Work Text:
The Chapel is mostly dark; the only light that guides you to the pews are the flickering flames from the sconces on the walls.
It was much later than you were usually out of your room and you felt like you were doing something terribly wrong. The rules at the Abbey were certainly lax, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you would be caught and reprimanded like a naughty child.
While it terrified you that you could be caught by one of your superiors, like Sister Imperator, it excited you at the same time. You knew that the former Papas Emeritus favoured roaming the church grounds—if they weren’t joined in bed by any number of Siblings or Ghouls.
Your mind veered towards the second-eldest Emeritus brother as you settled into a pew at the front of the Chapel. He was nearing the end of his reign when you joined the Church, and he had always been your favourite. Effortlessly suave and often outright lascivious, it thrilled you just to be near him.
While you had never counted yourself lucky enough to know him as…intimately as some of the other Siblings, he was always kind and exceedingly polite to you. He greeted you by name when you crossed paths, held doors for you like a true gentleman.
Honestly, it frustrated you beyond belief.
Secondo was on your mind constantly. In a Church that encouraged lust and all of the behaviours that came with it, the middle Emeritus brother was hailed by many for his proclivities in the bedroom.
You didn’t want him to be polite and gently with you.
Your
What you really wanted was for him to treat you the way that you knew he treated some of the other Siblings in the Church.
What you really wanted was for him to grab you by the hair, shove you to the floor and have his way with you, giving you the chance to live out all of your deepest, darkest fantasies.
Shaking your head and huffing out an aggrieved breath, you clasped your hands together around the rosary you carried, your Grucifix dangling from between your palms. Those thoughts were the exact reason you had come to the Chapel tonight.
——————————————
You longed for a release. After dinner earlier that night, you were returning to your room and turned down a hallway, only to be met with muffled moans from around the corner. You chanced a glance and saw Papa Emeritus the Third, back against a wall and head tilted back in ecstasy. There was a Sister on her knees in front of him, taking his cock into her throat while he gripped her head with both hands.
You had watched, open-mouthed while he withdrew from her mouth and jerked himself in a flurry of rough strokes, panting while he came all over her eager, upturned face. He ran one gloved finger through her painted cheek, then shoved the digit into her mouth, allowing her to suck it clean.
“Good girl,” Terzo had said breathlessly. “You’re so good for your Papa.”
You stood there, panties soaked and eyes glued to them and let out a noise that was somewhere between a moan and a gasp. They both heard you, and you were mortified when both pairs of eyes immediately turned to you.
Expecting to be reprimanded for intruding on such a moment, you grew even wetter when Terzo said, “Ah, Sister! Join us?”
Before your knees buckled, you gasped out a hurried apology while they both giggled and rushed to your room, locking the door behind you.
“Fuck.”
You threw yourself onto your bed and immediately hiked your habit up. Not bothering to remove your panties, you pushed them aside and sought out your clit with a frantic urgency. Your back was arching off the bed in under a minute, but when you came with a whiny gasp, it wasn’t the third Emeritus whose face was behind your closed eyes. Instead, it was his older brother with you on your knees before him, devouring him while he fucked your face.
You came down quickly, but it wasn’t enough. You imagined Secondo’s rich, deep timbre while he praised you, thinking of how he would sound when he came down your throat.
You teased your entrance with your fingertips while you concocted another fantasy. Praise would sound sweet from your Papa’s lips but degradation, you thought, would sound even sweeter.
Maybe he would call you a slut, demeaning you for being so hungry for him, slapping his cock against your wet pussy while you try to buck up into him. Maybe he would get rough with you, wrapping his hand around your throat while he enters you, sinking his teeth into your shoulder as you welcome him.
You pressed two fingers inside of yourself, reaching up and squeezing your own throat while you indulged. But it wasn’t enough—your hand wasn’t big enough, your fingers couldn’t hit the right spot inside. You continued to try, moaning desperately while you chased a second release.
