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The pages before you were old, and yellowed, thin as onion skin. You were half surprised they weren’t crumbling beneath your fingers as you ever so gently turned the pages, glancing from the thick, dusty book, to your notebook. Your handwriting wasn’t neat, but you would be able to decipher it later. Neatness was not your most pressing concern at the moment. The book in front of you seemed to hold the secrets to the universe, at least for the universe you were interested in. In the oppressive silence of one of the ministry’s many study rooms, you had worked yourself into a good, productive flow, hiding from the biting wind outside. The sun had long since set, and the only light came from the fire burning in the fireplace and a warm-toned desk lamp. Nothing in the world seemed to exist outside of this study room. Passages and illustrations danced in front of your eyes.
“ The woman saw that the tree was good for food and pleasing to look at and desirable for imparting wisdom. She took some fruit and ate it. Then she gave some to her husband who was with her, and he also ate it.” The ministry kept hundreds of versions of holy texts available in it’s libraries- knowledge was the original sin, after all. Anything information one desired, one could find at a branch of the ministry library. You had a theory that it rivaled only the library of congress in its magnitude of information. This particular passage was one you had read version after version of. There was something so fascinating about the beginning of humanity- how immediately humanity had sinned, how quickly they had been cast aside, how little forgiveness a loving god could spare.
This old, dusty book held the same core ideas as the hundreds of versions you had read before. Nothing new or exciting. But each line you read came with a small sense of wonder, of familiarity as you searched for new words, new turns of phrase
You nearly jumped out of your seat when the door opened. Your head snapped up as you heard it shut again. You found yourself staring at the broad-shouldered, neatly dressed form of Cardinal Copia. His back was to you. He released a deep, frustrated sigh as silence settled in the room again. The cardinal had placed both hands on the door- One rested on the doorknob, the other on the solid, dark wood of the door. His forehead came to rest above his hand with a soft thunk . The biretta previously centered on his head skewed backwards. He was muttering something under his breath. You felt pink spread across your cheeks- not only from the sudden entrance, but from who had entered. Cardinal Copia frequented the library, where you often spent your free afternoons. You knew him to be an intelligent, compassionate man from the few times you had met him. His sermons, while rare, were your favorite to attend. The passion and care he put into each word was unmistakable. You had caught yourself on the edge of your front-row seat on more than one occasion- admiring not only his words, but the curve of his jaw, his nose, the careful way he swept his hands out toward the pews. Your stomach had begun to twist when you saw him in the nave. A hallway crush you had simply pushed to the side, rationalizing that there was nothing to be done. A few solid moments passed in silence. The cardinal did not turn to notice you. You set your pen down.
“..Cardinal?” You said, trying to keep your voice down so as not to startle him. The Cardinal whipped around, his cassock billowing around him. It made an audible swish as it settled around his legs. He was still backed up against the door, staring at you with wide eyes. After a moment of just staring at each other, the cardinal cleared his throat.
“Ah- I apologize, I didn’t mean to interrupt you, I thought this study room was empty-” He said quickly.
“No! No- you didn’t interrupt-” The two voices offering awkward apologies overlapped. Both paused for a moment. You laughed a little, the cardinal offering a soft chuckle in return. You offered a gentle smile to him.
“Is everything okay? You seem a bit…perturbed.” You don't know why that was the word you chose, but you supposed it was accurate. There was no other way to describe how the cardinal had swept himself into the study room. He removed the now crooked biretta from his head, holding it in front of his chest as he stepped away from the door, closer to the table.
“Oh, yes, yes. Just… a very busy day.” He waved away the question. “Paperwork, ghouls, you know” Putting aside the fact you had no idea what he was referring to when he said “ghouls”, you nodded. You gestured to the chair next to you. He nodded and sat, placing his biretta on the table. He leaned forward, looking down at the book you had been studying, and the notebook of poorly organized thoughts next to it. He had leaned into your immediate space, and was close enough that you could feel the heat coming off of him- so close you caught hints of incense, of old book pages mixed with the faded scent of his cologne. You swallowed thickly, trying to stifle the urges you had to bottle that exact scent and keep it next to your bed.
