Archive of Our Own ^beta

Louis’ eyes pop open, lungs inhaling as if being pulled from water. He looks around, eyes adjusting to the dim light now filtering through a window. This isn’t his bedroom. The hard surface he’s currently laying on isn’t his bed. His head rises and falls with the surface, and in that moment he realizes two things: One, the surface is actually a chest. The chest of a demon. Well, half of one. And two, Louis has made the biggest mistake of his life. 

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

Louis forces himself to rise off of the demon’s… Harry’s chest. He looks down at Harry, trying to determine if he is awake. His hand, the one that had been resting Louis’ lower back, has now flopped over to the side, completely still… not even a twitch. Louis watches him a little while longer, determining that he is, in fact, still asleep. 

Louis needs to get out of here. He needs to go back to his church and pray for God to forgive him. He pauses, though. Harry had said something about God not being able to see. If God didn’t see his misdeeds, then does he truly need to know of it? Louis shakes his head. No. He cannot allow that line of thinking. God is all knowing. He definitely saw, and Louis needs to confess and beg for forgiveness. 

After he carefully gets off the bed, completely removing himself from Harry, he assesses his body. He’s sore. Every muscle is screaming for him to lay back down and curl into the comfort the demon had offered. He denies the urge. Everything feels intact. 

Except for my virtue. 

He quietly puts his clothes back on, feeling more and more guilty with each item. The collar is last. He holds it in his hand, debating about placing it around his neck. His hand ghosts over the place where it usually sits, finding the skin sore from the demon’s big hands that wrapped around his neck. He crushes the collar in his hand, shoving it into his pocket as he blinks back the tears that sting his eyes. 

Needing a distraction, he looks around for his possessions. The first thing he spots in the cross. The one that Louis had shoved so deep inside the demon, he doesn’t know how it didn’t cause internal damage. Then he finds the holy oils, the ones that they had used as… lubricant. Tainted. It’s all tainted. He is tainted. Will he ever be clean? 

Yes. Clean. He needs to be clean again. He needs to be washed in God’s grace and glory. He needs to wash away this abomination. Needs to rid his skin and his soul of these acts. God's forgiveness will clean him. Clean. He needs to be clean. 

With that thought in mind, he only gathers his 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. He looks at the demon’s sleeping form one last time. His chest is still rising and falling with even breaths. Louis has 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 him he needs to kiss that chest, trace the lines of the tattoos with his lips again. He shakes his head.

He needs to get out of this room. Whatever spell the demon had done on him the night before is obviously still at play. Leaving will be what breaks it. He forces his gaze away from the naked demon and steps over the threshold. 

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

He leaves the house, breathing in the fresh morning air. Normally, he appreciates 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 him. It’s supposed to be different. It’s supposed to be dark and tainted just like him. The sun was never even supposed to rise. But no, the sun rose as if nothing happened. 

The closer he gets to home, to his church, the more his body shakes. He doesn't know how to preoccupy his mind. He typically doesn’t listen to music, preferring sermons on podcasts or YouTube, but something about listening to a sermon after what he just did feels wrong. As if he isn’t deserving of the sermons his peers offer. 

He can’t seem to stop his 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 taunt muscles. The taste of his lips as he whispered filth into Louis’ waiting mouth. The feel of his hard cock penetrating Louis so deep, God hasn’t even been there.  

He is so distracted by the memories, he almost misses the turn off to his driveway. Once out of the car, he looks at his church. It’s not as large or extravagant as some of the others in the area, but it’s something he’s 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 Louis now give him a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

He pulls his gaze away, undeserving to even look at the holy place. He moves toward the side entrance; his apartment is attached to the church, but not a part of it. That’s how he is currently feeling. Attached to the church, but no longer a part of it. That must change. 

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

Louis rushes into his bathroom the moment he crosses the threshold of his home. The large, deep clawfoot tub sits in the middle of the room, the shower off to the side. The shower will not do. He needs to soak in God's glory at this point. The tub is big enough for two people. Surely it can cleanse him. 

He only turns on the hot water. 

“Clean. Pure. Need to be cleansed,” Louis mumbles, removing his clothes with shaking hands. He looks down at his arms, finding red bruising on the bicep. The same exact size as the demon's fingertips. Clean. The water will clean him. Will wash away the bruises. God can do anything. 

Louis kneels next to the tub, now full of steaming hot water. This will work. It has to. He clasps his hands together. “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” he starts, right hand flying over his 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.” He stands, 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.” He lights 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.” He finishes lighting all of the candles, then kneels to pray over the water in silence, finishing his blessing. 

Once the final words of his silent prayer are uttered, he looks up, tears in his eyes. He still hasn’t felt God’s presence. It has to be in his head, though. Maybe whatever spell the demon did to make him feel like it disappeared will wear off. It has to. 

Louis stands, dipping a toe into the water. He hisses, almost recoiling at its heat. He tries to ignore it, plunging his whole foot inside. It burns, but it has to in order to burn away his sin. This is how he will be clean. He will rid himself of the demon’s marks left upon his skin. He will wash away the demon’s come that still remains inside him. He will be clean. 

Once he finally submerges his whole body in the water, he dunks his head in, coming out with a huge gulp of air. His skin is red, on fire from the scalding water. Clean. I need to be clean. 

Louis makes the sign of the cross again, his hand moving slowly under the water until he touches his forehead, leaving droplets of hot water to race down his face. “Bless me father, for I have sinned,” Louis says out loud, his wavering voice echoing throughout the tiled bathroom. He wants to whisper the words but he forces himself to push them out, needing to tell God about his sin. Needing his forgiveness. 

“It has been a day since my last confession,” he continues, 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.”

Louis takes a deep, shaky breath, eyes stinging as he blinks. “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 Louis' cheek, dropping off his chin to mingle with the water. His voice cracks with emotion. He pauses, taking 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.” 

Louis looks around the room, trying to find some kind of sign. He doesn't hear God's voice. Doesn’t feel his presence, not even in his heart. This has to be punishment. God saw what he had done and is angry with him. That’s the only explanation for His absence. Louis chokes on a sob. No. He needs to get Him back. He needs to prove his 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,” Louis sobs, more tears trailing down his face, over his stubble and into the water. 

“Ah, Father,” a deep voice says, and Louis jumps, looking around the room. 

“God?” he asks, but he knows deep down it’s not God. He’s just so startled, he can’t think. Can’t identify the voice. 