You were almost there, it was almost good enough, and then you were shocked out of it when your phone chimed loudly from your nightstand.
“Fuck!” You cried, throwing your head back against your pillows in anguish over your ruined orgasm. Your phone chimed another handful of times and you removed your hands like they had burned you.
After several deep breaths, you grabbed your phone and saw that the notifications were from a group text message sent out by Swiss, inviting anyone and everyone to come “revel” with him and the other Ghouls in the forest. You knew exactly what that meant; while you were incredibly sexually frustrated, an orgy with the Ghouls and other Siblings didn’t hold the appeal it usually would.
You quietly removed yourself from the group and put your phone on silent, huffing as you leaned back against the pillows again.
——————————————
Now, you were sitting on the hard pew in the Chapel, panties still damp and eyes closed. You had figured that coming to pray would help you to distract yourself and maybe tempt yourself into sleep.
Unfortunately, you were sitting face-to-face with the statue of Asmodeus, a stone-worked reminder of the lust raging inside of you.
You groaned. The fantasies you had conjured in your bed started to play out in your mind again, even more vivid than before. You were uncomfortably aroused; you wondered at the truth behind the otherworldly connection flaunted by the Church. Could Asmodeus himself be at play, stoking the flames that burned within you?
Even as you shook your head at such a foolish thought, your hand crept to the edge of your habit, pulling it up around your hips. The cool air inside the Chapel was like a balm on your overheated skin. You sighed as you let your fingers trail up the inside of one thigh, building anticipation as you reached to try to give yourself release.
The Chapel was a much more public place than you would have liked, but it wouldn’t be the first time that any member of the Clergy did such a thing. You wondered if your Papa had ever done the same; sitting in an empty pew and stroking himself while the patron demon of lust kept watch, a knowing glint in his ruby eye.
The new fantasy helped you along as your fingers circled your clit. You sighed in unbridled ecstasy as the image morphed, and it was Papa’s hand between your legs, working you towards your climax. Your movements sped up, your touch eliciting soft moans and gasps as your head fell over the back of the pew, eyes closed, picturing him. You whined desperately as you felt the warmth spreading through your abdomen, fingers reaching a fever pitch as you ground your cunt against your hand.
“Yes,” you groaned as your orgasm finally took over you, turning you into a shaking, gasping mess. You drenched your hand with your release, nearly sobbing.
You rubbed yourself through the aftershocks, spread thighs trembling and back arching off the pew. You kept your eyes squeezed shut as you came down, a blissful smile spreading across your face.
Your smile dropped when you heard a slow, methodical clapping come from the entrance of the Chapel. “Brava, Sister.”
Your blood ran cold. You all-but threw yourself up off of the pew. You would recognize that voice anywhere.
You turned slowly, shame rising to choke you like bile. Your Papa was leaning against the doorframe, his skull paint giving him a positively evil look combined with the simple black suit that he wore. He finished his slow clap and clasped his hands together in front of him, raising an expectant eyebrow.
“Papa,” you whispered. “I…I was just praying. I’m so sorry, did you come to…”
your words died as he walked towards you, hands still clasped. He came within a couple feet of you, looking you up and down.
Your cheeks burned so brightly that you thought you must be glowing when his eyes landed on the hem of your habit, still rucked up to the tops of your thighs. You moved your hands in front of you, copying his stance and covering what little modesty you had left. “Hm…praying?” He said. “You certainly have a unique method, Sister.”
You stared at his shoes, shiny black leather against the cold stone floor. “I suppose so, Papa.”
Secondo chuckled. “But you weren’t praying. Were you, cara mia?” You shook your head. “No, I didn’t think so.” He reached out and lifted your chin with one gloved hand, seeking out your eyes with his own. “Tell me,bella. What were you doing?”
You closed your eyes and took a shaky breath, then opened them again and met his gaze. “T-touching myself, Papa.”
His grip tightened slightly. “Yes,” he hissed, then swiftly released your chin and stepped back. It was only then that you saw the bulge concealed in his trousers. Is that because of me?
