legs intertwined and the man snaked an arm under Papa’s head. He could detect how close their faces were by the warm air on his cheek. Each breath felt hurried, as if each one took them closer to the inevitability of that night. 

The other man sighed heavily, his fingers digging into Papa’s upper-arm. The tension and the longing between them was so strong that it took everything in Papa for him not to pull the other close to him and crush him to his chest. 

The clergyman sat up and Papa felt him leaning over. He took Papa’s hand in his and squeezed, his breath faltering. Papa turned, so he was facing up toward where he knew the other person was and just then the petitioner pulled his hand into his lips and he felt a warm, plump, softness on the back of his hand as his skin tickled from the prickly sensation of facial hair. Papa nearly let out an involuntary gasp from the feeling of it and his body shivered. The man found Papa’s other hand on his hip and pulled up as he took both palms and deliberately pressed them to the mystery man’s face. Papa could feel and hear the rush of blood in his ears and his hands met with the unknown landscape. The clergyman pressed more kisses into both of his palms and Papa stroked the hair underneath with shaky fingers. Then the clergyman took his hands and guided them until he felt thick sideburns and his fingers dug into the bristles.

“Copia…” Papa gasped, nearly unable to believe it.

“Y- yes,” Copia replied, voice low and shaky.

“Oh, Lucifer…”

Papa threw himself upward and their lips met in sizzling heat. Arms clutched and grabbed greedily at flesh, bodies as close as physically possible. They wanted each other, needed each other so desperately.

“Oh, Copia,” Papa murmured between mouthfuls of Copia’s lips, tongue, and skin.

“Papa,” Copia keened as Papa’s mouth devoured his flesh. 

Papa’s fingers curled into the back of Copia’s hair, pressing into the scalp and tugging at the strands, pulling back his head as he nipped at the delicate flesh of Copia’s throat.

Copia let out a throaty moan, fingers digging into the fleshy bits of Papa’s shoulders.

“I need to see you,” Papa said suddenly and rolled to the side and threw back the curtain. His hand fumbled with something and then the room was alight with a soft glow. 

They both squinted from the sudden assault on their senses but when their eyes focused on each other Papa whined.

“You’re so beautiful,” Papa whispered, drawing in close to Copia and cradling his face in his hands.

Copia’s mismatched eyes were wide and wet in the wells of smeared black paint, his hair was askew and his lips red and plump, mouth open with wanting.

“I…” Copia began to say, but then trailed off, his head dropping. “I don’t deserve this,” he whispered, tears pooling at the edge of his eyelids.

Papa was shocked. “What? Copia, no, please look at me. What are you saying?” Papa desperately shook him.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Copia said, his voice shaking. “I’ve wanted you for so long, but I know I can’t have you. You’re Papa. I’ve been selfish. I’ve been greedy to think that if I kept coming here this could last.”

“No, no, no,” Papa said with terror forming in his eyes. 

Copia’s face fell into Papa’s chest, his cheeks stained with black lines.

“I’m never letting you go. You hear that? Satan himself couldn’t tear you from me,” Papa growled, wrapping his arms possessively around Copia. He planted kisses on the brown head of hair beneath him and then pushed it aside to kiss Copia’s forehead which was scrunched with worry. 

“Papa…” Copia choked.

“No, I’m Terzo to you. Don’t say anything more,” Papa commanded. 

“Terzo…” Copia gulped.

Papa studied the person who was leaning against him, his heart aching. His fingers couldn’t stop touching, his lips couldn’t stop kissing.

“You- ” Papa took a deep breath. “-mean more to me than you can ever know.”

Copia looked up, eyes wide.

“How?” Copia whispered. 

Papa laughed at the innocence in his face.

“You didn’t even notice me before,” Copia said. “I don’t see how…”

“I notice you now,” Papa said. “I was blind for not seeing what was right in front of me. You’ve shown me the error of my ways.” 

“But how can this last? You’re Papa. You belong to the church, you belong to everyone. I don’t know if I can-”

“Copia, listen,” Papa said. “I don’t belong to anyone. I give of myself freely, but that is my decision.”

Copia dropped his head once again.

“No, look at me, please,” Papa said gently lifting Copia’s chin up to face him.

“Did you know as long as I’ve been doing this I’ve been giving and giving myself. I could give myself until there would be nothing left but a dried-out and used-up husk and still I would give. But no one has ever really given themselves to me.

“Papa, Copia said before correcting himself with uncertainty, “No, Terzo.”

“Please, Copia,” Papa begged. 

“The Siblings, won’t they be upset?” Copia asked.

“I don’t care,” Papa said simply. “Don’t I get to be selfish just for once?”

Copia sighed heavily and closed his eyes, leaning his face into Papa’s chest. He inhaled and the scent of Papa filled his nostrils. 

“Terzo, I want this, I really do,” Copia said.

“I want this too,” Papa said gently. “I want you and only you.”

Copia blinked open, gazing up into Papa’s face.

“The things you do to me,” Papa said, holding Copia’s arm by the wrist and kissing down the pale skin. “I could get drunk on you alone and never be satisfied.”

