Kink Bingo_Virginity part 2
White Kingdom
Chapter: 2/3+Epilogue
Pairing: Tora x Saga
Rating: NC-17
Genre: AU, supernatural, angst
Warnings: male x male, AU, DUB-CON (you've been warned), violence, foul language, adult themes.
Summary: Forgive us our sins. As we forgive the ones who have sinned against us.
Comment: You guys. YOU GUYS! WAKING UP TO A FULL INBOX IS AMAZING! 8D I love writing Tora x Saga, it always gets such a good response, thanks to everyone who read and commented (^3^) ~ <3 So here is chapter 2, already I know xD This is where it gets…kinkier, in a sense. I hope you guys will enjoy this one as much as the first instalment :D Please enjoy!
***
His eyes were getting sleepy, and he'd put on his reading glasses hours ago but they were not helping much, lashes fluttering with exhaustion. Yet he couldn't have stopped reading even if he had wanted to. He was discovering an entirely new side of his mentor, one he hadn't even suspected existed to that extent. And discovering that the occult he had scoffed about was no thing to mock or take lightly.
The contents of the diary were terrifying.
Tales of demons, exorcisms. Holy water and obscure bible verses, incantations and rituals. Hypnosis and complex analysis of the human psyche. And possessions. Demons did not discriminate. Men and women, old and young. The stories involving children were the worst. The five year old little girl that had tried to gouge her own mother's eyes out, spouting devil's words. The twelve year old boy that slit open his veins and invoked evil spirits by writing incantations all over his walls and floors, nearly killing himself in the process. Their stories were told in great detail, in neat diagrams, polaroid photographs and recordings on cd's taped to the pages, recordings he did not dare listen to, and the techniques his mentor had used to banish the evil possessing them explained. There were successes, in most cases, and some horrifying failures too, filling him with dread.
But nothing on Tora.
He had worked his way through nearly half of the diary, the words jumbling and merging before his eyes, days and weeks flying by. He was about to stop for the night to rest, god knew what time it was, until a date stuck out at him.
October 26th. Today's date. He might as well read it, and call it a night.
October 26th 1984.
28 years ago. Before he was even born.
A young woman came in today to consult with me. She attended mass, I could see her sitting on the very last pew, because she was one such girl that is hard to miss in a crowd. Very, very beautiful. She came to my office after mass and told me she had an issue to discuss with me. She told me of her dreams. Strange dreams that left her drained and weak, dreams she could not remember yet she felt as if her life force was being sucked out of her body through them, and that she suspected some outside influence at play.
I asked her the usual questions, age, faith, and if she was still a virgin. She revealed her age to be 17, much younger than I had anticipated, and responded that while she certainly had faith, she lacked in her devotion. She also confirmed that she was still a virgin, which of course roused my suspicions. I asked if she was open to hypnosis so that we may perhaps explore her dreams, and she replied that she would willingly go through any possible treatment if that could give her some peace of mind.
The hypnosis session was cathartic, and by the lord and all the angels above, nothing could have prepared me for the events that ensued.
There was a compact disk in a plastic sleeve taped to the page, with the date inscribed. He had found out through his reading that his mentor often recorded himself while he worked, and remembered him spending quite a while transferring the tapes to compact disks. So far as he was concerned, he had thought that the tapes was his collection of classical music but clearly he had been wrong. He carefully took out the disk and popped it into the cd player on the edge of the table, pressed the play button, and felt a wave of nostalgia as he heard the familiar throat clearing of his late mentor.
There was a rustle of what sounded like fabric, and then the sound of the tape recorder being deposited on a flat surface. And then there were words.
"It is October 26th 1984, 4:35 pm, this is hypnosis session one with subject number 179. Tanaka Yuko, female, 17 years old, non-practicing christian. The subject has fallen into hypnotic state very easily, and I will now proceed to question her about her dreams as per her request…"
There was a flicking sound that made Saga smile. A lighter. If his mentor had a vice, it had been smoking.
"Yuko, can you hear me?"
"Yes."
The girl's voice was breathy soft, sleep dampened. And innocent.
"Yuko, you are now in a deep hypnotic sleep. In a few seconds I will count to three, and on three snap my fingers. When I snap my fingers, you will fall into the dream you had last night. You understand?"
