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I was seated at the farthest left corner of the chapel. Scribbling down the terrible sermon and ridiculing it in my notes. A very fun pastime, sitting through a sermon and dissecting the fallacies in Christian logic. My scribbling halted at the sound of a familiar set of steps approaching me. I leaned to my right to better glance at the figure sitting beside me.
"Didn't take you for someone who attended church."
His voice was velvet, calm and warm. Like a blanket I wanted to wrap myself in, the cold weather be damned as I fell further into the silk of his words.
"Sure I am" I spoke, a playful smile on my lips as I tilted my journal to let him read what I'd been working on. I earned an exhale from him.
"I don't suppose you consider this blasphemy?"
I only shrugged in response. Letting my attention fall back to the sermon. He leaned back into the seat and an idea planted itself into my head. It’d been a while since I’d properly bothered him, might as well take the opportunity. I'm pretty sure he saw my face,
"Whatever it is, you're cooking up in there. Don't? " his voice was pleading, almost coaxing a child who wouldn’t listen. I chuckled and put away my journal and pen.
I only stood, as did the people, for prayer. William, did not.
I mean, more accurately, he couldn't. He was clutching the arm rest in desperation. Small trembles washed through his body, slight gasps escaping those pale pink lips as he tried in vain to distract himself. He pressed his thighs together, "y/n~!" He exhaled. Trying and failing to look intimidating. I looked back at him for a few moments before turning my head back to the priest, my fingers moving on the side of my thigh in a swinging motion.
I felt him jerk and almost jump from the spell on him.
In front of us, the priest raised his voice and the church members worshipped louder, their carols and hymns a lot louder than my Poor victim’s. The poor man had resorted to using his hands to cover his mouth, as my fingers moved faster, I felt a tug on my sleeve.
Upon looking back, I discovered Mister William, flushed as a beet. His hair, a mess. Eyes, unfocused and bleary. He was whispering at me ‘please’ over and over again whilst clutching his jacket on his lap.
I smiled wider and his eyes went big as he realized his fate. He almost spoke but jumped and fell back as his eyes rolled back, in his last act of desperation he shoved his handkerchief in his mouth and clutched the jacket over his lap.
In only a few minutes his whimpers grew louder, though no one noticed thankfully, not that I thought he cared anymore, his face wrenched in deep pleasure. He trembled in his bliss, his forehead wetting his bangs, to my surprise, he cracked his eyes open, dilated and wet. The look sent shivers down my back.
I winked at him, and turned around, leaving him to clutch the arm rest with one hand, his veins popping while his fingers whitened.
And finally, with a muffled groan and jerk, his body shook violently and his eyes rolled back. He slumped back into the seat as the priest finished his prayers and did the same.
Upon looking back at him, I chuckled, satisfied with myself and sat down with his arm in mine.
“What a Naughty Naughty Man you are, Mr Moriarty. What are you doing in a Church!~” I grin. To which he grunted in response, giving me a tiny glare and promise of revenge before settling back in exhaustion.
"You are a... My Menace" He spoke, not looking at me, his ears red.