“Better.” 

Footsteps. Louis whips his 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 him. Like a trial of sorts, seeing if he will make the same mistake twice. 

“How long have you been here?” Louis asks, knowing that there is no way his imagination has made this up. Did he fall asleep in the tub? Shouldn’t he have drowned then? If that was the case, then he must have gone to Hell. This is his 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 Louis had touched not even 12 hours ago. Louis' mouth goes dry. No. 

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

Louis opens his mouth to respond, but the demon cuts him 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.” Louis' voice is loud and firm, somehow finding resolution within his doubt. 

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

Louis’ cock twitches at the words, the memories. No. He stills himself, forcing his mind back into the present. Here and now. In this new test that God has given him. One that he will not fail.  

“That was… that was …” Louis' 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.” Harry moves his hips playfully at Louis, displaying his growing erection. 

“Release me,” Louis says, eyes snapping up to Harry’s. 

“Already ready to come? I thought it would take more effort than this.” Harry moves toward him. Louis jumps back, the water sloshing around the edges. He presses his back as close to the tub as possible, pulling his knees to his chest as some added form of protection. 

“No!” Louis shouts, and Harry stops walking, smile falling. 

“No?”

“No. I want you to release me from this spell you have on me.” Louis' voice is shaky, but he clears his throat, needing it to be strong, needing his 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.” Harry takes a single step closer.

“No.” Louis shakes his head violently, whipping droplets of water off his 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,” Harry says, and Louis continues shaking his 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!” Louis screams, but his eyes betray him. They wander over the hard lines of the demon’s body, down his torso to the distinct bulge in his pants. Louis’ mouth waters, remembering what that bulge looked like, felt like. He can’t tear his eyes away, and he can feel his own body stirring at the sight. 

“And even now, you can’t stop yourself from looking at me. Looking at what you do to me.” The demon’s voice is deeper now, rougher, as if drug through gravel and hung up to dry. 

“I’m not doing anything,” Louis responds absently, still entranced by the demon's erection that seems to be growing before his very eyes. His mouth waters, remember how it felt inside him. Resist. 

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

“I can’t.” Louis eyes 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.” 

Louis’ eyes widen at the demon's words. Yes. That’s probably why Louis still doesn't feel God. He hasn’t finished his confession. He hasn’t finished the prayer. Once he finishes, then God will hear him and save him from this vision. 

“My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart,” he prays, ignoring the demon to look up at the heavens, picturing God above him. “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.” 

He glances over at the demon, who is watching Louis with intensity. “Our Savior Jesus Christ suffered and died for us. In his name, my God, have mercy,” Louis finishes. 

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

“No. Stop. Only a priest or God can…” 

Louis’ 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 Louis’ 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, Louis’ jaw drops. How? A demon can’t… can they? 

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

“God? You called me God last night,” Harry leans in, inches away from his mouth now. Louis doesn’t respond. Can’t force his body to move away. His mind is reeling. This shouldn’t be possible. “Amen,” Harry murmurs against his lips, then kisses him. Louis doesn’t kiss back, but his cock stirs with the feeling of Harry’s tongue pressed against his again, lips sucking the water off of Louis’ mouth. Harry’s mouth sizzles, the smell of steaming water hitting Louis’ 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,” Louis reminds him, even though he knows from experience that it doesn't do much to Harry. 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 Louis’ neck, right over the bruise Harry had left there. The sound of more sizzling, the smell of slightly burnt flesh. Marked together. 

“What do I have to do to get you to leave?" Louis asks, his voice weak. Harry stands up, looking down at him curiously, as if he just can't quite figure Louis 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? Louis was just thinking about how Harry being here had to be a test. That if he was able to resist Harry once and for all, then maybe he would feel God again. Maybe he would earn His forgiveness. But how will he pass this test? Already his body is reacting to Harry. 

“I should have stabbed you while I had the chance.” Louis looks 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 Louis didn’t just threaten him. 

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

“You’re lying.” He blurts the words out, like a sinner confessing a sin. 

“About what?” the demon asks, still smiling. 

“About the spell,” Louis explains. 

“This again?” Harry rolls his eyes, turning around the room as if frustrated. “I. Did. Not. Put. A. Spell. On. You. I cannot put spells on people. I can use my persuasion to make them recall memories and maybe tamper with dreams, but I cannot force people to be attracted to me. I cannot force priest to fuck me with a cross. And I surely cannot force a priest to let me fuck him while he moans my name.” 

Louis shakes his head, disbelieving. A spell. A spell! Yes. A spell. That’s the answer. But will it work? Louis’ heart speeds up in his chest at the very thought. He looks around the room, trying to find something the can use to mark the demon. 

“Fine, Demon…” 

“Harry.” 

“Harry. I believe you. You didn’t use a spell. You’re right.” Louis stands from the bathtub, the water rolling down his body. The demon’s eyes rake down his body, dark with desire. Perfect. “I did want all of that.” Louis steps out of the tub, toward the demon. “I wanted you.” Louis’ wraps his hands around the nape of Harry’s neck. Harry doesn't even flinch at the sizzling. Being this close to the demon is doing something to Louis. No. He inwardly shakes himself. He must concentrate. 

“What’s this sudden change in the demeanor? I thought you wanted forgiveness.” The demon’s brows draw, clearly suspicious. That doesn't stop his big hands from wrapping around Louis’ waist. It certainly doesn’t stop Louis’ body from reacting to the touch. A test. But Louis has a plan, and God will be so proud. 

“I don’t know what I want. I know I liked what we did, and I’m confused about that.” Louis is struck by the honesty in his voice. He swallows. He must not lose focus. “Can I blindfold you? Explore your body without judgment?” Louis holds his breath, silently praying the demon will go for this idea. 

“Now you’re speaking my language.” The demon smiles, and he’s so pretty Louis almost forgets what even asked to do. Focus, Louis, you have to focus. 

He looks around the room, trying to find something to use for a blind fold. All he can find is a purificator, which is a cloth used to wipe Precious Blood from the lip of the chalice and to purify sacred vessels. It was white, but still stained from the last service. Louis swallows, really not wanting to use the sacred item for this purpose, but he doesn’t really have a choice. There is nothing else in the room that will work. A towel would be too big and a wash cloth too small. 

