you are a hindrance to this country

[uncharnel]

scarsandstripesforever‌:

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[scarsandstripesforever]

Luckily for Blackmore, Valentine managed to be alert enough to notice his orgasm, slight as it was. It was a bit disappointing, really. Valentine had finally gone and given it his all yet all Blackmore could manage was a few drops? A shame really.

Putting aside his mild disappointment, Valentine lapped up the scarce remains of the priest's climax greedily. It didn't seem to taste nearly as unpleasant this time... though maybe the taste was just growing on him.

The bed cracked slightly as Valentine flopped down beside Blackmore, turning to face the other man after staring up at the ceiling for a few moments, "Are you alright?"

[uncharnel]

scarsandstripesforever‌:

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[scarsandstripesforever]

Dear God Blackmore was loud, wasn't he? Uncharacteristically so, even.

Were Valentine not currently distracted he may have told him to keep quiet but as things stood currently, he couldn't really bring himself to care. His eyes opened, meet with little more than the pale flesh of Blackmore's stomach. A shame, really, he'd have liked to see his face during all this.

After what was beginning to feel like an eternity, Valentine lifted his head again, letting his tongue scrape it's way up the underside of Blackmore's shaft back up to the head, teasing idly over the slit at the very tip for a few fleeting seconds.

Valentine pulled his head back, the suction breaking with a soft pop, his saliva mixed with Blackmore's seed, stretching between his mouth and the priest's cock in thick, translucent threads.

Between the noises Blackmore made and the admittedly ambiguous state of his erection, it was hard to tell how close to climax the man was... shit, maybe he'd even already cum. Valentine's drool-slick fingers moved with new found vigor regardless, mercilessly pumping the priest's abused cock, occasionally paired with frantic, hungry laps from his tongue.

[uncharnel]

scarsandstripesforever‌:

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[scarsandstripesforever]

In a stroke of luck for both himself and Blackmore, Valentine managed to pull his face back in time, narrowly avoiding the potential negative consequences of his blind jabbing. In one swift motion, Valentine used his weight to shove Blackmore's hips back down into the mattress, causing the whole bed to creak slightly at the sudden stress.

"Hold still," this command was much sharper than the last, Valentine's dwindling patience mixing with the mild shock that Blackmore still had any energy left over.

The irritation was short-lived however. Before he could even finish his command, Valentine resumed his work, his free hand stroking Blackmore at a new heightened pace before he took his cock into his mouth. The motion was impatient, greedy. Barely taking a second to take Blackmore's full length into his mouth in a single hasty movement.

For a few moments he stayed there, familiarizing himself with the priest's taste and feel, mentally congratulating himself for being able to take the whole thing with minimal discomfort.

[uncharnel]

scarsandstripesforever‌:

For somebody who looked to be on the brink of bursting into flames, Blackmore’s hand felt startlingly cold even through the layers of fabric of Valentine’s clothing, practically causing the older man to jump at his sudden touch, “Ah, sorry, don’t mind me,” taking the cup in hand he righted himself, careful not to collapse onto the other man, and setting it back onto the tray with a soft click.

For a few moments the only sound in the room was that of the various other bits of ceramic Blackmore had supplied promptly joining the cup in the tray, Valentine’s own half finished coffee included, “Are you fine lying on the sofa?”

Apparently satisfied with his work, Valentine lifted the tray and turned to face Blackmore. Between his new higher perspective and the priest having sunk halfway into the couch Blackmore looked almost comically small, “I don’t think it’d be the most comfortable place to rest, no offense, but I don’t know if you’ve got anything better.”

  When Valentine jumped, Blackmore guiltily pulled his hand back, returning it to his lap, his other hand covering it like he wanted to hide the offending extremity. Stupid. Stupid. Valentine was being so nice to him and here he was acting like a… acting very strange indeed. His head drooped in shame, unable to face his guest for the time being, expression settling into a shrouded frown of pure wretchedness. “I’m so-rry.”

  What else was there to say? He’d made an absolute fool of himself and tough he hadn’t harbored much hope towards it, probably convinced Valentine once and for all that Catholicism wasn’t for him. He might as well resign himself now to the fact that he wouldn’t see him again. He should. And he should be happy about it. If today had proven anything, it was that some sinful parts of him he’d thought he’d conquered were still alive and well, waiting for the right time to resurface. “The sofa will do. I don't… think I should walk. I’ll go to bed later when I… feel better. I don’t want to impose… on you any more than I already have.”

