- Posting Speed
- Multiple posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Advanced
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Primarily Prefer Male
- Genres
- Slice-of-Life, Gothic, Horror, Fantasy
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RHYDIAN
Halloween has always been Rhydian's favorite holiday. The humans had always been callous to their kind, twisting them into violent, sadistic brutes known as 'demons,' yet once a year, they joined together to dress like them in mockery or celebration. Given these roots, it's understandable to him that some might not enjoy the holiday, but he's always been on the side of turning shame into pride. The Magi might have Hallow's Eve for its magic, but it belongs to the Darklings just as much, if you ask him.
Still, The Lady doesn't seem to care one way or the other about it, and so there is always a disappointing lack of celebration in the cathedrals on Hallow's Eve. Thankfully, they don't have much going on regarding duties during the major national holidays, which allows him to slip away from the cathedral for the first time since he arrived in Julian City a few weeks ago. Well, that's a bit of an exaggeration; he's left the cathedral a few times, but only for a few hours at a time or so, and mostly doing charity work for the poor that beg on the streets of such a wealthy city. He hasn't truly had a night to himself yet.
He'd heard some of the priests talking about a big masquerade party happening at the Town Hall, and having no other plans, decided on a whim to attend. He had a suit made for himself for the occasion, consisting of a black shirt and pants with a dark navy vest and tie. His shirt cuffs are emblazoned with the Julian City's cathedral symbol to show his pride, though they're subtle enough to not look gaudy. He had a cape made as well that attaches around his neck to resemble his usual collared robes, and he bought a glittery navy masquerade mask to complete the look. He expects to look quite dashing, though he hasn't even begun getting ready as of yet.
"Wit gwad, vror vexity?"
"Hm? Oh yes," he glances down at the priest kneeling between his legs, eyes staring up at him beseechingly and his mouth stuffed with Rhydian's cock. "Very good, Father, just watch your teeth." He tightens his grip on the other man's dark locks, which seems to satisfy him, as he resumes sucking his length immediately.
It is good, but it pales in comparison to what he experienced last night. Frey, that damned priest... He can't tell if his presence is a blessing or a curse that The Lady has bestowed upon him. Sex is a very normal part of daily life for a Libitine, and their lust is bountiful, but he's never known anyone as hungry for it as Frey. Even during the most innocuous of tasks, Frey's arousal seems ever present, warm and heady like a tangible thing wrapping around Rhydian's cock and stroking it to hardness.
It was evident when he met him, and confirmed by the other priests, that the Libitine has no sense of control over his pheromones. Given his exceptionally high libido, this has proved a problem in trying to be near him for extended periods of time. He also quickly learned that Frey has little social skills, frequently breaching social decorum and boundaries unintentionally. All of this combined has left him the black sheep of the cathedral, shunned by the rest of the priests as weird and intense.
It's a bit pathetic, really, to watch the man walk around with his cock hard as a rock beneath his robes and trying desperately to hide it, no one willing to lend him a hand despite their shared love for intercourse. Apparently, his heats are frequent and intense, and he has to lock himself up in his room to avoid being a nuisance to the rest of the building. It's sad, and as one of The Lady's bishops, he's deemed it his duty to see to pleasing Frey. Perhaps if he can help to fill the aching hole inside him, in more ways than one, Frey will gain better control over himself instead of letting his lust run rampant.
That's a convenient excuse, at least. Perhaps more truthfully, he just finds Frey sexy as hell. Despite his eccentricities, he's beautiful, and seems oh-so-willing to take whatever Rhydian might give to him. He likes the warm tingling that Frey's presence brings him, and he feels no shame in wanting to bend the other man over the nearest surface and fuck the feeling out of them both. Unfortunately, though, Frey seems to mostly keep to himself, barely lifting his head to even meet his eyes. Then there's their duties that often keep them apart. There has yet to be a good opportunity to seduce the man properly, so Rhydian decided to make himself one last night.
Slipping into Frey's dream, he found the man kneeljng before the altar of their Lady under the pale glow of moonlight coming in through the cathedral's large windows, mumbling frantically beneath his breath with hands folded in front of him. Rhydian waited behind him politely, allowing himself to be wrapped up in that warm embrace of the man's desire, until Frey stood. Deciding to make his presence known, he pressed against his back and moved his hands to his shoulders.
"Frey, my dear boy, what has you troubled at this late hour?"
Libitines always smell appealing, it is part of their chemistry, but Frey always smells particularly divine, like light florals and a cinnamon-sweet heat with a touch of something medicinal and unique to him that Rhydian can't place. It makes him want to eat him up.
"My dick," Frey had said so honestly, so casually, that Rhydian had had to hold back laughter.
"Is that so?" he'd purred, amused, hands beginning to kneed the tense muscle of the priest's neck and shoulders. "How is it troubling you?"
