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Reynauld was a holy man, and holy oil burned brightest in darkness. He prayed each dawn, knees aching on stone, seeking divine guidance for Bigby's affliction. Prayer hadn't purged it. Neither had flagellation.
So Reynauld stripped off his gauntlets by the hearth one bitter night, and turned to face Bigby. "The flesh is weak. Let it serve grace."
"Grace? What do you mean?" Bigby sat cross-legged on the narrow bed, arms folded across his chained torso.
"A holy union. To cleanse the curse through your body's submission." He rested a hand on Bigby's shoulder, putting gentle pressure on the muscle.
"Oh..." Bigby's eyes darkened. "Here? With Boudica and Paracelsus in the other room? You know these walls are thin."
"Let them hear. It's a small price to pay for absolution." Reynauld stripped his armor, setting each piece on his own bed. "Allow me to fill you with the Light."
Bigby's ears reddened. He looked away, fingers running across the chain links binding his chest. "The Light? My condition is an infection of the blood. Not sin." He scoffed. "How will your... penetration... cure what holy fire couldn't?"
Reynauld pulled off his tunic, revealing his bare skin. He took Bigby's chin firmly, forcing eye contact. "Because this is communion. The spirit enters the flesh. Your body will become the chalice, Bigby... and there's no harm if it doesn't work." His thumb brushed Bigby's lower lip, rough skin catching on dry flesh. "Do you trust me?"
"Yes. But..."
"But?" Reynauld leaned in, pressing his lips to Bigby's stubble. "Tell me."
"If the beast wakes, I—" Bigby's voice hitched as Reynauld trailed kisses down his neck. "I fear hurting you."
"Then we tame it together." He pulled back, gazing into Bigby's dark eyes. "Shall we?"
Bigby nodded, allowing Reynauld to press him back onto the bed. "Only because I trust you. And I only trust you because you're reckless enough to try." A faint smile touched his lips as Reynauld’s hands slid to his waist.
"I don't fear the beast." Reynauld loosened the tie of Bigby's trousers, tugging them down his legs. He instinctively pressed his thighs together, trying to hide his soft prick. "Wait for a moment."
Reynauld stepped away to fetch the bottle of blessed oil by his pack. It glistened as he poured a generous amount onto his palm and rubbed it between his fingers. "Open."
Bigby hesitated, using one hand to hide his flushed face as he parted his legs.
"As the verses say, 'recieve thy absolution with an open vessel.'" Reynauld's oil-slick fingers traced the tense muscle of Bigby's inner thigh, coaxing. "Relax. The Light seeks surrender, not pain."
"I am, I... ah." Bigby’s protest dissolved into a sharp gasp as Reynauld’s finger slid into him. "Too much, it’s too much," he choked out, hips instinctively jerking away before Reynauld’s free hand pinned him.
"Breathe," Reynauld commanded, palm flat against Bigby’s tense stomach. "And yield to the Light."
Bigby choked back another gasp as a second finger pressed alongside the first. "How... can you believe this will help?" he said, voice tight. "If you simply wanted to—ah!—use my body... you could have asked." He squeezed his eyes shut, brow furrowing.
"This is not simple lust. I want to see you not fear your own skin." Reynauld leaned over him as his fingers worked deeper. He tried to ignore his own arousal.
A soft noise slipped from Bigby's mouth, and he pressed both hands over his face as Reynauld's fingers stretched him. "I... I feel like a fool. This isn't holy. It's just..." He gasped as Reynauld crooked his fingers deliberately, brushing something inside him that made his legs tense. "Stop that — don't tease me."
Reynauld lifted his hand from Bigby's abdomen, undoing his own trousers. "This is just preparation." He rubbed his oiled palm against his own prick. "You’re ready. Trust the process."
Bigby peeked through his fingers, his breath hitching. "I'm not new to this, Reynauld." He watched Reynauld slowly remove his fingers, leaving him exposed. "But I've never done it believing it would save me."
Reynauld positioned himself, pressing the head of his cock against Bigby's entrance. "Focus on my voice," he murmured, pushing in slowly. "Feel the warmth of the Light entering you." He stroked Bigby's hip, trying to ease the tension in his muscles.
Bigby arched sharply, a ragged inhale catching in his throat. "Mmph... cold! Don't... don't stop talking." He turned his head away, eyes squeezed shut.
"Do you feel the Light?" Reynauld murmured, hips pressing forward with agonizing slowness. The tight heat made his own breath shudder. "It flows through me, its holy conduit, into your vessel. Thy chalice of flesh."