He sidestepped and started to slowly circle around you. You kept your eyes trained on the floor in front of you, but you could feel his gaze burning into you as he moved.
He didn’t speak until he was behind you, much closer than you expected. “Were you thinking of what you saw earlier, cara mia?”
Your mouth fell open. He knew? Surely it couldn’t be an unusual occurrence for someone to find the youngest Emeritus brother in such a position. It certainly shouldn’t warrant such attention by his older brother. Thoroughly confused, you played dumb. “I don’t know what you’re referring to, Papa.”
He chuckled again, nearly directly in your ear. “Come now, Sister. My brother told me that you came across him and another Sister in a…compromising position.” He continued his circle and stood in front of you again, his face only inches from yours.
Your cheeks burned, and you trained your eyes on his mouth, unable to meet his eyes. “I did, Papa.”
“You watched them together?”
“Yes, Papa.”
“And it aroused you?”
“Yes, Papa.”
His voice dropped even lower and he whispered, “Did you wish that you were her? On your knees in front of Terzo? Sucking his cock?”
“No!”
You nearly clapped your hand over your mouth in shame at how the word had burst out of you. Papa only looked bemused. “No?” He repeated. “My brother told me that you made quite the enraptured audience.”
You shook your head, though he wasn’t wrong. “I don’t understand, Papa. Why did he tell you that I found him like that?”
Secondo gave a disdainful chuckle then turned and stepped away, walking towards the altar. “Terzo knows that I favour you,” he replied, swiping a finger across the top and examining his glove for dust. “He was trying to make me jealous.”
His words didn’t compute. Jealous? He favours you? You couldn’t think of a reply and instead only parroted back what he had said, unable to keep the incredulity out of your voice. “Jealous?”
“Hm. Sì,” he confirmed, continuing to inspect the marble slab in front of him. “I’ll admit…finding you here like this after hearing such a tale…unfortunately he has achieved his desired effect.”
You still couldn’t quite piece together a coherent thought, but his words made you bold. Bolder than you thought you could ever be with him. You approached him and laid a hand on his arm. “I wasn’t thinking of him, Papa.”
His muscle flexed under your gentle grip. “Who, then, bella?”
You met his mismatched gaze head-on when he turned to face you again. “You, Papa. I only ever think of you.”
Secondo groaned, then in one quick move grabbed your hips and pulled you against him, crushing his lips to yours. Your body was flush against his and you could feel the hardness in his pants pressing against your hip. You moaned against his mouth, clutching his lapels desperately.
He pulled back, touching his forehead to yours as you both regained your breath. “Forgive me, tesoro, I forget myself,” he punctuated this with a gentle kiss to your forehead, but didn’t relinquish his hold on your hips. “May I touch you, Sorella?”
“Yes,” you sighed breathlessly. His hands moved up your sides to your shoulders, then up and under your wimple, freeing your hair underneath and sending the cloth to the floor.
“Bellissima,” he purred, running his fingers through your hair. His hand caught on a small knot and you moaned when the motion sent tingles of pleasure-pain through your body. His eyes grew even darker, pupils blown wide with lust. “Ah, molto bene.” His mouth descended on yours again, hands roaming your body with abandon while he devoured you.
You could feel your arousal leaking down your thighs as your tongues met and you gave up control completely. He mastered you, one hand possessively at the back of your neck and the other gripping your ass. Your habit was rucked up even further, and the warm leather of his glove thrilled you as it clutched your bare skin. “Papa, please,” you begged against his lips, though you weren’t sure what for.
He smiled against your mouth, but pulled away. You let out a desperate whine, but he stepped back and tutted, running one finger over your bottom lip. “Are you going to be a good girl for your Papa, bella?”
You nodded; you would be anything for him.
