XIII

XIII

The tiny flames of countless candles barely lit the dark cathedral as Father Jackson slowly walked up the central aisle, reading absently from the Latin book of prayers he held in one hand. It was quiet and calm as ever in the tall house of God. The whole cathedral always seemed to exude serenity, and that was why he had developed the habit of saying his nighttime prayers there rather than kneeling at the side of his bed as every good little Christian boy learns to.

He was almost halfway up the aisle, his steps muffled with the thick red and gold carpet, when a soft shuffling sound made him look up from his book. In the silent, empty cathedral, the sound reverberated against the walls, making it impossible to pinpoint its origin. Father Jackson looked around a bit, but seeing nothing unusual, he kept walking, shrugging.

He had barely taken a few steps when he heard the same sound again. Louder. It sounded like his own footsteps on the carpet, but that one step had not been his. It was heavier, almost deliberate, as if its owner wanted him to hear.

Pushing his glasses up on his nose with a finger, he looked around a bit more nervously. The small flames of the candles burned upright, undisturbed, projecting shadows on the walls that suddenly seemed eerie to the priest. He cleared his throat and uttered a short prayer in Latin as he resumed walking towards the choir, faster, even as he mentally slapped himself for being such a chicken. The problem was, though, that he couldn't convince his body to slow down.

And when he heard the shuffling resume, louder, faster, closing in, he didn't even take the time to stop and look back before he started running.

Father Jackson was given no further warning than the soft shuffling steps before a heavy weight landed on his back, flattening him to the floor and knocking the wind out of him. As he struggled to catch his breath, he felt a cold puff of air tickle the skin of his neck, creeping past his roman collar and making the hair of his neck stand on end. He froze for a second, then launched his elbow backwards as he twisted his upper body, determined not to go down without a fight.

His aggressor though - whoever he was - swiftly caught Father Jackson's elbow and used the motion to turn him around, laying his weight back on his body as soon as the priest was flat on his back.

The Father growled partly in pain and partly in rage, feeling the latter rise at being attacked like this, in a holy place. That helped clear the fog of shock from his head and he glared up at whoever had attacked him. However, he could only gape and blanch as blue eyes much like his, but glittering faintly in the dim light of the cathedral, glared back, a smirk stretching the whitish lips of their owner. "You!"

The smirk widened, revealing a sharp fang. "I."

"What are you doing here, you monster?!" Father Jackson tried to scramble away, to no avail. His assailant was heavy on top of him, holding him down firmly. "How did you get in?! Go away! This is a holy place! You shouldn't -"

The "monster" clasped his hand over Father Jackson's mouth, his long nails digging slightly into the skin of his cheeks. "You still talk too much, I see."

Silenced, Father Jackson could only glare at the vampire and struggle in the hope of freeing himself, even though he knew it was mostly in vain. His adversary was pressing him into the floor and had inhuman strength to keep him at his mercy. Not to mention his feral, hungry grin was bringing the most unpleasant images to the priest's mind. His thoughts swirled in his head, one much clearer than the others: *I won't survive this night*.

The vampire leaned closer, his face hovering over Father's Jackson, so close that his smell filled the priest's nostrils, the smell of blood, a blood most surely not his own, reeking of death, perversion, and sin. He smirked as he watched the priest wrinkle his nose and try to turn away, squirming under him again. He chuckled lightly, then brought his lips closer to the priest's ear, considering brushing his lips against the shell but holding back at the last second. Such provocation could wait. Feeling the priest stiffen under him already felt like a small victory. He licked his lips, then whispered in the priest's ear almost breathlessly. "Are you afraid, Father Jackson?"

Father Jackson growled against the hand gagging him and renewed his struggles. He winced when the vampire's claws scratched and cut his cheeks and lips, but he managed to wrench himself away from the hand covering his mouth. "I'm not afraid, you filthy beast!!!" he shouted as soon as he mouth was freed. He squirmed away with renewed ardor, quickly undoing a button of his cassock to reach inside his robe and grasp the cross he was wearing underneath. "Now get away from me, or I'll..."

"Or you'll?" was the vampire's answer as he grabbed the priest's wrist and wrenched the hand still clutching the cross away from his chest in one swift motion. A few buttons were torn clear off the cassock and the chain of the cross snapped when he did so. He grinned with satisfaction when he heard the unmistakable cracking of bones as he slammed the priest's wrist against the edge of one of the massive wooden seats of the cathedral.