Bigby’s hands remained locked over his face as Reynauld bottomed out, their hips flush. His prick laid half-hard against his belly, twitching faintly as Reynauld withdrew slowly. A deep groan rose from his throat when Reynauld thrust forward again. "Ohh... fuck." His legs trembled against Reynauld’s sides. "Oh...! That’s... that’s... like liquid gold." His voice broke on the last word as Reynauld’s thrusts grew bolder.
The rhythm quickened. Reynauld gripped Bigby’s hips, feeling the tension beneath his palms. He leaned down, his chest brushing sweat-slicked skin. "Yes... feel it," he rasped against Bigby’s ear. "The Light... filling you... burning away the rage"
Bigby gasped as Reynauld shifted, hitting deeper. He couldn't keep soft whines from escaping, even with both hands clapped over his mouth. "Don't stop — oh!" His hips jerked upward, meeting Reynauld's thrusts. "This... indulgence is blasphemy!"
"Speak not of blasphemy," Reynauld growled. "I am salvation made flesh. Cleanser of your corruption." He buried himself deeper on each thrust now, slow but firm, the slap of skin echoing off the timber walls.
Bigby's legs locked around Reynauld's waist, keeping him deep as his breath hitched. "Reynauld, you... ah!... sanctimonious hypocrite," he gasped. His hands finally pulled away from his face, fingers digging into Reynauld's sweat-slick shoulders. "You're trembling... your 'Light' feels like wildfire."
"Fire cleanses. Let yourself burn."
"Haah... nnh, they'll hear..." Bigby choked, spine arching away from the mattress as Reynauld snapped his hips forward with sudden roughness.
He seized Bigby’s wrists, pinning them above his head. "Let them bear witness to your redemption," he hissed, driving deeper with each thrust. "Your flesh cries out for it."
Bigby threw his head back, eyes closed tight, lip trapped between his teeth. His prick bobbed with the motion, aching and flushed against his stomach. "Oh, gods, don't stop..."
"See? You're yielding," Reynauld said. His voice was rough with his own building tension. Sweat dripped from his brow onto Bigby's collarbone, the drop tracing a line across his flushed skin.
"Yes... I yield, I..." He arched his spine, pressing his heels into Reynauld's lower back, as he rolled his hips upward to meet every thrust.
"Shout your surrender," Reynauld commanded, tightening his grip on Bigby's wrists. His thrusts became relentless, pushing himself towards climax. "Let the beast hear it!"
Bigby choked back another groan, and then the coiled tension snapped. A ragged cry tore from his throat, hips jerking as he spilled across his own chest and Reynauld’s abdomen.
Reynauld froze mid-thrust, his grip on Bigby’s wrists slackened as warmth pulsed deep within Bigby’s body. A low groan escaped him, forehead pressed to Bigby’s collarbone. For several heartbeats, the only sounds were their harsh breathing and the crackle of the dying hearthfire.
"Hey! Be quiet over there!" Boudica's voice came through the timber wall, accompanied by a sharp thud. "Some of us are trying to sleep!"
Reynauld froze, sweat dripping onto Bigby's heaving chest as muffled footsteps retreated.
Bigby's eyes snapped open. "See? They heard," he said.
His chest rose and fell rapidly against Reynauld’s own as they remained locked together, sweat mingling where skin pressed skin. Reynauld studied Bigby’s face. The flush had deepened, spreading down his neck as the post-orgasmic high faded.
He cleared his throat, pulling away. Cool air rushed between them where their bodies had fused. His own spent arousal clung, cooling unpleasantly against his skin. He moved to fetch a cloth from the washbasin. "How do you feel?"
"Embarrassed," Bigby muttered, turning his face toward the wall as Reynauld wiped him clean. "And... hollow. Like you carved something out with that holy lance of yours."
He rested a hand on Bigby's thigh, feeling the muscle jump beneath his touch. "The beast?"
"Still there. It was enjoyable, at least." Bigby turned his gaze to the ceiling, tracing cracks in the timber.
"Perhaps more experimentation could be needed," Reynauld murmured. "We'll try again tomorrow night."
Bigby snorted. "So eager? You're supposed to be a holy man." He pulled the thin blanket over himself. "Unless this 'cleansing' is a convenient excuse to indulge."
"Tis not an excuse! It is..." Reynauld paused, the fervor draining from his voice. "To be discussed later."
Bigby hummed, relaxing into the bed. "Later," he agreed.