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It was always peaceful in the chapel at sunrise. Once a day, Shane could be completely alone. No parishioners wandered through, wanting him to absolve them of their sins. His fellow priests had gotten lazy in their years since seminary, no longer rising with the sun.
Shane loved the chapel. He loved every minute he could spend in God’s house, hidden away from the sins of the world, from the temptations of the flesh.
From the demons walking among men.
At sunrise, the sun always shone through the stained glass depiction of Christ’s crucifixion. A particularly artful rendition, blood flowed like a river from Christ’s side, casting a deep red hue through the chapel.
It was the only time Shane could bring himself to truly pray for his immortal soul, to ask for God’s forgiveness for his every sinful thought and every sinful dream that woke him drenched in sweat and hard as a rock in the middle of the night. For the nights he couldn’t help but take himself in hand.
In seminary, he’d been taught that every man and woman sinned. That his worth as a priest was not in an unattainable purity, but in his steadfast resistance of sin and leadership over his sheep.
But Shane couldn’t bring himself to pray around others. He found himself unable to breathe every time he tried, paralyzed on the altar. He imagined their judgmental eyes on him, piercing through his skull to read his mind. They might know that his sin wasn’t greed or sloth or even the simple lust his fellow priests would confess to when a beautiful woman showed a bit too much skin during the Sunday sermon.
Shane dreamt of men. He was haunted by men.
He remembered the first time he truly understood what sodomy was, the action, the degradation, the sin.
Before a crowd of prim and proper parishioners, his childhood priest had detailed the horrors of Sodom and Gomorrah. The sin of a man having another man. God raining destruction down upon the cities. There had been no redemption for them. They had died screaming, bloody and burning.
There, in that crowd, as horror dawned, Shane had gotten his first erection.
And here, every morning in the chapel bathed in red, Shane prayed away the visions of blood and men’s bodies colliding together.
He knelt at the wine colored altar, looking up at Christ’s face, peaceful, even as blood poured down his side. Shane could only pray that he could one day be worthy of the forgiveness Christ had shown his murderers, absolved of the curse of Sodom and Gomorrah.
He could only pray that he would no longer dream of himself in Christ’s place.
The front door of the chapel creaked open, but Shane didn’t turn to look. Hayden had probably gotten up early for once and wanted Shane to make the both of them breakfast. Shane was determined to finish this prayer, in his final rendition of please, please, please Lord let me be clean.
“Hello?” A deep, accented voice called, and Shane stopped abruptly. That was not Hayden.
He rose, turning to greet the man who must have been a stranger. Shane would have remembered that accent, that voice.
He staggered when he saw the man. He’d made his way halfway through the chapel, standing closer to Shane than he’d been expecting. The man was huge, both broad and tall, intimidating in all black clothes. He stood bathed in the red light of Christ’s blood, and for a moment, his eyes reflected the crimson red.
Shane blinked, and the red was replaced by lovely hazel eyes and a friendly smile that graced the man’s face.
“Hello,” The man said again. “Did I scare you?”
“No,” Shane said immediately. An obvious lie for a priest, but something in him did not want to give the man before him an inch of ground. “I’ve never heard your accent before. Where are you from?” He couldn’t help but ask.
“I am from Rus. Russia. Where are you from?” The man seemed amused.
Shane blinked and supposed he’d walked into that one. “A town south of here, it’s called Ottawa. I’m sorry, I’m being rude. I’m Father Shane. What can I help you with?”
The man walked closer, fluid as a cat. He stopped only a few scant inches away. So close that Shane could smell him.
An oddly shaped gold cross glinted from around his neck. “Father Shane, hmm?” His voice rumbled deep in his chest when he said Shane’s name. “I am Ilya Rozanov. I would like to confess.”
Shane frowned, “Are you baptized in the Catholic church? I can give you guidance, but I cannot offer absolution if you have not been baptized.” Shane had heard that Russians were not proper Catholics, but a strange, exotic version of Christianity that he was sure didn’t fit under the Pope’s purview.
Ilya laughed. Shane tried not to think about how much he liked Ilya’s laugh or how lovely his smile was. “I take the body and the blood of Christ, same as you. Yes, Father, I have been baptized in all the ways that matter.”
Ilya was so strange and beautiful, and he was standing so close to Shane that he didn’t think much about the bizarre comment. Shane didn’t think much at all as Ilya smiled at him, the heady scent of earth and musk and iron filling Shane’s nose.