 Papa gently fell into Copia, pushing him back down to the bed and their lips met, soft and searching. Copia’s body pressed upward into Papa, his need apparent. 

“Delicious,” Papa murmured into Copia’s skin, his mouth and tongue searching. 

“Terzo, don’t stop. Please,” Copia said.

“I won’t.”

Papa kissed his way down Copia’s body and Copia closed his eyes, letting his head fall back. When Papa’s mouth made it to Copia’s thighs he looked up, face full of desire.

“That white suit,” Papa said breathlessly, “what was that?”

Copia looked up with half-closed lids. “Just a little something I’ve been saving for myself,” he replied. 

“Satan, your ass looked magnificent in it,” Papa said as his mouth worked over Copia’s broad hips and his hand found purchase under the small of Copia’s back and made its way lower to caress the mounds of flesh. 

Papa’s lips trailed to the inside of Copia’s thigh and Copia lifted his knees so that Papa’s head was cradled between them, allowing his ass to rise so Papa could continue massaging it. Copia’s cock was full and hard and when Papa caught sight of it his belly burned with an intense unquenchable fire. Soon, Papa had his mouth wrapped around Copia, his eyes closed in bliss. Copia’s hand found his hair and snaked through, pressing himself up into Papa’s mouth at the same time he pushed Papa’s head down.

“Unngh,” Copia keened loudly, his eyes shut tight. 

His other hand made its way to Papa’s head and both palms pressed into the back of it as he bucked into Papa’s mouth. Papa slid his tongue down until his nose was pressed into the soft flesh of Copia’s belly and Copia whined loudly in response.

“Fuck, Terzo, not like this,” Copia pleaded, pulling Papa’s head off of him.

Papa looked into Copia’s eyes like he was drunk, his pupils wide and his lips and chin wet with his mouth hanging open like it was missing the absence of the dick. 

“What then?” Papa asked breathlessly, eyes still glazed over.

“Let me make love to you,” Copia pleaded, his voice quiet and trembling.

Papa’s open mouth curled up into a smile. “I would do anything for you, darling.”

Papa got up to his knees and reached over to the table with the lube. Copia was watching him intently, his chest rising and falling rapidly and his eyes wide with wonderment. As Papa kneeled over Copia, his own cock red and throbbing from lust, he got a mischievous look on his face as he reached behind himself and pulled something out with a popping noise. When Papa presented the heart-shaped plug to Copia, his eyes grew wide and he looked back in astonishment to Papa.

“How long has that been in there?” Copia asked.

“Long enough,” Papa said, grinning. “But now I’m feeling incredibly empty.” 

He threw the plug nonchalantly on the floor and poured a good amount of lube into his hand, slicking it between his palms before generously applying it to Copia’s shaft.

“Oh,” Copia groaned, his body shuddering. “Not too hard or I’m going to cum.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” Papa said.

Then, with one swift motion, Papa sunk himself entirely on Copia, who could only watch with wide eyes and an open mouth that gasped for air.

Papa came to a rest with Copia seated fully inside of him and let Copia have a moment as he stiffened and clenched his eyes closed with his fingers digging into Papa’s hips. When Copia finally let out a long breath and opened his eyes to look up at Papa, Papa’s heart soared.

“T-Terzo,” Copia said again, as if tasting the name on his tongue like a lavish candy.

Papa moved slowly, his eyes trained on every twitch of Copia’s face, drinking in the sight underneath him. While the sex in the dark had always been fantastic, there was something so intimate about looking into a lover’s eyes to watch as they came apart. 

Papa grabbed one of Copia’s hands and brought it to his mouth to suck on the fingers as he rode him, their eyes locked on one another. 

“Fuck, I’ll never get enough of this,” Copia said.

“Good,” Papa replied. 

Papa reached down and grabbed his own cock with a slick hand and jacked himself as he rode the bigger man. Papa was used to people looking at him like he was amazing, which he was, but the way Copia looked at him sent shivers through his spine. It was something else entirely. It was wonderment and need mixed with… love? 

“You’re in love with me,” Papa gasped as he continued to ride and Copia stared back, eyes wide and mouth trembling. 

“Oh, Lucifer…” 

Papa could feel that he was close as his tight hole clenched around the hot, slick shaft that he was riding.

“Copia, is it..” Papa began to say before being cut off.

“Yes! It’s true,” Copia sputtered, his face flushed red and his one white eye blazing like fire. “I’m in love with you!”

That was enough to send Papa over with so much force that it started at his tip and overtook him in an instant. The feeling engulfed him on the inside where Copia’s dick was and then back out through his entire body. He clenched his teeth and ropes of cum shot from his cock as he stroked himself through the orgasm, the sticky fluid landing on Copia’s forehead, chin, chest, and then finally his stomach. 

Copia’s eyes rolled back in his head and his lids closed as he crushed Papa to him with such force as he came that Papa felt a couple of his joints pop. His insides were suddenly flushed with warmth and Copia cried out, his face rosy and beautiful as he fucked into Papa with such a desperate need as he came. 