"Yes."
"I will count now. One, two, three…"
There was a snap of fingers.
"Yuko, describe your surroundings for me. What do you see?"
"I'm in a desert, and the air is hot, burning my bare skin. All is white. The sand is white, so is the sky."
"You're not wearing any clothes? Are you uncomfortable?"
"No, I am naked, and I feel overheated, but not uncomfortable."
"Look around you, what else do you see?"
"There is a dead tree in front of me. All white too, with bare branches. And…a white tiger lying underneath. All white. All white but for his eyes. His eyes are amber gold…its like...its like they're calling out to me."
Saga's breath quickened at the words. White animals in dreams often represented evil, and a white tiger with golden eyes…there was no coincidence there. His mentor started a question but it was interrupted by her voice, sounding urgent all of a sudden.
"He's coming over. He's walking to me…and…and his eyes are turning black. I'm scared but I can't move."
Black eyes. Black eyes like the night. That too, he was familiar with, and dread pooled in his stomach.
"Yuko, stay with me okay? Don't panic, this is a dream and we can end it with a snap of my fingers you hear me?"
But she was babbling, unresponsive, and Saga could hear her agitated breathing.
"He's…turning into a man. And his eyes are black, so black… and…oh…he's holding me, and his hands…his hands are tracing down my stomach and he…he's…touching me. Touching me and his fingers are soft…so soft…and I don't want him to stop…he's whispering in my ear…"
"What is he saying Yuko?"
There was a pause. A too long pause that had hair raising on the back of Saga's neck.
"Yuko? Are you still with me?"
The sound of a chair getting pushed back and then a crash and scuffle on the floor, as if someone had fallen and was scrambling away.
"The subject's eyes have just opened and they are completely black. She has just sat up on the couch."
Saga could hear the trembling panic in his mentor's voice, and that in itself terrified him, sent echoes of his earlier fear racing down his spine.
"What are you doing?"
It was the girl's voice. But it wasn't at the same time. It was her voice through a filter, as if she was being used as a vessel. And he knew that tone of voice. He'd heard it earlier.
"Are you trying to get me out, priest?"
Those mocking intonations, he knew them all too well.
"Who are you? What is your name?"
"Why do you care?"
There was another creak, the chair being righted.
"Because you're invading the mind and body of this girl and it is my god given duty to free her. So who are you."
There was a low chuckle.
"Mightily self righteous, are you? And what if I don't want to leave? Yuko here seems to like me. She's so beautiful and pure…Its such a pleasure to defile her."
There was a rustle of fabric, and the creak of the chair again, a scuffle. And laughter.
"I am Tora…Asmodeus my master, and I will leave when I choose…Holy water has no effect on me, priest."
"Stop it."
"Why? I know you like it…you're a man after all…"
The voice had turned sinuous and seductive, and was much, much closer. There was a creak and a muted gasp, a pleased hiss.
"Get off me."
"Make me."
Then there was a wet sound, the sound he imagined lips made when they joined and blood rushed to his cheeks, not sure if he should keep listening or not, and then there was a crash and a hissing screech that sounded anything but human.
"You fucker…consecrated blood..."
The voice no longer was the one of the girl. There was no filter, only Tora's voice. And he sounded infuriated, hissing like an angry cat. Consecrated blood? If that could keep him away he had to get his hands on it, if he found out what it was.
"Soul of Christ, sanctify me…"
"Stop."
"Blood of Christ, purify me…"
There was another enraged screech, and the sound of crackling, spitting, like water droplets on a hot pan.
"Stop fucking burning me with your fucking blood!"
His mentor's voice droned on for a while, reciting verses he had read earlier, the bases of an intricate exorcism. Unlike his earlier readings however, this one seemed to be unsuccessful, and the demon was only getting more taunting and infuriated, showing no desire to let go of his prize.
"I am no normal demon, priest…the only way you're getting me out of here is by appeasing me with a sacrifice…and what have you to offer?"
"Is that so?"
His mentor's voice was exhausted, but there was steel underneath the words. His mentor had been a kind man, full of devotion and soft voiced, but there had been a spine of steel within him, a hard rod that refused to bend, and through his duel with Tora, it was starting to show.
