![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
snoggedTitle: Sinner’s Hell
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Co. own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I don’t. And Deuteronomy 32 belongs to well, you know…the Man Upstairs.
Pairing: Spike, Father Angelus (Spike POV)
Word Count: 1757
Rating: FRAO/NC-17; hmmm…where do I begin: masturbation (in a church), coming in jeans, underage (Spike’s 16), sexual fantasies, language, priest!kink, fire and brimstone…or, you know, DIRTY! BAD! WRONG! also covers it quite nicely.
Setting: Human AU
Summary: A young sinner in the House of God…
Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rockstarpeach. Any other mistakes are mine.
A/N: for my dearestash_carpenter who's celebrating her birthday. Oh and because I needed one more reason to reserve my special seat on the bus bound straight for hell.
Spike shifted uncomfortably as he tried to find that magical point of give, the point of the seat that would offer him a modicum of comfort. But the hard wooden pew was not interested in giving him what he wanted. It seemed much more interested in ensuring that he served out his mum’s sentence in an unpleasant way. One week of daily church services and all because he got busted smoking a clove in the boy’s bathroom at school.
Okay, so it hadn’t helped that he tried to lie his way out of it. Or that he had chucked out all hope of redemption by cursing the Lord’s name in vain on his way upstairs to his bedroom.
But he was damn sure the woman had to be smoking crack if she thought sending a sixteen year old boy to Catholic services every day would put the fear of God in him. Sure, Father Angelus was a scary enough bloke but a week wasn’t likely to him any good in the long run. Besides, normal kids got grounded by having their TV and movie time taken away. Clearly, his mum had never received that memo and she hadn’t placed restrictions on anything else.
On the bright side, the last three days he had been mostly alone in the church, free from the prying, judging eyes of the Sunday church goers who would recognize him for being the troublemaker he was known to be around town. Instead, he just had to put up with the few stragglers and old timers that had nothing better to do on a Wednesday afternoon.
The crowd today was three old biddies in bright purple hats sitting five rows in behind him. Spike had seen them a couple times and they drove him batty. Especially when they started whispering gossip to each other like a pack of hens, which happened whenever there was a break in Father Angelus’s sermons.
Surprisingly, the priest never batted an eye at their interruptions. He would keep right on preaching like nothing was the matter. Ever since Monday though, Spike predicted that the reason Angelus didn’t care about the little old ladies was because his eyes were too busy staring at Spike from the pulpit. Cool, dark eyes that searched his baby blue ones for the signs of devil-play and damnation.
The way Angelus looked at him as he preached the Word of God sent chills down the back of Spike’s spine. It was a look that made him feel dirty, shameful about all the things he did in secret. The things that mum didn’t even know about. Like the magazines hidden under the mattress that he stole from the market. Toned men in tight briefs. Leather men on motorcycles. Men in collars sucking off the men who controlled them. Men that made his dick twitch and jump until he fixed the problem, tugging and pulling at it until tears burned in his eyes from the shame. His mum had always said that masturbation was an offense against nature. And that laying with a man would turn him into a pillar of salt and engulf him in the fiery pits of hell.
It wasn’t like he wanted to burn in hell or anything because he knew that would crush his mother…but sweet fuck, he couldn’t deny the dirty, debauched urges that twisted like a white-hot coil in his gut. Why did God have to make it so damn easy for people to choose sin and temptation? Better still, why was it so hard to be a teenage boy where absolutely everything in the world reminded him of sex and lust?
It wasn’t fair!
Spike felt his dick stir against his thigh and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus on what Angelus was saying today, trying to focus on the conviction and power of his message. He had to fight the urge to touch himself, to silence the pleas his body was making. As much of a sin as it was to jerk off at home, it was 1000 times worse to do it here in the house of the almighty Lord and Savior.
“And Jehovah saw it, and abhorred them, because of the provocation of his sons and his daughters. And he said: I will hide my face from them; I will see what their end shall be: For they are a very perverse generation, children in whom is no faithfulness.”