“You must use your words, Sorella,” he chided gently, moving away from you. He removed his jacket and folded it, walking over to the pew you were sitting in. He sat down in your former spot, leaning back and laying one ankle over the opposite knee. With his arms relaxed across the back of the pew, he looked like he was ready to attend Mass; or he would have, if it weren’t for the massive bulge tenting his suit pants.
“Yes, Papa,” you nodded again.
“Brava ragazza,” he smirked. “Come here.”
You advanced eagerly, but were stopped short a few feet in front of him when he raised one hand in a stop signal.
“Get on your knees.”
Oh. You were almost grateful for the command because at those words, your knees turned to jelly in an instant. You hit the ground instantly, gazing up at him in supplication, but he made no further move. Use your words, you reminded yourself mentally. “What would you like me to do, Papa?”
He regarded you with an almost disinterested air, but broke the illusion when he reached down and palmed his bulge with one hand. “I want you to show me exactly what you were doing when I found you sitting here.”
You moaned quietly, grinding down on your heel involuntarily, but waited again for another command.
“Take your habit off,” he ordered. Done. You knelt before him in only your soaked panties. “Good girl,” he said, pressing the heel of his hand harder into his crotch. You didn’t miss the flicker of pleasure in his eyes when he ogled your bare breasts.
You had never been so turned on in your life. The fantasies from earlier came rushing back once more, but they were so much better now that they were so close to being fulfilled.
“Spread your legs and touch yourself through your panties,” he ordered, and you hurried to obey, supporting your weight on your non-dominant hand as the new position had you arching back. You teased yourself through the black lace, shuddering as it stuck to the heated skin beneath. “Tell me how it feels, tesoro.”
“It’s so good, Papa,” you moaned, moving your fingers in tight circles over your covered clit and gyrating your hips to match. “Please, I need more.”
He groaned deep in his throat. “Good girl,” he praised you again. “Move your panties to the side and let me see how wet you are.”
His voice had become even deeper and huskier than usual, rasped by his own arousal. Even though he was instructing your every move, you felt in control, bolstered by the fact that you were having such an effect on him. You obeyed his command, moaning and arching your back even further as the cool air in the Chapel hit your slick flesh.
“Very good, Sister,” Secondo groaned. “Those are in the way, though, no? Very pretty panties, but they obstruct such a beautiful view.”
In an instant, he came down on one knee before you and you watched, holding your body taut as he took your panties in both hands and tore them apart. You grew even wetter as he took the ruined lace and returned to his former position, pressing the fabric to his nose and closing his eyes as he breathed in deeply.
Papa dropped the remains of your panties onto the pew beside him. “Keep touching yourself, tesoro; do not stop until I tell you to.”
“Yes, Papa,” you complied, returning your fingers to your clit and rubbing in slow circles. You leaned your head back, baring your throat to him as you felt yourself creeping quickly towards another orgasm. “Please, Papa, I want you so badly,” you begged without shame.
He chuckled. “Soon, pet. Put a finger inside yourself.”
You did readily, thrusting in and out as you moaned. You brought your head back to look at him when you heard his zipper open. He freed his cock and gripped the base, intimidatingly large and leaking at the tip. Your mouth watered.
“Is this what you want, Sister?” He asked, stroking himself slowly. “You want my cock inside of you?”
“Please, Papa,” you panted. Your pussy clenched desperately around your finger, but it wasn’t enough.
Your eyes were glued to his hand working his cock, matching his strokes with your own thrusts inside of your heat. “Another finger, bella,” he ordered breathlessly.
You were more than eager to obey him, sliding a second finger alongside the first, moaning at the stretch. You ground against your hand, desperately craving…“More,” you gasped, turning pleading eyes on Papa.
His eyes were dark with lust, and you could imagine that he was Asmodeus Himself, made flesh before you. He gave himself one last slow, squeezing stroke and came to his knees in front of you. There was no submission in his posture, though. You all-but cowered under his gaze, trying to concentrate on keeping your hand moving.
“You’re doing so well for me, cara mia,” he praised, reaching out and stroking one gloved hand from your collarbone to your hip. “So obedient. Are you going to keep being good for your Papa?”