"Let's do something a little different then…By the power of His cross and blood, I shall bind you…"
There was a furious hiss.
"No!…if you bind me to you, you will never have peace and I will make every day a living hell! You will regret this..."
His mentor's voice continued on, reciting verses as more spitting, hissing noises were heard, binding the demon despite the threats and the curses. He didn't know how long it lasted as he curled up in his chair, terrified, yet he could not bring himself to stop the recording. His mentor's voice never wavered, only gaining in intensity as he finally managed to silence the demon, until there was a bloodcurdling, inhuman scream of rage. And then his mentor's voice, groaning in pain. Then quiet, the sound of ragged breathing. The flick of the lighter.
"The subject is presently unconscious. It has yet to be determined if the entity naming itself Tora has been successfully bound out of the subject's body."
There was another pause, a long exhale and once again the rustling of fabric. A hiss of pain.
"The subject…the subject has touched my chest in the very last stage of the binding, and I felt burning pain, and I can see now that a sigil has been inscribed into my chest."
He sounded shaken, voice trembling. And exhausted.
"At first glance it seems to be sigil of Asmodeus, confirming that the entity calling itself Tora would be one of his servants. I will include a sketch in my journal. It is 7:47 pm."
There was a click. And then nothing.
The recording was over. Saga uncurled from the chair, muscles asleep, afraid to confirm his suspicions with the journal yet his fingers reached for it. He looked at the small, neat sketch, and sighed. The very same that was currently aching and throbbing on his chest. The sigil of Asmodeus. He fought a shiver that shook his very bones.
He shut the book, and wondered if it was safe to sleep.
Nothing felt safe anymore.
***
He was in a desert.
Everything was white. The sky and the sand, everything. The dead tree.
Saga…
There was no tiger to be seen yet he was here. In his mind. His voice whispering and caressing in his ear.
Oh Saga…how brave to come see me on my territory…
He turned around, looking for the source of the voice and only grew more panicked when he realized he was alone. And naked. Vulnerable.
"Where are you?"
He hated how his voice trembled, flinched when a soft chuckle was heard.
Do you really want to see me?
"I want you to get out of my head. And leave me alone."
Hmm…not so easy. Besides, I'm not done with you…
Saga was shocked into stillness when a soft, warm hand splayed in the small of his back, and there were lips on the back of his neck. He groaned despite himself, his skin coming alive under the touch no matter how hard he fought the urge to react. The lips unlatched, and then he was turned around, slowly, and he closed his eyes, unwilling to let himself be dragged into the spell of the demon's eyes. Hands tilted his head back, caressed his face, neck, fingers of one hand sliding down his bare chest to trace the burning lines of the sigil and he hissed with pain.
"Oh Saga…you can fight me all you want. It only makes the final prize all the sweeter…"
The voice was solid now, no longer a whisper in his ear.
"Let me in…"
"No."
Lips pressed against his, soft and real and solid, and he gasped, eyes fluttering open only to be met with a bottomless black gaze. Midnight pools drowning him, swallowing him whole as he his first kiss was wrenched from his lips.
Let me in. Let me in…
"No…no…please…" he whimpered, trying to free himself.
But his body was unresponsive to his will, letting itself be claimed, and that part of him that wanted, that ached to be touched, full of those dark desires, surfaced, bursting out of the deepest part of him demanding to be fulfilled. Heat flooded his lower belly as a slick tongue breached his lips, his head tilting back further, invitingly despite the instinct that screamed at him to stop, to fight. Hands, fingers, inching down his ribs, cupping hips.
Let me in…Let me taste your purity…give it to me…
No. No…
Let. Me. In.
"NO!" he cried out, gasping, breaking away from the kiss, and everything went black as those eyes swallowed him in darkness.
He came to panting, sitting up in bed, for the first time remembering his dream.
His dream, her dream. Tora's dream. His kingdom.
He was in his room, on the second floor of the house, daylight peeking through the blinds. His chest throbbed, and he could feel each line of the cursed sigil burning into his skin. And then he realized that the heat was racing down his stomach to the flesh between his thighs, heavy and full with arousal, straining at his clothes. Blood rushed to his cheeks in a mixture of shame and embarrassment as he fought off the blankets, willing his excitement to subside, to no avail. That impure dream had set his body on fire.
