★ Mandy ★

"How do you wear this everyday? I'm drowning in this thing," Punk complained as he straightened out the cassock. It looked longer on him than it did on his boyfriend, the extra arm and chest room reflecting their 'slight' size difference.

"You look good." Drew attached the Roman collar to the cassock and ran two fingers underneath before giving it a slight tug.

To Punk, that collar felt like a hand around his neck, threatening to strangle him. It was tighter than Drew normally fastened it when he wore it to work.

The priest stood in front of him in no more than his boxers—still looking more heavenly than Punk did in the clothes of the loyalest sheep. "I was thinking"—Drew pushed Punk onto the bed—"we could do something different tonight."

"Like…"

"You're always in control. Maybe tonight I could be?" He crawled on top of Punk, sitting on his stomach.

"If you're sure. Are you wanting me to keep your fancy priest robe on?"

Drew smiled and excitedly nodded. He abruptly climbed off of Punk, finding the bedside table and opening a drawer that the two had become increasingly familiar with, stuffed with the various things they've used when God 'wasn't looking'.

Punk stayed where Drew put him, watching everything the priest took out of the drawer. Lube. Knife. Handcuffs. Rosary.

Rosary?

He could feel his skin crawl just imagining the burns from that useless object he saw Drew mess with every morning. It used to be kept on bedpost, Punk luckily convinced Drew to move it somewhere after many accidental burns.

Punk stared up at the ceiling, his eyes tracing a crack in the drywall.

Drew sat up on the bed, pulling Punk into his lap and kissing the side of his face. "I've been reading up on vampire books, I just wanna try something." His voice sounded as gentle as it could be while he yanked the vampire's arms.

"Hurt me."

Drew chuckled under his breath as he fastened handcuffs to the vampire's wrists.

Punk reached up to adjust the clerical collar, getting that choking sensation again as it strayed from how the vampire liked it. It was a little tedious, trying to work around the cuffs and his limited movement, but he fixed it slightly as Drew contently watched.

The priest laid Punk back down, smirking as the vampire desperately tried to sit up in silent act of defiance, only to be shoved back down easily by Drew. "Keep trying. Why do you think I cuffed your hands in the front?"

"Shut up," Punk sneered.

Drew held the knife to his arm, that action enough for the vampire to watch in anticipation, waiting for the moment he gets to taste that sweet blood he'd been consuming exclusively.

"Do you want some," Drew asked as he shallowly sliced into his own arm. Punk's eyes followed the small drops of blood swiftly falling down his arm, wishing to have even just one of them.

"Please," Punk begged, his eyes wide and pitiful.

Drew wiped the blood off of the small wound with one finger, grabbing Punk's neck with the other hand. Slowly, he drew a cross with the blood above where the Roman collar sat. He felt Punk's faint, irregular heartbeat—a result of the blood he gave the vampire earlier that day—quicken around his hand.

"Do you still want some?"

Punk tried to respond. He tried once. Twice. He couldn't even get a sound out. Drew released his neck, letting Punk find out on his own that it wasn't any pressure he was putting. The vampire's eyebrows furrowed with frustration as he stared at Drew. He tried to wipe off the cross, his bound hands unable to remove the already-dried blood.

"Is that a 'no'?"

Punk tried, through a series of hand gestures, to tell Drew that he couldn't speak. He sat up, sitting on his knees to look at Drew and the wound on his arm that was already closing up.

"If you beg, maybe I'll lick the blood off of you and give you as much of mine as you want. I won't even stop you."

Punk knew Drew would let him feed off of him—as much as he possibly could—as the priest enjoyed it, but the offer was too good to pass up. If he waited long enough, surely Drew would wipe the blood off, but lick it?

He slowly climbed off of the bed and sunk to his knees in front of where Drew sat. Begging seemed effortful without a voice—especially when articulating his desires and demands were his thing.

Drew stared down at him, tangling his fingers in the vampire's brown hair. "What a good boy," he praised as Punk rested his head on Drew's thigh, looking up at the priest with big, wet eyes.

Punk was used to calling Drew a 'good boy', it felt weird when the roles were reversed, weird in the best way.

"How about you try praying?" Drew's words sounded less like a question, more like a command. The priest's smile grew knowing how badly Punk wanted to protest it, despite the vampire's expression not showing a hint of sourness.

Drew handed the rosary to Punk slowly, easing him into the pain as his hands began to burn. He watched Punk's face grimace and the way his lips tried to annunciate words that couldn't come out. Who needs television when you have a suffering vampire on the floor in front of you?

Drew led him through a prayer, doing the talking for him. He guided Punk as a god would, with a gentle, yet ruthless, touch that didn't waver when the vampire did. He'd made it a point to brush his fingers against new burns, Punk flinching as he tried again to let words out of their prison cell.

