Trinity Blood Fan Fiction ❯ Redemption ❯ Redemption ( Chapter 1 )

Redemption

 

Strewn over the rich, red carpet that decorated the chapel halls, dozens upon dozens of candles flickered brightly, their combined light providing adequate illumination for the lone being who sought peace for his troubled soul. At the base of the stairway he knelt, head hung in silent prayer. One hand clasped the silver cross that hung from his neck tightly, the other holding a single candle aloft.

 

Outside, the rain poured mercilessly, beating against the stained-glass windows with angry splatters. It was the only noise in the otherwise silent church, aside from the solitary being's even breaths. It was on this gloomy night that he found himself unable to sleep, his conscience clouded with guilt. As of late his mind had been filled with less than innocent thoughts. And so, finding he could gain no rest unless he put his soul at ease, he rose from his bed and wandered the empty corridors of the church, his destination clear.

 

Temptation had been rearing its enticing, wicked head more often than not, and he was ashamed that a man such as himself was being plagued with such unholy thoughts; and about her, of all people. He tried sorely not to see her in such a light, but since they were traveling together, he found the task nearly impossible.

 

That was why he found it necessary to come here, even at such an ungodly hour of the night. He needed to repent for his sins, ask for pardon from the Heavenly Father, and cleanse his spirit. Sighing as he finished his long, detailed prayer, the black and grey clad male opened pale blue eyes, silver lashes fanning against his cheek. Releasing the cross from his grip, he lifted two fingers to his forehead and then to his heart, before moving them from one shoulder to the other. With that he blew out the candle.

 

“Amen.”

 

“Troubled, father?”

 

The soft, lilting voice echoed clearly through the chapel, and he turned his silver head to gaze at its owner with a fond regard. Dressed in her usual blue and white ensemble she approached him from the doors, her feet falling silently against the stone floor. Kind, deep blue eyes shone affectionately, her sweet smile seeming to light up the dimly lit church.

 

“I suppose you could say that,” he replied while rising to his feet, greeting her at his full height of six foot six inches. A kind smile graced his own features as she stopped before him, her head just barely reaching his chest. The `Csillag', his Star of Ishtvan, his light in the darkness. She was the source of not only his serenity, but his restlessness as well.

 

“I hope you found peace with whatever it was that was disconcerting you,” she remarked softly, peach lips bestowing another warm smile upon him.

 

Shaking his head, silver ponytail sliding over one broad shoulder, he commented quietly, “To a degree.”

 

Worry filling her azure eyes, she brushed a strand of her short, cherry tresses from her face while inquiring, “Is it something I could help with?”

 

Shaking his head at her suggestion, he informed her, “This demon is one that I must overcome on my own, though I do appreciate your offer. It is something all men face at one point or another.”

 

Batting large, concerned depths, she placed a hand on his arm while remarking, “I will pray for you, father. I hope that you find whatever answers you seek.”

 

As she turned from him, panic swelled in his soul, and he reached out to her. “Sister,” he exclaimed, retreating slightly when she paused and looked back at him with a fretful expression. Clearing his throat awkwardly, embarrassed at his outburst, the man queried, “May I ask you something?”

 

Blinking away her confusion, the pretty young redhead nodded, awaiting his question. She angled her body so that he had a clear view of her profile, making the air for conversation a little less tense.

 

Glancing down at his shoes, he inquired, “What will you do… when this is over, that is?”

Taken aback by his question, she thought for a moment before replying, “I'm not sure. If… when this ends… I thought perhaps I could stay with you, wherever you choose to go.”

 

His eyes met hers, and her cheeks tinged a light pink. “But why?”

 

Sighing, she answered, “You are dear to me. You were there for me when the world had seemingly abandoned me… when I was alone. I just couldn't see myself anywhere but with you. If you choose to stay in Rome I will stay as well. If the Vatican sends you on another mission, I will gladly accompany you.”

 

Teeth grating as his thoughts took a turn for the worst, the silver haired male informed her, “I do not know if that will be possible.”

 

Mouth parting in shock, the young girl supplied, “I'm sure Cardinal Catarina would have no objections. She seems to-”

 

“It is not that.”

 

Stunned at his interruption as well as confused at his response, she whispered, “Then… why? What would stand in our way?”

 

His answer was almost inaudible, his head hung low as he uttered in shame, “Me.”

 

“You?”

 

He was afraid to explain his meaning to her; afraid that she would turn away in disgust. But, as she had said, he was dear to her, as she was to him. Surely she would understand. He supposed that, in order for him to conquer the demons that plagued his soul, he needed to admit his weakness… his folly.

 

“Sister… as of late my mind has been lingering on thoughts that no good priest should dwell on.”

