Friday
He sat at his desk, running a hand through his dusty brown hair as his blue eyes scanned the paper in front of him. He tapped a pencil on his desk, trying to decide on how to word the sermon trapped within him. He wanted his flock to be moved and touched instead of just staring apathetically up at him from their pews. He’d be happy if they just felt something, even if it was bitterness towards him, bitterness he could try to undermine and overcome.
He ignored the tapping at his feet until he realized that his restless leg didn’t cause the sound. Matthew pushed away from his desk to stare beneath it. He felt the hairs on his body rise as his spine tensed. And yet he went on his hands and knees to look under his desk.
He saw long, rusty brown fingers first, clawing upwards to break the floorboards. He backed away instinctively, pressing his body up against the wall. His hand stretched upwards, trying to pull off the cross hanging there. Several of the floorboards splintered and shattered, and he caught glimpses of curly black horns as a figure pressed through the opening.
Matthew saw his hands shaking as he realized the cross hung on the other wall. He broke into a run for it, but a hand grabbed the bottom of his cassock, and he fell onto the ground. He put his hands out just before his face smashed into the floor. He could feel his ankle burn as a hand tightened around it.
He told himself not to turn his head as he crawled forward, but his neck twisted towards the Demon behind him. He felt the Demon coil upwards, tearing open his robes with a long claw. He saw a flash of thick black curls as he squeezed his eyes shut. The claws dug into his hips and flipped him onto his back. He let out a grunt, and he dug his nails into the floorboards to pull himself away from the Demon. He felt pieces of his torn robes against his fingers. He felt the heat permeating from the Demon and spread across his bare skin.
The claws tore at his skin as he scrambled away, forcing his eyes open in pain. He caught a glimpse of bright yellow eyes and a sharp, toothy smirk before he looked away to stare at the wall. He heard the heavy breathy laughter as a tail coiled around his waist. His eyes rose to the cross, as the slick tail pressed into ass.
Matthew arched his back and groaned, his hands scrambling to grip onto the floor. He saw sparks of colour behind his eyelids, and he suppressed the curling desire shaking his body. He felt his back arch as the demon’s tail pressed deeper into him. He opened his eyes again as the Demon ran its tongue upwards across the center of his chest, its eyes burrowing into his. Its lips didn’t move as it hissed, “I see you.”
He quivered in response, squeezing his eyes shut again. He felt his cheeks burning in a mix of shame and pleasure. The Demon sunk its teeth into Matthew’s chest, and Matthew pressed back against the Demon, feeling its warm body grinding against his own, his erection pressing against the Demon’s stomach.
He bit his tongue to try to not to succumb. Matthew turned over to try to crawl forward, feeling the Demon’s tail pump in and out of his ass. The Demon pressed its body against Matthew’s back, digging its teeth into Matthew’s shoulder. As he turned his head, faces from members of his flock flashed across the Demon’s face. Handsome men with strong features and scruff that would scratch against his back. Voluptuous women whose large breasts would tease his lips and chest. People he fantasized about privately, whose images drifted into his dreams and caused him to wake up covered in sweat with a painful erection tenting his off-white sheets. He felt their breath curl from the Demon’s mouth and brush against him. He groaned again, instinctively bucking back onto the Demon’s tail.
He felt the Demon’s tongue coil into his hair as he ran his hand up the wall to reach the cross. He felt his legs quivering and his muscles tensing, feeling himself dripping excitement as the Demon’s claws dug deeper into his thighs.
Matthew’s hand grasped the cross, and he slammed it back down onto the Demon’s head. The Demon’s laugh echoed within him, but he smelt an earthy burning coming from the Demon. He turned around to slam the cross against the Demon’s chest. It hissed, slamming its tail deep inside of him. Matthew groaned, digging his nails into the Demon’s shoulder as he kept the cross digging into the Demon’s chest.
He narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth, feeling the Demon’s tail burn inside of him. The Demon smiled, its yellow eye twitching in pain. Matthew’s legs weakened as he felt himself reaching his peak, and the Demon continued pumping in and out of him in time with the throbs of his cock. He groaned as he came onto the Demon’s chest and his own cross. The Demon released him and backed away as Matthew dropped back onto the ground. He panted, his body burning in anguish and pain.
He looked away as the Demon slipped back into the floor with a lasting laugh and sharp smile. Matthew released the cross, hearing it rattle against the ground, and he ran his fingers along the imprint the cross left in his hand. He felt his stomach flutter as he stared at the scrapes and cuts the Demon left on him, and he fought to suppress his desire.
Breathing heavily, he pressed a carpet over his splintered floorboards. He ran a hand through his sweaty hair to keep it from clinging to his forehead. He pulled off what was left of his torn vestments and winced from the pain aching through his body.
There was a knock on his door. “Is everything all right, Father?” a lilting female voice asked. “It sounded like you were roughhousing in there.”
“Everything’s fine,” Matthew replied. He smiled to himself and added, “I suppose I merely fought with a personal demon.”
His housekeeper, Mrs. Braden, chuckled in response. “Of course, Father,” she said. “Do you need anything else tonight?”
“No,” Matthew replied. “No, thank you.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning then. Goodnight, Father.”
“Goodnight,” Matthew replied, staring down at the cuts on his skin.
Was this all a part of his imagination? He pressed a finger against the wound on his chest, and he winced from the pain. Matthew took very little of the Bible literally. He interpreted it as stories suggesting a certain way of life. He believed in a bright, comfortable afterlife for those who deserved it and an uncomfortable one for those who didn’t.
He just hadn’t decided where he would fit.
Matthew dropped to his knees and held the cross to his chest. “My Lord,” he said, frowning. “I-I know my flock isn’t perfect. I do my best, but they won’t listen.”
He looked at the semen on his cross and set it down. He folded his hands together and pressed them against his forehead. He squeezed his eyes shut. “I know I have desires. I know I am in this flawed form to overcome them. I am doing the best I can. But…”
He opened his eyes to look at the damage in the room. He pressed his hands against his thighs, staring at the destruction. His blue eyes darted from his torn robes to his broken floorboards. “But I don’t understand what this is.”
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