When tears of blood fell from Punk's eyes, unable to endure the pain, Drew finally said, "amen," and allowed the vampire to drop the rosary. Punk 'misunderstood' and threw it across the room, the wooden beads hitting the wall, then the floor, with a clatter.

"You weren't done with that," Drew said, "it's starting to seem like you don't even want to talk."

Punk looked down at his already-healing hands, disregarding Drew's torment.

The priest stared at the cassock on Punk, noting it tented at the vampire's crotch. He kicked it, finding amusement in his lover's writhes and pained smile.

Punk's chest rose and dropped rapidly, his bound wrists resting on top of his thighs. Truthfully, he liked this side of Drew—in the bedroom, that is—at least he didn't have to do all the work like he used to. He'd known about Drew's mean side, but this was new. The unconcealed sadism felt new.

Drew dragged him up onto the bed, pinning the vampire against the mattress with his wrists above his head.

"I wanna hear you now," Drew whispered before he pressed his tongue against Punk's neck, licking the dried blood that acted as bondage. Slowly, painfully, long enough that Punk began losing patience. He jerked to the side just as Drew licked the final bit of blood off.

The priest bit Punk's neck just as the latter had done to him countless times. The vampire's breath hitched, though he was somewhat relieved when he heard himself.

"You motherfu-"

Drew silenced Punk once again, this time with a kiss that ended in the vampire biting Drew's lip until it bled.

"Fuck," Drew mumbled under his breath, letting Punk lick the blood that fell to his chin. The vampire worshipped every drop, drinking it like it was his last.

Slowly, his hand snaked up into the cassock, up Punk's thigh, noticing the completely bare skin beneath. "Did you not wear anything under this?"

"Was I supposed to," Punk asked, playing dumb, acting clueless to his own game.

"I guess you don't have to." He pushed up Punk's cassock until his cock was exposed to the cold air. He folded the robe over, delicately, not trying to wrinkle his work clothes.

"Hurry," Punk begged as Drew grabbed the bottle of lube off of the nightstand, starting to coat his fingers in it. He pushed Punk's legs up, folding him.

Drew pressed his finger into Punk's hole, slowly, easing him into it. One finger soon became two, then three, until he saw the impatience in Punk's eyes.

"Please, please, please," Punk whispered, precum beading at his tip. He stared up at Drew with a look one would only give a supreme deity, begging for whatever he could give him.

Punk wasn't nearly as terrible when he wasn't in charge. Guidance seemed like what he needed.

Drew lazily stroked his cock, applying lube before slowly pushing into Punk's hole with little resistance. His hands gripped the underside of Punk's thighs, his fingernails digging into the delicate, pale skin. "So pretty," Drew praised.

The vampire tried to stroke his own cock, the cuffs making every move of his hands sloppy and uncoordinated. It only left him more frustrated, more impatient for his own release.

"Do you need my help?" Drew's almost-gentle voice teased him, a ruthless reminder that Drew was inside him. Drew held the key to the handcuffs. Drew could guarantee his own pleasure, but Punk couldn't do the same for himself.

"Maybe." Saying 'yes' felt like surrendering his dignity. Saying 'no' felt arguably worse.

Drew pulled out.

Punk stared at him, confused, as the priest picked the rosary off of the floor. The wooden beads clacked together in Drew's hands as he fidgeted with them.

In no time at all, Drew was inside Punk again, knowing if he waited much longer, he'd have to deal with the vampire's attitude and seemingly endless supply of light insults.

Punk's eyes were laser-focused on the rosary in Drew's hand. It felt like a dormant threat, ready to hurt him at any moment. Liking that feeling, of being burned by the one and only person he'd allowed to get close enough, was something he couldn't admit.

Drew's hips slammed into Punk violently, as if there was somebody else who wanted to claim him. As if he needed to mark his territory.

Punk fisted the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white. His back arched off of the mattress and he bit back moans wanting to escape. He put on a show for Drew, forgetting all about the rosary.

At least, until it crashed into his thighs hard enough that the burns would leave less of a mark compared to the bruises.His entire body jolted, the priest grabbing his hips, not allowing him to move any more. His cock relentlessly slammed against Punk's prostate, refusing to give the vampire a moment of rest.

Soon, one hand was whipping Punk with the rosary, while the other stroked his cock. He could barely think—already so dick-stupid that anything more seemed to break him.

Punk came quick—embarrassingly quick. Time seemed to move so strangely, it felt like Drew had barely touched him.

Drew caught the cum in his palm, changing his position slightly so he was entirely on top of the vampire.

He held the hand up to Punk's mouth. "Lick it up," Drew demanded with a strict tone. The vampire complied almost immediately, barely noticing when Drew's thrusts became staggered and less uniform. He licked up his own cum, cleaning Drew's hand thoroughly until the priest pulled it away and replaced it with his mouth.

He came inside Punk, holding his face and kissing him like nothing else in the world mattered. Like he'd been starving for this moment since the day he met Punk.