After a long pause, Shane shook himself. “The confessional is this way.”
Shane led Ilya around the altar, towards the back of the church. Ilya hummed quietly, and Shane burned with questions.
As they reached the confessional, Shane couldn’t hold it in any longer. “What brings you to this town? We’re so far away from the port cities, we almost never get strangers.”
“I am a hunter.” Ilya’s teeth gleamed, whiter than Shane had ever seen.
“Oh?” Shane gestured Ilya into his side of the confessional.
“Yes,” Was all Ilya had to say. Shane supposed that was his cue to stop interrogating his newest sheep and begin the confession, stepping into his side and shutting the door.
They sat in silence for a few moments, the darkness shutting the two of them away from the world.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been two years since my last confession.” Ilya’s voice was melodic, beautiful and foreign.
When Ilya didn’t continue after a few beats, Shane prompted him, “You are blessed, child. What sins would you like to confess?”
“Lust,” The word was barely a whisper. “Greed. Gluttony. I have coveted my neighbor’s wife. I have fucked my neighbor’s wife.” Ilya paused, and all Shane could hear for a moment was his own breathing. “And I have fucked my neighbor.”
Shane’s heart stopped.
Ilya’s voice grew steadily louder. “I fucked her and left her drained. Then I found him. I turned a God-fearing man away from God so that I could fuck and bite and scratch him. Tell me, Father Shane, can you give me absolution?”
Shane’s mind was blank. He’d never heard a confession so horrific, so grotesque.
He pretended he couldn’t feel his erection growing against his robes.
“All sins can be absolved,” He finally managed. “Some require more penance than others.”
Ilya hummed, “And what is the penance for fucking a man and his wife?”
“Do you have any other sins to confess?”
“Is this not enough? How will you absolve me, Father Shane?”
Shane didn’t know. Ilya had done that which had caused God to rain down fire and brimstone upon Sodom and Gomorrah. Even Christ’s grace had limits, Shane knew.
“I made them bleed, Father.” Ilya’s voice felt like it was all around him now. Like it was caressing him, consuming him. “They cried, and I licked their tears.”
Shane thought he could taste it on his tongue, the iron tang and the salt of tears. His hand ground down on his erection, unable to stand it any longer.
“And then I saw you,” Ilya said it like a revelation. “And I coveted one of God’s own. I saw you kneeling at the altar, and I wanted to take your head and fuck your mouth. I want to fuck you over the altar. I want to drink your blood like communion w-”
Shane was up and out of the confessional before Ilya finished the sentence, self-preservation finally kicking in. He could not stay here.
All his life, he had thought the church to be his refuge. Where he could not be tempted, where demons could not enter.
Ilya’s beautiful laugh echoed throughout the chapel, the sound chasing him as he ran out into the open air.
He sped towards his tiny cottage on the far side of the church grounds. It was isolated from the other priests’ living quarters, but Shane had always appreciated the quiet, loved the shadows the thick trees cast over the cottage, keeping it cool in the summers.
Now, the forest felt foreboding as Ilya’s, no, the demon’s laugh echoed in his ears. But he kept a blade and holy water in the cottage, and he could barricade the door.
He thought of Hayden and JJ as he began pushing his bed against the door. He should warn them about the demon walking around as a man, shouldn't he? But they would not be tempted by the demon Shane knew as Ilya. He felt it deep in his bones, that demon was created just for him, to sever his ties with the church and make him fall into depravity.
He must have been marked by the devil at birth, the idea came to him with sudden conviction. It was the only thing that explained the curse of his thoughts and his dreams, explained why a demon would be sent to tempt him off the righteous path he had fought so hard to stay on.
Shane had run from the devil, escaped his machinations. But in doing so, he fled the one place he should have been safe, where the devil should not have been able to reach him. Would he have the strength to run again?
Tears of fear and shame ran down Shane’s cheeks, and he knew the answer as he parted his robes and pulled out his still rigid erection. If the devil came for him once more, he would not be able to bring himself to run.
--
When the knock came on his window that night, Shane knew his time was up. God had not answered his calls.
Hayden had checked on him twice that day, once when he’d finally woken up and seen the chapel empty. And once to bring Shane dinner, despite Shane’s claims of being ill.