Frey had blinked at him owlishly from over his shoulder before shamelessly lifting his robes to reveal his erection, angrily red and already dripping, his Prince Albert piercing glinting in the moonlight. "My desire never cools or fades. I repent, but it remains without control."
"Mm. And why should you have to repent?" He smiled as innocently as he is capable of, guiding the priest to turn toward him so that he can cup his face. He was not just warm, but feverishly so, cheeks flushed attractively and his cock practically burning a hole in his robes where it was pressed against his thigh. "As Libitines, we have been uniquely blessed by the Lady to not only enjoy sex as anyone else might, but to find holiness in it. Healing. Sex strengthens and nurtures our bodies and brings us closer to Her and each other. It is how we thrive and build community with one another. Do not be ashamed of your sexual appetite; it is simply in our nature to want to share our bodies with others." Unable to help himself, he stroked Frey's plush bottom lip with his thumb, savoring his hot breath (already beginning to pant) against the pad of it.
"I would never turn my back on the gifts Our Lady gave us, nor the power of communion through sex... but my body does not relent when it is not time to worship. So I repent." He lamented as much, but his guilt seemed performative with how he'd already begun to sneakily rub his length against his thigh, tongue poking out to wet the digit against his lips. Such a desperate creature. "Are you here to punish me?"
"No, Father," he'd assured, pushing his index and middle fingers into the warm, wet cavern of Frey's mouth where they were greeted with immediate enthusiastic sucking. "I'm here to rebuild you. To milk the tainted semen from your desperate, starving body and replace it with my own holy seed. I shall fill the aching womb inside you to keep you from disturbing the peace of our brothers and sisters."
He was laying it on thick, but it seemed to spur Frey on as much as he'd hoped, his hips quickening against him. He pulled off his fingers with a pop, a lewd string of saliva breaking between them. "Thank you, Your Excellency."
"Now bend over Our Lady's altar. Your sperm, while unworthy, shall be your meager offering for her graciousness."
Frey was ever obedient as he bent over and lifted his robes to reveal his excitedly winking pink hole, his pierced cock and balls quivering against the cold granite of the altar. When Rhydian slipped one of his slick digits inside of him, it sunk down to the knuckle almost immediately, Frey's soft insides pulling him through tight muscle hungrily. "You must touch yourself here often, don't you, Father? You took my finger so easily." It doesn't take long for him to work a second finger in, scissoring him open in between bouts of torturing his prostate, making the man squirm and moan beneath him.
They continued like that for some time, Rhydian's practiced fingers drawing orgasm after orgasm out of the priest, white rivulets running down the altar's side and pooling at their feet. Only once he seemed sufficiently milked did Rhydian remove his fingers and step away, admiring Frey's gaping entrance and his lovely whines of disappointment. He lifted his own robe to let his own neglected erection bounce free, thick and throbbing with need, precum collecting in the sparse dark hair at his base. Frey's disappointment seemed to melt away into near manic glee at the sight, body turning to kneel in front of him immediately, as though he couldn't help himself.
He rubbed his length against his face gently, teasingly, biting down on his lip to keep from moaning. He was so turned on that just the slightest stimulation felt like it could make him cum. "Show me that you are worthy of salvation, Father," he ordered, and Frey devoured him with unmatched enthusiasm as though he were the most delicious thing he ever tasted. "Oh, My Lady," he gasped, steeling himself against the onslaught of Frey's dangerously skilled mouth by gripping onto his hair. Had the others been lying about leaving Frey to his own devices? How could he possibly be so good at sucking cock if he wasn't very experienced?
It was an embarrassingly short time before he was spilling hot and sticky down Frey's throat with a choked moan, and they both likely could have kept going if Rhydian didn't stop Frey by pulling his hair back. "Get back on the altar for me."
He was desperate and panting when he stood behind him again, turning Frey's face so that he could coax him into a bruising kiss while rubbing his still rock hard cock against his entrance teasingly. "Beg me for it," he'd demanded, though the words that came out of Frey's mouth were distant and incomprehensible. "What?" Again, garbled nonsense, more distant.
The dream was slipping away, and fast. "No, fuck —" he growled, thrusting desperately as everything went dark —
He'd awoken in a cold sweat, painfully hard, his sheets stained with ejaculate. Thankfully, one of his admirers was happy to give him a hand.
Just thinking about the whole thing has him throbbing, hips thrusting of their own volition into his current bedmate's mouth. Thankfully, the priest doesn't seem to mind, and with his hands balled in the other man's hair, Rhydian fucks his wet throat while he remembers the feeling of Frey's, the delightfully hypnotizing scent of their sex, and the feeling of his insides lovingly tangling around his fingers. No doubt they would have felt better around his cock while he pressed against his prostate and slammed into his deepest wall.