“What are you researching?” he asked, sitting up a bit more. He leaned back in his chair, scooting himself closer to the table, and in the process, to you. The cardinal had a faint sparkle in his eye, and his hair had fallen from it’s controlled, slicked back state. You hadn’t noticed it at first, but facing him head-on, it was nearly impossible not to. You cleared your throat again, looking from the book, to him.
“Genesis- uhm, Adam and Eve” You replied, gesturing to the book. “One of my favorites.” The Cardinal gave a pensive nod.
“You have studied this particular story extensively.. Why is that?” He asked, tilting his head. You paused for a moment as well.
‘It interests me… Surely the beginning of all humanity must have something significant beyond… beyond obedience.” You said, shrugging as you looked down at your notes. “I have my ideas, of course, but I find myself wondering if some translator somewhere in history agrees with me” The cardinal folded his hands in his lap, tilting his head as he listened.
“And what are your ideas?” he asked. You gave a soft laugh.
“Don’t get me started. We’ll be here for hours.” The Cardinal gave a soft chuckle and stood, stepping over to the coat rack on which you had placed your coat.
“Well then. I ought to get comfortable… this heavy thing.” He began to unbutton his cassock. Your eyes widened as you watched. He looked down at his hands, artfully pulling the buttons from their holes, like a weaver would place together an exquisite tapestry. His gloved fingers worked slowly, carefully. You longed to feel the warm leather on your skin.
“The original sin, the creation of humanity…what else?” He hummed. You swallowed thickly.
“The creation of sin itself.” You breathed. The cardinal raised his head as he removed the heavy wool cassock from his shoulders. He hung it on the coat rack, left in his dress pants, button-up, and gloves. Suspenders held tight to his shoulders. He wore a clerical collar around his neck. He walked back to the table, raising his eyebrows.
“The creation of sin itself?” he crossed his legs, leaning back in his chair. You nodded.
“It’s just something I've noticed-'' You were quick to try and brush off what you had mistaken for scrutiny.
“Humor me, Sorella .” He prompted, The inflection on the last word brought heat to the back of your neck. “This sounds far more interesting than any of the paperwork I have sitting in my office.” He gave a soft chuckle, a small smile. His eyes focused on your face, something like hunger flickering through them. You nodded. You looked down at the book, tracing your fingers across the lines you had been reading when the cardinal had entered.
“She took some fruit and ate it. Then she gave some to her husband who was with her, and he also ate it…” You paused, following the line, sneaking a quick look at the cardinal. His gaze was trained on you, flickering from your hand on the crumbling pages, back to your face. You took a breath, continued. “ Their eyes were opened and they realized that they were naked. They took fig leaves and sewed them together, making themselves a covering.”
You leaned back in your chair, your hand hesitantly leaving the book’s pages. You tried to consolidate your thoughts for a moment, biting your thumb nail as you looked at your notebook. There was a comfortable but suspenseful silence, the only sounds being the howling of the wind from the window, the crackling of the fire across the room. You could hear the faint sound of the cardinal shifting in his seat. You drew your eyes up the line of his leg, starting at his ankle, up his knee, joined at his hands, up his arm, his shoulder, eventually landing back on his face. The room felt too small, the two of you were too close, and too quiet. You dropped your hand to your lap.
“Adam and Eve knew they were naked, in theory, before they ate from the tree of knowledge” You began. The cardinal nodded. “When they ate from the tree of knowledge, however, they became embarrassed. It's not that Adam and Eve began sinning after the serpent convinced them to- it’s that they started feeling shame.”
“So their shame created sin?” The cardinal asked. You shook your head.