  He should have felt relieved, firm in purpose and dedication. He’d identified a source of temptation and he was dealing with it, albeit by behaving odd and off-putting. So why did he feel so melancholy instead? “I’m so-rry,” he repeated, a bashful, weedy whisper filled with trembling temerity. “This wasn't… the first impression I had in mind. You must be… regretting coming here.”

[scarsandstripesforever]

"Sorry?"

Valentine had just begun his short walk towards the kitchen when he paused to look back at his host, brow furrowed in a look of mild perplexity, "No need to apologize, you haven't done anything wrong, Father. If anything, this is just poor timing and bad luck."

A reserved, polite smile, exactly the sort one would expect to give a priest, spread across Valentine's face, "Besides, I don't mind helping out a bit. I'd be a pretty terrible guest if I left you with all the work when you aren't feeling well."

He continued walking the last few feet towards the kitchen, raising his voice slightly as he passed through the doorway, "If you're really so bothered by the way our meeting has gone, we could always try again another time," Valentine carefully set the tray onto the counter near the sink, "Perhaps I could lunch sometime? It'd probably be nice to do something that had nothing to do with the church for a change, yes?"

[uncharnel]

scarsandstripesforever‌:

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[scarsandstripesforever]

Blackmore's rediscovered stamina was nothing if not impressive. Valentine pulled his eyes from the priest's twisted face to admire his gradually stiffening cock. The whole thing was vaguely sticky, covered in a mix of semen and sweat, and it'd likely be unpleasant to touch were Valentine not so... preoccupied.

In spite of Blackmore's jerking, Valentine kept his strokes slow and deliberate, taking whatever time he could get to savor his desperation, "Be patient," he commanded, knowing full well that Blackmore was in no state to be following such an order.

Fuck, it was impossible to resist.

In a sudden and uncharacteristic bit of impulsivity, Valentine brought his face near Blackmore's groin, his tongue moving to lap eagerly at the head of the priest's prick. The sharp, salty taste made Valentine's nose wrinkle instinctively.

Hm. It had been a long time hadn't it?

[uncharnel]

scarsandstripesforever‌:

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[scarsandstripesforever]

There was some satisfaction in managing to illicit a response from Blackmore's overworked body, as well as in the pleading tone of his voice. God, he looked awfully cute lying there, didn't he?

Apparently satisfied and feeling particularly amicable, Valentine's free hand moved to meet Blackmore's in a moment that felt starkly intimate compared to everything else, "I don't doubt it," Valentine spoke, his voice seeming much more gentle than it had prior. Were it in any other context he may have even seemed compassionate.

Valentine's eyes trained on Blackmore's face as he started running his hand up and down the shaft of his cock again. There was something innocent about his face, in spite of his current state of filth. His eyes and mouth were each wet with tears and drool respectively, and sweat pasted his pale hair to his forehead.

Valentine wanted to watch his face as he came again, to see him get lost in the agony of bliss one last time. It was greedy, really. Wanting to be the first and only person to see him in this state, to make him feel the things he felt, it was like discovering something fragile and precious and wanting to keep it all to yourself.

"Just one more," he spoke again, his own neglected excitement evident in his voice, "Because you've been so good so far."

[uncharnel]

@scarsandstripesforever || continued

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[scarsandstripesforever]

"Hmm."

Stroking promptly turned to groping. Valentine's hand slipped beneath Blackmore's thigh, experimentally spreading his legs apart to see how pliable his limbs were.

It was hard to believe Blackmore. Were it not for the shallow rise and fall of his chest and occasional twitch in his body it'd be hard to tell if he were alive.

Truthfully, Valentine couldn't help but grow a bit bored with his little game. The first few orgasms were the most fun, when every minute touch illicited a whine and a squirm from his plaything, but now he was barely capable of anything more than choked gasps and twitches. Lovely as the sight of the younger man brought to his limit was, Valentine couldn't help but crave more.

"Maybe you can," Valentine's hand wandered back between Blackmore's thighs, fingers brushing gingerly against his balls and slipping further back, pausing to tease at his tight hole.

Ah. Definitely tempting, but Valentine would have to be patient. After all, in his current state there was no way Blackmore could properly appreciate something like that, and Valentine was prepared to take as much time as necessary to fully savor the young man.

For now he was only allowed a quick taste, his fingertips taking a brief moment to probe experimentally at his virgin entrance before moving back up towards the base of his cock, "But I'm not sure you deserve more."

[uncharnel]

scarsandstripesforever‌:

The way Blackmore’s mood had dropped so suddenly and without warning was disconcerting. Though Valentine was little more than a stranger to the young priest, he couldn’t help but feel at least a little bit concerned about his obvious moping, “You’ll have to forgive me for being so blunt, but you look miserable - and you haven’t even touched your coffee, perhaps it’d be best if you got some rest?”