“Turn around,” Louis says, smiling sweetly. The demon looks suspicious again, but Louis makes his eyes bigger, and looks up at him through his lashes. The demon groans, then turns around obediently. A thrill shoots up Louis’ spine. Okay. Maybe he could get used to a powerful half demon doing whatever he wants with just a look. 

Louis walks over, grabbing the purificator between two fingers. He runs it over Harry’s broad shoulders playfully, needing Harry to believe his intentions are pure. Harry doesn’t move, just watches him with dark eyes. Louis reaches up, securing the cloth around Harry’s head, tying it in the back. He looks Harry up and down, wondering what to do next. 

Harry clears his throat. “Well go on, Father, explore my body like Moses explored the desert. I fucking hope it takes forty years.” Harry’s voice is husky, as if he is barely holding back something primal in him. It spurs Louis into motion, walking around to the front of Harry. 

“Tell me, Demon, did you always know about your father?” Louis asks. Needing a distraction, he decides to take off Harry’s shirt. As much as he’s dreading seeing those intricate tattoos spread over his perfect, porcelain skin, he has to in order for this to work. With shaking fingers, he starts working on the top button. 

“No. I thought I was a normal boy when I was young. Then slowly, I started having these dark thoughts. At first, I thought they were normal. I even named my alternate personality. Joked about it. But then, when I started having real urges to do terrible things, I knew something wasn’t right. That’s when he visited me.” 

“Asmodeus?” Louis asks, slowly, ever so slowly, slipping each button from its hole, revealing more and more skin as he does so. He forces himself to breathe. Forces his fingers to keep working. He tries to force his stirring erection to calm, but that doesn't work. He’s getting harder and harder with each button undone. It’s like the demon had flipped a switch in him last night, one that will not go off. Louis will have God turn it off. He has before. He can do it again. 

“Yes. He visited me in a dream. I thought I was crazy. I didn’t tell my mother or anyone. But it kept happening. The dream kept recurring, and the things he said began to make sense.” Harry hisses when Louis’ finger grazes his chest ever so lightly. Louis looks down, finding Harry’s cock still bulging in his pants. Not fully hard, but getting close. Just from Louis’ touch? This is a kind of power Louis has never felt. 

A power God can’t give you, the voice in his head whispers. 

“What did he say?” Louis asks, voice cracking a bit. He swallows, trying to regulate his breathing. He uses both hands to untuck the demon’s shirt. 

“Said he was my father, and I needed to give in to my demon side. That I had a soul, so I needed to figure out how to burn it away.” Harry holds his arms back, allowing Louis to slip the fabric off. Louis can’t stop his fingers from tracing the contours of Harry’s chest, the light from the candles flickering off of his skin, making the tattoos appear as if they’re dancing. Harry groans from the touch, arching into Louis’ finger for more of his touch. 

“Did you figure it out?” Louis asks, genuinely curious. He smooths his palms over Harry's pecs and down his torso, fingers moving with the ridges and valleys of his muscles. Louis’ cock stirs, the now familiar pulling sensation behind his navel back with a vengeance. What kinds of sounds would Harry make if he kissed his chest? Bit it? He’s so responsive to Louis. He’s the son of the demon of perversion. Of course, he’s responsive. He would probably be just as responsive if a cold hotdog had touched him. You are not special. Don’t let him convince you that you are. 

“Mostly.” Harry looks down at him, and even though Harry can’t see him, Louis can feel his gaze. He shivers, remembering what Harry said the night before. Harry reaches for him, and Louis doesn't step back like he should. No. He leans into Harry’s hands, closing his eyes at the touch. Harry’s fingers are gentle, moving up and down his now dry body as if memorizing it. Pleasure jolts through Louis, making his cock twitch and his hands fist on Harry’s pants. 

“Let’s get these off.” When had Louis’ mouth come so close to Harry’s? The demon’s. He doesn't pull away, almost closes the gap. He finds that he likes this. This game they play. He likes this power he feels when he has physical effects on Harry’s body. This fire that he’s playing with is addicting. Instead of putting the fire out, he keeps throwing things in to feed it. He needs to stay warm when God isn’t wrapping him in his embrace. 

“Father…” the demon whimpers, thrusting his hips toward Louis. His cock is tenting his pants now, and Louis can’t look away. His fingers are shaking so much, they struggle to unbutton Harry’s pants. This wasn’t a part of the plan. But plans change. He has to be convincing. He has to show God that he can avoid temptation, and what would be more tempting than a naked demon in his bathroom? 

“Already hard for me?” Louis asks, and where did that come from? That didn’t even sound like his voice. Is he being possessed? Not possible. Maybe he’s losing himself to the act. Maybe he doesn't care. He knows he will earn forgiveness. His heart is pure even though his body and mind are not. His body will be cleansed after this, and God can take care of his mind. 

“Yes, Father. So hard,” Harry moans, snapping Louis out of his thoughts. He pulls Harry’s pants down, noting that he isn’t wearing underwear. Again. His erection springs free, and Louis’ fingers itch to touch it. To taste it. To taste this body. To drink it. 

No. God’s body is the only one I consume. 

“Go on. Touch me,” Harry says, as if reading Louis’ mind. Louis reaches out, hand only inches away, but he stops himself. He fist his hand, forcing it away from Harry’s cock. Quick as lightning, Harry’s hand shoots out, grabbing Louis’ and placing it directly on his cock. They both hiss, Louis in surprise and Harry in relief. 

“Fuck, Father,” Harry groans, body somehow both sagging in relief and standing stiff in attention. The cock in Louis’ hand is soft and as close to perfect as Louis could dream. Not that he dreams of cocks. He doesn't. Has never. 

“Stop thinking so much, Louis, and just feel,” Harry whispers, hand traveling up Louis’ wrist and forearm and to his bicep. “Feel how hard I am.” Harry’s hand trails back down Louis’ arm, wrapping around his own hand, forcing Louis to squeeze Harry’s cock. “Feel how heavy my balls are.” Harry pushes Louis’ hand lower, forcing him to cup his balls. Louis rolls them in his hand, and Harry moans again. 

“It’s all for you, Father. Everything I do. It's all for you,” Harry whispers in Louis’ ear, and shivers travel down his entire body.

“Only me?” Louis can’t help but ask, stroking Harry’s cock once, just to see what would happen. Harry hisses out a breath, but doesn’t answer. “I asked you a question, Demon.” Louis strokes Harry’s cock again with more force this time, tightening his grip. 

