Page 129 of Monstrous Travels as Wicked as Sin

The vision and the euphoria took Joe, and he began to fuck his dick into his hand just as Percy fucked harder into him, eyes fluttering closed, head tilting back to reveal the long, tender neck.

“You’re so beautiful,” Percy whispered. “I wish you could see yourself like this.”

“Percy…” Joe breathed.

“Say it again.”

“Percy…” he moaned.

“Tell me how good it feels.”

“You’re a god. Oh, Christ. Percy, you’re a god to me. You’re everything.”

Percy wrapped a hand around his shoulder and slammed Joe down onto his dick and he thrust upwards and he pulverised Joe, relentlessly, watching him all but crumple, helpless at his hands, working his dick for Percy, assailed by pleasure on all sides from the sight and scent and feel of his beautiful husband.

Joe was lost in the same dream. His husband. Here, now, and he made Percy slow, right on the precipice. Made him take his hand from his thigh, red with his iron grip, and he pulled him up.

Their chests met. Percy’s hand pressed firm into Joe’s back, taking him close, and Joe dropped his forehead to Percy’s, their breath mingling, eyes burning into one another’s, Joe taking Percy’s cock with a helpless whimper of exhausted happiness.

“I love you,” Percy whispered. “My husband. My beautiful, beautiful husband.”

He took a hand to Joe’s cheek, and Joe leaned into it, rising up, riding him. He leaned his head back and Percy kissed his neck, wrapped a hand around his cock, worked him, firmly, gently, faster, until his hand clamped down with an involuntary movement, gripping tight, letting out a cry as his orgasm came for him.

“Percy, fuck,” Joe gasped. And Joe let go, for the second time, only with Percy’s hand placed just so to send the cum bursting out the sides between his fingers, coating Percy’s hand, the pair of them, and the bloody, sweaty altar. Percy kissed Joe, cum, anointing oil, and blood mingling on their chests, and he finally,after he’d seen every shared tremor of bliss through to the last, pulled him down next to him to lie on the cool copper, the mess they’d made spilling down the sides of their altar, onto the church floor, as they lay heedless of anything but each other.

Percy placed an arm beneath Joe’s head, and the two of them rolled onto their sides, facing one another. He traced down Joe’s jawline with the side of his index finger, storing away the sight. Something to remember for the rest of his life. Then he said, very seriously, “I’d like you to take me to church every Sunday from now on.”

It was incredible to Percy that Joe could still blush after everything he’d just done, but he turned bright pink, hiding his smile against Percy's chest and moaning, “It’s too soon for that kind of joke.”

“Who’s joking?” Percy returned.

Joe gave a small, almost argumentative but well-humoured enough huff, and submitted to having his hair stroked by his gorgeous tormenter.

Joe.

Too sweet for words.

Unchanged, deep down. The one solid thing in Percy’s life, for the first time ever, and for always. Percy hugged him closer.

They lay there, basking. Joe stared up at the ceiling, his beautiful eyes illuminated and more golden than ever. Percy wondered what he was thinking. Eventually, he took a breath to ask, but his voice drifted off with his inability to hit whatever it was on the head.

“Am I thinking about which thing?” Joe supplied. “Watching you die, damning you to eternity, losing whatever shred of faith in God I may have had left, filling us both up with dark magic, or quitting the priesthood?”

“Which one?” Percy asked, bracing himself for reality to slip back in, which he was used to. Which he hated.

But Joe said, “None of them. Percy, I’m so happy. It feels like… Like this is the end. Like this is how it was all supposed to work out. And I’m so, so happy.”

Percy kissed his temple. “I feel the same way.” His arms around Joe were solid, and his sigh was deeply contented. His head shifted against Joe’s, warm and loving. “I think it was terribly romantic of you to bring me here. It is perfect. Perfect for us.”

Joe stretched out his hand, forever examining Percy’s ring on his own finger. “Two thousand years old?”

“Roughly.”

“It’s special. Beyond special. I don’t feel like I should be wearing it. It’s irreplaceable.”

“So are you. Hopefully, it will last you the next two thousand.”

Joe laughed lightly, a touch of gravity behind it, then quieted for a few minutes, until he asked, “Do you really think we’re immortal now?”

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