Hayden was surely in bed now, and he would have come to the door as always, not knocked on the window at the back of the cottage that faced the endless woods.
Feeling as if he were in a trance, he slowly crossed the room and cracked the tiny window open.
Shane’s only hope was that the window was far too small for Shane to crawl through, much less the hulking demon.
And there he was, the devil himself, the so-called Ilya Rozanov. The light from Shane’s flickering fire cast an eerie glow over him.
The creature wearing the face of a man smiled at Shane. “Hello Father, may I speak with you?”
Shane mustered his courage, “I do not converse with devils. Begone!” The vial of holy water that Shane had kept clutched in his hand all day flew through the crack. The water splashed over Ilya’s neck, and Shane watched it trickle down his clavicle, dripping down onto his shirt.
If Shane had expected a reaction from Ilya, he did not get one. The demon’s skin did not sizzle, he did not scream in pain. No demon was excised from the body. Instead, Shane watched as Ilya ran a finger through the liquid on his neck and then brought the finger up to his mouth to lick the wetness, sucking the finger into his mouth.
Shane thought he might never breathe again.
Ilya removed the finger from his mouth. “I am no devil, little priest. I am your salvation. I can smell you, Shane. I could smell your need from fifty miles away. I can give you everything you want. I will fuck you, I will bleed you. You will moan like whore, and you will love it.”
“What are you?” It was all Shane had left in his brain, as all the blood in his body rushed towards his cock.
“Open the door, and I will show you.”
Shane didn’t move, indecision wracking his body and mind.
“I know every dream you ever had,” Ilya promised in a dark voice. “Every fantasy you spilled your seed to. I can give it to you. Open the door, Shane.”
Like a doll on strings, Shane crossed the cottage to the door. He pulled his bed back from its position in front of the door in a daze. His hands trembled as he pulled the door open, Ilya taking up the entire doorway on the other side.
“Will you invite me in, Father? It is polite.” Ilya may not have been a demon, but his grin was crafted in hell. For the first time, Shane saw deadly sharp fangs protruding from his gums.
Shaking in the doorway, Shane did not know if he was signing his own death sentence, if he was committing himself to hell, but visions of Sodom and Gomorrah flooded his mind as he looked at Ilya, and suddenly, none of it mattered.
“Come in.” For the first time since before the confessional, Shane’s voice was strong and sure.
If he had always been marked as the devil’s, what did it matter anymore?
In a moment, Ilya was on him. He took Shane’s lips in a vicious kiss, his finger digging painfully into the sides of Shane’s head as he consumed Shane’s mouth.
Shane had never been kissed before. The only kisses he had seen were sweet ones between his parents and the chaste pecks between the passionless parishioners whose weddings he presided over.
Ilya kissed him like he didn’t need to breathe. Like Ilya could suck Shane’s soul out of his chest through his mouth. All Shane could do was weakly grasp Ilya’s arms and try to keep standing.
Fangs pricked at Shane’s lips.
In one disorienting moment, Shane found himself bouncing on his back on his hastily pushed aside bed, Ilya standing above him.
“You are very beautiful,” The man, the demon, the temptation said quietly, almost like he was in awe of Shane, which couldn’t be right. He stroked Shane’s cheek gently, right where Shane knew his freckles were. “The most beautiful whore priest I have ever seen.”
Shane felt his face flush at the crassness of Ilya’s words, but couldn’t find it in himself to protest as Ilya parted Shane’s robes and his desperate erection sprang out. Maybe that part of him had always been a whore, doomed to lead Shane down a path of destruction.
Ilya got down on his knees before Shane and unceremoniously leaned in, his nose running along Shane’s cock, inhaling deeply.
“My God,” Shane said faintly.
Ilya laughed at him. “God is not here tonight, Father. He has no interest in ones such as us.”
And then Ilya took Shane’s cock down his throat.
“Fuck!” Shane never cursed, but the godforsaken creature seemed determined to break down every wall Shane had ever built between himself and sin.
His hands found a home in Ilya’s curls, unable to care if he was hurting him, just needing an anchor against the pleasure.
Ilya’s throat worked around him, and the fangs Shane tried desperately not to think about scraped harshly against him. The slick heat was the greatest pleasure Shane had ever experienced, greater than any prayer or absolution or communion with God. Shane knew he would spend at any moment, and somehow he knew that would be the final damnation.