“Yes, I only worship you.” Harry’s mouth is closer to his, and Louis simply can’t bring himself to pull away. 

“Worship?” Louis whispers, slightly dumbfounded by the word.

“Yes. You are deserving of my worship. Of my faith. Of my prayer.” Harry grips Louis’ bicep. “You the maker of my heaven and earth, of all things visible and invisible.”

“I’m no God, Demon,” Louis warns, but it’s weakly whispered into Harry’s mouth. Harry’s cock twitches in his hand, and he leans closer.

“Yes, you are. You created my universe in your image. You rule over me. I am your servant. I worship you. I pray to you. You have my devotion.” Harry closes the gap between their mouths, and this time, Louis gives in and kisses him back. 

One kiss. One more before he never looks back. He commits every detail to memory. The feel of Harry’s mouth against his is downright unholy, from the sinful taste of his lips to the deviance of his wicked tongue. The kiss made the fires of hell lap at Louis’ skin, but when Harry’s kissing him like that, the flames couldn’t touch him. Harry is fireproof. 

“Lay down,” Louis says, breaking the kiss. 

“Yes, Father.” Harry falls to his knees, the bone cracking against the tile of the bathroom floor. Louis winces. He shouldn’t care if the demon is uncomfortable. Shouldn’t care that he probably hurt himself obeying Louis’ orders. 

“Glory be,” Harry says, voice so deep, Louis barely recognizes it. 

“What?” Louis asks, confused. 

“I’m on my knees, Father. Since there isn’t a dick in my mouth, I figured the only other thing to do is pray.” Harry looks up at him, and even though his eyes are covered by cloth, Louis knows there’s a mischievous glint there. 

“Demon.”

“Glory be,” Harry starts again, over Louis’ warning. “to my Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end.” Louis cock twitches at the sight of Harry’s perfect mouth forming around the prayer. At the sound of his deep, gravely voice saying each word to him. No. I cannot be turned on by prayer. Absolutely no. 

Louis shakes himself, looking around. He grabs two towels. He lays one flat on the floor and the other he rolls up, propping it at the top of the first towel. “I want you to lay down on your back.” Louis tells him. Insead of feeling around, Harry drops back onto his hands, cock jutting out into the air. Louis barely holds back a moan, desperately wanting to touch it again, to taste it. 

“Here. I, umm… put a towel down for you to lay on.” Louis takes Harry’s hand and guides it to the towel, so he can feel where it is. 

“Thank you, Father,” Harry says, and it sounds so submissive, Louis forgets to breathe for a solid two minutes. He just dumbly watches Harry maneuver himself on to the towel, leaning back, his head gently laying on the rolled up towel. 

Louis reaches for a candle, pulling it out of the stand. It already has melted wax rolling down it. He debates about warning Harry in regard to what is about to happen. Then he reminds himself. This is a demon. He needs to be rid of him, and this is how will accomplish that. 

“Father. Please. The anticipation. Please.” Harry squirms, literally squirms, and Louis almost wants to punish him for rushing him. Good demons don’t rush people. Instead, he decides to give Harry what he wants. 

He holds the candle over Harry’s tattooed chest, tipping it to the side. He watches the first bit of hot, white wax slowly drip from the candle and onto Harry’s chest. Harry immediately hisses out a breath, his chest dipping, and something about the entire thing makes Louis’ cock throb. 

“Father…” Harry’s sentence trails off when Louis lets another drop fall, landing on the other side of Harry’s chest. This time his hiss turns into a moan, and Louis is turned on already he debates about continuing on with his plan. He eye’s Harry’s cock, still rock hard and standing at attention. It’s all so tempting. 

“St. Michael the Archangel,” Louis starts, not even bothering to whisper or cover up what he’s doing. He tips the candle, more wax dripping onto Harry’s chest. He is more deliberate with this time, conscience of placement. 

“Oh, God,” Harry moans, chin pointed toward the ceiling. He doesn't move to stop Louis. Doesn’t take his hand on his own. He just lays there, allowing Louis’ to do as he pleases. The power. 

“Defend us in battle.” Louis makes a straight, vertical line with the wax on Harry’s right pec. “Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil.”

“Can I touch myself?” Harry asks, hips thrusting up. Louis doesn't answer, just continues with this first prayer. 

“May God rebuke him, we humbly pray.” Louis makes a small, horizontal line across the vertical one with the wax, as he finishes his first prayer “And do thou, O Prince of the Heavenly host, by the power of God, cast into hell Satan and all the evil spirits who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls.”

“Please, Father. Need. Please. Need to touch.” Harry’s voice breaks with his pleas. The pool of pleasure in Louis’ stomach deepens, pulling at his navel. He tries to force himself to breathe steady. Forces himself to focus. 

“Amen,” Louis finishes, and if his voice breaks on the word, Harry doesn't notice. 

“Father. Please.” 

“No,” Louis answers, the simple word firm and unrelenting. Harry whimpers, actually wimpers. 

“Yes, Father,” Harry finally responds, hands fisted at his sides. Louis smiles, pride filling his chest. He’s not sure where the sensation came from or even why he’s proud. Maybe it’s the fact that this larger-than-life demon isn’t touching himself all because Louis told him he wasn’t allowed. The way he is obeying him. 

“Spirit of our God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, Most Holy Trinity, Immaculate Virgin Mary, angels, archangels, and saints of heaven, descend upon me,” Louis starts the second prayer, hoping that Harry doesn’t catch on. Louis holds the candle above Harry’s chest, dripping wax in a steady stream to create another straight line from Harry’s belly button to the middle of his chest. 

“Fuck,” Harry hisses, back bowing off the ground to get closer to the candle. Louis’ whole body responds, fingers itching to touch Harry. 

“Please purify me, Lord, mold me, fill me with yourself, use me.” Louis' voice is wavering as he says the words because, he realizes too late, that he’s not saying them to God, but to Harry. He wants Harry to fill him and use him. Not God. Louis shakes his head. Continue. You can do this. Finish this, and you will earn His forgiveness. 

“Jesus’ tits. Please. I need…” Harry’s words trail off, a layer of sweat breaking now coating his entire body. His cock is pink and purple, looking more painful by the second. Louis’ own cock isn’t faring much better, but he’s attempting to ignore it. 

“Banish all the forces of evil from me, destroy them, vanquish them, so that I can be healthy and do good deeds.” Louis forces himself to believe what he is saying. He wants this. I want this. I want this. I want this. 