Valentine abruptly got up from his seat, resting a hand on his hip as he stood, apparently already having made up his mind about his host’s well-being, “I’d hate to be any more of an inconvenience to you than I’ve already been, less so if you aren’t feeling well. Here, I’ll help - ah excuse me,” he leant over Blackmore to retrieve his untouched coffee from the nearby table, one arm supporting his weight on the armrest as he awkwardly stretched to prevent spilling onto his host, perhaps bringing himself a bit too close to the other man in the process, “I’ll help clean up if you’d like to lie down. It’s the least I can do, really.”

  If ever Blackmore was in need to divine intervention, he felt this was it. Granted, he wasn’t in the most dignified nor the most pious position, but that wasn’t his fault! He hadn’t invited Valentine in for anything nefarious, he only wanted to spend some pleasant and perfectly innocent time with a man he felt drawn to for reasons unclear to him. Surely that must mean something? Valentine had stood out to him like a beacon, practically radiant. Sure, Blackmore had noticed that he was very attractive for those that had any interest in that kind of thing. Which did not include him. It had once, but he was a man of the cloth now, ordained and everything. His mind was on more lofty matter, not the carnal and earthly.

  It would be awfully nice if he could convince his prodding erection of that.

  As his previous ploys hadn’t exactly worked out in his favor, he looked at his coffee like it might be his savior. It had slipped his mind in the… confusion and it wasn’t his favorite, but right now he’d gulp the entire cup down without sugar or milk to take the bitter edge off if it would convince Valentine nothing was amiss. Tentatively, he moved one arm, sliding it hopefully coffee-ward.

  Not fast enough. For a tall man, Valentine moved deceptively quick, blocking the path to the cup and all but forcing the priest to stare up at him. Protests died in his throat, how could he when his guest was being so… So considerate. Caring? Maybe he was only imagining it, his jarred and ever too mawkish mind filling in the gaps. The attention did wonderful and terrible things to him, forgetting the attempts at damage control for just a few more minutes of it. What he wouldn’t give just to feel a cool hand on his forehead, lack of sickness be damned. “You’re not… I’m the one who invited you in, so I—”

  It was only natural to provide Valentine with some support when the way he listed looked this precarious. Uh. There probably were better places to put his hand than on Valentine’s hip, however. What should he do? Pulling it back would only make him look guilty and it wasn’t as if he was touching anywhere inappropriate. On the other hand, the feel of warmth, of hard muscle and pliable skin, put thoughts into his head that had been dormant — though less dormant than he’d like them to be. Frozen with indecision, he caught his guest’s eye, terror obvious on his features.

  The thing he spoke couldn’t be transcribed, a random string of syllables that came about from his brain’s decision he should say something while seemingly not having access to the centers that controlled language. Second strongest was the urge to agree, possibly to anything Valentine said, no matter how ludicrous. “Yes, I… I would like that.”

[scarsandstripesforever]

For somebody who looked to be on the brink of bursting into flames, Blackmore's hand felt startlingly cold even through the layers of fabric of Valentine's clothing, practically causing the older man to jump at his sudden touch, "Ah, sorry, don't mind me," taking the cup in hand he righted himself, careful not to collapse onto the other man, and setting it back onto the tray with a soft click.

For a few moments the only sound in the room was that of the various other bits of ceramic Blackmore had supplied promptly joining the cup in the tray, Valentine's own half finished coffee included, "Are you fine lying on the sofa?"

Apparently satisfied with his work, Valentine lifted the tray and turned to face Blackmore. Between his new higher perspective and the priest having sunk halfway into the couch Blackmore looked almost comically small, "I don't think it'd be the most comfortable place to rest, no offense, but I don't know if you've got anything better."

[uncharnel]

((ooooooooh [many] for priest Blackmore pwease))

NSFW Muse Reaction Prompts || @poorlydrawnfunnyvalentine

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[scarsandstripesforever]

"How many times does that make then?"

Soft, delicate fingertips ghosted up and down the length of Blackmore's cock at their own leisurely pace. Valentine's other hand languidly supported his head, his elbow propped against the bed below him and his half lidded eyes focused on the younger man before him.

"I think that was your sixth so far," Valentine's voice was as relaxed as his body language, as if he were doing the most mundane task in the world, "I'll admit, I haven't been keeping count, have you?"

The question was more or less rhetorical since Blackmore hardly seemed to be in the state to do much speaking in his current state, or so Valentine had thought, "Hm?"