You panted as the smooth leather of both of his gloves travelled over your spread thighs, rubbing circles into the aching muscles. “Yes, Papa, please, I’ll be so good—“
Your rising babble was cut off by him moving lower and pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the back of your hand still working your fingers inside of you. You didn’t stop as he moved so that he was eye level with your pussy. “Spread yourself open for me, tesoro, I want to see you.”
“Yes, Papa,” you breathed, separating your fingers and spreading them as far as you could. It was a strange sensation, holding yourself open for his viewing pleasure.
“Good girl,” he praised again. “So beautiful, and all for me, sì?”
“Yes, Papa, it’s all for you; it’s only for you.”
He looked up at your face, then, maybe surprised by the unmistakable truth in your words. You couldn’t understand it, but the rasp in his voice made him sound almost as wrecked as you were. “Brava ragazza,” he whispered, his hands stroking your sides reverently, leaning in and pressing soft kisses to the inside of your thigh.
“Satanas.” You hissed as he planted a kiss to the back of your middle finger, still holding you open. Your body trembled as he pulled back again, letting his eyes take in the full picture of you, open and dripping for him on your knees.
“Bellissima,” he whispered, and there was no mistaking the hunger in his voice, taking the word and coarsening it into a low growl. “You want more, tesoro?” He asked, tracing the back of your finger where his lips had just left, applying the slightest amount of pressure.
“Yesyesyesyes,” you chanted breathlessly, frantic over the fact that he was so close to giving you exactly what you wanted.
Any remaining coherent thought left your head in an instant when he pushed one gloved finger into you, alongside your two. You mewled in pleasure, eyes rolling back into your head when he started to move his finger in and out, in and out, the drag of the leather stroking inside of you too much to bear.
“Good girl,” Papa praised. “You’re so wet for me, so eager for it. Look how easily my finger slides in your greedy cunt.”
The hard edge to his words made it feel like your blood was on fire, burning your veins to ash. He took his other hand and lightly gripped yours, gently guiding your fingers out of your pussy. You had no time to protest the renewed emptiness, could only reach out behind you to brace yourself when he pushed another finger inside of you. The stretch was so much more, so much better when it was him, and you ground desperately against his hand while he fucked you with his fingers. He circled your clit with his thumb, pushing with just the right amount of pressure.
“That’s it, tesoro, you can let go now. I want you to come for me. Come with your Papa’s fingers inside of your pretty little cunt.”
His words were all that it took to push you over the edge, clenching around his glove and drenching the leather. Your arms finally gave out and you crumpled backwards, aided by Papa’s other arm snaking around behind you and holding you.
He leaned over top of you while you came down, petting your hair out of your face with his free hand, the other still trapped by your convulsing muscles. “That was beautiful, cara mia, you were so good for me,” he whispered the praise directly into your ear, holding you tight against him.
You turned your head in his grip, seeking his mouth with yours. The kiss was slow and almost lazy, but still filled with heat. You gasped as his fingers started to stroke inside of you again, searching. “Papa, I can’t,” you protested weakly, the idea of coming again when you were still so sensitive daunting. And yet, your hips seemed to move of their own accord, following the movement of his hand.
Secondo chuckled darkly. “You can, cara mia, and you will,” as soon as the words were out of his mouth, his fingers found the spot they were looking for, wrenching a moan from deep within you and arching your back off the floor. He took advantage of the press of your body against his and sunk his teeth into the side of your neck — not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough to hurt. He sucked the tender flesh gently, with enough pressure that it was sure to leave a bruise.
He pulled back to admire his handiwork, eyes growing ever darker as he took in the mark. His eyes roved over your writhing body as his fingers pumped relentlessly in and out of you, bringing you closer and closer to yet another orgasm. “More, Papa, please, I need more,” you whined.
