Unholy

3. Father Levi

My eyes pop open, my lungs inhaling as if being pulled from water. I look around, my eyes adjusting to the dim light now filtering through a window. This isn’t my bedroom. The hard surface I’m currently laying on isn’t my bed. The mystery surface rises and falls, my head following the movement, and in that moment I realize two things: One, the surface is actually a chest. The chest of a demon. Well, half of one. And two, I have made the biggest mistake of my life.

Memories from the night before assault me, playing in a montage like some kind of sinful porno. The way the demon had taunted me. The memory of Gabriel. The prayer. The demon’s big body shuddering as he came untouched. How I fucked the demon with a cross. The way the demon fucked me. The demon’s final confession before he fell into slumber .

I force myself to rise off of the demon’s… Killian’s chest. I look down at him, trying to determine if he’s awake. His hand, the one that had been resting my lower back, has now flopped over to the side, completely still… not even a twitch. I watch him a little while longer, determining that he is, in fact, still asleep.

I need to get out of here. I need to go back to my church and pray for God to forgive me. I pause, though. Killian had said something about God not being able to see. If God didn’t see my misdeeds, then does He truly need to know of it? I shake my head. No. I cannot allow that line of thinking. God is all knowing. He definitely saw, and I need to confess and beg for His forgiveness.

After I carefully get out of the bed, completely removing myself from Killian, I assess my body. I’m sore. Every muscle screams for me to lay back down and curl into the comfort the demon had offered. I deny the urge. Everything feels intact.

Except for my virtue and my vows.

I quietly put my clothes back on, my guilt increasing with each new item I don. My collar is last. I hold it in my hand, debating about placing it around my neck. My hand ghosts over the place where it usually sits, finding my skin sore from the demon’s big hand when it had wrapped around my neck. I can still feel his hot come as it landed on my neck, right where the collar sits, branding me forever. I crush the collar in my hand, shoving it into my pocket as I blink back the tears that sting my eyes.

Needing a distraction, I look around for the rest of my possessions. I spot the cross first. The one that I had shoved so deep inside the demon, I don't know how it didn’t cause internal damage. Then I find the holy oils, the ones that we had used as… lubricant. Tainted . It’s all tainted. I am tainted. Will I ever be clean?

Yes. Clean. I need to be clean again. I need to be washed in God’s grace and glory. I need to wash away this abomination. Need to rid my skin and my soul of these acts. God's forgiveness will clean me. Clean. I need to be clean.

With that thought in mind, I only gather my Bible, deciding to leave the tainted items with the tainted demon. The Bible, though, that’s not tainted. Nothing could taint God’s word. Nothing .

I look at the demon’s sleeping form one last time. His chest still rises and falls with even breaths. I have the strange urge to plunge a dagger into that chest. It’s the only way to be rid of it. But then a second, almost as prominent urge tells me I need to kiss that chest, trace the lines of the tattoos with my lips again. I shake my head.

I need to get out of this room. Whatever spell the demon had put on me the night before is obviously still at play. Leaving will be what breaks it. I force my gaze away from the naked demon and twist the knob. I silently thank God that it turned. He must still be watching over me after all. I step over the threshold away from the demon. For good.

I thought I would feel different outside of the room. Like the spell would be broken once the door was clicked shut. I thought I might be able to breathe again, as if the blanket of darkness that had draped itself over me would have been lifted. But no. That didn’t happen. Nothing feels any different. Further. I need to get further away.

I leave the house, breathing in the fresh morning air. Normally, I appreciate the sunrise, the beauty of God’s creation, but today it just feels wrong. It is just as beautiful as ever, maybe even moreso, and that angers me. It’s supposed to be different. It’s supposed to be dark and tainted just like me. The sun was never even supposed to rise. But no, the sun rose as if nothing happened.

The closer I get to home, to my church, the more my body shakes. I don't know how to preoccupy my mind. I typically don't listen to music, preferring podcasts of sermons, but something about listening to a sermon after what I just did feels wrong. As if I’m not deserving of the sermons my peers offer.