His hand paused it's stroking for a moment to give Blackmore's overworked cock a moment to rest (Valentine wasn't a monster after all) and shifted focus to idly caressing the delicate flesh of his inner thighs, "Would you like me to stop?"

[uncharnel]

scarsandstripesforever‌:

“I suppose that makes some sense, we aren’t in an area that’s exactly teeming with Catholics anyway, so I imagine it has to get dull…. But I suppose that that makes the dedication admirable, in a way.”

Valentine paused for a moment, idly running his fingers through his hair. Warm? Was it really that warm? Personally, Valentine found the musky little room to be a bit on the cooler side.

“Are you sure that’s it?” Valentine cocked his head slightly to get a better look at the priest. He certainly looked warm… Or rather, he looked sweaty and a bit flushed, “Maybe you’re coming down with something.”

  Firmly entrenched in both the deep dip in the sofa and his own misery, Blackmore nodded dismally in response to the unexpected praise. At another time, he might have perked up palpably at being called something like ‘admirable’, but now was not one of those times. It was a tad hard to feel like anything even close when his body was conspiring against him.

  No, he’d done worse. The flesh being weak was a known quantity, the problem in his case was that the spirit wasn’t making a good showing either. Apart from the unfortunate handshake, it wasn’t as if Valentine had even touched him. Or, for that matter, done anything besides existing that would have set off this… failing of will.

  “Ah. No, I'm… I could be?” he conceded, jumping on the chance to acquit himself in a way that was at least adjacent to the realm of possibility. If he was lucky, being struck with disease was all the retribution he’d see for this and he’d be thankful for it considering what the alternatives were. “Don't… worry yourself about it, please. I’m sure I'll… be fine in the morning.”

  For a brief, deeply stupid moment, he considered standing up to demonstrate that all was well before he realized how inadvisable that would be when his ‘illness’ was very intent in poking at the arms that covered it. The groan of desperation he let out as he instead sank a little deeper into the flattened pillow, however, sounded anything but well.

[scarsandstripesforever]

The way Blackmore's mood had dropped so suddenly and without warning was disconcerting. Though Valentine was little more than a stranger to the young priest, he couldn't help but feel at least a little bit concerned about his obvious moping, "You'll have to forgive me for being so blunt, but you look miserable - and you haven't even touched your coffee, perhaps it'd be best if you got some rest?"

Valentine abruptly got up from his seat, resting a hand on his hip as he stood, apparently already having made up his mind about his host's well-being, "I'd hate to be any more of an inconvenience to you than I've already been, less so if you aren't feeling well. Here, I'll help - ah excuse me," he leant over Blackmore to retrieve his untouched coffee from the nearby table, one arm supporting his weight on the armrest as he awkwardly stretched to prevent spilling onto his host, perhaps bringing himself a bit too close to the other man in the process, "I'll help clean up if you'd like to lie down. It's the least I can do, really."

[uncharnel]

scarsandstripesforever‌:

“Ah, I’m sorry if it’s an inappropriate subject,” Valentine noted the sudden shift in Blackmore’s tone and felt guilty for prying, “I shouldn’t assume things like that.”

The priest’s body language was defensive and uncomfortable, moreso than seemed reasonable for a simple social faux pas. Valentine set down his cup and gave the younger man a concerned once-over, “Are you… feeling well Father?”

  With how tumultuous his state of mind was, it was hard to say what emotion currently reigned supreme. Embarrassment was a strong contender to be sure, putting up quite the fight. Regret had a shot at the podium as well, though the fact that he wasn’t quite sure over what should be grounds for disqualification. And then, of course, there was the all-time champion: guilt. It usually took some time to get up to full strength, but when it did, it was a doozy. If it came out on top when all was said and done, it would hardly be surprising.

  Regardless, Blackmore rallied what little intact nerves he had left and did his best to put Valentine at ease with an emphatic shake of his head. “No… I’m the one that should… be so-rry. It’s not a taboo topic or anything… like that, I simply answered it very… poorly. I— It can be difficult to have few peers… a hundred years ago, every town would have a priest… nowadays apart from a monthly lunch, most… communication is by email. There are… too few of us and the distances too… large for regular visits.”

  Amazing, he’d managed it. He’d spoken the complete truth while not answering the actual question as he’d interpreted it whatsoever. And in a way he judged to be perfectly innocent, at that.

  What a shame that couldn’t be said for his reaction to Valentine’s concern. The problem was that he let his guard down and forsook his unbroken stare to smile at his guest and reassure him of his well-being. That had been a mistake. They were… awfully close, weren’t they? If Blackmore didn’t try to make himself as small as possible at practically all times, their knees might have touched. If he cared to move his hands away from his ever more insistent sin, he could have touched him without even having to reach, yet even the vaguest thought of that made it more enthusiastic.