“Damn it. Damn me!” Tears fell down his cheeks. It was ecstasy, and it was hell.
Right as Shane felt himself about to crest over that final line, Ilya ripped himself off of Shane’s cock and away from Shane’s clenched hands, replacing his mouth on Shane’s cock with a rough hand. Ilya met Shane’s eyes with a wild grin, and Shane watched the deadly fangs elongate in front of his eyes. They were like needles, meant to pierce and rend.
Ilya leaned down slowly, maintaining eye contact with Shane, still jerking Shane with his fist. His lips met Shane’s upper thigh, and Shane watched in awe as the creature who was to be Shane’s damnation placed a small, sweet peck on his thigh, just below the edge of his groin. Where Shane knew his pulse beat strongly.
And then, staring deep into Shane’s eyes, Ilya buried those bladelike fangs deep into Shane’s thigh.
Shane screamed. It was all he could do. It was the worst thing he had ever felt, pain radiating through his entire body. His body could only shake in submission to the pain, unable to fight the creature holding him down with an iron grip.
And then Ilya sucked, and Shane came and came and came. It hurt, it burned, it consumed him from the inside out, and it was the best thing Shane had ever felt.
Ilya’s hand continued to rub him through the orgasm that had been ripped out of him, Shane’s body jerking uncontrollably through the pleasure and the pain.
Finally, he began to come down as Ilya’s sucks seemed to slow. The hand on his cock was no longer pleasurable, but pushing him over the edge into uncomfortable, and Shane whined weakly, begging for mercy from a creature who might not even understand the concept.
With one final, painful, perfect gulp, Ilya carefully removed his fangs from Shane’s flesh, leaving two small, neat holes slowly seeping. As he raised his head, the light of the fire behind him reflected in his hair to create a halo effect in his golden brown curls. For a moment, he looked like an angel to Shane’s eyes, the salvation he had promised. But looking back at him was a demon with crimson eyes and Shane’s own blood dripping from his lips. With some of Shane’s cum in his hair, evidence of Shane’s own depravity.
“You are perfect,” The bloody creature swore. “I have never tasted one so…” He licked at his lips, chasing the remnants of Shane’s blood. “So delicious.”
“What… what are you?” Shane’s voice trembled, but he had to know.
“I am strigoi. You may know my kind as vampires.”
“You are a demon!” Shane shouldn’t have been surprised. Demons would always lie to trick God’s children away from the path of righteousness.
“Shhh,” Ilya hushed him with a gentling hand running down Shane’s side. “I am no demon, little priest. I have no claim on your soul. That is between you and your god. I claim only your body and your blood.”
“You have no claim on me!”
“Oh?” Ilya began to climb up Shane's body, removing the last of Shane's clothes as he went, until he hovered over Shane, completely clothed, calm, and clean as Shane lay naked and wrecked below him. Unresisting.
Ilya leaned down and placed a short, sweet peck onto Shane’s unmoving lips, the same as he’d left on Shane’s thigh. Getting no reaction from Shane, he leaned down again, pressing his lips gently but insistently to Shane’s. It took only a moment for Shane’s will to crumble, parting his lips to the request.
This kiss was different from the first that had dominated Shane so completely. This was gentle, coaxing. Ilya was still in control, but it wasn’t as overwhelming as before.
Shane didn’t know how long they kissed, time dissolving with every swipe of Ilya’s tongue. His heartbeat slowed for the first time since he had met Ilya that morning, and a strange peace came over him, an acceptance of this awesome creature. His thigh throbbed, and he felt wonderful.
Finally, Ilya began to pull away, and Shane chased after his lips before he could stop himself, aching for the contact. Shane felt rather than heard Ilya’s laugh, pressed firmly against Ilya’s body as he was.
“Yes, I will own you, Shane. Your body and your blood are already mine. And your mind will be too, I think.” The vampire caressed his cheek, smiling benevolently, like it was a kindness.
“You will not.” In truth, Shane did not know why he protested. All he could look at were Ilya’s lips, how his fangs peeked out of them as he spoke now that they were fully extended. All he could feel was Ilya’s thigh pressed against Shane’s cock, which had grown to full hardness again as they kissed. Desire burned through him, and he knew that soon he’d be begging for another orgasm, for another bite.
Ilya could suck him dry for another orgasm like that.