I can’t seem to stop my mind from flashing back to the night before. The demon. The way his body moved as he came. The seductive growl of his voice when he was “praying”. The smell of his pale, sweat-coated skin, tattooed and stretching perfectly over enticingly taut muscles. The taste of his lips as he whispered filth into my waiting mouth. The feel of his hard cock penetrating me so deep, God hasn’t even been there.

I am so distracted by the memories, I almost miss the turn off to my driveway. Once out of the car, I look at my church. It’s not as large or extravagant as some of the others in the area, but it’s something I’m proud of. It stands tall and firm, the morning sun rising behind it, reflecting off the stained-glass windows. The sandy stone walls that were once a safe haven to me now give me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I pull my gaze away, undeserving to even look at the holy place. I move toward the side entrance; my apartment is attached to the church, but not a part of it. That’s how I’m currently feeling. Attached to the church, but no longer a part of it. That must change.

“ Clean. I must get clean,” I murmur over and over to myself, repeating it like a mantra. “If I’m clean, then I will be close to Him once more.”

I rush into my bathroom the moment I cross the threshold of my home. The large, deep clawfoot tub sits in the middle of the room, the shower off to the side. The shower will not do. I need to soak in God's glory at this point. The tub is big enough for two people. Surely it can cleanse me.

I only turn on the hot water.

“ Clean . Pure. Need to be cleansed,” I mumble, removing my clothes with shaking hands. I look down at my arms, finding red bruising on my bicep. The same exact size as the demon's fingertips. Clean . The water will cleanse me. Will wash away the bruises. God can do anything.

I kneel next to the tub, now full of steaming hot water. This will work. It has to. I clasp my hands together. “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” I start, my right hand flying over my body in the shape of a cross.

“May God, who through water and the Holy Spirit has given us a new birth in Christ, be with you all and with your spirit.” I stand, lighting the first prayer candle near the tub. “The blessing of this water reminds us of Christ, the living water, and of the sacrament of baptism, in which we were born of water and the Holy Spirit.” I light another candle.

“Whenever, therefore, we are sprinkled with this holy water or use it in blessing ourselves on entering the church or at home, we thank God for his priceless gift to us and we ask for his help to keep us faithful to the sacrament we have received in faith.” I finish lighting all the candles, then kneel to pray over the water in silence, finishing my blessing.

Once the final words of my silent prayer are uttered, I look up, tears in my eyes. I still haven't felt God’s presence. It has to be in my head, though. Maybe whatever spell the demon did to make me feel like it disappeared will wear off. It has to.

I stand, dipping my toe into the water. I hiss, almost recoiling at its heat. I try to ignore it, plunging my whole foot inside. It burns, but it has to in order to burn away my sin. This is how I will be clean. I will rid myself of the demon’s marks left upon my skin. I will wash away the demon’s come that still remains inside me. I will be clean.

Once I finally submerge my whole body in the water, I dunk my head in, coming out and taking in a huge gulp of air. My skin is red, on fire from the scalding water.

Clean. I need to be clean.

I make the sign of the cross again, my hand moving slowly under the water until I touch my forehead, leaving droplets of hot water to race down my face. “Bless me father, for I have sinned,” I say out loud, my wavering voice echoing throughout the tiled bathroom. I want to whisper the words, but I force myself to push them out, needing to tell God about my sin. Needing His forgiveness .

“It has been a day since my last confession,” I continue, looking up toward the heavens, waiting for some kind of sign. There is none. “I have committed a mortal sin, but I know all sins are forgivable in your eyes, God. Please forgive me, for I have allowed a creature to touch me.”

I take a deep, shaky breath, eyes stinging as I blink. “Not only is this creature a male, but he is not a holy man. No. He is a servant of Lucifer. Being gay is a great sin. I am now an abomination in your eyes. I have pledged celibacy to you, and I have betrayed that pledge while also committing an abhorrent sin.”