“Not exactly. They just… the tree gave them knowledge. And knowledge created morality-” You paused for a moment, the words dying on your tongue. The cardinal was rolling the sleeves of his shirt up, revealing the toned, freckled forearms beneath them. Your eyes ran along the line of the muscle stretching from his wrist to his elbow. Your lips longed to follow it. He looked up at you, eyes beckoning you to continue. You trained your gaze on your nearly indecipherable notes, lips pursing. “Sin exists because we know to feel shameful. That is why our idea of sin has changed so drastically since this was written” You gestured to the book, daring not to meet the cardinal's eye. There was a tension in the room- stifling and present as smoke. The cardinal hummed, Looking down at the book himself. He spoke a few moments later.
“The fact that man knows right from wrong proves his intellectual superiority to the other creatures; but the fact that he can do wrong proves his moral inferiority to any creatures that cannot.” He said simply, his accent coming through ever so slightly. You brought your gaze to meet his eye.
“That's Mark Twain, isn’t it?” You smiled as the cardinal nodded. You picked up your pen, tapping it against your palm. Your eyes trailed over him again. Both of you had leaned back, allowing you to survey the lithe curves of the cardinal’s form. “There are plenty of things we believe are sinful, and are not. There are plenty of things that are sinful, that we believe are not.”
“Oh?” He tilted his head, shifted forward. You bit your tongue to keep your disappointment unexpressed. The view of his face, however, did not go unappreciated. “Things like what , Sorella? ”
The last few words came at a volume hardly above a whisper, and once again, something turned in your stomach when he referred to you. The hairs on the back of your neck prickled as you looked over his face. That hunger flashed in his eyes again.
“I can’t tell you everything. '' You replied, watching as he raised an eyebrow. His gaze flickered over your face. “I’m sure you can come up with your own examples”
The cardinal chuckled. When he had leaned forward, you had remained reclined, shoulders against the back of your seat. This distance was short-lived. The cardinal stood, placing one warm, gloved hand on the armrest of the chair. He placed the other on the edge of the table. He leaned down, his face mere inches from your own.
A man you didn’t know in particular drawing himself so close to you should have been alarming. You should have been delivering a swift kick to his stomach and trying to get away, but as he surrounded you with his presence, you felt no threat. He had not invaded your space- no, rather, he had merged yours with his- auras and souls connecting with the physical proximity. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your lips, feel a small part of his hand resting against your arm, smell the scent of his cologne- no longer muffled by his cassock. Your breath shuddered as your eyes met his. There was hunger, a predatory, selfish hunger flashing through the cardinal’s iris.
“Perhaps..sex? Goes along well with nakedness, don’t you think?” He practically purred the question, a chuckle accompanying his words. “Is lust- the love of one body given to another- only turned to sin by shame? Would it be worship otherwise? Would it be holy if we were not told otherwise?” You tilted your head to the side, eyes flickering to his lips, then back to his eyes.
“Shall we find out, cardinal ?”
The cardinals’s lips were pressed to yours before your eyes had time to process he had moved. His hand shifted from the armrest to your elbow, from the table to your waist. With a surprising strength he pulled you firmly from the chair, still connected. He was warm, and quick, and his hands quickly found your waist, wrapping you in an embrace that felt possessive. You could taste the paint from his lip on your tongue. You took his bottom lip between your teeth, dragging ever so gently as you pulled away to breathe. His hands tightened on your waist, keeping you in place. Possessive indeed. He barely gave you thirty seconds before he was pressing against you again, moving you backwards until you hit the edge of the table. His hands slid down your waist to your hips. He paused for a moment, pressing his palms to the soft flesh beneath them, following the curves he found, sliding up, down, farther down.. He squeezed, thumbs running over just where the bones rested. Your stomach twisted as he moved down to your thighs. He tugged you upwards, and you rested on the edge of the table. He trailed a line of kisses down your jaw, heated and needy.
“Tell me, dolcezza ” He murmured, his lips on the joint of your jaw. He pressed another kiss to that spot, warm and gentle. "Did you consider your lust a sin when you sat in the front row for every one of my sermons?”
Your face went a deeper shade of red. He smirked against your neck, pressing his teeth into the flesh just to the side of your throat. At some point, you had tangled one hand in his hair, the other running down the curve of his shoulder. His hands moved up your sides, thumbs tracing the front of your body, just lightly brushing the underside of your breasts. You shivered as he sucked a dark mark into the skin of your collarbone. You gave a soft whine.