Ilya didn’t bother acknowledging Shane’s lie. He dipped his head down to Shane’s neck, grazing his razor sharp teeth against the pebbling flesh. Shane gasped, tensing in fear and in anticipation, his animal instinct warring with the powerful wave of want flooding through his body.
Ilya chuckled against Shane’s neck, kissing and sucking hard, until Shane knew that the skin would bruise like the marks he’d seen on teenagers' necks when they came to confess their youthful dalliances. Shane had tried not to look at those bruises, tried not to think about how much they must’ve hurt, how good they must’ve felt for the teenagers to do them over and over again. He had tried not to wish for someone to leave them on him.
It did hurt, more than Shane expected. Ilya scraped his fangs and even his regular teeth over the flesh that he worried between his lips. Shane couldn’t wait to see the bruise that would be left. If he was right, the mark would be high enough to just barely peak out from under his clerical collar. Shane couldn’t deny how much that thought turned him on.
This marking couldn’t compare to the real bite, but it still made Shane’s head dizzy with want. Made him want to give himself entirely over to Ilya.
“You love this,” Ilya whispered in Shane’s ear once he finally detached himself from Shane’s neck. “You love the bites, the pain. You would get on your knees for me, crawl for me, so I would make you bleed. I could bathe you in your own blood and you would still beg me to fuck you, yes Shane?” He nipped viciously at that same spot.
“Yes!” The confession was ripped out of him, more visceral than anything he’d ever admitted inside a confessional, more painful and freeing than any penance he’d performed.
“Good,” Ilya laid one more sweet kiss on Shane’s neck and then sat up, kneeling above Shane and pulling his dark shirt off in a fluid motion.
Shane could only stare at the rippling muscles clenching, allowing his eyes to linger on a man’s naked skin for the first time in his life. The expanse of tan skin and dark hair was mesmerizing. The odd gold cross flashed scarlet in the dying firelight. Shane ached to touch, but he thought if he reached out, he might never be able to let the bloody creature go.
Ilya smirked down at Shane like he knew exactly what effect he had on him.
And then he got up and walked away.
Shane immediately started to get up, shame filling him in an instant. “Where-”
“Lie down.” Ilya’s voice wasn’t sharp, but it was firm, and Shane immediately dropped back down where Ilya had left him. He lay there, unable to see the vampire but listening to him rummaging through Shane’s belongings.
Within a few moments, Ilya was back, hovering over Shane, taking over his entire field of vision. He gave two sharp pats, almost slaps, on Shane’s cheek. “Good.”
Warmth flooded Shane’s body at the simple word, and he couldn’t help himself as he thrust up into Ilya’s body. He’d taken off his pants, Shane realized suddenly. The bare skin of their cocks brushed for the first time. Shane’s eyes rolled back as he moaned, overcome.
Ilya ground back, rutting against Shane’s cock, pushing hard against Shane’s wound. The whine that came from Shane’s throat was barely human.
“I love priests,” Ilya whispered in Shane’s ear. “You are always ready to be fucked.”
Shane blinked up at Ilya dumbly, not understanding. There could be no other priests like him, could there?
Ilya showed him what he’d been digging through Shane’s things looking for. A small bottle of holy anointing oil.
Ilya turned the oil over onto his fingers, the oil slowly dripping from the small opening. Shane found himself fascinated by the way Ilya’s fingers rubbed together.
“I could make this sweet.” Ilya watched the oil too. “It would not hurt for more than a moment. But you do not want that, do you?”
Shane wasn’t quite sure what exactly Ilya was talking about, but he shook his head. Deep down, he always wanted to hurt.
“Do not worry, little priest. I will make it hurt. You will hate me and you will love me. I will keep fucking you, no matter how prettily you beg me to stop. I will fuck you until you pass out, until you cannot walk tomorrow.”
Ilya reached down between them as he stared deep into Shane’s eyes. And then, Shane felt it, a finger rubbing gently at his hole.
Shane instantly went rigid, struggling against Ilya’s unmoving body. “You cannot! That is sodomy!”
“But this is what you want, Father. You want nothing more than to be held down and fucked. To be treated like the whore you are.” His slick finger stroked coaxingly at Shane’s hole.
“No- I’m not- I cannot want this!” Tears started falling in earnest, clouding Shane’s vision as he blinked helplessly up at the creature who wanted to take every last dignity from him.
“I told you, Shane,” Ilya leaned down and pressed another sweet kiss to his lips. “I am your salvation. I will set you free.”