“I-shit. Father… I-” Harry’s mouth is open, stuck on the vowel, and Louis has never wanted to put his cock in something so badly. He aches for the feeling of Harry’s mouth again. Louis shakes himself. No. He cannot allow himself to be caught up again. 

With shaking hands, Louis drips a half circle at the top of the line he just drew with the wax. “Banish from me all spells, witchcraft, black magic, evil spells, ties, curses and the evil eye; diabolic infestations, oppressions, possessions; all that is evil and sinful, jealousy, deceitfulness, envy; physical, psychological, moral, spiritual and diabolical ailments.” This should work. It has to. It will break whatever spell this demon has put on him. It will banish the demon for good. 

“Yes. Please. Yes,” Harry chants, seemingly unfazed by the prayer. What? No. This has to work. Maybe Louis just needs to finish. Yes. That’s it. He needs to finish, and then it will work. 

“Burn all these evils in hell, that they may never again touch me or any other creature in the entire world.” 

You don’t mean that. You want this creature to touch you. Even right now, you want his cock in your mouth. You want his hands on you. You want the power he gives you. 

Louis tells the voice in his head to shut up. That it’s lying. He wants none of that. 

“Keep going, Father. Please. Keep going.” Harry thrust into the air, his whole body tense. Louis watches with wide eyes for a split second, before shaking his head, bringing himself back to the task at hand. 

“I command and bid all the powers who molest me—by the power of God all powerful, in the name of Jesus Christ our Savior, through the intercession of the Immaculate Virgin Mary–to leave me forever,” Louis says, dripping a diagonal line across the first line on Harry’s chest. The skin beneath the wax is an angry red, raised from irritation. Louis wants to trace it. Wants to kiss the skin to make it feel better. He licks his lips, almost dipping his head. 

“Fuck. I’m so close, Father. Please. Can I? Please.” Harry’s voice is frantic, fist clenched at his sides. The realization hits Louis like a freight train. He’s asking again. He’s asking Louis’ permission to come. 

“And to be consigned into the everlasting hell, where they will be bound by Saint Michael the Archangel.”

“Oh God.” Each name Louis says is punctuated by Harry’s moans. 

“Saint Gabriel, Saint Raphael, our guardian angels, and where they will be crushed under the heel of the Immaculate Virgin Mary.” Louis drips wax into another diagonal line, making an X over the P on Harry’s chest, finalizing the prayer. 

“Fuck. Please. I’m gonna...” Harry’s hips thrust into the air again, a shiny bit of precome glittering at the tip. Louis hisses out a breath. 

“Don’t you dare,” Louis growls, and he has no idea where that came from. Maybe it’s anger that the spell didn’t work. The demon is still in front of him. He didn’t disappear into thin air. Louis doesn’t feel God's presence, His love. All he feels is a deep-seated arousal for the demon. He’s surrounded by Harry, not God. All he sees is Harry. All he hears are his moans, his pleas to come. Louis can grant those pleas. Louis can answer Harry’s prayers. Louis could be Harry’s god. 

Then the realization that Harry is the reason God abandoned him slaps him in the face. His eyes sting with unshed tears. He can’t believe he is allowing himself to be wrapped up in this… abomination again. God isn’t here because Harry is. That’s been the case all along. He can’t feel God’s presence because he is in Harry’s. Why didn’t he realize it? As long as this demon preoccupies his body, mind, and life, he will never feel God’s presence. 

There’s only one thing left to do. 

________

Harry’s whole body is tense, just wanting to come. He can’t take much more of this torture. His chest stings from the wax and his dick aches with the need to release. The darkness that envelops him is making it that much worse. Then Louis' raspy voice, praying over him, marking him. Jesus fuck. He feels like he can’t breathe. 

“Father?” Harry asks, realizing that Louis had been quiet for far too long. He doesn’t get an answer. He tries to listen for the sound of Louis’ breathing, anything to figure out where he had gone. It lays there in silence, the darkness closing in around him. He knows his hands are free to lift the blindfold, but he wants to be good for his Father. 

When the silence has stretched longer still, Harry opens his mouth to speak again, but hisses when he feels hands on his chest. Yes. Fucking finally. Louis is finally touching him, and Harry couldn’t be more ecstatic, almost coming from the feeling of his hands alone. They travel up Harry’s chest, starting right around the first symbol Louis had made with the wax. 

Harry bites his tongue to keep himself from moaning. Louis’ hands are so soft, so warm and perfect. Harry would lay here for eternity if it meant that Louis would continue touching him for just as long. Louis' hand slowly travels up, deft fingers trace his collar bone, then he feels pressure on his neck. Before he can say anything. Louis’ hands are around his neck, squeezing it. 

Pleasure sores through Harry, and he almost comes immediately. Harry silently moans, hands coming up to wrap around Louis’ wrist. After a minute, the pleasure he felt turns to panic. Need to breathe. He taps on Louis’ wrist, a silent signal for him to ease up, but he doesn’t. It feels like he tightens his grip, blocking even more air from entering Harry’s lungs. 

Harry reaches up, removing the blindfold. It takes a few seconds for Louis’ image to come into view. He is leaning over Harry, the flickering candles making a halo around his brown hair. He’s the closest thing to an angel Harry is ever going to see. 

“Let go,” Harry mouths, unable to form words without air. 

“God has left me because of you. If you’re gone, he will return.” Louis’ words are heartless, almost robotic as he continues to squeeze Harry’s neck. Pure panic goes through Harry. He could easily overpower Louis. He could kill him in an instant, but that’s not what Harry wants. He wants Louis to want him. Surely Louis won’t go through with this plan. 

“Please,” Harry manages to get out, eyes watering from lack of air. 

“You must die, Demon. Pay for your sins.” The words are so cold, Harry feels like he was dunked in ice water. He pulls at Louis’ hands, but his grip is steadfast. Louis is bearing down, using the weight of his body to pin Harry to the bathroom floor by the neck. 

“Don’t want to die,” Harry mouths, vision starting to go black around the edges. Did he wait too long to fight? Is it too late? Is he too weak from lack of air? 

No. It will not end this way. It can’t. He uses the last little bit of energy he has to raise his arms over his head. He links his hands together, bringing them down on Louis’ locked elbows with all of his might. Louis' grip falters just enough for Harry to capitalize. He thrusts his hands between Louis’ arms, pushing out. Louis’ hands release his neck in an instant. 

