Just five minutes, he’d promised himself. He’d stay up in the bell tower for a mere five minutes. Five minutes would leave him with plenty of time to get back downstairs and get ready.

But it was hard to keep that promise, when each minute felt like the blink of an eye. Besides, he wasn’t the one supposed to lead Mass anyway, that was the monsignor’s job, would it really be that terrible if he was a little late?

 

Angel’s warm lips on his were too tempting to only have a quick taste.

 

Samael had never set out to become the lover of a demon, but it wasn’t like Angel had declared himself as such when he first sauntered into the church, dressed in a human disguise. Somehow he’d seen right through Samael’s doubts, had tangled him in his web before he even realised what was happening.

Samael knew he was merely a fly in a spider’s web, waiting to be eaten, yet he couldn’t stop himself. His devotion to Angel was complete, making him forget all about the God he was supposed to be worshipping.

He was heading toward Hell at breakneck speed, yet he couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

Angel’s teeth nipped at his neck, his tongue tracing the thin skin, reaching the crook of his neck. He felt the brief, gentle press of lips, a shiver running down his spine at the touch.

Then, razor sharp teeth dug into his skin, Samael covering his mouth with a hand to keep from crying out as they pierced through, hot blood spilling as he felt Angel’s lips tug into a wide grin, trickling down his collarbone, down his chest and his back.

He’d never been so glad that his clothes were black.

 

Legs shaking, he sunk down on one knee, Angel following with ease. As Angel licked him clean, Samael’s chest heaved, exhilaration of the mixing pain and forbidden pleasure filling him to the brim.

Angel walked around him, coming to a stop in front of him. He laughed, the sound light in Samael’s ears.

“Are ya prayin’ to me?”

 

Samael looked up.

Angel’s eyes were playful, full of mischief, as he slowly licked the blood off his lips, watching Samael with amusement. Realising his position brought a smile to Samael’s lips, making him laugh.

“I think I might be.”

Reaching out, Angel’s fingers cradled his chin, his thumb brushing across his bottom lip. Samael’s mouth fell open, Angel’s thumb pressing down against his tongue, making him gasp, shivering in anticipation.

 

“I never could have imagined I’d have such a cute little priest worshippin’ me when I first came here. Thought I’d lead some of your sheep astray, at most.”

Crouching in front of him, another one of Angel’s many hands came up to his face, the one on his chin moving to his cheek. Another set of hands took Samael’s in his, pulling them up until they were in front of his chest, palms pressed together, an imitation of a prayer.

He pulled Samael closer.

Angel’s lips brushed against his as he spoke, drawing Samael’s breath from him, making him shudder.

“If ya were to pray to me, what would ya say?”

 

The thoughts swirled in Samael’s head, feeling as if the mere brush of Angel’s lips were enough to make him fall even deeper in love.

His voice was barely more than a whisper, his cheeks flushing a soft pink.

“Oh, Angel of all things unholy. I will be devoted to you, and you alone, as long as I breathe. Even in death, I will be yours.”

Every word he spoke made Angel’s grin grow, until finally, he leaned forward, closing the already thin gap between them.

 

The taste of his own blood still lingered on Angel’s tongue, filling his senses as a kiss was pressed to his lips, Angel’s tongue pushing past them as they parted in invitation.

All six of Angel’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him impossibly close. Any closer than this and he would be crush him to his chest. He was pushed to the floor, Angel on top of him, his lips never leaving his, not even for a moment.

One of Angel’s hands smeared his blood across his chest, the touch of his claws making him shiver, moaning into the kiss as he felt fingertips press against the puncture wounds Angel’s teeth had left in the crook of his neck.

He felt Angel’s fingers unbutton the rest of his shirt, hands travelling further down.

 

He’d never been that dedicated to what he’d heard other priests often call their ‘calling’, but now, he knew that he would be well and truly forsaken by God. Sleeping with a demon, inside the church no less, what God would tolerate that? There was no going back, but honestly, Samael didn’t care.

He’d been told that he was too reckless when he fell in love, dove in too deep and didn’t know when to come back up again, but Angel was the first person to really see him in a very long time. What did it matter that he happened to be a demon?

 

The sound of the altar bells ringing just barely carried all the way up the tower, Samael realising that he had already missed the majority of Mass.

As Angel’s hand snuck in underneath his trousers, his tongue hot in his mouth, he didn’t regret missing the rest of it.

Not for a second.

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