“Demons lie,” Shane said to himself more than anything. Despite himself, he felt his body relaxing, legs parting.
“Demons cannot touch holy oil, much less fuck you with it. I do not lie, little priest. Let me in.” The kiss turned dirty, Ilya taking control of Shane’s mouth once again, stealing his breath and making Shane’s head spin.
Despite himself, despite the consequences Shane had feared his whole life, the ones he had desperately run to the priesthood to avoid, Shane found himself moaning and opening his legs wide for the creature above him.
Ilya didn’t waste a moment, and he was not gentle. The finger inside him burned and Shane gasped against Ilya’s mouth. Ilya fucked him with a single finger for only a few seconds before he added a second. Shane panted like a dog at the harsh treatment, hole aching.
Ilya’s blunt teeth dug painfully into Shane’s lip and pulled. Shane keened, stuck like a fish on a hook, torn between wanting the pain to stop and wanting it to increase tenfold.
The fingers inside him were cruel, fast and harsh, scissoring to open Shane up quickly, with no thought to his comfort.
It felt like only a minute before Ilya sat up and none too gently removed his fingers from Shane’s body. He stood up and Shane got his first full glance of an aroused and naked man. Ilya’s cock was a horror, huge in a way Shane knew would hurt him deeply. Shane’s mouth watered at the sight and he wanted.
Ilya tipped the last of the oil over his massive cock, making it shine as he jerked himself.
And then he took Shane’s bitten thigh in an iron grip, fingers digging deep into the wound. Shane shouted, convulsing at the incredible pain. He felt his cock twitch violently, clearly happy with the proceedings.
Ilya’s hand came away, coated in blood. Shane watched in utter fascination as Ilya took his cock in his hand and stroked himself with Shane’s blood.
When he took his hand away, the cock was even more terrifying than before, streaked with red as if it had already claimed Shane’s virginity.
Ilya reached back over Shane and cupped Shane’s cheek with the still bloody hand, dragging the hand down from Shane’s face, down his neck to his chest, down to his groin again, leaving a bloody smear across Shane’s body.
“You were meant for this, Father.” Ilya looked down at Shane in utter satisfaction, like a cat that had caught the canary. “Blood suits you.”
In a blur of movement, Shane found himself pulled to the edge of the bed, legs spread forcibly wide. Ilya’s bloody cock notched at Shane’s entrance, but his body involuntarily went stiff.
“Relax,” Ilya demanded. “It will be harder for me to fuck you tomorrow if you tear.”
Shane didn’t know if that was a bad thing or not, but he forced himself to relax. It was with ringing clarity that he knew, no matter what happened afterwards, he wanted Ilya to do this to him. He could finally have what he had craved since he first understood what men could do to each other.
Ilya didn’t hesitate. His cock forced its way into Shane with a sharp thrust, and it was all Shane could do not to scream or fight back against the force ruthlessly invading his body.
His cock seemed like it went on forever, tunneling into Shane and making room for himself in Shane’s body. Tears fell continuously from Shane’s eyes, and he clutched helplessly at the sheets, unable to ground himself against the pain. He wished Ilya would lie down over him again.
Finally, finally, Ilya bottomed out. His red eyes flashed behind Shane’s tears and Shane knew this was only the beginning.
Giving Shane barely a moment to adjust, Ilya dragged his cock backwards. Shane thought he might take his insides with him. Just as he thought Ilya would pull all the way out, the creature slammed back into Shane.
This time, Shane did scream. Pain rippled through him, deep and all-consuming. This wasn’t a simple fucking, this was a claiming. Ilya was attempting to ruin Shane from the inside out, fucking him over and over. Molding his body to his cock.
Shane didn’t know up from down. Ilya dug his nails deep down Shane’s sides, drawing bloody lines as he pounded into him. There was a desperate pleasure to it, in being Ilya’s toy, in being the receptacle for his pleasure. The pain was too much and not enough, and it was everything Shane had dreamed of.
His cock remained hard between his legs, bouncing back and forth as Ilya wrecked him.
Ilya soon began to hit a spot inside Shane that made his entire body shake, from his fingers to his toes. It was too much, deep pleasure mingling with the all-consuming pain, and yet all Shane wanted was more more more.
A tightness started forming in Shane’s groin, one that was familiar but terrifying in its intensity. It would break him, Shane knew. There would be no going back from it.