“Answer me.” He said firmly, hands returning to your hips and pulling you flush against him. Arousal prickled on the inside of your thighs as you looked up at him, eyes wide. “Did you think of me just like this? Needing you?”
You tightened the grip you had on his hair. He leaned back, his eyes fluttering shut. His jaw clenched, letting out a soft, low moan.
“Just like this” You whispered back. Eyes still closed, a small smirk played across his face. Your hand glided from his shoulder as you kissed him once again. You begin to undo the buttons on his shirt the same time he begins to pull yours over your head. You had doubted the simple t-shirt and pants you wore when walking into the ministry, but now you were glad you had chosen something easily removable. Copia’s shirt buttons were proving difficult enough. You groaned as you broke apart the kiss to try and force the small buttons apart from the fabric. The cardinal took hold of both of your wrists. He held them in a firm grasp, kissing each palm, eyes never leaving your face.
“So impatient, dolcezza ” he tutted. He placed your arms around his neck, his hands returning to your waist. You could feel the warm leather of his gloves against your skin. The cool air of the room nipped at your skin. He kissed your shoulder, then your collarbone, then your sternum. He took the fabric of your bra between his teeth, smirking up at him. “Your cardinal will take care of you, si ?” He murmured against your skin. All you could do was nod.
In a matter of moments, you were bare across the chest, and he was leaving trails of black-marked kisses down your sternum. Your hips rocked forward, seeking his, he gave you a fleeting moment of contact. You bit your lip as you felt his erection press into your thigh, he moaned softly against your lips before diving back down. Anticipation buzzed in your veins as he mouthed gently at the love bites he had left. He brought a trail of featherlight, open-mouthed kisses on each breast, ending each trail with his teeth on the soft, pink buds. You arched into the contact, his hands following to tease where his mouth had marked. His lips trailed down, and as he sunk to his knees, he placed a finger in the waistband of your pants.
“May I, principessa ?” he cooed, smirking up at you. The sight of him was enough to make you dizzy. His shirt was half- opened, and at some point he had thrown the suspenders off of his shoulders so they were simply hanging off his hips. His hair was wild, having been pushed and pulled every which way by your hands, seeking purchase. Your own face was a deep shade of red, hair ruffled. Your neck and chest were covered in dark marks and paint. You nodded quickly.
“Please.” The cardinal chuckled and smirked.
“I like the sound of that, dolce. Say it again” He cooed. You whined, lifting your hips up desperately. He pressed them flat against the table. “Go on. Beg for me.”
“ Please” It emerged from your lips as a half-sob. “I need you- please, cardinal ”
“ Cazzo” He groaned. The button on your pants was undone, and the entire garment was pulled off and tossed to the side. His lips found their way to the inside of your thighs, and kissed the expanse of sensitive skin he found. You gasped, and your thighs attempted to close around his ears. He smirked and stood. You felt the loss of warmth and let your eyes drift open. The cardinal stood between your open knees, one hand holding your thigh, squeezing as he removed one of his gloves with his teeth. Your head spun. That sight was sexier than any amount of romance novels could hope to be. He noticed you watching and smirked. He removed the other, and wordlessly pressed a rough, passionate kiss to your lips. One hand tangled itself in your hair, and you moaned as you felt the other slip beneath the soft fabric of your underwear. The cardinal groaned against your lips as his fingers traveled to the soft flesh of your cunt, the warmth of his fingers traveling down, then back up.
“ Perfetta ” He whispered against your lips. His fingers traveled back upwards, brushing your clit. You gasped, rocked your hips into his hand. He kissed your neck and followed the motion, listening to the soft sounds you emitted. He moved his fingers in tight circles, savoring the way you moaned and gasped each time he did. He moved his fingers away, pressing one, then two inside, moving slowly, massaging the spot that had you arching your back off of the table. He moved his fingers at a steady pace, dragging them out occasionally to tease over your clit. Your moans gained in volume, and after one particularly loud one, he placed the hand that gripped your hair over your mouth. He paused for a moment, fingers holding firm pressure on your clit, making you squirm as he looked knowingly into your eyes.