"Fuuuck," he hisses as he cums, pulling out of the priest's mouth and kissing the top of his head. "Good boy. I'm sure Our Lady would be proud of your progress."
After a reciprocal gift, he sends the priest on his way, cleaning up and slipping his costume on. It's getting late by now, so he really should get a move on if he doesn't wan to be out until the early morning.
Still, The Lady doesn't seem to care one way or the other about it, and so there is always a disappointing lack of celebration in the cathedrals on Hallow's Eve. Thankfully, they don't have much going on regarding duties during the major national holidays, which allows him to slip away from the cathedral for the first time since he arrived in Julian City a few weeks ago. Well, that's a bit of an exaggeration; he's left the cathedral a few times, but only for a few hours at a time or so, and mostly doing charity work for the poor that beg on the streets of such a wealthy city. He hasn't truly had a night to himself yet.
He'd heard some of the priests talking about a big masquerade party happening at the Town Hall, and having no other plans, decided on a whim to attend. He had a suit made for himself for the occasion, consisting of a black shirt and pants with a dark navy vest and tie. His shirt cuffs are emblazoned with the Julian City's cathedral symbol to show his pride, though they're subtle enough to not look gaudy. He had a cape made as well that attaches around his neck to resemble his usual collared robes, and he bought a glittery navy masquerade mask to complete the look. He expects to look quite dashing, though he hasn't even begun getting ready as of yet.
"Wit gwad, vror vexity?"
"Hm? Oh yes," he glances down at the priest kneeling between his legs, eyes staring up at him beseechingly and his mouth stuffed with Rhydian's cock. "Very good, Father, just watch your teeth." He tightens his grip on the other man's dark locks, which seems to satisfy him, as he resumes sucking his length immediately.
It is good, but it pales in comparison to what he experienced last night. Frey, that damned priest... He can't tell if his presence is a blessing or a curse that The Lady has bestowed upon him. Sex is a very normal part of daily life for a Libitine, and their lust is bountiful, but he's never known anyone as hungry for it as Frey. Even during the most innocuous of tasks, Frey's arousal seems ever present, warm and heady like a tangible thing wrapping around Rhydian's cock and stroking it to hardness.
It was evident when he met him, and confirmed by the other priests, that the Libitine has no sense of control over his pheromones. Given his exceptionally high libido, this has proved a problem in trying to be near him for extended periods of time. He also quickly learned that Frey has little social skills, frequently breaching social decorum and boundaries unintentionally. All of this combined has left him the black sheep of the cathedral, shunned by the rest of the priests as weird and intense.
It's a bit pathetic, really, to watch the man walk around with his cock hard as a rock beneath his robes and trying desperately to hide it, no one willing to lend him a hand despite their shared love for intercourse. Apparently, his heats are frequent and intense, and he has to lock himself up in his room to avoid being a nuisance to the rest of the building. It's sad, and as one of The Lady's bishops, he's deemed it his duty to see to pleasing Frey. Perhaps if he can help to fill the aching hole inside him, in more ways than one, Frey will gain better control over himself instead of letting his lust run rampant.
That's a convenient excuse, at least. Perhaps more truthfully, he just finds Frey sexy as hell. Despite his eccentricities, he's beautiful, and seems oh-so-willing to take whatever Rhydian might give to him. He likes the warm tingling that Frey's presence brings him, and he feels no shame in wanting to bend the other man over the nearest surface and fuck the feeling out of them both. Unfortunately, though, Frey seems to mostly keep to himself, barely lifting his head to even meet his eyes. Then there's their duties that often keep them apart. There has yet to be a good opportunity to seduce the man properly, so Rhydian decided to make himself one last night.
Slipping into Frey's dream, he found the man kneeljng before the altar of their Lady under the pale glow of moonlight coming in through the cathedral's large windows, mumbling frantically beneath his breath with hands folded in front of him. Rhydian waited behind him politely, allowing himself to be wrapped up in that warm embrace of the man's desire, until Frey stood. Deciding to make his presence known, he pressed against his back and moved his hands to his shoulders.
"Frey, my dear boy, what has you troubled at this late hour?"
Libitines always smell appealing, it is part of their chemistry, but Frey always smells particularly divine, like light florals and a cinnamon-sweet heat with a touch of something medicinal and unique to him that Rhydian can't place. It makes him want to eat him up.
"My dick," Frey had said so honestly, so casually, that Rhydian had had to hold back laughter.
"Is that so?" he'd purred, amused, hands beginning to kneed the tense muscle of the priest's neck and shoulders. "How is it troubling you?"
Frey had blinked at him owlishly from over his shoulder before shamelessly lifting his robes to reveal his erection, angrily red and already dripping, his Prince Albert piercing glinting in the moonlight. "My desire never cools or fades. I repent, but it remains without control."