There was power in the father’s voice. Authority. Command. Dominance. Angelus could manipulate whole crowds with the way he spoke, could manipulate people to go out in the world and scream out the praises of God to whoever listened. It was a voice that sent a white-hot tingle down Spike’s spine as he imagined being bent over a desk and caned for his insolence. Imagined how the Father would condemn him for being a filthy whore and beat him until he cried. He’d seen the faces of men in his magazines contorted in pleasure from those very same scenarios and he wanted to be like that.
He knew it was wrong to think like that, to get turned on by the thought of such violence. He knew it was dirty, that it was perverse. But he couldn’t stop himself.
Spike glanced down at his groin and groaned softly as he watched his dick harden, pushing forward against his pants, making the fabric tent and crease. He moved his hand from his knee to his lap, subtly trying to cover the bulge from Angelus’s watchful gaze. But it was likely a fruitless endeavor. Angelus could see all from his position. He could know all.
“For a fire is kindled in mine anger. And burneth unto the lowest Sheol. And devoureth the earth with its increase. And setteth on fire the foundations of the mountains.”
The pressure from his hand pushing against his groin caused a shudder to rock through him and he looked up from his lap in time to see the smirk ghosting in the corners of the priest’s mouth. As if he was secretly loving the view and secretly loving the frantic struggle of Spike’s efforts to keep his hormones in check. There was something sadistic in those eyes that gave Spike the feeling that Angelus was looking for a show and Spike was offering front row seats for free.
“Without shall the sword bereave, and in the chambers terror; It shall destroy both young man and virgin. The suckling with the man of gray hairs. I said, I would scatter them afar. I would make the remembrance of them to cease from among men.”
Spike shifted his hand, cupping his crotch as if trying to protect it from the threats of destruction. In return, his body sent another wave of pleasure through him, sending his concentration and focus into a tailspin. It was too much. Too much. He couldn’t keep holding off like this. Couldn’t deal with the ache. The way it hurt to not touch it, to not stroke himself. His cock didn’t give a shit if God was watching. If Father Angelus was watching. If those three little ladies in the back row wanted to come up for a view.
Fire and brimstone didn’t stand a chance against the demands of his young, nubile body.
“Oh that they were wise, that they understood this. That they would consider their latter end!”
Spike heard the crescendo building in Angelus’s voice as he spoke the word and he excitedly increased the speed, rubbing and palming himself. He felt like a raw ball of energy- nearly burning a hole through his pants from the friction being created. A choked whimper left his lips and his head accidentally drifted to the crucifix where Jesus Christ was hanging, eyes dead and lifeless.
Fuck! He really is going to hell. No one gets salvation from rubbing themselves fierce and hard, praying for the final orgasm that will soothe the addiction of the beast.
He squeezed his eyes shut, letting the burn, the heat, the flame, the fire consume him. In his mind, he can see Father Angelus standing above him, holding a bowl of black ink, marking his forehead.
6-6-6
He has become a soldier for Satan. The hand on his dick an embodiment of his sin.
No confession will wash away the tarnish on his skin; no Hail Mary will redeem his crime.
“For their vine is of the vine of Sodom, and of the fields of Gomorrah: Their grapes are grapes of gall, their clusters are bitter. Their wine is the poison of serpents, and the cruel venom of asps.”
Angelus’s voice had darkened, brimming with malice and anger as he kept his eyes on Spike.
Spike gasped, eyes bulging open as his climax struck him like the crack of a whip against his back. His body went rigid, tensing as a dark stain blossomed like a flower on his pants and hot spunk clung to his thighs.
“See now that I, even I, am he, and there is no god with me: I kill, and I make alive; I wound, and I heal; and there is none that can deliver out of my hand.”
Spike slumped backwards against the pew, body weak from its surrender and mind drugged from the adrenaline and the intensity. He turned his head slightly, trying to catch the expressions of the little old ladies but they weren’t looking at him. They were still whispering to each other, seemingly unaware of the depravity that had occurred in their midst.
“Thus endeth the reading,” Angelus murmured, stepping down from the pulpit and running his hands down the front of his robes to smooth out the imaginary wrinkles.
Spike watched him with careful eyes, wondering what punishment awaited him for wanking off in church but the Father did nothing. He just disappeared through the curtain of the confessional booth without a word.
After five minutes had passed, Spike gathered himself and rose from the pew. As he walked down the aisle, he averted his gaze from the images in the brightly colored stained glass windows.