What was happening to him?
He stumbled over to the bathroom, hating how each step made his clothing rub his oversensitive flesh, turned on the shower and stepped under the cool spray, fully dressed. Shivering as cold water soaked him to the bone, his erection slowly subsiding as he leaned back against the tile, letting the water beat over his head and chest in an ice cold, cleansing rain.
What was happening to him?
***
He was living in fear.
Fear of the darkness, fear of his own dreams.
Tora was seeping underneath his skin. Insidiously.
He'd read up on consecrated blood in his mentor's notes, and could not find anything on how to acquire it or make it, an pretty much despaired at finding anything of worth when it came to repelling the creature.
He did his best not to let it show, conducting mass and keeping busy, yet even his parishioners were starting to notice the strain he was putting himself through. He hardly slept, too afraid that if he slumbered too long he would dream, waking every hour, and feverishly reading all of his mentor's works to be prepared. For what he did not know but he was expecting the worst.
"Are you ill, father? You look unwell." one of his parishioners, a young woman, asked as he was dismissing the evening mass.
He knew what he looked like. Pale, thin, shadows underneath his eyes and the feverish light of exhaustion in them. He nodded, forcing a smile he hoped was reassuring as he patted the young woman's shoulder.
"A small bout of insomnia my child, do not worry. It will pass."
The young woman nodded, smiling.
"We will pray for your well being, father."
He nodded in thanks, watching his parish file out of the small chapel with a sagging of his shoulders, and turned to the altar to tidy up, only to have his entire body stiffen when a familiar, mocking voice called out from the other end of the chapel.
"You have nice parishioners, but their praying will not help you I'm afraid…"
Tora.
Saga had not seen him since that night in the chapel, since that dream, but he swore that in the dead of night, when he lay curled up in his sheets fighting off sleep, he could hear that low, silky voice taunting him. Taunting him and sending his blood boiling with a mixture of shame and desire. Awaking parts of him he both ached for and reviled.
Footsteps neared the altar, and he flinched when they stopped, right behind him.
"You've been avoiding me…"
The words were distinctly amused, like an adult finding adorableness in a child's clumsy attempts at doing something constructive. His patronizing tone angered Saga, and he turned, exhaustion and stress feeding his courage. Yet his anger melted, words dying in his mouth as he came face to face with the tall, gorgeous demon.
Gorgeous. There were no other appropriate words to describe him.
Tora wore white. Ironically.
Head to toe white. White shoes, slim-fitted trousers, A filmy shirt making his creamy skin look all the paler and his raven hair deliciously lush and dark, his eyes glow like amber gems, his mouth red. So lush those lips, as if permanently kiss swollen, full and inviting. Tempting. Filling Saga's mind with thoughts of that kiss, that dream that had sent his entire body burning with forbidden desire.
He stood there across from Saga, a smug smile curving those lush, red lips up, still for a second, and before Saga could articulate anything he moved, faster than any human could have and had him pinned to the altar, hips on hips.
The impact made him dizzy and his head fell back, and then there was that hot, burning mouth against his throat, sucking and biting and his back arched of its own volition, helpless. It was infuriating how he so easily lost control of his body when that devious creature was involved, his cheeks burning with shame as heat raced down his body. He'd feared yet craved a moment like this, since that kiss in his dream that had unleashed a fever in his blood. He'd secretly ached for the touch of those lips, hands, again, no matter how impure and sinful those desires were, no matter how hard he was pushing those urges deep within himself to be ignored.
Tora's mouth devoured his throat and he didn't want him to stop. And that thought terrified him.
"You know, its bad to fight your needs Saga…" Tora purred as his hands raced down Saga's back, pushing him tight against him as his sinful mouth traced his jaw.
He could only groan incoherently in response and cling for dear life to the soft knit of Tora's sweater as he was bent back against the altar, thighs parting of their own accord, giving in to the push of Tora's hips, the chalice knocked over with a clattering sound.
"Stop. Stop please…" he moaned, fingers curling into fists as he tried, futilely, to push the taller, inhumanely stronger creature off him.