"Mm. And why should you have to repent?" He smiled as innocently as he is capable of, guiding the priest to turn toward him so that he can cup his face. He was not just warm, but feverishly so, cheeks flushed attractively and his cock practically burning a hole in his robes where it was pressed against his thigh. "As Libitines, we have been uniquely blessed by the Lady to not only enjoy sex as anyone else might, but to find holiness in it. Healing. Sex strengthens and nurtures our bodies and brings us closer to Her and each other. It is how we thrive and build community with one another. Do not be ashamed of your sexual appetite; it is simply in our nature to want to share our bodies with others." Unable to help himself, he stroked Frey's plush bottom lip with his thumb, savoring his hot breath (already beginning to pant) against the pad of it.
"I would never turn my back on the gifts Our Lady gave us, nor the power of communion through sex... but my body does not relent when it is not time to worship. So I repent." He lamented as much, but his guilt seemed performative with how he'd already begun to sneakily rub his length against his thigh, tongue poking out to wet the digit against his lips. Such a desperate creature. "Are you here to punish me?"
"No, Father," he'd assured, pushing his index and middle fingers into the warm, wet cavern of Frey's mouth where they were greeted with immediate enthusiastic sucking. "I'm here to rebuild you. To milk the tainted semen from your desperate, starving body and replace it with my own holy seed. I shall fill the aching womb inside you to keep you from disturbing the peace of our brothers and sisters."
He was laying it on thick, but it seemed to spur Frey on as much as he'd hoped, his hips quickening against him. He pulled off his fingers with a pop, a lewd string of saliva breaking between them. "Thank you, Your Excellency."
"Now bend over Our Lady's altar. Your sperm, while unworthy, shall be your meager offering for her graciousness."
Frey was ever obedient as he bent over and lifted his robes to reveal his excitedly winking pink hole, his pierced cock and balls quivering against the cold granite of the altar. When Rhydian slipped one of his slick digits inside of him, it sunk down to the knuckle almost immediately, Frey's soft insides pulling him through tight muscle hungrily. "You must touch yourself here often, don't you, Father? You took my finger so easily." It doesn't take long for him to work a second finger in, scissoring him open in between bouts of torturing his prostate, making the man squirm and moan beneath him.
They continued like that for some time, Rhydian's practiced fingers drawing orgasm after orgasm out of the priest, white rivulets running down the altar's side and pooling at their feet. Only once he seemed sufficiently milked did Rhydian remove his fingers and step away, admiring Frey's gaping entrance and his lovely whines of disappointment. He lifted his own robe to let his own neglected erection bounce free, thick and throbbing with need, precum collecting in the sparse dark hair at his base. Frey's disappointment seemed to melt away into near manic glee at the sight, body turning to kneel in front of him immediately, as though he couldn't help himself.
He rubbed his length against his face gently, teasingly, biting down on his lip to keep from moaning. He was so turned on that just the slightest stimulation felt like it could make him cum. "Show me that you are worthy of salvation, Father," he ordered, and Frey devoured him with unmatched enthusiasm as though he were the most delicious thing he ever tasted. "Oh, My Lady," he gasped, steeling himself against the onslaught of Frey's dangerously skilled mouth by gripping onto his hair. Had the others been lying about leaving Frey to his own devices? How could he possibly be so good at sucking cock if he wasn't very experienced?
It was an embarrassingly short time before he was spilling hot and sticky down Frey's throat with a choked moan, and they both likely could have kept going if Rhydian didn't stop Frey by pulling his hair back. "Get back on the altar for me."
He was desperate and panting when he stood behind him again, turning Frey's face so that he could coax him into a bruising kiss while rubbing his still rock hard cock against his entrance teasingly. "Beg me for it," he'd demanded, though the words that came out of Frey's mouth were distant and incomprehensible. "What?" Again, garbled nonsense, more distant.
The dream was slipping away, and fast. "No, fuck —" he growled, thrusting desperately as everything went dark —
He'd awoken in a cold sweat, painfully hard, his sheets stained with ejaculate. Thankfully, one of his admirers was happy to give him a hand.
Just thinking about the whole thing has him throbbing, hips thrusting of their own volition into his current bedmate's mouth. Thankfully, the priest doesn't seem to mind, and with his hands balled in the other man's hair, Rhydian fucks his wet throat while he remembers the feeling of Frey's, the delightfully hypnotizing scent of their sex, and the feeling of his insides lovingly tangling around his fingers. No doubt they would have felt better around his cock while he pressed against his prostate and slammed into his deepest wall.
"Fuuuck," he hisses as he cums, pulling out of the priest's mouth and kissing the top of his head. "Good boy. I'm sure Our Lady would be proud of your progress."
After a reciprocal gift, he sends the priest on his way, cleaning up and slipping his costume on. It's getting late by now, so he really should get a move on if he doesn't wan to be out until the early morning.
LOCATION | INTERACTIONS | MENTIONS