Harry pushes Louis off of him, gulping air. “You tried to kill me,” he says between painful breaths. He looks at Louis, who is just standing there, tan skin flickering in the low light of the candles. 

“I will kill you, demon.” 

Louis doesn’t give a moment's notice, just charges Harry, tackling him. They land on the tiled floor with a thud. A pain shoots through Harry’s head as it connects with the hard surface. Louis is on top of him, attempting to get his hands around Harry’s neck again. 

Not this time. Louis didn’t catch him off guard. Harry counters, flipping them over so that he is between Louis’ legs. Their softening cocks graze together, and Hary can’t stop himself from moaning. Harry feels Louis freeze beneath him. Harry grinds their cocks together again, this time allowing the moan to slip from his lips. 

“If this is killing me, then don’t stop,” Harry says, thrusting again. Louis' eyes close for a brief second when their dicks press deliciously together. The friction is making Harry forget all about his burned skin, sore throat, and splitting headache. Forgive and forget. 

“No!” Louis shouts, and he’s stronger than Harry had ever thought. He locks his thick, strong legs around Harry’s hips, then uses his body to roll them. He is straddling Harry within seconds, and sweet infant Satan, Harry likes the look of Louis on top of him. 

“If you wanted to be on top, Father, all you had to do was ask.” 

“Shut up!” Louis screams, leaning down to press his forearm against Harry’s throat, effectively blocking airflow again. Harry kicks out, flipping Louis over his head. Louis rolls, as if he has been fighting his entire life. Harry quickly stands to find Louis already on his feet. They circle each other, Harry paying very close attention to try to predict Louis’ next move. 

Louis' eyes are calculating, as if he has a plan, but is just waiting for the perfect moment. This is doing nothing to calm Harry’s hard-on. In fact, it is making him so much harder. Watching every muscle in Louis’ body flex and release with each movement he makes is downright erotic. They could make a porno with just Louis walking, naked. Jesus’ tits, the man is sexy. 

Harry is so distracted by the way Louis’ quads stretch from his knee to his hip, he doesn’t even notice when Louis pounces. Harry stumbles back as Louis wraps his whole body around Harry’s, using his momentum to push Harry further. The back of Harry's knees hit something smooth, hard, and unmoving. His legs buckle, and he falls backward. 

The burn of the water is the first thing he notices. It envelopes his entire body, so hot, he worries his skin might burn off. Then he accidentally inhales some. If he thought the way it burned his skin was bad, it was nothing compared to the way it burns his lungs. His body’s natural survival instincts take hold. He grabs on to the side of the tub to pull himself out, but a hard body is holding him down. 

“Soul of Christ, sanctify me.” Harry’is head emerges just long enough to hear Louis’ words. Louis pushes his torso, submerging him again. Louis is straddling him in the water, legs squeezing Harry’s hips to suppress movement. Their cocks are grinding against one another with every breath they take, but Harry can’t find the brain power to be turned on. Not when every part of his body hurts. 

“Father,” Harry gets out, finding breath at the surface again. Louis’s eyes look crazed, as if he is possessed.  

“Body of Christ, save me.” His firm hands are on Harry again. Harry would be turned on if the preist weren’t currently trying to fucking drown him in holy water. “Blood of Christ, inebriate me.”

“Please. Stop,” Harry begs, realizing that Louis isn’t going to let him go. He might not survive this. And how? How did this happen? How did it all go so wrong? Harry… he wanted Louis. And not in a fun way to defile God. He wanted Louis in more ways that he allowed himself to think about. 

“Water from the side of Christ, wash me.” Harry goes under again, this time Louis keeps his hands on him to try to hold him down. Harry fights with all his might, needing air in his panic. He can’t take in any more holy water. It might actually kill him. He uses his whole body to buck, throwing Louis off balance long enough to emerge from the water once more. He sucks in air. 

“Louis. Please. Don’t do this.” He goes back under the water, but Louis’ grip is looser this time, almost as if his resolve is faltering. Harry takes that advantage. With every ounce of energy he has left in him, he bear-hugs Louis then rolls them, using the buoyancy of the water to his advantage. Water splashes all around them over the sides of the tub and onto the floor. Louis struggles, but Harry uses his height and weight to his advantage. 

Harry is now straddling Louis, not going to underestimate Louis’ strength again. No. He is keeping the upper hand. He can feel Louis’ mostly soft cock against his hole. He can’t stop himself from grinding down. The holy water still burns around him, but now that he can breathe, it is providing the perfect amount of pain. Harry’s own cock begins to harden again. How could it not when he's straddling the prettiest person on earth and in heaven. 

“Demon,” Louis says, his voice hard, but there’s an edge to it that wasn’t there before. A large droplet of water falls from his eye lashes, landing on his freckled cheek and trailing down until it joins the rest of the water. Beautiful. 

“Father,” Harry says, grinding again. He can feel Louis’ body reacting to his. He can feel the way Louis’ cock is getting thicker. The way his hands are gripping his hips, no longer trying to overpower him, but in pleasure. 

“I don’t want this.” Louis' eyes close for a brief moment, lips parting. 

“You tried to drown me. Do you think I give a fuck about what you want?” Harry grinds down again, this time pressing their cocks together, making the most delicious friction Harry has ever encountered. He wants to come so badly. Louis deprived him of that, instead, trying to kill him. 

“I always knew you were a soulless demon,” Louis spits, but his hips thrust upward, meeting Harry’s. Louis can pretend all he wants, but he clearly wants this. His body is reacting. 

“And you’re a self-righteous priest. We all have our flaws,” Harry responds, moving his hips so that the tip of Louis’ cock is aligned with his hole. 

“You’re disgusting,” Louis hisses, gripping Harry’s hips. He doesn't try to push him off, no. Instead, he guides Harry down, the tip of Louis’ cock pressing inside. It hurts. Fuck, does it hurt. The holy water mixed with the lack of lube is painful, but God, does it feel oh so fucking good. 

“You’re virtuous,” Harry retorts, sinking down deeper, his cock throbbing. He’s not going to last long. He needs to do something, anything, to make Louis come with him. 

“Heathen,” Louis moans, hands gripping Harry’s hips so tightly, he will surely have bruises by the end of this. 