A tear rolls down my cheek, dropping off my chin to mingle with the water. My voice cracks with emotion. I pause and take a deep breath then another. “I know it’s not an excuse, Christ, but I believe this creature has put a spell on me. I need your guidance. I need your love. I need you to cleanse my body and soul. I need your forgiveness.”

I look around the room, trying to find some kind of sign. I don't hear God's voice. Don’t feel His presence, not even in my heart. This has to be punishment. God saw what I had done and is angry with me. That’s the only explanation for His absence. I choke on a sob. No. I need to get Him back. I need to prove my allegiance to Him. Show Him it was just a mistake.

“Please, God, listen to my prayer. Understand that I am a human, not without flaws. I was tricked into this filthy act, but never again. I will never again let the Devil win. Please. Show me that you’re here. I promise. Never again, God,” I sob, more tears trailing down my face, over my stubble and into the water.

“Ah, Father,” a deep voice says, and I jump, looking around the room.

“God?” I ask, but I know deep down it’s not God. I’m just so startled, I can’t think. Can’t identify the voice.

“Better.”

Footsteps.

I whip my head toward the doorway, watching as the demon waltzes in as if he owns the place. Not real. This can’t be real. It has to be God, testing me. Like a trial of sorts, seeing if I will make the same mistake twice.

“How long have you been here?” I ask, knowing that there is no way my imagination has made this up. Did I fall asleep in the tub? Shouldn’t I have drowned then? If that was the case, then I must have gone to Hell. This is my version of Hell. A tall, sexy, half-demon in skin tight white pants and a white button up shirt that sits perfectly on top of his muscles. The muscles I had touched not even 12 hours ago. My mouth goes dry.

No .

“Long enough to hear you pray. Don’t you know, Father?” the demon asks, and I tilt my head, confused. The demon smirks at him. “You can’t pray the gay away.”

I open my mouth to respond, but the demon cuts me off. “Oh wait. I guess you’ve always heard it the other way around.” The demon’s smirk morphs into a full-blown smile, revealing perfectly white, almost pointed teeth.

“Begone, demon.” My voice is loud and firm, somehow finding resolution within my doubt.

“Father, that wounds me.” Killian’s big hand presses against his chest, grimacing. His expression changes. “A couple of hours ago, you were moaning my given name. “Please, Killian. God . Please. Make me come. Please. Need to come,”” he mimics.

My cock twitches at the words, the memories. No. I still myself, forcing my mind back into the present. Here and now. In this new test that God has given me. One that I will not fail.

“That was… that was …” my mouth opens and closes exactly three times, unable to come up with exactly what that was. A moment of insanity? Of weakness? Of unholy sin?

“You called me God. Now we're back to “Demon”. One step forward, two steps back, I suppose. Thankfully, I do love a good dance.” Killian moves his hips playfully at me, displaying his growing erection.

“Release me,” I say, eyes snapping up to Killian’s.

“Already ready to come? I thought it would take more effort than this.” Killian moves toward me. I jump back, the water sloshing around the edges of the tub. I press my back as close to the tub as possible, pulling my knees to my chest as some added form of protection.

“No!” I shout, and Killian stops walking, smile falling.

“No? ”

“No. I want you to release me from this spell you have on me.” My voice is shaky, but I clear my throat, needing it to be strong, needing my stance on this to come across.

“I already told you, Father. I am not a witch. I do not know any spells. I have no real powers. I am not enchanting you. What you did, you did out of desire. ” Killian takes a single step closer.

“No.” I shake my head violently, whipping droplets of water off my hair, landing on each surface of the room, blessing it with holy water.

“You’re just looking for some sort of excuse, aren’t you? Something to justify the fact that you let a demon touch you in a way that God could never,” Killian says, and I continue shaking my head. “You’re not gonna find it. That was all you, Father. It was you that asked for it. It was you that enjoyed it. It was you that prayed for it.”

