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O'saa's laughter about playing his "little trick" has barely stopped echoing in Marcoh's ears when a drawling voice says, "So, sounds like you've been yearning for someone," and the last man he wants to see right now saunters into view, placing both hands on the confessional's lintel.
"Someone you met on the train, that has light hair, and isn't a woman. How very...interesting."
Marcoh's blood turns to ice even as his face heats up. "You were eavesdropping?"Pav gives a languid shrug. "Not my fault if the church of Alll-mer choose to skimp on sound-proofing their confessionals."He removes one hand from the lintel to tap his finger against his chin in an exaggerated motion. "You know, I've always heard that confessing your sins is supposed to provide a sense of relief, but you don't look particularly relieved to me."
The man's voice is insufferably smug, and Marcoh's hands curl into fists on his thighs as Pav smirks at him. "Could it be you're still holding back? Pretty sure that's against the rules. Gotta get every single dirty little detail out in the open before god can forgive you, right?""You..." Marcoh can't stop staring at the curve of Pav's mouth, the way his prominent eyeteeth press against his lower lip. "You want me to confess...to you? You're not a priest.""Neither is your yellow-clad friend, but that sure didn't seem to stop you. Besides, I'm the subject of all those sinful little secrets you've been hiding, yes? It's only fair.""I don't—what are you doing?!"Pav oozes into the narrow compartment and brazenly seats himself in Marcoh's lap. "It's called taking matters into your own hands. All priests do is nod and mumble and offer cheap absolution..." He slides his hands up under Marcoh's jacket in one smooth movement. "But I think you'll find I can do better than that."It takes a moment or two for Pav's meaning to sink in, and then another moment before Marcoh can get his vocal chords to unfreeze. "This is a church!"
Pav rolls his eyes. "Gosh, is it really? I hadn't noticed. Now, are you going to touch me or what?"Marcoh shifts into a new gear of panic. "You can't—get off me!" He needs to get out of here, right now, to get as far away from Pav and his vile suggestions as possible. When Pav doesn't budge, Marcoh wraps his hands around the man's shoulders, ready to shove him away and make a break for it—but then Pav mutters, "Just typical, have do everything myself around here," and rolls his hips.Marcoh's nerves light up like a string of carnival lights, and the pleasure that shivers beneath his skin makes his fingers curl, inadvertently digging into the meat of Pav's shoulders."Oh, you wanna play rough?" Pav purrs, and presses himself even closer. "Alright. Let's play rough."
"No," Marcoh says, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—" but Pav isn't listening; he pushes his hands up under Marcoh's shirt, fingers pinching and pulling at his nipples until Marcoh's hips push up and up, pinned beneath Pav's solid weight.Pav laughs, like a kid with a new toy. "So sensitive for such a big tough guy. You ever play with your chest while you get yourself off?"Marcoh feels like his thoughts are going to start leaking out of his ears soon, melted into useless goop by sheer, burning embarrassment. "I don't—""Don't fucking lie to me. Look how much you like it." Pav yanks his shirt up and ducks down, almost folding himself in half to get his mouth on him. The slick heat of his tongue is shocking, and Marcoh's hands hit the walls on either side of him with a ringing slap at the cruel pinch of teeth.
His vision throbs in time with his heartbeat as Pav laughs again, low and mocking."Doesn't take much to get you all worked up, huh? You're gonna have this box in splinters by the time I'm done with you.""Please," Marcoh says, after desperately pounding his wobbling resolve back into shape. "This isn't...we can't...""You want me to stop?"Marcoh manages to nod, even while various parts of his body clamor at him not to."I think you're lying," Pav sing-songs, and arches his back to rub against one of the aforementioned parts, which is currently doing its utmost to bust through the zipper of his jeans.
Marcoh's jaw drops as Pav slowly removes his gloves with his teeth, first the left, then the right, grinning as he tosses them over his shoulder, and Marcoh feels like his resolve got tossed away along with them, like yesterday's bathwater.Pav gets up on his knees, and reaches for his flies.Marcoh's eyes go wide. "Wait—"Pav does not wait, and all of a sudden, Marcoh has to contend with the reality of Pav's dick, right there out in the open. Marcoh can count his previous lapses in judgement on a single hand and still have plenty of fingers to spare, but all his encounters up until now have been quick and furtive, fueled by guilt and longing in equal measures; this is the first time he's seen another man on display like this, and the effect is heart-stopping.Pav palms himself, rocking up into his own touch with an indulgent moan. Marcoh can see the stretch of flushed, delicate skin as he twists his wrist, the hair dusting his abdomen and thighs just a shade darker than on his head.
Marcoh's mouth waters, and his throat produces an audible click when he swallows.When Pav says, "Your turn, big man," his voice is husky and soft, and Marcoh's heart slams back into motion, beating in frantic double-time. Pav's eyes narrow in satisfaction as Marcoh start to fumble with his belt buckle, like a cat that got the cream.He straddles Marcoh's thighs and, eyes never leaving Marcoh's, gives his palm a long, lingering lick. Marcoh's pretty sure he makes some sort of noise, because Pav rocks with silent laughter as he lines himself up with Marcoh, loosely wrapping his spit-slick hand around them both. "You might want to hang on to something," he says, and then—And then.
