To Pray is to Redeem
You stare at the figure, the insignia, the symbol-the Divinity on the opposite wall. Drunken whispers fill your ears. False lies or false hopes? You do not know. You close your eyes tightly. You are not religious yet here you are, finding yourself starting a prayer you only heard others whisper under their breaths on the battle front. For a moment, you could swear that the smell of blood and gun powder is in the air but it’s gone now. There is only the scent of sweat, saliva, and most of all sex. Sinful sex that should not be done here and most of all with your present lover involved. He should not be doing this with you, not now, not ever. Especially here and now.
Trembling as calloused hands graze over your body, pulling you closer to a sweat-soaked fleshy chest, you hold your breath, pausing in your blasphemy. Not turning your head, you feel the coarse bearded chin rubbing against your shoulder. You know in the morning there will be burns-and other marks-to remind you of the sin you are committing here in this place. You sigh and arch against the body at your back, gripping tightly on the wooden backrest of the holy altar in front of you.
Feet spread out, you strengthen your stance. Your knuckles are whitening, breath deepening in harsh silent pants, sweat beads down your body. A moist, hot tongue licks them and suckles at your flesh. Two muscular arms hold you tightly, lips and tongue caressing your shoulders, your neck. You do not look at the man behind you. You can’t. You won’t. If you do, it will be his sin that is being committed. By not looking, you are protecting him. In the eyes of the wooden statuette before you, you are the only criminal here. Your hips grind against the person’s groin; you thrust back at him, driving him deeper into your sinful heat. A gasp bounces off your neck, teeth sink into your skin. Your head is thrown back and you find yourself saying the next lines with bated, heavy breaths.
Your kingdom come,
Your will be done,
On earth as in Heaven.
He thrusts into you again, harder than before. You arch sharply against him and withhold a sigh of sinful delight. You do not know if you are saying a prayer for him, on his behalf or that of your own. If anyone said you believed in God, you would tell them you an atheist and nothing more but despite that, you speak the name of God in His home in a prayer of redemption.
Tomorrow, he is getting married. To a lovely woman of grace who you met and known for months. In fact, you pushed him to commit to her despite all the love you have for him still. Deep down you know you fell in love with this man, this wonderful man who you are taking advantage of. In the morning, he will remember nothing but a blistering headache caused by the overindulgent drinking spree you two had started hours before. You had no plan of sinning in this manner with him, or sinning with him at all. You only had wanted to give him a good last bachelor’s time the night before he became a married man.
Give us today our daily bread.
On your way home, you both found yourselves walking toward the church which you rehearsed the ceremony of matrimony the morning before, multiple times. He had pulled you inside the abandoned building. You had stared at the statues of saints in the eye, unflinching but inside you trembled. He grasps your hand and takes you into the main part of this holy place and you stare at the statue that glares at you even now. The tormented face of the Son burns into the depths of your mind. You take in the wooden stakes that pierce His hands and feet. In the light of day, you pay them no mind but now as he moves into you, hard and fast, you feel the pain of them in your own flesh.
You started this with that forbidden kiss, that sinful caress of his lips on yours. He was speaking of all the things he had wanted to do before getting married and you responded with all the things you had wanted to tell him before he was wedded. Everything but that you loved him more than anything in the world. He turned to face you and you couldn’t resist. You grasped his shoulders and pulled him close, kissing him hard, yet gentle. This chaste kiss of yours became your demise.
Soon he was pulling at your shirt, ripping it apart. You did nothing to stop him. You did the same to him. In the end, he impaled himself into you, dryly. You sobbed in pain, pleasure, need, want and most of all, guilt. This is the man who would be married to a wonderful woman come morning and yet now you are staining his body with your sin. It is because of this, you welcome the pain and trickle of blood that cascades down your thighs. With each thrust of his body, you cry and moan, whispering the words of a holy prayer of a religion you have no right to speak or believe in.
Give us today our daily bread.
Forgive us our sins
As we forgive those who sin against us.
You are his best man but this night, you are the thief, the whore, the sinner. You have taken him from his fiancée and forced him to bury himself into your body. Never before had you two done this. You never let anyone take you before but physically you are now. Mentally, you are taking him. To your advantage, you made him drunk and took him for your own. You grip even tighter on the altar before you, staring evenly at the stricken face of the Son. The force of his thrusts beckons you closer to the edge and you know that in the end, he will never be yours. Not after what had happened this night. You had damned yourself more than you would ever think of before.
It matters not of the people, the innocent people (the men, the women, the children) you have slain. You have taken this man for you own but you can never have him. Even if he remembered what has happened, do you think he will let himself touch you again? If only friendly? Perhaps never. So you hope he will never remember this tryst you have pulled.
His breath lingers on your flesh and you shiver. As much as you want to you cannot force yourself to enjoy this. Your once hazy mind is painstakingly sober. You alone will remember everything that has transpired. The punishment of remembrance, you have received it before but only now is it this strong, this deadly. This tormenting. The coarse of his chin scrapes your neck. You imagine your blood bleeds from the scratches, through the pores. You wish to die here but you know you cannot. If he never remembers, you swear to yourself that you will always be there for him, repayment for this sinful encounter between the two of you on the altar which come morning he will swear himself to the woman he loves in the light of day.