But right before he opened the door, Spike could swear he heard a loud, guttural groan coming from the confessional chamber, followed by the rustling of fabric.
Even though it was wrong to think of Father Angelus jerking himself off after a sermon, Spike couldn’t help but let a grin play at the corners of his lips. At least, he wasn’t the only one going to hell.
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Co. own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I don’t. And Deuteronomy 32 belongs to well, you know…the Man Upstairs.
Pairing: Spike, Father Angelus (Spike POV)
Word Count: 1757
Rating: FRAO/NC-17; hmmm…where do I begin: masturbation (in a church), coming in jeans, underage (Spike’s 16), sexual fantasies, language, priest!kink, fire and brimstone…or, you know, DIRTY! BAD! WRONG! also covers it quite nicely.
Setting: Human AU
Summary: A young sinner in the House of God…
Beta:
rockstarpeach. Any other mistakes are mine.A/N: for my dearest
ash_carpenter who's celebrating her birthday. Oh and because I needed one more reason to reserve my special seat on the bus bound straight for hell.Spike shifted uncomfortably as he tried to find that magical point of give, the point of the seat that would offer him a modicum of comfort. But the hard wooden pew was not interested in giving him what he wanted. It seemed much more interested in ensuring that he served out his mum’s sentence in an unpleasant way. One week of daily church services and all because he got busted smoking a clove in the boy’s bathroom at school.
Okay, so it hadn’t helped that he tried to lie his way out of it. Or that he had chucked out all hope of redemption by cursing the Lord’s name in vain on his way upstairs to his bedroom.
But he was damn sure the woman had to be smoking crack if she thought sending a sixteen year old boy to Catholic services every day would put the fear of God in him. Sure, Father Angelus was a scary enough bloke but a week wasn’t likely to him any good in the long run. Besides, normal kids got grounded by having their TV and movie time taken away. Clearly, his mum had never received that memo and she hadn’t placed restrictions on anything else.
On the bright side, the last three days he had been mostly alone in the church, free from the prying, judging eyes of the Sunday church goers who would recognize him for being the troublemaker he was known to be around town. Instead, he just had to put up with the few stragglers and old timers that had nothing better to do on a Wednesday afternoon.
The crowd today was three old biddies in bright purple hats sitting five rows in behind him. Spike had seen them a couple times and they drove him batty. Especially when they started whispering gossip to each other like a pack of hens, which happened whenever there was a break in Father Angelus’s sermons.
Surprisingly, the priest never batted an eye at their interruptions. He would keep right on preaching like nothing was the matter. Ever since Monday though, Spike predicted that the reason Angelus didn’t care about the little old ladies was because his eyes were too busy staring at Spike from the pulpit. Cool, dark eyes that searched his baby blue ones for the signs of devil-play and damnation.
The way Angelus looked at him as he preached the Word of God sent chills down the back of Spike’s spine. It was a look that made him feel dirty, shameful about all the things he did in secret. The things that mum didn’t even know about. Like the magazines hidden under the mattress that he stole from the market. Toned men in tight briefs. Leather men on motorcycles. Men in collars sucking off the men who controlled them. Men that made his dick twitch and jump until he fixed the problem, tugging and pulling at it until tears burned in his eyes from the shame. His mum had always said that masturbation was an offense against nature. And that laying with a man would turn him into a pillar of salt and engulf him in the fiery pits of hell.
It wasn’t like he wanted to burn in hell or anything because he knew that would crush his mother…but sweet fuck, he couldn’t deny the dirty, debauched urges that twisted like a white-hot coil in his gut. Why did God have to make it so damn easy for people to choose sin and temptation? Better still, why was it so hard to be a teenage boy where absolutely everything in the world reminded him of sex and lust?
It wasn’t fair!
Spike felt his dick stir against his thigh and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus on what Angelus was saying today, trying to focus on the conviction and power of his message. He had to fight the urge to touch himself, to silence the pleas his body was making. As much of a sin as it was to jerk off at home, it was 1000 times worse to do it here in the house of the almighty Lord and Savior.
“And Jehovah saw it, and abhorred them, because of the provocation of his sons and his daughters. And he said: I will hide my face from them; I will see what their end shall be: For they are a very perverse generation, children in whom is no faithfulness.”