  “Yes, I'm… I’m fine, just a little… a little warm… that’s all.” A man was allowed be hot, wasn’t he? Just as much as he was allowed to scoot away without any sign of subtly or decorum, right into the pit that was a daily reminder of the late Father Simmons long habitation. Having been both a taller and wider man than Blackmore, it truly was like a pit swallowing him, his resting knees comically high on the lip. For what it was worth, he was glad for the added protection. “I’m so-rry…”

[scarsandstripesforever]

"I suppose that makes some sense, we aren't in an area that's exactly teeming with Catholics anyway, so I imagine it has to get dull.... But I suppose that that makes the dedication admirable, in a way."

Valentine paused for a moment, idly running his fingers through his hair. Warm? Was it really that warm? Personally, Valentine found the musky little room to be a bit on the cooler side.

"Are you sure that's it?" Valentine cocked his head slightly to get a better look at the priest. He certainly looked warm... Or rather, he looked sweaty and a bit flushed, "Maybe you're coming down with something."

[uncharnel]

scarsandstripesforever‌:

The tension in the priest’s words was palpable, to the point where it seemed like he could combust from sheer nervous energy, yet Valentine only noticed a fraction of it. Perhaps he just didn’t get visiters terribly often?

“Ah, I suppose that’s true,” Valentine spoke after swallowing his first sip of coffee and giving a pleased sigh. Satisfied with its quality, he began the task of adding gratuitous sugar to the dark liquid, apparently satisfied at the third or fourth spoonful, “A man in your line of work ought to feel like that,” Valentine brought the overly sweetened coffee to his lips again, taking a much more eager sip this time.

“It must get lonely though,” Valentine turned to look at his host, eyes relaxed and half lidded, “Being without human companionship, I mean.”

  Caught in a trap of his own making, Blackmore nodded in miserable agreement. A peaceful life, just as he’d said… It wasn’t a lie, the days passed in calm succession; a comfortable humdrum that repeated itself week after week. A life without much to worry about. Apart from finishing this week’s sermon in time, all he had to do was abide by the rules and those were delineated clearly enough from on high. Even then, a small amount of leeway was not looked down upon as it once had been and it wasn’t like anyone came by to check more than once a year. If that. A small, quiet parish lacking in many luxuries wasn’t exactly the kind of place that drew bishops from all over.

  “The diocese and ultimately… the Lord provides. There’s nothing I could ask for…” he murmured at a volume only slightly above that of the thrum of a fly’s wings. Now that was on the border of falsehood. There were, in fact, many things he could ask for: confidence, a more agile mind suited to writing less pedestrian homilies, the identity of whoever kept littering the church floor with candy wrappers… he could go on. And he did, in a roundabout manner, weaving the small requests into overly deferential prayer in the form a vagaries. He didn’t want to sound ungrateful and surely the Lord would understand the hints he dropped.

  Never had it crossed his mind to ask for human companionship — holy Mary full of grace, the way Valentine had said that. Those hopes had died after discovering some discomfiting truths about himself, thoughts and habits he’d expected would no longer be an issue after being ordained.

  The next sound to come from the priest’s lips was a choked little whimper trailing off into indecisiveness. Honesty was barely an option here. Yes, he did experience moments of weakness where forlorn solitude was a massive weight dragging him down. And yes, he wasn’t supposed to feel like that. Nobody had told him he wasn’t, he just knew. Regardless, it wasn’t an admission he wanted to make in front of someone mortal. Even less so when the word ‘companionship’ brought images to mind regarding Valentine that only increased the churning of the torrid pool in the pit of his stomach.

  “I— Uh. Ah, you see—” Oh. Oh no. It couldn’t be.

  If it wasn’t, it was certainly a very convincing imitation of his cock stirring and gingerly stiffening with every heartbeat, one that would become obvious in time if he didn’t do something about it. A pity the best he could think of was to drape his arms over his lap and hunch over in what he hoped was a not at all suspicious maneuver. “It's… Everyone has their weaknesses… being human. It’s manageable…”

[scarsandstripesforever]

"Ah, I'm sorry if it's an inappropriate subject," Valentine noted the sudden shift in Blackmore's tone and felt guilty for prying, "I shouldn't assume things like that."

The priest's body language was defensive and uncomfortable, moreso than seemed reasonable for a simple social faux pas. Valentine set down his cup and gave the younger man a concerned once-over, "Are you... feeling well Father?"