 

She stepped nearer, bending slightly so she could see him clearly past the thin veil of his hoary bangs. “What sort of thoughts?”

 

Inhaling sharply, he practically blurted, “Thoughts of you, sister.”

 

“Of… of me?”

 

There was no turning back now, and he willed himself to stand straight as he explained, “You are close to my heart, sister Esther, but recently I have been thinking of you in a manner less than holy.”

 

Realization sinking in, she averted her eyes, a flush crossing the top of her cheeks as she whispered, “Oh.”

 

He cringed. She must have been disgusted with him. “I apologize,” he offered and made to pass her. A soft touch on his shoulder stopped him, however, and when he turned to address her again he was startled to find a small body thrown into his chest.

 

Wrapping her arms around his waist tightly, the blushing nun pressed her cheek firmly against his lean torso, fingers winding into his midnight robes.

 

Not certain what to do, the man pushed his glasses upward, them having fallen to the bridge of his nose when she crashed into him. “Sister?”

 

“I…” she began in a tentative voice, her tone so soft he nearly missed what she was saying, “I don't… I mean… it doesn't bother me, father. I… feel things for you that I feel for no other.”

 

Placing a wary hand on the top of her head, the young man sighed. He was not afraid of her, no, but more afraid of his own reaction. He needed to tread these waters carefully. “You do not understand. It is not that I do not wish to be with you, but a man of my station cannot succumb to the temptations of the flesh. It can't be.”

 

Her grip slackened slightly, her head turning upward to meet his gaze. He was so beautiful, so ethereal and angelic. Every pale feature on his face was chiseled perfectly, his eyes like blue tinged frost. Though his hair was silver, he showed no signs of aging, his appearance youthful. His build was tall and lean, and yet she knew of the power underlying such a slender frame.

 

“Please,” she implored softly, trembling against him, “let me help you. This craving, this need that has wound its way into our souls will not ebb until it has been satisfied. I want to help you… Abel.”

 

Swallowing as he fought off temptation yet again, Abel cupped her cheek gently, pleading, “Do not do this to me, Esther. We cannot. I am a priest and you are a nun. Such an indulgence is a sin.”

 

She shook her head, a tiny grin playing over her lips.

 

For a moment he had to pause to take in such a foreign feature on her usually innocent face. The smirk was knowing and seductive: the sultry smile of a temptress. He had not thought that perhaps she too was being beset by such treacherous feelings. He was so used to seeing her in the light of a child; he had not expected to be suddenly confronted by a young woman.

 

“Have you forgotten, Abel, when you first met me… the felony I had committed? There are worse crimes in life than succumbing to these feelings that are overcoming us. I murdered a man. You have taken lives as well. We are not perfect.”

 

At the moment his control was waning, her soft curves feeling far too inviting as she pressed against him. Gripping his quickly slipping control as tightly as he could, Abel managed to choke out, “Esther, if you do not leave, I might-”

 

“Stop thinking yourself a villain, father. Has it not occurred to you that perhaps this is what I want? If something should happen, the blame will not be yours, nor will it be mine. It will simply be, and neither of us should feel guilty or shameful.” She leaned closer to him, bringing her lips closer to his.

 

His head tipped down on its own accord, his breath faltering as he felt the soft skin of her lips against his. Quickly he pulled back, gulping down much needed air.

 

He gripped her shoulders, his hold firm, but not painful. Esther blinked in confusion and hurt, not understanding why he was still fighting this. In his eyes, a look of wild abandon shone, and she shivered in anticipation. She had always wondered what he might look like in the throws of passion, reckless and feral.

 

“I am not like you, Esther…” he began, taking in more air as he went. “I am not human. I am… a beast. I do not want to hurt you.”

 

Steeling her resolve as the meaning behind his statement sunk in, she slid her hand lower on his chest, whispering with certainty, “I know what you are, Abel, and it does not frighten me. Whatever you give me… I will gladly accept.”

 

Lower and lower the brazen hand slunk, growing dangerously close to the source of his frustration. His arousal was painful, and his need to take her was great. He did not know how much longer he would be able to-

 

“Esther!”

 

The strained call of her name shocked her slightly, but did not deter her in the least. She continued her gentle motions, her palm cupping the large, warm bulge that stretched the fabric of his robes. Slowly she stroked, feeling the length of him as his grip on her shoulders tightened.

 

His breathing was deep and heavy, eyes wide with shock and jaw slack. What was she doing to him? When he lowered his head to look at her she was staring back wantonly, and he could no longer restrain himself.

 

Their lips crushed together in a frantic, passionate kiss, and his long legs carried them to the front row of pews. One large, gloved hand pressed gently into the small of her back, guiding her body down onto the bench. His tongue traced the seam of her mouth, eagerly plunging in when she granted him access. She tasted just as sweet as he imagined her to be, and suddenly they had on far too much clothing for his liking.