There was power in the father’s voice. Authority. Command. Dominance. Angelus could manipulate whole crowds with the way he spoke, could manipulate people to go out in the world and scream out the praises of God to whoever listened. It was a voice that sent a white-hot tingle down Spike’s spine as he imagined being bent over a desk and caned for his insolence. Imagined how the Father would condemn him for being a filthy whore and beat him until he cried. He’d seen the faces of men in his magazines contorted in pleasure from those very same scenarios and he wanted to be like that.
He knew it was wrong to think like that, to get turned on by the thought of such violence. He knew it was dirty, that it was perverse. But he couldn’t stop himself.
Spike glanced down at his groin and groaned softly as he watched his dick harden, pushing forward against his pants, making the fabric tent and crease. He moved his hand from his knee to his lap, subtly trying to cover the bulge from Angelus’s watchful gaze. But it was likely a fruitless endeavor. Angelus could see all from his position. He could know all.
“For a fire is kindled in mine anger. And burneth unto the lowest Sheol. And devoureth the earth with its increase. And setteth on fire the foundations of the mountains.”
The pressure from his hand pushing against his groin caused a shudder to rock through him and he looked up from his lap in time to see the smirk ghosting in the corners of the priest’s mouth. As if he was secretly loving the view and secretly loving the frantic struggle of Spike’s efforts to keep his hormones in check. There was something sadistic in those eyes that gave Spike the feeling that Angelus was looking for a show and Spike was offering front row seats for free.
“Without shall the sword bereave, and in the chambers terror; It shall destroy both young man and virgin. The suckling with the man of gray hairs. I said, I would scatter them afar. I would make the remembrance of them to cease from among men.”
Spike shifted his hand, cupping his crotch as if trying to protect it from the threats of destruction. In return, his body sent another wave of pleasure through him, sending his concentration and focus into a tailspin. It was too much. Too much. He couldn’t keep holding off like this. Couldn’t deal with the ache. The way it hurt to not touch it, to not stroke himself. His cock didn’t give a shit if God was watching. If Father Angelus was watching. If those three little ladies in the back row wanted to come up for a view.
Fire and brimstone didn’t stand a chance against the demands of his young, nubile body.
“Oh that they were wise, that they understood this. That they would consider their latter end!”
Spike heard the crescendo building in Angelus’s voice as he spoke the word and he excitedly increased the speed, rubbing and palming himself. He felt like a raw ball of energy- nearly burning a hole through his pants from the friction being created. A choked whimper left his lips and his head accidentally drifted to the crucifix where Jesus Christ was hanging, eyes dead and lifeless.
Fuck! He really is going to hell. No one gets salvation from rubbing themselves fierce and hard, praying for the final orgasm that will soothe the addiction of the beast.
He squeezed his eyes shut, letting the burn, the heat, the flame, the fire consume him. In his mind, he can see Father Angelus standing above him, holding a bowl of black ink, marking his forehead.
6-6-6
He has become a soldier for Satan. The hand on his dick an embodiment of his sin.
No confession will wash away the tarnish on his skin; no Hail Mary will redeem his crime.
“For their vine is of the vine of Sodom, and of the fields of Gomorrah: Their grapes are grapes of gall, their clusters are bitter. Their wine is the poison of serpents, and the cruel venom of asps.”
Angelus’s voice had darkened, brimming with malice and anger as he kept his eyes on Spike.
Spike gasped, eyes bulging open as his climax struck him like the crack of a whip against his back. His body went rigid, tensing as a dark stain blossomed like a flower on his pants and hot spunk clung to his thighs.
“See now that I, even I, am he, and there is no god with me: I kill, and I make alive; I wound, and I heal; and there is none that can deliver out of my hand.”
Spike slumped backwards against the pew, body weak from its surrender and mind drugged from the adrenaline and the intensity. He turned his head slightly, trying to catch the expressions of the little old ladies but they weren’t looking at him. They were still whispering to each other, seemingly unaware of the depravity that had occurred in their midst.
“Thus endeth the reading,” Angelus murmured, stepping down from the pulpit and running his hands down the front of his robes to smooth out the imaginary wrinkles.