Save us from the time of trial
And deliver us from evil.
It does not take much longer for him to spill his essence into your body but he continues to move inside you, trying to bring you to the same brink. Just a few more and then you fall off the edge. You collapse against the wood, cheek against the cool surface, heat surrounding your body as he wraps himself more around you, unable to take himself away. You wish this would be a happy memory but it will never be. You feel too dirty, too guilty, too much of a sinner for this to be anything pleasurable. You moan softly and swallow the lump in your throat. He kisses your neck and whispers more into your flesh. You can’t believe the words he says to you. They’re lies he will never remember or give fruit to.
Slowly you push yourself off the altar and turn to him. Reluctantly, you steal a kiss from his lips as you help him withdraw from your nude body. You button his pants, tuck in his shirt and fix his jacket. For all that has happened, he did not take off his clothes. You let a small rueful smile emerge on your lips. Embracing him for a moment, you close your eyes and finally relax though apprehension and the eyes of the Divinity glare into your bare back. You breathe the next lines into his neck, not holding yourself close to his body, too afraid to be that intimate with him despite what you two had just done.
For the kingdom, the power, and the glory are yours
Now and for ever.
You dress at a snail’s pace and grasp his hand, slowly pulling him against your body, letting him drop his head on your shoulder. You can see that now he is drowsing and you let another guilty smile lighten your features. Murmuring softly into his ear that you are now bringing him home, you glance back at the altar, the crucifix, the Son. You guiltily bow your respects and turn away. The doors of the Church are open and there is still no one there.
In a few hours, the man besides you will be married and will not remember anything that has happened before his wedding day. You will alone hold the light of the memory of what has however. You will stand tall despite your new sin and give your friend and his future wife your blessings for them. You will tell them how much they are made for each other despite the aching in your heart that you are letting go of the man you love to a woman you respect and know will hold him dear.
For all the guilt you have for this night, at least you had held him briefly in the ultimate blasphemy of religion. It will not suffice for you but the memory, grimy as it is, will hold you for the rest of your life.
Amen.
† The End †
After Notes: I was baptized in a Roman Catholic Church. I'm not that religious but using religion is fun in fics, so there. And let us all assume that they have Christianity in some form in Amestris. ^^;;;
Also, if you like this story, do you mind joining magna_opera and vote for this story at the MISSION no.3 Poll? Only member votes count. But not to make it seem like I'm forcing you all... Be sure to read the other entries as well and vote for the one you like best! Wouldn't want to con anyone into helping me win. Though that would be very~ nice. xD;;
I live off your reviews. Really. So please feed me?
Trembling as calloused hands graze over your body, pulling you closer to a sweat-soaked fleshy chest, you hold your breath, pausing in your blasphemy. Not turning your head, you feel the coarse bearded chin rubbing against your shoulder. You know in the morning there will be burns-and other marks-to remind you of the sin you are committing here in this place. You sigh and arch against the body at your back, gripping tightly on the wooden backrest of the holy altar in front of you.
Feet spread out, you strengthen your stance. Your knuckles are whitening, breath deepening in harsh silent pants, sweat beads down your body. A moist, hot tongue licks them and suckles at your flesh. Two muscular arms hold you tightly, lips and tongue caressing your shoulders, your neck. You do not look at the man behind you. You can’t. You won’t. If you do, it will be his sin that is being committed. By not looking, you are protecting him. In the eyes of the wooden statuette before you, you are the only criminal here. Your hips grind against the person’s groin; you thrust back at him, driving him deeper into your sinful heat. A gasp bounces off your neck, teeth sink into your skin. Your head is thrown back and you find yourself saying the next lines with bated, heavy breaths.
Your kingdom come,
Your will be done,
On earth as in Heaven.
He thrusts into you again, harder than before. You arch sharply against him and withhold a sigh of sinful delight. You do not know if you are saying a prayer for him, on his behalf or that of your own. If anyone said you believed in God, you would tell them you an atheist and nothing more but despite that, you speak the name of God in His home in a prayer of redemption.
Tomorrow, he is getting married. To a lovely woman of grace who you met and known for months. In fact, you pushed him to commit to her despite all the love you have for him still. Deep down you know you fell in love with this man, this wonderful man who you are taking advantage of. In the morning, he will remember nothing but a blistering headache caused by the overindulgent drinking spree you two had started hours before. You had no plan of sinning in this manner with him, or sinning with him at all. You only had wanted to give him a good last bachelor’s time the night before he became a married man.
Give us today our daily bread.
On your way home, you both found yourselves walking toward the church which you rehearsed the ceremony of matrimony the morning before, multiple times. He had pulled you inside the abandoned building. You had stared at the statues of saints in the eye, unflinching but inside you trembled. He grasps your hand and takes you into the main part of this holy place and you stare at the statue that glares at you even now. The tormented face of the Son burns into the depths of your mind. You take in the wooden stakes that pierce His hands and feet. In the light of day, you pay them no mind but now as he moves into you, hard and fast, you feel the pain of them in your own flesh.