“Saint.” Harry is completely seated now, and he feels so fucking full. He had never planned to see Heaven. Knew he’d never hear the angels sing or touch the pearly gates. But Jesus fuck, he hears angels singing now, and the pearly gates? That must be Louis dick buried so deeply in his ass, he can't tell where he stops and Louis begins. This is the fucking Heaven God was going to deprive him of. God can’t stop Harry from touching this heaven. Harry is going to keep it. 

“Fucking move.” Louis bucks up into Harry, the water making him move easily. Harry moans deep and low, water sloshing around him. 

“Not gonna last long,” Harry says, placing his hands on the side of the tub behind Louis’ head. He rolls his hips. Louis’ head drops back, eyes rolling into the back of his head. Fuck. 

“Don’t care.” Louis' words are breathy, eyes blown in the flickering candle light. Harry looks down at his own chest, the remains of wax that hadn’t come off in their struggle still stuck to his skin. It clicks then. The prayer. The symbols. Louis tried to banish him. Then strangle him. Then drown him. 

“I ask you, Father, with your body, to send the Holy Spirit upon the water of this font,” Harry says, rolling his hips. Louis eyes snap to his, disbelieving. “May all who are buried with you in my death of Baptism rise also with you to newness of life. I ask, through our bodies.” 

“Stop.” Louis' voice is weak, as if he doesn’t mean the word. Harry doesn't care if he means it or not. He will continue, even if it kills him. 

“Praise to you,” Harry bends, kissing the side of Louis’ lip. “Almighty God and Father.” He grinds again, water sloshing over the sides, “For you have created water to cleanse and to give life.” Another grind of his hips, another moan escaping his chest. 

“Blessed be God,” Louis responds automatically. He looks as if he instantly regents his words. As if the phrase is so ingrained in him, he couldn’t stop himself from saying it. Pleasure shoots through Harry’s entire body at the words. 

“Praise to you,” Harry whispers, directly into Louis' ear. “My father, for you offered your body to me, that in the blood and water flowing inside, and through your body and soul, I might be reborn.” So it’s not the exact words of the prayer. The improvisation seems to be doing it for Louis’, though, his body stiff around him. 

“Blessed be God,” Louis says again, less robotic this time. He grips Harry’s hips, urging him faster, but Harry is enjoying this. He wants to be fucked slow. Filled up in every way by Louis. He wants to remember this piece of Heaven he was allowed to taste. 

“Praise to you, God the Holy Spirit,” Harry says, kissing the other side of Louis’ lips, continuing the slow grind of his hips. Pleasure pools in his stomach, his cock aching with the need to release. He must wait for Louis. “For you anointed me at my baptism in these waters, so that I might be baptized in you.” He kisses Louis, lips slanted over his. 

“Oh fuck,” Louis groans into his mouth, hands clutching Harry’s ass, spreading his cheeks apart. 

“That’s not the phrase,” Harry whispers against his lips as he stalls his hips. Louis tries to buck up, but Harry doesn’t move. He just looks at Louis expectedly. 

“Blessed be God.” The words are harsh as he grabs Harry’s hips and slams him down on his cock, punishing him. Harry screams out in pleasure, waves rocking him so hard, he has to hold on to the sides of the tub. 

“Come, Lord, my father, and make holy this water which you have created, so that we who are baptized in it may be washed in your body, born again to live alongside you.” Harry picks up the pace a bit, his cock not getting enough friction in the water. God does he need friction right now, but he deprives himself of it. If his cock is touched in any way, he may spontaneously combust. 

Harry touches the water. “Lord, make holy this water which you have created, so that all those whom you have chosen may be born again by your power, and may take my place next to you.” 

“Harry…” Louis moans. 

“I called you, Louis, to this cleansing water that I may share in the faith of you.” Harry places his hand over Louis’ chest, his heart thundering beneath his finger tips. “By the mystery of this tainted water led you to me.” 

“I’m… fuck…” Louis’ bucks up, trying to get Harry to move faster, but he won’t. Not until he’s done. He angles his hips forward, pushing Louis down the tub so that his back is no longer leaning against it. Perfect.

“Father, my God of mercy, through these waters of baptism you have filled me with new life.” Harry kisses Louis, distracting him while he places firm hands on Louis’ shoulders. He pushes him back, their kiss breaking with an audible pop as Louis is submerged in the water.

“Harry,” Louis exclaims, sputtering water when he emerges a moment later. 

“From all who are baptized in my tainted water, you are now a part of me. Of my body. Of my mind.” Harry pushes Louis again, dunking him in the water, never ceasing the grind of his hips. Louis’ cock is throbbing inside of him, never faltering. Maybe he’s enjoying this as much as Harry. 

“Shit. Fuck. I can’t… I’m gonna…” Louis says between breaths, as soon as he comes back up, gulping air. Harry fucks Louis harder, grinding down and jerking back up, over and over. He feels so full… so full of Louis. He doesn't ever want to feel empty again. 

“You have set me free and filled my heart with your soul, that I may live in your presence.” Harry leans down as if to kiss Louis, instead, he pushes him in the water again, his movements becoming jerky as he gets closer to his release. 

“Harry…” Louis pants, emerging from the water to kiss Harry. “I’m so close,” he says against Harry's lips. “Oh my God…” His kisses are frantic, and it takes everything in Harry to break them

“You have called me to this tainted water, that I may share in the faith of you and have eternal life by your side,” Harry continues, breathing the words into Louis’ mouth. "By the mystery of this tainted water led me to you.” Harry barely gets the words out, pressure and pleasure fighting within him. 

He dunks Louis again, holding him under the water. Louis’ mouth opens in shock, a silent scream escaping inside bubbles rising to the surface. When he feels Louis’ cock pulse inside of him, he can’t hold back any longer. He comes with so much force, his back bows as he screams, spurt after spurt of his come releasing into the water. 

After what feels like a never ending orgasm, Louis shoots out of the water, gulping breaths. He swipes his hair off his face, looking at Harry with an expression Harry can’t read. Harry wants to ease off Louis’ now soft dick. He wants to turn around, his back to Louis’ chest and just sit in the lukewarm water. Maybe run them a proper bath with bubbles and no prayer. He wants to bask in this, but Louis’ expression makes him second guess. 

Louis pushes Harry off him, standing abruptly and getting out of the tub. He goes to a closet, opening it and draping a towel around his waist a couple of seconds later. Harry suddenly feels cold and exposed. The silence is deafening, going on and on and on. Louis doesn’t turn around. He doesn't speak. He doesn't move a single muscle, and Harry's whole body is on the edge, waiting for something that may never come. 