Shane began to move his hips to meet Ilya’s thrusts, encouraging him to hit that particular spot within him every time. Ilya laughed at Shane’s desperation, and Shane knew he had been right all along. Shane was a whore.
Ilya gripped the back of Shane’s knees and pushed back on them, folding Shane in half on the bed and lying over top of him.
Shane lost all his momentum, pinned. Unable to move, Ilya used his body like the toy he was. Ilya’s cross thudded heavily against Shane’s chest.
Ilya’s fangs flashed once in the moonlight before he sank them deep into Shane’s neck, right on top of the skin he’d already tenderized.
Again, the pain was incredible. Unlike anything Shane had ever felt before, it was like a fireball through Shane’s body and psyche. It shone so brightly that Shane lost all ability to see, hear, smell; he could only feel the fangs in his neck and the cock still pumping into him.
The orgasm that shook through him, as the pain and the pleasure raced through his veins, broke every wall he had ever put up within himself, every promise he’d ever made to God.
He had a new god now. One who would give him more pleasure and more pain than Shane’s mind could comprehend.
Ilya fucked him through the orgasm, heedless of Shane’s shaking and crying, sucking down his lifesblood, taking and taking and taking.
Before Shane could come down from the orgasm, Ilya ripped himself out of Shane’s neck, only to bite down on the other side.
“Ilya!” Shane screamed and screamed the vampire’s name, voice fraying, mind and body weakening. Distantly, he was glad he lived as deep in the woods as he did; otherwise, Hayden and JJ would certainly be breaking down his door, trying to save Shane from the only thing that mattered anymore.
At the first suck of the new bite, the orgasm that had been dying renewed. Shane felt his cock twitching, desperately trying to release seed that had already been spent. That hurt too, a deep ache in his balls. Shane loved it.
Ilya kept fucking him all the while, as Shane grew sensitive and no longer drew pleasure from the fucking. The spot inside him that had been so good suddenly became the bane of his existence. Ilya sucked and sucked and stole his blood from him and Shane’s head began to spin. He lay there, dizzy and silently crying, not knowing if this was the end for him or not. Not knowing if Ilya would stop before his heart no longer had any more blood left to pump.
Finally, Ilya removed his teeth from Shane’s neck. Standing up again, but keeping Shane’s legs pinned to the bed, Ilya looked down at Shane in animal satisfaction, fucking Shane deep and hard. Shane’s blood dripped down his chin, down his chest, horrific and incredible. Shane was fascinated as he watched his blood trace over every muscle and every tendon.
Wetness dripped down both sides of Shane’s neck, and Shane saw himself in his mind’s eye. His neck destroyed, flesh pulverized and covered in blood. His sides torn apart by blunt nails, evidence of his debauchery. The still bleeding wound on his wide open thighs, the condemnation of a whore. Ilya’s cock buried deep in him, made bloody like a virgin on her wedding night.
Shane couldn’t stop shaking. This final release wasn’t an orgasm. It was barely physical, even with the brutal thrusts that wracked his body. It was mental, emotional, freeing. Ilya was right; he owned Shane’s body, his blood, and his mind. He would never be the same after this.
He’d beg Ilya to take him with him wherever he went. He couldn’t live without this anymore. He knew he would need it like water, need his body used and abused and his mind warped by the pleasure and the pain.
If Ilya left him, there would be no returning to normal. There would only be a whore without a master. He’d have to go to Montreal and find a brothel that he could give himself to, let them do whatever they wanted to him if Ilya abandoned him. Humans could never compare to his god, but he could never be a priest again. He would only ever be a whore.
As the visions of his future settled into him, Ilya brutally thrust into him, once, twice more, and then he roared his release deep inside Shane’s body. One final claiming.
Ilya collapsed on top of Shane, finally letting go of his legs but keeping him pinned.
“Beautiful, Shane,” he murmured before his mouth found the right side of Shane’s neck and began to lick and suck at the blood, at the dripping wound. The pain of it barely registered in Shane’s daze. After a minute, Ilya switched to the other side of his neck, cleaning there as well.
After that was done, Ilya pushed himself off of Shane and gently removed his cock from Shane’s sensitive hole, causing Shane to whine pathetically at the loss.