You started this with that forbidden kiss, that sinful caress of his lips on yours. He was speaking of all the things he had wanted to do before getting married and you responded with all the things you had wanted to tell him before he was wedded. Everything but that you loved him more than anything in the world. He turned to face you and you couldn’t resist. You grasped his shoulders and pulled him close, kissing him hard, yet gentle. This chaste kiss of yours became your demise.
Soon he was pulling at your shirt, ripping it apart. You did nothing to stop him. You did the same to him. In the end, he impaled himself into you, dryly. You sobbed in pain, pleasure, need, want and most of all, guilt. This is the man who would be married to a wonderful woman come morning and yet now you are staining his body with your sin. It is because of this, you welcome the pain and trickle of blood that cascades down your thighs. With each thrust of his body, you cry and moan, whispering the words of a holy prayer of a religion you have no right to speak or believe in.
Give us today our daily bread.
Forgive us our sins
As we forgive those who sin against us.
You are his best man but this night, you are the thief, the whore, the sinner. You have taken him from his fiancée and forced him to bury himself into your body. Never before had you two done this. You never let anyone take you before but physically you are now. Mentally, you are taking him. To your advantage, you made him drunk and took him for your own. You grip even tighter on the altar before you, staring evenly at the stricken face of the Son. The force of his thrusts beckons you closer to the edge and you know that in the end, he will never be yours. Not after what had happened this night. You had damned yourself more than you would ever think of before.
It matters not of the people, the innocent people (the men, the women, the children) you have slain. You have taken this man for you own but you can never have him. Even if he remembered what has happened, do you think he will let himself touch you again? If only friendly? Perhaps never. So you hope he will never remember this tryst you have pulled.
His breath lingers on your flesh and you shiver. As much as you want to you cannot force yourself to enjoy this. Your once hazy mind is painstakingly sober. You alone will remember everything that has transpired. The punishment of remembrance, you have received it before but only now is it this strong, this deadly. This tormenting. The coarse of his chin scrapes your neck. You imagine your blood bleeds from the scratches, through the pores. You wish to die here but you know you cannot. If he never remembers, you swear to yourself that you will always be there for him, repayment for this sinful encounter between the two of you on the altar which come morning he will swear himself to the woman he loves in the light of day.
Save us from the time of trial
And deliver us from evil.
It does not take much longer for him to spill his essence into your body but he continues to move inside you, trying to bring you to the same brink. Just a few more and then you fall off the edge. You collapse against the wood, cheek against the cool surface, heat surrounding your body as he wraps himself more around you, unable to take himself away. You wish this would be a happy memory but it will never be. You feel too dirty, too guilty, too much of a sinner for this to be anything pleasurable. You moan softly and swallow the lump in your throat. He kisses your neck and whispers more into your flesh. You can’t believe the words he says to you. They’re lies he will never remember or give fruit to.
Slowly you push yourself off the altar and turn to him. Reluctantly, you steal a kiss from his lips as you help him withdraw from your nude body. You button his pants, tuck in his shirt and fix his jacket. For all that has happened, he did not take off his clothes. You let a small rueful smile emerge on your lips. Embracing him for a moment, you close your eyes and finally relax though apprehension and the eyes of the Divinity glare into your bare back. You breathe the next lines into his neck, not holding yourself close to his body, too afraid to be that intimate with him despite what you two had just done.
For the kingdom, the power, and the glory are yours
Now and for ever.
You dress at a snail’s pace and grasp his hand, slowly pulling him against your body, letting him drop his head on your shoulder. You can see that now he is drowsing and you let another guilty smile lighten your features. Murmuring softly into his ear that you are now bringing him home, you glance back at the altar, the crucifix, the Son. You guiltily bow your respects and turn away. The doors of the Church are open and there is still no one there.
In a few hours, the man besides you will be married and will not remember anything that has happened before his wedding day. You will alone hold the light of the memory of what has however. You will stand tall despite your new sin and give your friend and his future wife your blessings for them. You will tell them how much they are made for each other despite the aching in your heart that you are letting go of the man you love to a woman you respect and know will hold him dear.
For all the guilt you have for this night, at least you had held him briefly in the ultimate blasphemy of religion. It will not suffice for you but the memory, grimy as it is, will hold you for the rest of your life.
Amen.
† The End †
After Notes: I was baptized in a Roman Catholic Church. I'm not that religious but using religion is fun in fics, so there. And let us all assume that they have Christianity in some form in Amestris. ^^;;;
Also, if you like this story, do you mind joining magna_opera and vote for this story at the MISSION no.3 Poll? Only member votes count. But not to make it seem like I'm forcing you all... Be sure to read the other entries as well and vote for the one you like best! Wouldn't want to con anyone into helping me win. Though that would be very~ nice. xD;;
I live off your reviews. Really. So please feed me?