 

One knee rested on the pew, his other foot still planted firmly on the floor as he leaned over her prone form. Eager hands unfastened the front of her garb fluidly, pushing the sleeves of her overcoat down her shoulders. His teeth and lips paid homage to the newly exposed flesh, starting along the dip of her clavicle before trailing up her neck.

 

The thin dress she wore beneath her outer robe followed; the buttons that fastened it quickly coming undone. Appreciative powder blue eyes gazed upon her unhindered flesh, a lump forming in his throat as he brushed aside the material of her dress and exposed her young, firm breasts.

 

A pleasured gasp slipped past her lips as his mouth descended on a single, coral peak, pulling the hardened bud between his teeth with a gentle pinch. Her other breast was not left unattended, being showered with attention from anxious fingers. The cloth of his gloves created on odd but pleasing friction against her already sensitive nipple, his large palm cupping the weight of her breast.

 

Rising slightly so he could divest himself of his own clothing, Abel started with his gloves, the small white articles tossed carelessly onto the floor, followed by his cloak. His gun and holster were the next items to be shed.

 

One powerful arm slid beneath the slight form of the woman beneath him, lifting her into a sitting position so he could completely remove her outermost layer of clothing. He gazed intently at her beautiful figure, flushed and trembling. Slowly his hands ran the length of her thighs and over the well rounded shape of her calves, moving to pull the boots from her feet.

 

Laying only in the thin white dress she wore beneath her robe, Esther lifted her hands to cover herself, suddenly feeling very self conscious under his scrutiny.

 

His hands, now free of those bothersome gloves, were quick to capture her wrists, pulling them aside. “Do not hide yourself from me, Esther,” he whispered softly, “I wish to admire the beauty God has blessed you with.”

 

She nodded slowly, and her hands were freed. His hands were hot to the touch as they palmed her mounds of maturity, kneading the milky flesh with a gentle fervor.

 

Timidly, not knowing what to do, Esther lifted her leg over his hip, her body acting purely on instinct. Her hands caressed his face tenderly, carefully removing his glasses and setting them on the floor. Then she reached around his head to free his silken, silver tresses from their confines, sighing when the shimmering mass pooled around her like a curtain of moonbeams. Her hands ran lovingly through his hoary strands, pulling him close so that she could indulge in the ecstasy of his lips.

 

After a moment of fevered kissing, he could bear no more, and quickly shed his robe.

She stared in appreciation at his pale, angelic body. He was not lanky, as she had expected. Lean he may have been, but every inch of his frame was lined with muscle. Though it was not enough to make him bulky or burly, the precisely wound bunches of tissue were placed in all the right locations. His pectorals were defined, but not in a way that made them appear overtly large. She found men with bulging muscles rather unappealing, as it was. His arms were slender, but strong; very well defined. His broad shoulders and neck were nicely proportioned as well. Beneath the creamy skin of his abdomen and ribs, tight clusters of muscle rippled.

 

He was perfect.

 

“Esther,” he panted, his eyes tinged red, “if you wish for me to stop, ask now. Otherwise I will not be able-”

 

“Hush,” she cooed to him, pressing a finger against his soft, flushed lips. “I want you Abel, in every way.”

 

Shaking hands brushed the hem of her dress past her knees and up her thighs, the material bunching at her hips. He gazed unabashedly at her clothed womanhood, willing himself to keep his demonic instincts under control. Slowly he slipped his thumbs under the elastic of her panties, pulling them over her hips and past her feet.

 

She was flawless.

 

A small, triangular patch of cherry red down decorated the smooth expanse of skin directly above her flower. On her hip, he could make out the faint, yet noticeable outline of the `Csillag'. With a gentle fingertip he traced the star marking before moving on to explore other parts of her body.

 

His head bent to the apex between her long, willowy legs, so that he could place a kiss against the folds of her most sacred treasure. A startled hiss could be heard as he slid his tongue into the wet folds of her virginity, giving the small pearl that was nestled within a gentle flick. She cried out for him, her voice seeming thunderous in the silence of the church.

 

She tasted of purity, sweet and rich. He crawled over her panting form, kissing her on the lips before whispering apologetically, “This will hurt, Esther, and I apologize.”

 

She nodded once, swallowing back her nervousness as he began to undo his pants. She was tempted to turn away as he slid the black material past his narrow, muscled hips, revealing to her just how much he appreciated her body. She had not anticipated his size, and she blushed hotly as she stared in amazement at him.

 

Silver wisps of hair, starting from just under his naval, trailed in a thin line down to where his manhood stood erect, the firm skin flushed with color. She watched apprehensively as he wrapped a hand around the base, directing the tip to her opening. He pressed forward slowly, and she felt an uncomfortable pressure in her lower abdomen.