Ilya hushed him and wiped his fingers at Shane’s surely gaping hole, gathering the release he could feel leaking out of him. Ilya raised it so that Shane could see, the normally white release tinged pink and streaked with blood.
“Open,” Ilya demanded, bringing the bloody come to Shane’s mouth.
In that moment, Shane no longer had a will beside Ilya’s. No desire to protest anything that this man, this creature, wanted of him. He opened his mouth meekly and let Ilya coat his tongue with the release that had been inside of him. It was bitter and coppery.
“Swallow,” Ilya said.
Shane’s mouth closed and he swallowed.
“Good little whore.” Ilya’s words were affectionate. Shane basked in their glow as Ilya smiled down at him.
“Stay still,” Ilya instructed, seeming to inspect Shane’s entire body as he lay limp.
Ilya leaned down to lick and suck at the bite on Shane’s thigh, cleaning that of blood as well. He caught Shane staring at him and explained, “Strigoi saliva can heal the bites. Tomorrow, they will be only bruises. I will leave the scratches. They are beautiful on you.”
Shane blinked back at him. He supposed it was good to know that he was unlikely to die of infection from one of those bites.
“You do not want to talk?” Ilya asked, amused.
Shane just looked up at him, not responding. Obviously.
Ilya hummed and made to get up. Shane finally found the motivation to move, lightning quick as he sat up to grab Ilya’s wrist to keep him from walking away. The world spun around him at the sudden movement, but Shane kept his grip tight.
“Do not worry, little whore. I am not going anywhere. You need water and food. I will be just there.” He pointed to the table across the room, where Shane’s pitcher of water and day-old bread sat.
Shane still could not find words, but he looked imploringly up at Ilya, begging him to keep his word as he pried his fingers open.
In a flash, Ilya was over to the table and back at Shane’s side. Shane wasn’t sure if he was confused from the blood loss or if Ilya had supernatural speed to match his supernatural strength.
Ilya pushed a glass against Shane’s lips and he obediently sipped, letting Ilya control how much and how fast he drank. Ilya stroked his hair as he drank. It felt nice.
Once the glass was empty, Ilya put it on the floor and turned his attention to the bread. After a glance at Shane waiting patiently for him, Ilya pulled a bite sized piece off and pressed it to Shane’s lips.
Shane took the piece and chewed, grateful that Ilya didn’t seem to expect him to talk. To do anything but sip and chew.
They went on like that for an indeterminable amount of time, Ilya feeding Shane and Shane’s mind quiet for the first time in his life.
Ilya made him drink another glass of water and then placed everything on the floor. He wrapped his arms around Shane and pulled him down onto the bed, arranging the both of them so that they lay on their sides. Ilya lay behind Shane, wrapping him tightly in his arms.
Shane was still smeared in blood and oil, but he found that he didn’t much mind at that moment. Ilya had been staring at his marks and his blood like they were the most beautiful things he’d ever seen.
Strangely, this moment was the cleanest Shane had ever felt.
“I did not lie,” Ilya whispered. “You are perfect. Your taste, your submission, your pain. I have never met another like you.”
Shane felt the words settle into him, soothe parts of him that had always been raw and chaffed.
“I have had other priests. It is fun, breaking them. But I do not want them after a night.”
Shane felt his hands digging into Ilya’s arms, hurt panging through him. He did not want to be just one in a long line of men Ilya had corrupted and left behind.
“Hush,” Ilya admonished him, squeezing Shane so tight he could barely breathe. “I am not done. I never want any lover longer than one night. But strigoi… we know when someone is meant for us. One taste and we can never let them go. I am sorry, Shane. I must keep you. I must change you. I will take you away from here and teach you to be strigoi, to be mine.”
Shane didn’t know why he was apologizing now. He had already changed Shane. There was no world where he woke up in the morning and went back to his life. He knew he would never enter another church again.
“Good,” He whispered, barely audible but fierce. It was good, it was the best thing Shane had ever heard. He wanted to be with Ilya, wanted what Ilya could do to him, forever.
“Good,” Ilya echoed, and Shane thought he might be smiling. A sweet kiss landed on the back of his head. Ilya’s gentle pecks were so different from the pain and suffering that he dealt out with glee.
Shane fell asleep in the vampire’s arms, a smile on his face.
--
In the dark of the night, the strigoi held his new mate. He had the body, the blood, and the mind, and he was sure that he would soon claim ownership over the little priest’s heart as well.