A cruel grin stretched his lips as he watched the priest's eyes widen and fill with tears, mouth open in a silent cry, breath knocked out of him by the maddening pain. The cross slipped from his limp, numbed fingers and fell on the seat, useless, harmless. The vampire let go of the priest's hand; it fell to the carpeted floor with a thud, wrenching a broken cry from the priest. Already, it had started to swell.

A cold sweat was beginning to trickle down from Father Jackson's forehead, he knew, but even if he had wanted to, he couldn't have done anything about it. The pain radiating from his broken wrist was mind melting, impossible to ignore, making him almost wish he could pass out to escape it, consequences be damned. He looked up at the vampire looking down at him with a sly grin and gulped in a shallow breath. Even if the partly open cassock exposed just a small triangle of skin from his neck to his chest, he suddenly felt very naked, offered to the vampire's perverted gaze.

He brought his healthy hand up to close his cassock and tried to squirm away again, crying out when even the smallest movement of his arm was like planting another searing blade in his hand. He fell back to the thick carpet, gasping for breath. "Why me... you have... fed tonight, I know... why... why me... why now... and..." he tried to frown, without much success, "why... do you follow me... from parish to parish..."

The vampire grinned widely. If the situation hadn't been so dramatic, and it wasn't a vampire harboring that expression, it could have looked happy, in a goofy way. Now it just looked out of place... and wrong. "I love beauty."

Father Jackson gaped slightly. Such an answer shouldn't have surprised him: he had even expected it, in the back of his mind. But imagining an answer and actually hearing it were two completely different things, and the latter was much, much, much creepier. "You... you... filthy... perverted... sinful... disgusting... horrible monster!!! I... You look like me!!!"

The vampire chuckled. "Which only serves to makes you more beautiful... after all, what man would call himself anything short of handsome?" Amused by the priest gaping once more at him, he snorted and reached out to begin undoing the remaining buttons of the cassock.

Being slowly undressed by the vampire had the effect of a cold shower on Father Jackson. Glaring at the vampire, he grabbed his hand tightly, making him stop. "What do you think you're doing?"

The vampire grinned at him. "Why, checking to make sure you are not hiding any more nasty surprises from me, of course..."

Father Jackson took a deep breath to steady himself. The vampire had already seen too much of his body for his tastes. "I'm not."

The vampire snorted and freed his wrist, then resumed his task. "I have to make sure..."

"I. Am. Not." Father Jackson said, grabbing his wrist again.

The vampire threw him a cold glance. "Shall I break this wrist too?"

The priest gritted his teeth and glared as hard as he could at the vampire to hide his fear. "If you intend to rape me, you will have to."

The vampire grinned, then chuckled. "Rape you? Why would I do such a thing..." He looked at the priest hungrily. "Though your body is tempting, I want to keep it virginal... for later." His fingers resumed their movement, making quick work of the buttons of the cassock, Father's Daniel's hand still clasping his wrist, frozen in place as the priest tried to decipher the vampire's words.

"For... later?"

A smirk was the only answer Father Jackson got.

"DAMNED MONSTER!!!" he shouted as he tried to kick the vampire away, only managing to shove him sideways a bit and setting the nerves of his broken wrist on fire. A yelp of pain escaped his lips as his vision blurred. He blissfully thought that that was it, he would finally lose consciousness and escape the pain and this beast; however, he was brutally brought back to reality by the sound of clothing being torn.

Jerking his head up and looking down in a panic, he saw that the vampire hadn't wasted time untying the sash at his waist: the discarded piece of cloth laid a bit away from them, in rags. Not only that, but his cassock was fully unbuttoned and open now, and the vampire was about to give his underwear the same treatment as his sash. "NO!" Father Jackson cried out as he shot his hand down to cover his crotch, groaning when the pain flared in his arm again. "No, please..."

The vampire chuckled and gave the hand a long, cool lick, making Father Jackson shiver. "No? Hm... maybe if you beg enough..."

Father Jackson glared murderously at the vampire. "You son of aaaaaaaaAAAAH!!!" The rest of his sentence was lost in a cry when the vampire nuzzled the side of his hand, the movement teasing the sensitive skin beneath it. The priest clutched his briefs reflexively to still his hand. "Don't..." he breathed.

Smirking slightly, the vampire pried Father Jackson's hand away, and then yanked his underwear away, ripping them in the process, leaving the priest naked and exposed before him. He let out a soft hum at the sight and grinned in pleasure, admiring the priest's lithe body, soft skin, and his light blue eyes widened in fear. His grin widened even more when he felt the priest's legs pressing against his own in a vain attempt to close and hide Father Jackson's crotch from the vampire's shameless ogling. "If you beg... I might stop..."