Tora chuckled, a low rumble that had Saga's blood rush to his head in a heady pulse.
"Why? Why would I stop when your purity is so delicious…and when there's a part of your virgin heart that wants this."
Hips rolled against his, hardness brushing against his excited flesh. So aroused despite himself, the friction rendering him completely helpless as he drowned in formerly unknown sensation. Undiscovered pleasure. He'd never been touched by another. Had never even thought of touching himself in an impure manner. Even as a teenaged boy he had eschewed the physical experimentation of his peers and kept himself as chaste as he possibly could, devoting himself entirely to his faith, knowing that it would be against the lord's wishes if he gave in to lust, to sin. Those slick rolls of hips between his thighs, the feeling of hardness against hardness was new and strange, and despite his very own will, so delicious it made stars explode behind closed eyelids.
"What do you want from me?" he managed between laboured breaths.
There was a pause, and lips unlatched from that sensitive skin underneath his ear, right where his pulse hammered wildly. Tora straightened, eyes glowing like amber fire. His hand landed on the middle of Saga's chest, where the sigil lay. It had been healed for a week or so yet it still managed to be raw, and it pulsed with fire as Tora's hand pressed against it.
"I want to own you. Like your master owned me for all those years, its my turn now…I want your delicious purity, I want to defile it, make it mine…" he leaned closer, closer, black bleeding into gold eyes, until their lips nearly touched and it would've taken but a small shift of their bodies to make them join, hips shifting between his thighs, relentless, "I will claim your virgin body…until all you know is my name…" he murmured, lips ghosting against his.
And then he was alone, the only sound his ragged breathing.
Tora had disappeared, leaving him panting breathlessly, laid out on the altar with the heavy heat of his arousal pressing between his thighs, embarrassment at his weakness heavy in his heart. Bitter tears pooling at the corners of his eyes as he let out all of his shame and rage, as he prayed the lord for forgiveness.
Forgive us our sins. As we forgive those who sin against us.
***
He was in a desert.
Everything white. The sky, the sand and the dead tree.
He looked down and realized he wasn't naked this time, dressed in loose white trousers and a filmy shirt. Small relief. He looked up again.
Tora.
Tora wearing white, sitting on a white daybed underneath the tree. And no matter how he willed himself not to move, he was drawn to the tree, to the creature underneath it like a moth to a flame. So he walked, in hesitant steps, sand caving underneath the weight of his bare feet, steadily as Tora's gold gaze studied him intently. He stopped a few paces away.
"You come to me willingly? That's a first…"
"I'm not. But I don't feel like I have much of a choice while I'm trapped in your white kingdom."
There was an amused chuckle.
"I guess you don't. Come sit with me."
"No."
Tora shook his head, amused, and patted the cushion beside him with delicate, black tipped fingers.
"Come on. Lets talk shall we?"
Saga sighed, resigned, and gingerly came to have a seat beside the tall, beautiful creature, very aware of the pull of the attraction between them.
"My mentor has passed, so why are you still here? You should be free, no?"
Tora hissed angrily at that, making Saga scramble over to the other end of the daybed, and then completely off it when he saw that Tora's eyes had gone completely black again.
"That fucker…" he growled, claws angrily digging in the cushion underneath him, "He bound me to him yes, but he also bound me to the church. He bound me to those walls, and until it is destroyed and burned I can't leave as I will…"
"How can I unbind you?" Saga asked, from his spot in the sand where he had promptly backed off.
Tora's soulless eyes turned to him, slowly turning back to their amber gold.
"You would do that? Just unleash me to the world to destroy innocence and feed on pure souls? Sate that hunger I have been feeling for the past…28 years? For a priest, that isn't a very selfless thought…"
He was right, was he? He couldn't in good conscience unleash him. But then what was he supposed to do?
"Don't fret…you can't free me. I am bound for eternity and beyond…just that now at least I prey on whom I will within the confines of the parish…Get back on the couch."
Saga obeyed, gingerly, keeping as much distance between them as he could.
"How do I make you get off my case."
Tora's red lips curled up in an amused smile and he reached for Saga's wrist, pulling, pulling him closer and then tugged, hard enough to coax Saga into his lap. He straddled him, cheeks burning, back stiff as Tora's fingers combed through his fawn locks.