“SHUT UP!” I scream, but my eyes betray me. They wander over the hard lines of the demon’s body, down his torso to the distinct bulge in his pants. My mouth waters, remembering what that bulge looked like, felt like . I can’t tear my eyes away, and my body stirs at the sight .

“And even now, you can’t stop yourself from looking at me. Looking at what you do to me.” The demon emphasizes his point by grabbing his hard cock through his pants. His voice is deeper now, rougher, as if dragged through gravel and hung up to dry.

“I’m not doing anything,” I respond absently, still entranced by the demon's erection that seems to be growing before my very eyes. My mouth waters, remembering how it felt inside me. Resist.

“You were confessing,” the demon says, as if that’s supposed to be all the explanation I need. “I’m sorry I interrupted. Go on. Finish.”

“I can’t.” I eye the demon, wondering what this new angle is.

“Yes, you can. Don’t you have to? Your confession will be incomplete without the prayer. If you don’t officially confess, then God cannot forgive you.”

My eyes widen at the demon's words. Yes. That’s probably why I still don't feel God. I haven't finished my confession. I haven't finished the prayer. Once I finish, then God will hear me and save me from this vision .

“My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart,” I pray, ignoring the demon to look up at the heavens, picturing God above me. “In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good, I have sinned against You whom I should love above all things. I firmly intend, with Your help, to do penance, to sin no more, and to avoid whatever leads me to sin.”

I glance over at the demon, who watches me with intensity. “Our Savior Jesus Christ suffered and died for us. In his name, my God, have mercy,” I finish.

“God, the Father of mercies,” the demon says.

“No. Stop. Only a priest or God can…”

My protest is cut short when the demon gets louder.

“Through the death and the resurrection of His Son has reconciled the world to Himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace.” The demon takes a step closer, then another, until he is inches away from my face.

“And I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” The demon makes the sign of the cross across his torso. My jaw drops. How? A demon can’t… can they?

“You can’t forgive me. You’re not…” My response is weak, barely above a whisper.

“God? You called me God last night,” Killian leans in, inches away from my mouth now. I don’t respond. Can’t force my body to move away. My mind is reeling. This shouldn’t be possible. “Amen,” Killian murmurs against my lips, then kisses me. I don't kiss back, but my cock stirs with the feeling of Killian’s tongue pressed against mine once more, his mouth sucking the water from my lips. Killian’s mouth sizzles, the smell of steaming water hitting my nostrils.

“Holy water?” The demon asks, pulling away to look down at the tub.

“Yes, so you can’t touch me.”

“You’re gonna need more than Holy Water to keep me away, Father.”

“It will burn you,” I remind him, even though I know from experience that it doesn't do much to Killian. It still has to sting a bit, right?

“I would rather burn while touching your skin than be left unmarked never knowing the feel of it beneath my fingertips.” The demon demonstrates his words by tracing a finger over my neck, right over the bruise he had left there and where I scrubbed the remaining come off my skin. The sound of more sizzling, the smell of slightly burnt flesh. Marked together.

“What do I have to do to get you to leave?" I ask, my voice weak. Killian stands up, looking down at me curiously, as if he just can't quite figure me out.

“Me leaving when you ask would hardly be a test. How would you prove your renewed loyalty to the big daddy upstairs if I just left?” the demon asks, and… wait. Does he have a point? I was just thinking about how Killian being here had to be a test. That if I was able to resist him once and for all, then maybe I would feel God again. Maybe I would earn His forgiveness. But how will I pass this test? Already my body reacts to Killian.

“I should have stabbed you while I had the chance.” I look the demon in the eyes, and he doesn’t react for several seconds. Finally, his face breaks into a smile. Wide and brilliant, as if I didn’t just threaten him .

“There’s that spark I was looking for, dove.” Killian looks pleased, and my entire body reacts to it. It's like I want to please the demon.