[uncharnel]

scarsandstripesforever‌:

It sounded as if Blackmore was was wrestling with a loaded dishwasher with all the clattering emanating from the next room, to the point where Valentine wasn’t entirely sure whether he ought to offer to help or not, but his worries were lessened when he saw the lanky man reenter the room. “Hm, I may be just a layman but I’d say it seems like you’ve got a lot of work on your hands.”

Valentine relaxed slightly at the sight of coffee, as if he’d suspected that the priest had lured him here for more nefarious purposes before, “I’ll admit that I know nothing about… what it is you do, so I’d say being able to hold out all together on your own like this is fairly impressive,” he eyed the cups, little things that looked considerably older than Blackmore himself, for a moment before gingerly picking one for himself.

“Thank you,” he sniffed the coffee cautiously before deciding that yes, it was in fact coffee and taking a small, judgemental sip.

  Until Valentine took that first, cautious sip, Blackmore kept a close eye on him, just in case the coffee had transmogrified into tar at some point between pot and cup. Only when no overt sign of disgust came did he allow himself to relax, the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding let out in a reedy gust. Another crisis averted — except there had never been one, he was simply feeling… something he couldn’t quite put into words, not even in the privacy of his own clashing thoughts. Thrilled bliss and feverish anxiety that pulled him from one extreme to the other without giving him time to catch up and ground himself.

  His own actions were not helping. Rather than pick the rather deflated armchair, his legs thoughtlessly carried him to the sofa instead, the impropriety of which didn’t hit him until his hands froze midway through smoothing the dark wool of his cassock over his knees. Though a sofa is by very nature meant to be occupied by multiple people, there was no shaking the feeling he’d committed a minor sin in some fashion. Being unable to pinpoint how only made it worse.

  “Oh, no… I’m never truly alone… none of us are.” His brain supplied the pious protest by rote, leaving his actual thoughts free to work through the internal conflict. Staring straight ahead, cheeks flaring up to a new height of unnatural ruddiness, he didn’t dare look his guest in the eyes. What a wonderful terror to be so apprehensively close to the taller man. Maybe it was all in his mind, but Blackmore believed that even without so much as glancing in his direction, he could perceive Valentine’s tiniest movements through subtle changes in the heat that seemed to emanate him.

  “And the work… it’s not that hard. Apart from services, it’s a little like… uh… freelancing?” he wheezed in an attempt to keep the conversation going, his breath uncomfortably shallow. Surely it couldn’t be healthy for his heart to be beating at this pace, nor for him to feel so warm. What he should do was get up, but a tingling fire in his legs numbed them into uselessness. “Sometimes people need me more… sometimes they need me less… my flock isn’t very demanding, I’ve been blessed with a… peaceful life.”

[scarsandstripesforever]

The tension in the priest's words was palpable, to the point where it seemed like he could combust from sheer nervous energy, yet Valentine only noticed a fraction of it. Perhaps he just didn't get visiters terribly often?

"Ah, I suppose that's true," Valentine spoke after swallowing his first sip of coffee and giving a pleased sigh. Satisfied with its quality, he began the task of adding gratuitous sugar to the dark liquid, apparently satisfied at the third or fourth spoonful, "A man in your line of work ought to feel like that," Valentine brought the overly sweetened coffee to his lips again, taking a much more eager sip this time.

"It must get lonely though," Valentine turned to look at his host, eyes relaxed and half lidded, "Being without human companionship, I mean."

[scarsandstripesforever]

smooch

[uncharnel]

scarsandstripesforever‌:

Valentine felt his performative friendliness vanish once the priest turned his back, his face turning to an apprehensive frown as he glanced around the room before him. There was a smell in the air that he couldn’t quite place, like a mix of old books and wet ash. If he believed in karma then Valentine would have assumed that this was his punishment for his white lies, but at this point he was in too deep.

“Ah… Thank you…” Valentine eyed the old sofa suspiciously, brow furrowing as he reluctantly took a seat, “I take it you’re fairly new to this then?”

  Being alone in the cramped kitchen was a good opportunity to clear his head, one that Blackmore didn’t take. Instead, he rushed unwisely, putting himself at serious risk of banging his ankle on the small and rather sad table forced into the corner. God, his brain wasn’t being very cooperative today, remembering where he left the coffee a monumental undertaking despite the fact that he had it every morning. Water. At least that was easy, if he forgot where the tap was he might as well have himself committed. Plug. Switch it on.

  The burble of the water heating up calmed him a little, a gentle and homey sound. His hand hardly shook when he reached for two mugs… and nearly dropped them when he heard Valentine’s voice.

