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James has lived in this town for a few years - carefully integrating into the social fabric of his new community. It has become easier with the centuries to hide, with more and more people being displaced across countries and continents. Even with all of the world open to him now-days he still preferred the south of England to any other tropical locale - it was where he was born the first time and some ancestral tether to the land still called him back even now.
This quaint village has seen lots of changes in the past year - the biggest one being the arrival of a new priest. He had piercing blue eyes and sharp features - some would say he carried himself like a fox if it wasn't for his uneven gait.
James has sat in on many of the priest's sermons. They were always delivered softly and with a stern authority only certain men could muster. It was a nice change from the old priest that had disappeared in the middle of the night some months back.
It was unfortunate, really, that their new father was going to meet the same fate soon enough. James has memorised Father William’s routine weeks ago - the man was anxious and prayed at odd late hours. He sought protection in his god and relied on his rosary to keep steady. James pitied this weakness to the meager rations of hope that Christianity doles out to open and dirty palms. He had watched this religion grab hold of the isles and of the continent. It is far more removed from the land - focused on heaven now that man has mastery of earth. There is no power that matters in the good book, no power in the holy ground their churches stand on - it does not protect from pestilence, from war, from things like James.
This new priest is not going to live long enough to find his salvation.
Father William is not surprised by James’s arrival at the church - he may have suspected that there was something not entirely right with the tall man in the back of the crowd. He may have even thought that James was similar to himself. It was an open secret why the clergy saw it fit to transfer Father William from a large city up north to their tiny mention on a map. Gossip travels far and fast - especially if it regards the church.
Their young priest is cautious, but not cautious enough. He recites prayer like an expert, holds out his cross to compel his god to act when he sees the red glint in James’s pupils. None of it works.
Father William is a pretty one - something out of place here and something that James hasn't indulged in for some time. An animal grows bored when it's sated and James wants to play.
He lifts the struggling priest up with ease - pinning him against the large wooden cross that oversees Sunday service. Ropes are tied even easier - there are liberties James can take with his powers now that he hasn't been starving. The ropes are tight - they hold up his prey no worse than he could himself. Father Williams’s comfort is none of his concern.
"I think I like this sacrifice a whole lot better darling."
James speaks finally, voice smooth and perverse - hungry.
"This is sick, t-this is sacrilege....please stop this."
His voice is breaking, throat trembling with terror and it’s music to James’s ears. He could scream if he wanted to but no one would hear them - the church stood alone with shut windows and heavy wooden doors.
"Hmm...how long was it? That your lord was crucified for? Not that long - you surely can endure as much?"
Religion always goes to the wayside with these types - he would not even make it two hours before he falls apart. James hopes that this one is strong enough to endure for a bit longer.
Father William tries to pray - to smite - anything, but James just keeps looking up at him suspended and in pain. There are no human implements that can hurt him in a way that matters - no curse that can drop him to his knees. He enjoys watching Will struggle in the silence of the night - indulging in the pretty picture of a desperate man.
There is a moment where the defiance slips off of Father Williams’s face - James wastes no time to jump on the opportunity.
"Oh? Should I be your parishioner in this house of god? Pray to you? worship you?"
"N-no! Do not dirty this p-place with such filth."
"What awfully unkind words father....shouldn't you be asking for my forgiveness from your lord? Tsk tsk...you are really bad at this whole role play of ours."
James smirks up at the man - he is just a man after all. Blood rushing through his veins full of life - adrenaline fueling fake bravado and valor, cock swelling against all logic. Looks like the priest was never so holy to begin with...
"That's quite alright father, I can help with your immersion."
James is practically purring with arousal - he likes playing with his food but this? This is more like a table covered in every illicit drug at his disposal.
He walks up slowly to the trembling man and bites down on the cloth covering his torso - a wild whimper escapes chapped lips.
He slowly rips and tears at the habit - claws and teeth. The force of the action pulling on the skin and digging the unyielding ropes further into flesh.
James could almost taste the blood in the air - rope burn and pressure having opened up sores on Will's skin. It was a beautiful sight.
Father Will - tears running down his face, fully nude with his arms spread against the background of his pulpit. Despite the sharp tang of fear that has settled in the air - his cock stood at attention even still.
Naughty naughty priest.
James sneers in delight - nails digging into pale hips as he scrapes the skin bloody all the way down to Father Williams’s thighs.
"Oh I think I might be compelled to worship afterall - this Jesus figure is starting to make more sense to me Father."
The brave quiet that Father William has been holding on to - breaks at the same time as his bitten lip. Another pathetic whimper full of fear is heard in the empty church.