“Louis?” Harry's voice sounds so loud in the quiet room. Louis doesn't respond. Doesn’t turn around. He does make a sound though. Harry stands from the tub. His entire body is red and raw from the holy water. He shakes it off, stepping a foot onto the soaked floor. He slowly walks toward Louis who’s body is shaking now, as if cold. 

“Lou…” Harry says, reaching a shaking hand out to grab Louis’ arm. Louis pulls away quickly, falling to the ground and shoving his back against the wall, away from Harry. It’s then that Harry notices the tears. Louis is crying, fat tears streaming down his face. His whole body is shaking, as if he is trying to hold in sobs, but it’s not working. 

“Harry… please leave,” Louis gets out between sobs. 

“I-I thought you enjoyed it,” Harry says, completely confused by this turn of events. Louis’ tears. He has never seen him react this way. Over the past half-day, he has seen Louis angry, lustful, enraged, and a whole host of other emotions, but never sad. He’s never looked this… hopeless.

“Yeah… that’s the problem.” Louis looks up at him, tears in his blue eyes. He wipes them away, but they just keep coming. Harry barely resists the urge to kiss them away. 

“What?” Harry drops to his knees on the floor, in front of Louis. He wants to take his hand, comfort him somehow, but he just doesn't know what to do. Comforting people is not in his wheelhouse anymore. He sort of wishes for his human half. That part of him would have known what to do. 

“That’s the fucking problem, Harry. I enjoyed it. I enjoyed everything.” Louis’ voice is getting louder. “Fucking you with a cross. Being fucked by you. The constant praying while fucking. Dominating you. Choking you. The fucked up baptism. All of it. I enjoyed every fucking second of it and… and…” Louis trails off, as if he ran out of steam. 

“And?”

“And I hate myself!” Louis screams, smacking his forehead over and over.

“Don’t hate yourself. Hate me…” Harry grabs Louis’ wrist, stopping him from further hurting himself. “Hate me,” Harry says again, letting go of Louis’ wrist and putting both hands on his own chest. 

“How do I hate you? You didn’t force me to do anything? Hating you is illogical. It’s putting blame on the innocent.” Louis doesn’t look at him, just lays his head in his hands in an attempt to steady his own breathing. Harry is stuck on a word, though. Innocent. 

“I’m not innocent.”

“And I’m not pure!” Louis shouts, fist hitting the tiled floor. 

“Louis… please…” Harry tries again, reaching out to touch him but thinking better of it. He doesn't want to make this situation any worse. 

“God, how little I must think of myself. To allow a soulless demon to fuck me.” Louis says the words quietly, looking up at the ceiling as if he forgot Harry was even there. But Harry feels like he’s been slapped in the face by Louis’ words, his eyes stinging from them. 

“I- I’m…” Harry starts to protest, but he can’t. What Louis said was true. He is soulless. 

“Please. Just leave. I’m begging. Leave me to my silence. To my life without Him,” Louis says, finally looking at Harry again. His eyes are glassy and tired, almost like he’s given up. There’s no life in them. 

“What about your life without me?” It almost pains Harry to ask the question. He searches Louis’ eyes for an answer. A real answer, not whatever Louis is about to spout off, but all he can find is sadness and confusion. Broken. Harry has broken him. But wasn’t that what he wanted? To break the priest. Funny. It didn’t feel as good as Harry thought it would. He felt… hollow. As if Louis' broken body has fallen out of the hole he carved for himself in Harry’s heart. 

“A life without you would mean entrance into Heaven. It would mean feeling His love again, being saved by His glory,” Louis says, looking up at the heavens. Harry has never been so jealous of God. To get this level of devotion from someone like Louis. And to ignore it. If Harry ever meets God, he will spit in his face. He doesn’t deserve Louis’ worship

“Louis… I- I…” The word is on the tip of Harry’s tongue. But it’s only been half a day. How could he? And saying it will only freak Louis out, so he swallows the word, instead saying, “I care for you…” 

“No! You can’t care for me! You don’t have a soul. You’re infatuated with me! You are obsessed with me! You are enamored by the idea of defiling a priest. You did it! Congratulations, Harry! But don’t you dare sit there and tell me you care. You have to have a soul to care, therefore you can’t.” 

There it is again. The soul part. Harry’s resolve crumbles. Louis is unmoving on this. He will not see reason. Anger floods Harry. How dare Louis tell him how he can and cannot feel. He’s capable of feeling lust and anger without a soul, why should caring for someone be any different? 

“Fine, I’ll leave, but you’re gonna regret ever saying that,” Harry tells him, tone low, almost menacing. “I will be back, but while I’m gone, you won’t be able to forget me. You will spend every second of every day remembering these past 12 hours. Because I am forever in your mind. In your body. And in your heart. ”

“When you come back, God will be in my mind. God will be in my body. God will be in my heart,” Louis says, a finality to his tone as he looks Harry in the eyes. His chin is up, but his lip is quivering. 

“Oh please. God will never know you like I do. God will never touch you like I have,” Harry reaches out, stroking Louis’ cheek. Louis flinches. “God hasn’t seen the darkness in you, the part that you’ve buried deep under all of that self-righteous bullshit.” Harry points to Louis' chest, as he leans in closer. “God didn’t witness your first taste of power, when your hand was wrapped around my throat.” 

“I-” Louis' eyes are staring at Harry’s throat, probably noticing the mark he left there. He swallows, jerking his eyes back to Harry’s face which is now inches away from his. 

“God will never replace my presence in your body,” Harry says, hand rubbing the contours of Louis’ torso. “He will never remove my mark on your soul.” Harry leans in, kissing Louis fiercely. He puts everything he has into the kiss because Louis can’t forget him while he’s gone. He may not survive what he’s about to do, but he knows he will not be able to survive if Louis truly figures out a way to banish him. 

He ends the kiss, and Louis leans in, almost as if he wants more. Harry doesn't give it to him, though. He made his decision. He just stands and quickly puts his clothes on. He looks at Louis, who is still watching him from his place on the floor.  

“Harry…” Louis says, as he opens the door. Harry glances over at him, pained by the confused expression marring Louis’ beautiful features. He almost goes to his side. Almost kisses him again. Almost stays. But he can’t, and he will not return. Not until Louis sees him as more than a soulless demon. Not until he’s worthy. 

“Soon.”