"Vitruvia santa, abbiate pietà," Marcoh breathes, sliding down the confessional's uncomfortable wooden seat until he's barely sitting up. Syrupy pleasure suffuses him to the core, and seemingly of their own accord, his hands wrap around Pav's straining thighs, the blond hair beneath his fingers as soft as peach-fuzz."Taking the holy architect's name in vain, Marcoh? In church, no less? Shame on you." Pav's wearing a cruel sneer, but there's a hitch in his breath, and Marcoh can feel Pav's thighs begin to shake.Marcoh isn't faring much better himself, helpless to do anything but moan as Pav bucks his hips, eyes fluttering shut at the tight, perfect slide of it.
He should stop this, he should've never allowed it to happen in the first place—All-mer sees all and tallies every sin—"Come on," Pav mutters, brows furrowed in concentration as his hand speeds up. "Come on, quit lying there like a dead fish—"Something gives, deep inside Marcoh's mind, and he surges up, throwing one arm around the man's waist and burying his fingers in his hair, reeling him in close and pressing a desperate kiss against his mouth. Pav's lips go stiff against his own for a second, until Pav gives a grunt that sounds almost angry and licks his way into Marcoh's mouth.Heat coils low in Marcoh's belly. Nobody's ever kissed him like this before—nobody's ever wanted to, not like this, like they want to commit the taste of his mouth to memory—and all Marcoh can do is open up for him, blindly reaching out to wrap his finger's around Pav's, fucking up into the slick, hot clench of their hands—"Fuck," Pav gasps against his mouth, jerking forward to bury his face in Marcoh's shoulder as he starts to come, voice going high and sweet as his hand comes up to grab at the back of Marcoh's jacket. It's the way Pav's teeth sink into his throat that sets Marcoh off mere seconds later, tearing a final, wounded sound out of him at the sudden stab of pain.
Marcoh's hand trembles at nape of Pav's neck in the sudden silence, his fine, sweat-damp hair clinging limply to Marcoh's fingers as he waits for the familiar feelings of panic and revulsion to set in, but the inside of his mind remains blessedly quiet. He feels unmoored and a little shaky but so very, very warm. Maybe it's because of the way Pav's still got his arm wrapped around him, tight enough to bruise.It's never been like this. Nobody's ever wanted to keep him before.Marcoh turns his head to press a kiss to Pav's temple, but Pav's plants his hand in the middle of his chest to push him against the confessional's back wall. His eyes look down and off to the side, and his voice is utterly flat. "Let me up."He wipes his sticky hand on Marcoh's sweater before struggling to his feet. Marcoh hurriedly tucks himself away, and, lacking a better option, wipes his own hand on his jeans, ducking his head under the lintel and following Pav out onto the flagstones on rubbery legs.
There's a sick feeling growing in the pit of his stomach as he watches Pav pick up his gloves and put them in his pocket, all while refusing to meet his eyes.
"Are you..." marcoh begins, but has no idea where he's supposed to take this sentence. Are you okay?, maybe.
Why are you ignoring me?
Did I hurt you, did I do something wrong?
Pav finally lifts his eyes to his, and Marcoh's stomach plummets at the expression he finds on the man's face, cold and unsmiling. "Something you want to share with the class? Spit it out already." Pav clamps a cigarette between his teeth and starts irritably clicking his lighter. "I've got places to be."Marcoh works his jaw works silently, like he's fighting to swallow down something rotten. His voice comes out sounding like his throat is lined with gravel. "I thought—""Well, there's your problem right there, then." Pav sneers at him, teeth glinting through a curtain of smoke. "Better not to overexert yourself and leave the thinking to the more qualified parties, yes? Wouldn't want to sprain that brain of yours, such as it is."Marcoh shoulders are tensing up. "But...""But what?"
When Marcoh only gives Pav a pleading look, a hint of a smile creeps into his voice, though it's hard to see his expression in the murky half-light. "Wait, don't tell me you..." Pav slaps his hand against his own forehead and cackles, a cacophony of echoes bouncing off the stone walls until it sounds like the laughter is closing in from all sides. "You actually thought I've got feelings for you?! Oh, this is too good!"Pav braces his hands on his knees, laughing like a hyena, and oh, there it is, that icy undertow of nauseated guilt's got Marcoh in its clutches now.
"What, you want to call your little mage friend back over and have him play fake priest some more so we can officiate the wedding right away?! Gonna make an honest man out of me, Marcoh?! You're too much!"At long last, Pav seems to have had his fill of mirth and drops his half-smoked cigarette on the floor. "Don't get any big ideas," he tells him as he grinds his foot down, and Marcoh watches the tiny, glowing ember die beneath the heel of his boot. "We were just blowing off some some steam, don't be so goddamn pathetic."Pav resolutely turns his back on him and ambles off, seemingly without a care in a world, and as he passes under the stained glass window, the light dyes his pale hair green like tarnished copper, then transforms it to purest spun gold before finally turning it to deep, bloody red.
He doesn't look back as he pushes open the creaky double doors, and steps back into the mist.Marcoh collapses on his knees in increments, until he's crouched with his head bent down, position mirroring that of the penitent in the leftmost panel of the window he faces. He squeezes his eyes shut, and in the dusty church, with the accumulated holiness of the centuries weighing upon his heart like a stone, he presses his trembling hands together.
"Alll-mer-a-te-ricorriamo, a-te-sospiriamo, gementi-e-piangenti-in-questa-valle-di-lacrime..."