The priest gritted his teeth and glared at the vampire again in response. However, when he saw him lean down towards his groin, tongue slightly darting between sharp teeth, he broke and begged, begged and pleaded and cried until his voice grew hoarse, promising anything and everything in return of being left alone, growing more and more frantic as his voice died, the words spilling from his mouth mingling with each other until he could only manage a nearly breathless, droning harsh whisper that could have been a string of "please"s. He remained on the soft carpet for agonizingly long minutes, barely daring to breathe, eyes closed.

His hand, freed from the vampire's, rested on his stomach. He couldn't feel the vampire's presence anymore. He was about to risk cracking an eye open when a cool, wet tongue on his cock tore a ragged cry from his abused throat. Reaching down once again to grab the vampire and yank him off, he cried and screamed with the little voice he had left for the vampire to let go.

Of course, though, the vampire had no intention to let Father Jackson go anytime soon. The priest opened his mouth in a silent cry when the vampire teased the head of his cock with the tip of his tongue, sensual, merciless. He tightened his grip in the vampire's hair.

This wasn't right: this... act was supposed to be painful, it should have been brutal and violent so he could have hated it and told himself he'd been outright attacked and raped. Instead, to his shame, he could feel his body reacting to the feeling of the vampire's tongue and lips on itself, his member filling with blood under the touch, wanting more despite the inhuman mouth caressing it.

He squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly feeling dizzy and ill, and turned his head to the side. A small gasp that could have been a "no" escaped his lips as the vampire engulfed him, and he opened his eyes to look at the stained glass windows, seeking solace in the peaceful images he almost guessed more than saw in the darkness. As he looked for an image to comfort himself, a glint of light on a nearby bench caught his attention.

His cross. He blinked, then awkwardly propped himself more or less up and reached out for it, ignoring the throbbing pain in his arm, only sparing it a glance long enough to see how darkened and swollen it looked in the faint light of the cathedral. He groaned as the vampire took him deeper in, sucking and licking him in the most delicious way.

Nonetheless he shook himself and tried to stretch his arm further, twisting his body to try and touch the cross, if only with his fingertips... The more he strained towards his goal, though, the harder the vampire sucked on him, twirling his tongue around the sensitive erection. Father Jackson let out a voiceless moan and tried to twist his body more, to reach further as he vainly attempted to ignore the excruciating pain in his broken wrist, the burn of the nails digging into the flesh of his hips, the cool mouth on his erection, the heat building in his groin, rising quickly, making him squeezed his eyes shut again as the first spasm of his hips confirmed his defeat.

He came in the vampire's mouth with a silent sob, still reaching out for a cross so close and yet too far away, then finally crumbled to the floor when his orgasm subsided, panting, tears stinging his eyes. He looked at the blurry vampire still between his legs. "Why..." he whispered hoarsely. "you said..."

"Ah, but your body is still virginal," the vampire countered as he gently pressed a finger against the priest's entrance. The latter yelped almost voicelessly and curled into foetal position, shivering, even as part of him reminded his tired mind that if the vampire breeched him, he couldn't turn him into one of his own. Somehow, this thought was not as comforting as it normally should have been.

The vampire grinned and grabbed Father Jackson's shoulder, then turned him to make him face him. "Why?" he repeated, leaning closer and closer to Father Jackson as he spoke. "Because I want you... but not in any way. You're almost as beautiful when you come as when you're in pain.

I want you to suffer. I want to watch you wallow in torment and doubt and anguish and pain... watch you cower in fear as you know I am in every shadow surrounding you. I want to watch you sink into despair as I prey on those you like... never taking you... isolating you..."

He grinned evilly and spoke against Daniel's lips. "Because when you offer yourself to me out of sheer despair, I want it to feel like deliverance."

Father Jackson gulped and blinked, but the vampire was already gone. He lay on the floor of the cathedral for hours, exhausted but unable to sleep, sobbing harshly as much in physical and mental pain as from the terrifying perspective of spending the rest of his life, and perhaps much more, as this monster's puppet.

It was only at dawn that he managed to gather the strength to pull himself up and drape himself in his ruined cassock to leave the cathedral, holding his broken, blackened wrist.

On bench number thirteen of the left row, his golden cross glinted in the soft morning light, forgotten.