  “Four — uh. Four years now,” he called back with a sincere hope that the wall between them would make his stuttering inaudible. He looked at the mugs again for a few horrified seconds. Oh, no, no, that wouldn’t do at all, Mr. Valentine was… he was a guest! He couldn’t make a guest drink out of a plain old mug. Just his luck the cups and saucers were in the back, his half-panicked removal of the obstructive crockery causing quite the clatter. “About… a year and a half alone? I do my best, but… there’s still a lot to learn.”

  Right, that was the cups now he needed a tray, another frantic cacophony of kitchenware announcing to the world that he wasn’t entirely sure where that was either. At last he found it and poured two steaming and onto the tray they went, along with the sugar basin and the milk jug in the shape of a rather deranged looking cow. He personally wasn’t fond of it, it looked like the kind of thing his grandmother would like. In fact, most of the things in the priory had the air of being purchased by an elderly lady of questionable taste. Possibly back around 1974.

  “I guess it would be fair to say I’m still finding my feet,” he prattled on, twitchy nerves making him uncharacteristically talkative as he shouldered the door open and maneuvered himself through. “Father Simmons — rest his soul — was here for 56 years before me so… There’s some things I'd… like to change, but people are a little set in their ways and… the last thing I want to do is upset anyone.”

  Least of all Valentine, who had the privilege of being on the receiving end of a harried grin and a cup of coffee that ended up half in the saucer by the time the priest had set it down with shaky fingers. More than gratified to be asked anything about his life, Blackmore only continued his verbal barrage. “I know it's… old-fashioned now, but I’d like to re-introduce some Vulgate. Ah, not too much… wouldn’t want the barrier to entry to be… too high, feel unwelcoming. It’d just… sound nice, give the services a bit… of mystique and… gravitas. What do you think?”

[scarsandstripesforever]

It sounded as if Blackmore was was wrestling with a loaded dishwasher with all the clattering emanating from the next room, to the point where Valentine wasn't entirely sure whether he ought to offer to help or not, but his worries were lessened when he saw the lanky man reenter the room. "Hm, I may be just a layman but I'd say it seems like you've got a lot of work on your hands."

Valentine relaxed slightly at the sight of coffee, as if he'd suspected that the priest had lured him here for more nefarious purposes before, "I'll admit that I know nothing about... what it is you do, so I'd say being able to hold out all together on your own like this is fairly impressive," he eyed the cups, little things that looked considerably older than Blackmore himself, for a moment before gingerly picking one for himself.

"Thank you," he sniffed the coffee cautiously before deciding that yes, it was in fact coffee and taking a small, judgemental sip.

[uncharnel]

scarsandstripesforever‌:

Well, now Valentine had done it, refusing Blackmore’s invitation now would just be cruel. Talk? The priest barely seemed capable of stringing together a sentence without nervously averting his gaze, what was he planning on talking about?

Resisting the urge to let out a defeated sigh, Valentine spoke, “If you’d really like to,” he reached his hand up to brush his hair out of his face absent mindendedly, “I can’t say I’ve spoken much to priests myself, perhaps it could be enlightening.”

Valentine really had no room to complain, wasn’t as if he had much better to be attending to and he’d come here fully of his own volition. Wasn’t this exactly the sort of thing he’d been seeking out by coming here anyway?

“Though I will say that I typically prefer coffee to tea.”

  Now that he had the okay, some of the nervous tension seeped out of Blackmore. He practically deflated, his stance going from one filled with expectant anxiety to one much more natural, if a perfect demonstration of slump-shouldered bad posture. He couldn’t help it, even when he was as unreasonably elated as he felt this moment, the tendency to curl in on himself defensively always reared its head sooner or later.

  “The pleasure’s all mine, I’d love to have you,” he fell over himself to give Valentine some unneeded reassurance. Maybe he should just— One hand rose a small ways for a comforting pat on the taller man’s shoulder, but only made it a few inches before it fell limply to the priest’s side. No, he probably shouldn’t. Not when he was feeling this… out of sorts. “We could learn from each other, I’m sure… you know a lot more than I do on some topics. It’s very fulfilling, but I'm… afraid this can be an… insular life. Ah, and coffee would suit me just fine.”

  As if he wasn’t jittery enough without getting hopped up on caffeine. His body language certainly was, the small gesture he made to signal to Valentine that he should follow him out the door and across the churchyard quick and stilted. Not to mention far too excited. One might say there was an ever so mousy spring in his step during the short walk, as well as in the way he all but threw open the door and scurried through.

