in the middle of the night, it pees

“I think it is time we forget everything for a while, baby, hm?” he whispers. “You will let your Papa take care of you tonight, yes?”

“Yes.”

His thumb slips from your mouth as you speak the word. You lean against him, then, the cheek he so lovingly carressed now pressed against rough black fabric. A weary sound leaves your throat and he begins to massage the tension from your jaw with gentle fingers, weaving along the side of your face and into your hair. The massage is slow, unhectic, and he continues until he sees your breathing slow slow slow. How the world tests you, he thinks, and he knows the feeling all too well. But he won’t allow it to continue, not for the next hour, not for the rest of the night.

Copia hasn’t bothered undressing or washing off his make up yet. He feels that painful extension of time as well, how every hour passes so slowly that it feels hard to bear one’s own existence, and yet there is never time enough. Not for what truly matters.

“Come here, amore,” he orders, his voice stern but soft.

He helps you to your feet as he stands himself, embracing you even before you can fully sink against him. You hide your face at his neck, reddened eyes, the simple act of being cared for too much. He’s no stranger to self-loathing and guilt. But it won’t deter him, it never has, catharsis takes many forms and he’s seen most of them by now, one way or another. These shared moments have become easier, after knowing each other so intimately. Carrying each other’s weight for a while has slipped into your routines as naturally as breathing, and he never minds when it’s you.

“No pain, only pleasure tonight, yes?” he murmurs against your head, taking in the sweet scent of you. You nod against him with a low sniffle and he hugs you tighter.

After a while he toys with the hem of your shirt, coaxing it up until you willingly part with it. No rush tonight. Every piece of clothing leaves when you’re ready, his palms caressing every sliver of exposed skin, every curve of your body, every ridge, every plane, soft, well-oiled leather with the heavy insistence of his hands.

Eventually he helps you recline against the pillows in bed, your body warmed from his touch, sinking into the comforting softness, pliant and weightless. He takes you in for a moment, the hot flush on your face and neck, this body he knows so well, loves so dearly. He recognizes every tense muscle, can tell whether the goosebumps on your skin are from pleasure or cold, every mole, every stretch mark, every single hair that adorns your skin has been memorised.

When he sinks down beside you, his lips find your cheek, then your neck, then your shoulder. He remains half on top of you, a comforting weight, still clothed, still in control of every fragment of you. You don’t have to make a single decision, no move to take any influence, not on him or anything at all.

“You are doing so good,” he whispers. “I am so proud of you, amore. Always so proud. Now breathe with me, baby.”

He shows you how, that deep inhalte, the pause in between, and the long exhale. For a while you simply mirror him, face to face now, eyes locked, as his free hand wanders down your body, pressing gently into any knot he can find. He will unravel you in any way possible. And you’re doing so well, so well, breathing in and pausing and breathing out and breathing– –

His fingers brush your soft core and your next breath is short and audible. He smiles, kissing a stray tear from your eyes. He’s been leaving black marks on you but this one is especially beautiful, the shape of his lips on the apple of your cheek. He moves lower now, his fingers parting you carefully, spreading you until he can comfortable tease your entrance, moving back up to your clit and as much as he enjoys you losing yourself in it, he still needs your attention.

“Eyes on me,” he whispers. “Let me see you, my baby. You’re so beautiful like this, eh? Do you know how much I love you?”

You blink your eyes to meet his but they remain heavy. He lets you cling to his shoulder, brings one leg between yours to keep them open for him. Then he gently enters you, one finger, then two, slow and steady, no rush, no matter how much his body tells him he wants you. The gloves almost slip from his fingers with how tightly you’re gripping him and he brings his lips to yours for a sweet moment.

More kisses as he keeps his pace steady, the heel of his palm tightly pressed against you. He can feel the way you’re focused on him now, the way your body has let itself fall into his gentle care with no compromise. He’s rarely felt this needed, this useful, and he lets the sensation carry him until he can feel your soft pulses, until you meet the gentle waves of his hand, and gasp into his mouth, immediately falling back into the long, deep breaths he’s been showing you. He keeps still just like this, watching you as the shadows pass from your eyes, as the warmth in your body brings back your light, even if just for a moment.

the pope

the cardinals (his nominated advisors — to be addressed as your eminence or, more informally, by their title)

the archbishops (oversee archdioceses and hold authority over the nearby bishops and their dioceses — to be addressed either as your excellency or your grace or, more informally, by their title)

the bishops (oversee dioceses + can ordain priests and deacons — formally to be addressed as your excellency or, more informally, by the title)

the priests (oversee parishes — to be addressed as father or reverend father)

the deacons (assist priests — not to be addressed as father but deacon/reverend)

most of you know that already. but what's far less obvious about this hierarchy is that one cannot be "just" a cardinal.

while the cardinals place just below the pope, it is not as if one has to progress from being a bishop to being an archbishop in order to become a cardinal. that rank, in a way, functions as a separate decoration. it means that whatever priest/bishop/archbishop has been handed it now has to not only take care of their own flock, but also advise the pope + govern the church on a worldwide level + serve in the papal bureaucracy + could possibly be appointed as a papal envoy.

while the title of "cardinal" is an honorific and administrative title given by the pope, most cardinals are actively leading dioceses or archdioceses around the world. they are ordained as bishops or archbishops and carry out the duties associated with those roles, in addition to their responsibilities as cardinals.

so if the satanic clergy of ghost is more or less based on the hierarchy and functioning of the catholic church, anyone with the rank of a cardinal has plenty of duties to oversee. which means if you have an oc that bears that title, or if you're writing about the papas before they became papas, there's a ton of options to explore, both in terms of flock interactions and in terms of clergy drama. 🤸‍♀️

some additional fun facts:

in order to become a catholic bishop, you must be at least 35 years old

and have been ordained for at least 5 years

and you have to hold either a doctorate or licentiate in some sacred science, or at least be an expert in it (according to their standards, which seems to be up to interpretation lol)

Despite it still being fairly early in the evening, you would already call the night's celebrations a resounding success. When Copia had suggested it, you had been a little confused - usually these dinners were saved for special occasions and you couldn't think of any coming up. You were worried that you had forgotten something, but he assured you that he simply wanted an excuse to show you off.