“Quiet, dolcezza. Only I get to hear those pretty sounds.” He purred. He began to work his fingers again. You felt the knot in your stomach tighten, moving your greedy hips up into his hand, seeking more. He smirked, pulled his hand away from your mouth, pressing his finger to his lips as he pulled back. You didn't understand his absence until he knelt between your knees once again. Two fingers slipped into your cunt, pressing just the right spot as his tongue found your clit. You clapped a hand over your mouth, the other forming a vice grip in his hair. He moaned against the sensitive bundle of nerves. His fingers moved, hitting just the right spot each time, his tongue moving in a damn near artful way. All of it was too much, but all of it was him and it was perfect.
The tight coil of heat burst in your stomach, your thighs trembling violently, and behind your hand, you let out a sound that would make a pornstar blush. The cardinal let you ride out your orgasm, continuing his actions steadily until you went boneless against the table. Your eyes met his as he rose from the floor, dragging the two fingers that had been so expertly working across his tongue. You sat up and pulled him into a rough, demanding kiss. Your teeth found his lip again. You still couldn't feel all of your body, but all you could think of was Copia. Copia, Copia, Copia- his scent, his hands, his lips. You reached a hand down to undo his pants, the zipper proving easier than the buttons on his shirt. You trailed your palm down his stomach, to the tent between his legs. He moaned into your lips.
“ Dolcezza” His head lolled to the crook of your shoulder, pushing his hips forward into your touch. You smirked, still out of breath, happy to gain some leverage. You removed him from his underwear and ran your fist up and down the length of his cock. He groaned into your shoulder, biting gently. “ Cazzo- Cara, please” he whimpered. A small hum of satisfaction came forward from your throat. You had barely touched him, and here he was, whining for you, seeking your mercy. You leaned into his ear.
“Fuck me, cardinal” You murmured. He wasted no time. Suddenly he had flipped you to bend over the table, his back pinning your chest to the cold wood surface. The books and notes and birretta had long since been swept away. His hands laced with yours, pressing them forward, pinning them to the table.
“Ready, principessa? “He purred. You nodded quickly. Both of you moaned as he pressed into you, your head fell forward on the table as you adjusted, panting softly. He began to move after your breathing slowed. His hands went from your hands to gripping your hips, his face still buried in your neck. He pulled out, then slammed his way back in, causing you to cry out. You pressed a palm to the ‘o’ shape your mouth had formed. He smirked and set a ruthless pace. You clung to the table for dear life, gasping and moaning past your hand. His face was still pressed to your neck, panting as he gripped your hips.
“ Mio caro- bellissima, perfetto-” He babbled “ cazzo- so goddamn good-” He whimpered into your neck, groaning and squeezing your hips. A hand of his snaked between the two of you, finding the bundle of nerves he had played so expertly before. He began working in tight circles, which brought the tremors back to your thighs. You felt the tight coil of heat fill your stomach and thighs again, cries of your cardinal’s name stifled by your palm. You could tell he was getting close to the edge, whining and gasping into your neck.
“C-come for me, dolce- come, please ” He whimpered, hips stuttering. As if someone had snapped the wires, the coil in your stomach broke, releasing wave after wave of heat flooding through your body. You felt Copia come, groaning as you clenched around him in the waves of your orgasm. Your head swam as you felt his body press into your against the desk.
It took a few minutes for both of you to return to earth. The cardinal helped you get dressed again, slipping your clothes over your body, letting his hands linger on your waist, pressing sweet kisses to your lips.
“So” You said, tilting your head. “Does sin exist without shame?” You asked. The cardinal chuckled, pulling a handkerchief to wipe the remnants of his face paint off your face. He held your cheek, so fondly removing the streaks of black from your face and neck.
“No. it doesn’t.” He kissed your lips once again, hands running over your hips, waist, thighs.
“I have never been holier than I was when I was loving you”