To your dismay, he eased his fingers out of you. “Such a desperate little slut for me, Sorella,” he chided, his tone deceptively light. He lifted his hand to his mouth and sucked both of his fingers, his eyes closing in indulgence, creating an obscene display that had your cunt clenching around nothing. “Mmm…delicious.”
You pressed your thighs together, desperate for some sort of friction, a needy moan clawing its way out of your throat.
This brought his attention back to you, his eyes snapping back open. In a quick motion, he took his glove between his teeth and tore it off his hand, letting it fall to the ground carelessly. Its partner followed and both were tossed across the room, landing somewhere behind the altar bed. In a lightning-fast move, he moved forward and wrapped one hand around your throat — not applying any serious pressure, just holding.
The feeling of his bare hand gripping your throat had you blissed out and completely at his mercy, and you were pliant as he used his other hand to guide your legs out from under you. When you were completely flat on the floor, he loomed over you, applying just a little pressure to his grip. The slight restriction of air made you dizzy in the best possible way and you spread your legs unconsciously.
“Brava ragazza,” he murmured, releasing your throat and taking both of your thighs, pushing them apart further so that he could look at you. “Così bello, Sister,” he praised, settling himself onto the floor, pressing kisses against your inner thigh.
You were so delirious with lust that you could only just barely appreciate the fact that you had the Second Emeritus brother, feared by most and wanted by many, on his belly on the floor before you.
You were just about to start begging again, and then he surged forward and planted a single, searing kiss directly onto the tender bud of your clit. “A woman such as yourself deserves to be worshipped, Sorella. You should not need to…take care of yourself when there are those so willing to do so for you.”
“Papa,” you moaned, entirely unhinged now, trying to buck against his mouth. You felt the curve of his smirk against your inner thigh and then he was on you, licking and sucking with a fervour that rivaled your own desperation. His tongue and lips worked at your clit while his fingers filled the neglected space inside of you, reducing you to a mess of moans and whines.
Secondo had you completely mastered, sucking your clit into his mouth while he flicked his tongue back and forth over the sensitive bud. His fingers worked in tandem, pumping in and out of you and hitting that spot on every thrust. In less than a minute, you were crying out and riding his face as you came again, seeing stars and arching off of the floor.
You came to with him lapping at your core, overwhelmingly gentle in contrast to the ferocity he had just eaten you out with. You were a shaking, babbling mess, tears springing at the corners of your eyes as you pawed at the back of his head.
He took the hint and rose up above you, his mouth seeking yours. You tasted yourself on his tongue as you shared languid, open-mouthed kisses. It was hot and messy, with clashing teeth and tongues, and it couldn’t have been more perfect.
Secondo groaned your name as he ground his hips against yours, his uncovered erection sliding over your sex.
You reached down and wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking slowly as you guided him to your entrance.
He chuckled against your lips, pulling away and nipping at the bottom of your jaw. “You’re insatiable, Sorella. So eager for your Papa still, even though you’ve just come?”
You nodded as he gripped himself below your hand, moving so that the head of his cock glided along your slit. “I want all of you, Papa, please,” you begged, eyes rolling back as his cockhead rubbed your clit.
“You have me, tesoro,” he promised, pressing a devastatingly gentle kiss to your forehead as he lined himself up with your entrance, then pressed forward.
After so much preparation, the stretch was exquisite. Your body opened to him like it was made to do nothing else, his cock filling you perfectly. You let out a strangled noise, a mix of his name, a select few curse words, and a moan as he seated himself inside you.
“Cazzo,” he hissed into your ear. “You take me so well, Sister. Look at us,” he ordered, taking your chin and guiding you to look down at where you were joined.
You did as you were told, letting out a whimper when you saw where he was buried to the hilt.
“Non è perfetto, amore?” He claimed your mouth in another languid kiss, swallowing the moans spilling from your lips as he pulled out and thrust in slowly. “I want you to watch, cara mia. Be una brava ragazza and keep your eyes on us, sì?”