 

“Forgive me.”

 

Her cry was deafening, her nails piercing the flesh of his back as she clutched him tightly. Abel was still, breathing in short, shallow gasps as he adjusted to her tightness. Her face was twisted in pain; tears leaking form the corners of tightly clenched eyes. He kissed them away, brushing his nose against her cheek. Hushing her softly, he moved his hips experimentally, and she moaned quietly, though he could not tell whether it was in pain or pleasure.

 

“Esther…?” he questioned, his tone laced with worry.

 

She peered through watery, blue eyes at him, smiling softly and whispering back, “Don't stop, Abel.”

 

Slowly he pulled out of her, sliding back in at the same agonizing pace. She hissed, lips flitting against his pulse in soft, energetic kisses. He placed his own kiss on her brow, his speed slowly increasing.

 

She tried her hardest to relax, tried to allow herself to adjust to his intrusion. The fine line between pain and pleasure blurred in an odd but not entirely unpleasant sensation.

 

She was shy, trying to hold back her reactions to him. However, she seemed to be a fast learner, and had easily picked up on his steady increase in speed. Her hips met his with every thrust, her teeth worrying her lower lip as she tossed her head to and fro. After several minutes of loving her like that, he heard her whisper in a strained tone, “Abel… please, more!”

 

His world bled red. The now sharpened points of his canines pressed against his lower lip, his fingernails extending into claws. Ears, once rounded, were now elven; the air around him sizzling as his hair was swept up in an invisible breeze, swaying around them in winding strands of silver.

 

He grasped her hips roughly, his nails nearly biting into her skin. Startled eyes flew open, and she gasped at his transformation. She had seen him as a Krusnik before, but never this close, never in such an intimate manner. His features were dark and beautiful; his once wide, blue eyes replaced with slanted rubies. His mouth lowered to her neck, and she tensed. Against the pale flesh of his lip twin fangs peered at her in a feral manner.

Her pulse was strong against his tongue as he swept it across her throat, whispering, “Trust me.”

 

His voice was deeper than before, his tone rough and gravely. Esther found that, while his transformation frightened her somewhat, it was slightly exciting. His appearance was wild and erotic, his voice sensuous and dark.

 

While his one hand remained on her hip, lifting her to him as he continued thrusting into her, the other toyed with a tight pink nipple. He gave the tiny bud a playful flick with his claw, and she gasped. A smirk crossed seductive lips. A grunt left him as she tightened around his length, her back arching as she neared her peak.

 

“Yes, that's it,” he purred in her ear, nibbling her neck and chuckling when she squeaked. His tempo sped up, his thrusts becoming harder.

 

“Oh… Abel.”

 

Her shuddery response was quiet but frantic, the need in her voice apparent. Grinning, he decided to grant her wish, and angled her body so that she could truly feel the length of him inside of her.

 

That was all it took.

 

“Abel!!! Ahhhhh….”

 

Her tiny frame trembled against him, her hands grasping his shoulders tightly. She was so hot around him, so wet and tight. He continued to thrust into her, his climax nearing. In his ears, the pounding of his immortal heart drown out all other sound. His blood boiled, his vision swam, and with a final thrust and a triumphant roar…

 

He awoke.

 

Shooting straight up in bed he gasped for air, his hand clutching his chest in an attempt to still his fierce heartbeat. Sighing as he eyed the clock next to his bed, Abel threw his feet over the side of his mattress, rising on shaky legs. After pulling his robe on quickly, he wiped the sweat from his brow, placing his glasses on the rim of his nose and padding silently out into the empty halls. It was well past three in the morning, all occupants of the church sound asleep.

 

Pushing the heavy, mahogany doors aside, he sighed as the sight of red carpeted stairs met his weary eyes. Silently he strolled down the hall, stopping once he reached the first row of pews and casting a quick look at the bench to his right. He swallowed, flashes of a very vivid dream floating through his mind.

 

Moaning in frustration, he passed them by brusquely and knelt before the stone steps; his hand dipping into the folds of his cloak to grip the silver cross that hung about the chain on his neck. His eyes drifted shut.

 

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned…”

 

Fin

 

A bit different, hm? I'm sorry if that offended anyone, but I posted a warning, so don't blame me. I thought a story of that nature simply needed to be made. I mean it's entirely believable. Abel is male, after all, and he has an obvious attraction to Esther, even if he is oblivious to the fact that she returns said feelings. Sigh… silly priest.

 

Anyways, review, and tell me what you think.

 

P.S. For those of you who liked this story and have not yet read my others, I have numerous fics. Just give the profile a check, if you're curious.