  Regardless, there were things one couldn’t hurry, like making the sign of the cross reflexively when his eyes were drawn as they ever were to the picture of Christ’s Sermon on the Mount. It was not a replication of a particularly well-painted work, certainly not up to par with the more famous depiction by Bloch, but it had belonged to Father Simmons — God rest his soul — and the very thought of getting rid of it felt like it’d be blasphemy. Much the same went for the furniture. Blackmore was fairly sure most of it was older than he was, but throwing out a dead man’s belongings was a moral conundrum he was not willing to face.

  “Have a seat, I’ll go make—” Words failed him and rater than finish the sentence, he gestured in the general vicinity of the kitchen door. Definitely too jumpy already. Giddy, even.

  With a last look of dumb gratitude, he bustled off into the kitchen only to poke his head back through after a second. “You’ll want the left side. My predecessor — may he rest in peace — sat in the… right corner from the day the sofa rolled off the production line to the day he died. He’s worn the cushion… through so far that I don’t think anyone else can sit there comfortably. Just… just so you know. I’ll be… I’ll be right back wit the coffee.”

[scarsandstripesforever]

Valentine felt his performative friendliness vanish once the priest turned his back, his face turning to an apprehensive frown as he glanced around the room before him. There was a smell in the air that he couldn't quite place, like a mix of old books and wet ash. If he believed in karma then Valentine would have assumed that this was his punishment for his white lies, but at this point he was in too deep.

"Ah... Thank you..." Valentine eyed the old sofa suspiciously, brow furrowing as he reluctantly took a seat, "I take it you're fairly new to this then?"

[uncharnel]

scarsandstripesforever‌:

The sudden shift in the priest’s demeanor was palpable, as he seemed to exude a rather uncharacteristic glee. Also… was he blushing? Such excitement from such a gloomy looking man seemed somewhere between amusing and disturbing.

Valentine almost felt guilty for lying, but Blackmore seemed as if he hadn’t received positive feedback in years. Perhaps it was kinder to continue the ruse?

“Your offer is very kind but… I feel that I couldn’t get the full appreciation through mere reading alone. After all, how the sermon is presented is just as important, wouldn’t you say?”

  For as long as he could remember, rejection had been a constant fear looming on the horizon, the very chance of it something to be avoided unless there was no other way. Strange, this one didn’t sting at all when paired with a somewhat unbelievable compliment. Seemingly without any input from is brain, Blackmore found himself nodding in dumb agreement, too spell-struck to process the praise through his regular filter of subtle negativity. While he wasn’t Catholic, Valentine wouldn’t lie to a priest, would he?

  “Oh, do you think so?” he demurred, feeling saying something at this juncture was called for. Likely more than this, but — perhaps out of self-preservation, perhaps through more miraculous means — he didn’t take this opportunity to blow his own trumpet. He’d been there for today’s ‘masterpiece’, after all, and the sheer relief of making it through was still a mild yet distinct undercurrent. Surely that was why he couldn’t keep his hands still, damp palms sliding against each other and fingers twining like mating snakes.

  “Would you still like to come in?” Hang on. That couldn’t have been his voice, he’d never be so bold as to keep pressing after being declined. Then again, there was some evidence it had very much been. His lips had moved, for one. His vocal cords had vibrated and his tongue shaped the timid tones. The confusion quickly morphed into contrition, the grin he shot Valentine apologetic and tinged with vague hope.

  “I… usually have a cup of tea after a service and making… two doesn’t take any more effort than making one. We could talk—” About what? Any why? Just because he felt a need to? Lord, he’d talked himself into a corner here, mental gears spinning at top speed with the mad effort of invention. “—about anything you’d like. In all honesty it’s been… a while since I’ve had a conversation with anyone unaffiliated with the church that was longer than… the cashier wishing me a nice day at the checkout. It, uh. I mean… there’s conviction and there’s there’s tunnel vision, I think… it’s important to keep an open mind and not lose touch with the rest of the world.”

[scarsandstripesforever]

Well, now Valentine had done it, refusing Blackmore's invitation now would just be cruel. Talk? The priest barely seemed capable of stringing together a sentence without nervously averting his gaze, what was he planning on talking about?

Resisting the urge to let out a defeated sigh, Valentine spoke, "If you'd really like to," he reached his hand up to brush his hair out of his face absent mindendedly, "I can't say I've spoken much to priests myself, perhaps it could be enlightening."

Valentine really had no room to complain, wasn't as if he had much better to be attending to and he'd come here fully of his own volition. Wasn't this exactly the sort of thing he'd been seeking out by coming here anyway?

"Though I will say that I typically prefer coffee to tea."