“Yes, Papa,” you replied obediently, supporting yourself so that you could keep your eyes trained on where he was inside of you. You were so cock-drunk, you were helpless to do anything else. You were transfixed as you watched and felt the persistent drag of his cock in and out of your cunt and you knew that nothing would ever compare to this, nothing would ever feel so good.
“I’ve wanted to take you like this since the first moment I laid eyes on you, Sorella,” Secondo said. “If I had known that you would be this good, this obedient, I would have—” he cut himself off as he picked up his pace, each thrust becoming more wild and rough than the last.
You let out a helpless whimper as you watched the blur of skin-on-skin between you, the familiar and unrelenting feeling cresting inside of you once more. “Papa, I’m close,” you whined.
He grabbed your chin in his hand once more, but this time it was to guide your face upwards, forcing you to meet his eyes. His gaze was hot and hungry, and you felt like you were being devoured. “Look at me, tesoro. I want to watch you come undone.”
With those words, you did exactly that, your orgasm somehow stronger and more earth-shattering than those before. Your mouth fell open in a wordless cry as you came, but you never broke eye contact, not wanting to miss the way that his eyes studied your face, like he was memorizing every detail.
He followed you over the edge shortly after, pinning you completely to the floor once again as he stilled and shuddered over you, filling you with his release.
You collapsed, boneless and breathless, as he pressed kisses into your neck, murmuring praises into your skin.
Secondo pulled away just enough to catch your eye. “Amore mio,” he sighed, bringing a hand up to caress your cheek. “Stai bene? Did I hurt you?
You almost laughed; the concern on his face was such a contrast to the expression he had just been wearing. “No, Papa, you didn’t hurt me,” you promised, reaching up to smooth his shirt collar. “That was perfect.”
He schooled his expression into a much more familiar one — he was once more cool and collected, with a hint of wickedness in his eyes. “You were perfect, cara mia,” he said reverently, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
You could only smile, dumbstruck and sated as he pulled away to tuck himself back into his pants and make himself presentable once more. Nothing could be done for his paint, however. You felt a sick sense of pride when you really noticed how it was smudged over his face, practically removed from the lower half of it. You were responsible for that.
He reached a hand out for you, pulling you into his lap as he sat on the floor. He reached behind himself and took his discarded jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders, holding you like you were something precious. You laid your head against his chest as he stroked a hand over your hair. “What do you need now, bella?”
The gentle tone of his voice compared to before took you by surprise. “Just this,” you whispered contentedly, and his arms tightened around you automatically. It was then that you realized just how strong the smell of sex was around you, heady and intoxicating, and reconsidered your answer. “And maybe a bath.”
Secondo chuckled softly. “That can certainly be arranged.”
You snuggled against his chest further, letting out a yawn as your body finally relaxed. You could have fallen asleep where you were then and there, but you stiffened when you heard someone start to slow clap in the distance for the second time that evening.
Satanas below. Secondo had tensed as well, his arms tightening around you once more, possessively this time.
Before you got up to investigate, ready to face the intruder, you were cut off when they revealed themselves by speaking.
“Quite the show,” Terzo praised. “Maybe next time, you two remember to close the door, eh?”
You laughed despite the pained look on Secondo’s face. “Thank you for the advice, Papa,” you called. “Maybe you do the same for your next tryst, hm?”
The affronted noise that came from his direction had you covering your mouth to hide your laughter. “Hmph. Well, I’d request an encore, but considering mio fratello’s age, I am not thinking this is likely.”
Before either you or your Papa could respond, you heard the click of his heels as Terzo stalked off down the hallway. You looked at each other wordlessly before you burst into laughter once more, burying your face in his neck as he shook with mirth underneath you.
“Quel bastardo,” Secondo muttered. “Let’s go see about that bath, bella. Though you’ll have to help me up; my old bones can’t support me.”
You laughed again at the derision in his voice, pulling him up with you and tucking yourself into his side.
You spared one last glance at the statue of Asmodeus, giving it a silent thank you for finally answering your prayers.