Spike watched him with careful eyes, wondering what punishment awaited him for wanking off in church but the Father did nothing. He just disappeared through the curtain of the confessional booth without a word.
After five minutes had passed, Spike gathered himself and rose from the pew. As he walked down the aisle, he averted his gaze from the images in the brightly colored stained glass windows.
But right before he opened the door, Spike could swear he heard a loud, guttural groan coming from the confessional chamber, followed by the rustling of fabric.
Even though it was wrong to think of Father Angelus jerking himself off after a sermon, Spike couldn’t help but let a grin play at the corners of his lips. At least, he wasn’t the only one going to hell.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2009-05-09 02:16 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-05-09 02:44 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-05-09 02:23 pm (UTC)Heh...everyone seems to think I have a thing for dirtybadwrong priest!kink...*whistles*
This was really quite powerful; the way that you interspersed Spike's actions with the sermon really ratcheted the tension high! How awesome!
Thanks again! This is gonna be the bestest birthday! :D
*hugs*
no subject
on 2009-05-09 02:44 pm (UTC)...I would have a hard time believing that you didn't have a thing for dirtybadwrong priest!kink. Seriously, it's because of Confessional/Penance that I have a dirty!bad!wrong priest kink. Though I can also blame the Catholic church for that too.
I'm glad you found this powerful. I was pretty excited about interspersing Spike's tortured masturbation session with scripture. Made it dirtier ;)
I'm also eager for your birthday. I predict all kinds of DBW fiction and art will pop up in your name. Win win for everyone :)
*snuggles*
no subject
on 2009-05-09 03:12 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-05-09 03:25 pm (UTC)Ash's birthday is a happy day for all DBW folks. No lie :)
Thanks peach!
no subject
on 2009-05-09 03:25 pm (UTC)Gabrielle
no subject
on 2009-05-09 03:29 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-05-09 04:27 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-05-09 10:20 pm (UTC)Priest!kink is seriously a lot of fun.
no subject
on 2009-05-09 04:55 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-05-09 10:20 pm (UTC)There's plenty of room for everyone :)
no subject
on 2009-05-09 05:01 pm (UTC)Seriously, this was really good, and I love how you write :)
no subject
on 2009-05-09 10:20 pm (UTC)I'm glad to hear that.
no subject
on 2009-05-09 05:11 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-05-09 10:21 pm (UTC)Thanks sweetie!
no subject
on 2009-05-09 05:21 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-05-09 10:21 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-05-09 05:25 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-05-09 10:21 pm (UTC)Glad you liked.
no subject
on 2009-05-09 05:32 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-05-09 10:21 pm (UTC)Unexpected response. But I'll take it :)
Thanks for reading!
no subject
on 2009-05-09 10:23 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-05-09 10:24 pm (UTC)I got an amused giggle out of it though :)
no subject
on 2009-05-09 06:16 pm (UTC)Perfect :)
no subject
on 2009-05-09 10:22 pm (UTC)*snuggles*
no subject
on 2009-05-09 07:16 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-05-09 10:22 pm (UTC)Thanks, hun
And of course, you can sit by me on the Special hell bus :)
no subject
on 2009-05-09 08:07 pm (UTC)Heh! I don't think Spike and Father Angelus will be in Hell alone...looks like we'll all be there too for loving this! ;)
*kisses* xxx
no subject
on 2009-05-09 10:23 pm (UTC)Thanks darling!
Writing DBW is so easy when Ash is involved somehow ;)
no subject
on 2009-05-10 01:59 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-05-10 02:14 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-05-10 05:10 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-05-10 08:18 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-05-10 08:56 pm (UTC)So wring and so very very yummy my darling! I loved every word!
smooches xxxx
no subject
on 2009-05-11 08:01 pm (UTC)Priest!Kink is so much fun.
But then again, so is School!Kink and Daddy!Kink.
Mmmm....daddy!kink. That's what I want for my birthday
no subject
on 2009-05-11 09:13 pm (UTC)noted :))
no subject
on 2009-05-13 05:34 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-05-14 02:44 pm (UTC)Glad you liked it
no subject
on 2009-05-16 12:54 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-05-16 03:38 pm (UTC)*squishes*