"Why would I even want another when I can have you? Your purity is so unique, so very strong and enticing, tainting it is so delightful…You were orphaned were you?"
"Yes." he breathed, the warm hands sliding down to his neck, chest.
"So you've always been god's child…you never knew anything else. And that makes you completely irresistible…" Tora purred, leaning forward towards his chest.
Saga's head fell back with shock when that burning hot mouth landed on the hollow of his throat, sucking, slick tongue inching down in the open neck of the shirt. It traced he lines of the sigil engraved in his skin, slow and precise.
"See how I marked you…I don't care how long it takes, torturing you is so delicious, hearing that internal fight in your mind…"
Tora's head dipped lower, Saga's spine bending back against Tora's strong arm, and he could not hold the whimper that slipped past his bitten lips when the slick heat of Tora's tongue pressed against the hard bud of his nipple through the fabric. Moist and hot. Fighting the deliciousness of the sensation was an uphill battle as his hands no longer lay stiffly by his sides but wrapped around a slender neck, fingers tangling in lush black hair that was a soft and smooth as it had seemed, if not more. He wasn't sure if he wanted to push him away or hold him closer.
"Yes…" Tora mouthed against his nipple, "you want this…you want this so much. Don't fight it…don't fight me…"
Teeth pressed into his sensitive flesh, pinched the sensitive bud through wet fabric and he keened, feeling hot and cold, his entire skin pulsing with pleasure as his mind screamed at him to stop.
This is sin and it is wrong. Your impure desires will be your downfall and you will burn in hell.
A sleek hand slipped down his chest, teasingly soft as it traced the lines of lean muscle in his belly. Sliding lower.
You will burn in hell.
His eyes flew open as fingers cupped him, cupped that heat between his thighs, pleasure rushing from every nerve ending as the fingers squeezed, rubbed, and the lips and tongue licked and teased, glowing gold eyes looking up at him with a pleased light in their depths. Never in his life had he been touched by another, and it was frightening and exhilarating and glorious.
You will burn in hell.
The lips unlatched from the saliva soaked fabric and he was lowered, Tora following him down, off the daybed and into the warm sand, on his back. Luxurious warmth seeped into his body from the soft, dry sand, and his thighs were pushed apart by hands and hips. Tora towered above him, gloriously beautiful, tousled black hair and lush lips twisted into a smile, hand dipping down, down past the waistband of the trousers meeting flesh. Soft and warm yet firm as they grasped him tight. So tight. He couldn't even begin to describe how glorious it felt. Had never even imagined that a touch could feel so incredible. Warm skin against warm skin.
Burn in hell.
The fingers moved and his back curved up, up into the caress and it was like his body was asking for more, more, of its own volition without even considering the screams of fury and shame inside him, skin burning, too tight, too hot, too much. Too much sensation, much more than his body could even handle yet his hips stuttered and asked for more, Tora's eyes taking in his every move, heavy lidded with satisfaction as he fed on his breaking innocence.
Burn in hell.
"Let me in." Tora purred, "Let me in and you will never regret it…"
His fingers quickened, relentless and Saga's eyes fluttered shut, lips parting in a ragged, threadlike moan that had Tora hissing with pleasure. He was losing himself completely, no longer aware of good, evil, forgetting even god himself as he was dragged up that spiralling pleasure through skilled fingers.
"Let me in."
Burn in hell.
Burn. in. HELL.
He woke with a start, dizzy and flushed and breathless, skin on fire.
And then noticed, cheeks burning, stomach roiling with shame, that his lower belly was slick with opalescent white drops.
He'd spent himself in pleasure in his sleep, the pull of the dream and his own vile desires enough to drag him over the edge. His first orgasm. At the hand of a demon.
He barely made it on time to the bathroom before emptying his stomach, the bile burning his throat.
He would burn in hell. And it was all his fault.
***
Well well…Saga is in trouble isn't he? How did you guys like this one? I'm loving writing Tora as an evil bastard, yet he has his reasons for being angry, trapped for 28 years and forbidden to feed, that would piss off any demon in my book…so maybe he's not all that bad, is he? You will find out in the next chapter ;) Let me know how you liked this one in the comments my dears, love y'all xoxo