When Copia loosened his grip, Papa fell down next to him on the bed, chest heaving and body covered in sweat. Copia’s tongue darted out and licked up the cum on his chin as he wiped the rest of his face off with his hand and then ran it down the length of his torso. 

Papa stared at the man next to him, hand draped over his chest. So it really was true. 

“Copia,” Papa said quietly and Copia turned a blissed-out face to him. “These past couple of months I’ve done nothing but think about you. I didn’t even know who you were, but I knew you so intimately that I longed for you and craved you during my every waking hour. My darling, my treasure…” 

He reached out a hand to stroke Copia’s face tenderly. 

“I can’t help but to think that this incomprehensible way you make me feel, this giddy in the pit of my stomach feeling, this absolutely batshit crazy feeling, is what love feels like.”

Copia was looking at him, eyes shining in the dimness of the room and his mouth formed into a perfect ‘o.’

“If this is love, then I never want to feel any other way,” Papa said, leaning in to kiss Copia’s open mouth causing him to let out a soft moan. He pulled back and then kissed Copia again, and again, and again.

When Papa Emeritus the Third awoke, he reached out to feel the empty spot next to him with concern. It was still warm and he started to feel panic rising in his chest. Just then there was the sound of a toilet flushing and a door opened nearby. He looked up and saw Copia coming out of the bathroom wearing only boxers with one hand behind his back. Copia smiled and bounded over to the bed, jumping on it and causing it to shake both of them. He threw his arms around Papa’s neck and kissed him deeply, their tongues swirling together before finally breaking. 

Papa let out a sigh and when he finally opened his eyes again Copia was holding a box out in the palm of his hand and smiling in that cute, shy way he did like he was a little kid with a big secret.

“What’s this?” Papa asked, stretching his arms out and sitting up a little more.

“It’s a present,” Copia stated plainly.

“Oh?”

“For our sixth-month anniversary, I hope you haven’t forgotten.” Copia narrowed his eyes, but they were full of playfulness.

“Ahaha, of course not,” Papa said, wiping his forehead comically. 

“Well, open it,” Copia said eagerly.

Papa plucked the silver box tied with a white and red ribbon out of Copia’s palm. He undid the strings and then carefully pulled the top off. Inside, there was a silver ring of a face wearing his papal paint and Mitre.

“It’s… me?” Papa said.

“It’s a ring of you,” Copia corrected. “Your unholiness.” Copia did a slight half bow in bed and Papa laughed at him, taking it from the box and slipping it on his finger.

“It fits perfectly. Did you measure my finger size in my sleep?” Papa asked.

“Maybe,” Copia said coyly. 

“This is actually really cool,” Papa said.

“Of course it is, it’s a gift from me,” Copia replied. 

Papa looked up, a smile spreading across his face. “You’re all the gift I ever need,” he said, leaning in to kiss Copia.

Copia returned the kiss, twining his fingers through Papa’s messy black bed-hair. Suddenly he pulled back and made a funny alarm-like sound as Papa looked at him curiously.

“Waring, horny old man alert!” Copia stated, and then jumped on top of Papa, straddling him and pinning both of his wrists to the bed.

Papa laughed and said, “And what does this horny old man plan to do with me?”

“I can think of quite a few things,” Copia said, leaning in to kiss Papa on the mouth while rubbing their crotches together. Papa moaned into the kiss, savoring the feeling of Copia on top of him grinding into his pelvis, his soft lips on his, and his hands pinning him down. 

“Ah, before I forget,” Copia said, hopping off Papa and climbing off the bed. He shimmied down his boxers with his back turned and then bent down to grab something. There was a strange whooshing and squirting noise, his arm rotating in front of him and then Copia rose. When he spun back around to face Papa, his nipples and hard dick were covered with whipped cream, complete with a couple of cherries. “The real present,” Copia stated with a quirk in his smile.

Papa got a devious look on his face and tore off the covers as he jumped up.

“I’m about to eat the fuck out of you,” Papa growled, climbing over the mattress quickly. He sat up and planted his feet on the floor and then grabbed Copia by the buttocks, pulling him in closer.

Just before Papa wrapped his mouth around the whipped-cream dick he stopped and looked up into Copia’s face.

“You do know what giving your boyfriend a ring means, don’t you?” Papa asked, his mismatched eyes alight.

“I know exactly what it means, Terzo,” Copia said before taking a cherry off his nipple and rubbing the cream on Terzo’s nose. He leaned in to lick off the bridge and then popped the cherry into Papa’s open mouth. “It means I love you,” Copia said as Papa chewed the candied fruit thoughtfully, “and that I want to spend every waking moment with you.”

Papa pulled the now empty stem out of his mouth and tossed it to the side. 

“And I will never stop loving you,” Papa replied, leaning in to kiss the skin around Copia’s belly. “My dear - kiss - horny - kiss - old - kiss - man.”

Copia threw his head back, a smile on his lips as Papa’s mouth and tongue went to work licking up the whipped cream covering his dick.

When Papa pulled off, Copia looked down breathlessly and began to laugh at the sight of Terzo’s face covered in whipped cream just like it would soon be covered in cum.