In the months following his appointment as Frater, he had become a bit of a recluse. Going through the loss of Sister and getting to grips with his new role had been difficult, and no-one blamed him for needing some time. But then he had found you. It had been a bit of a whirlwind romance - fun, passionate and all-consuming. Seeing the old Copia reemerge had been amazing, but being part of him finding a new lease on life and becoming the confident leader you knew he could be was beyond words.

It was clear to everyone that you were the reason for this new and improved Frater since you could never keep your hands off each other. Part of Frater's journey of self-discovery was remembering how much he enjoyed having an audience and most of tonight's guests had enjoyed an invitation to fulfil that need a time or two, happy to help their favourite Ministry power couple.

None of them seem to be looking now, engrossed in conversation with each other stood by their tables and recovering from the obscene banquet they had collectively demolished. As you surveyed your room of relaxed friends, you couldn't help consider the guest list for this evening and how vague Copia had been about the reason for the lavish gathering. You were sure he was up to something.

You feel his familiar grip sliding up your thigh. He pulls his chair close to yours so he can pepper kisses down your neck. He's already purring and rumbling in your ear with need.

"Frater," you sigh. "At least let your food digest." He laughs against your shoulder, undeterred. "We have guests."

"Oh, they won't mind." You feel his lips curl against your skin, still nibbling at you. "They can see how delicious you look, they will not blame me."

He whines as you swat him lightly, removing his mouth but continuing to massage your thigh, pushing the fabric of your dress higher. Not that there was much to push given the dress he had chosen for you to wear tonight was slit up to your hip. It was no mystery as to why it was one of his favourites.

"I am going to attend to our guests. You coming?"

He shoots you a wicked grin - oh, he is definitely up to something. Yes, he is full of food, and wine, and lust which you had become accustomed to in this seemingly never-ending honeymoon period, but there is an extra edge to his mischievousness tonight. When he shakes his head, and pats his stomach to signal he needs a minute before resuming hosting duties, you hatch a plan of your own.

He leans forward, intrigued and then more than a little shocked, as you shuffle in your chair to reach under your dress and, behind the view of the table, pull down the black and red lacy panties he had also picked out. You discreetly pass them to him, balling his fist over them in your palm.

"Fine. I guess you can entertain yourself," you whisper. "I'll be watching."

He gulps, already starting to palm himself under the table. But there is an unmistakable hesitance. As he unzips and wraps your underwear around his right hand, you see him consider whether to continue or not.

"What's wrong? Wondering how to pace yourself for… whatever you're not telling me about?"

The disappointment that you have him caught fades quickly into a smirk, although a pleading flicker tells you he knows he won't be able to help himself even though he knows he should. "Amore… don't you trust me?"

"Sometimes," you wink, before leaving him to his own devices.

You make sure to greet and talk to everyone in the dining hall, making sure they had enjoyed their meal and knew how glad you were that they had accepted an invitation to… whatever this evening is. You had to admit, you never got tired of people telling you how clearly besotted Frater is with you, and how good you are together. Whether or not you would take it, a lot of people gave you credit for Frater's renewed passion for life and wanted to thank you for it.

However, it was pretty difficult to concentrate on anything anyone said to you while keeping an eye on Copia. You keep him in your periphery and, at first, it's difficult to see if he's doing anything. He slouches back in his chair and keeps his gaze firmly trained on you. There is a suggestion of movement below the table but it is uncharacteristically careful. Subtle enough that, at a glance, no-one would notice but to anyone familiar with his proclivities, a longer inspection would probably give it away.

As you continue to float around the party, you find yourself growing more than a little impatient. The cool draft under your dress now becoming a major distraction, ignoring Copia and the growing dampness between your legs is almost impossible. So you look. Ignoring the laughter and small talk around you, you and Copia lock eyes across the room. You make a point of biting your lip and looking down to where the table blocks your view. His shoulder jerks with the movement of his wrist, getting faster as you watch.

Copia's head tilts back but not before you see his eyes roll, and you know it's the scratch of the lace over his tip that makes him shudder. Your thighs press together and you hope that no-one notices the shaky breath you suck in.

You lose sight of him for a minute - there is a bustle of activity as tables are cleared and drinks are refilled but you find yourself getting more and more irritated at the small crowd blocking your eye line. You freeze as it clears. Frater's jacket is gone and the top buttons of his shirt are undone. You can see the flushed red on his face fade to pink down his neck and disappear into his chest hair. His eyes are almost black now as they bore into you but your attention is soon drawn to his hand rising. With your underwear wrapped around his fingers, he brings them to his mouth and sucks at the fabric.

You leave your immediate company rather impolitely, heading back to Frater with no concern other than getting to him quickly. He looks very pleased with himself as you stride over, taking in his dishevelled state. With his legs spread wide over the sides of his chair, there is enough room for you to slip between him and the table. He immediately leans forward to stroke your exposed thigh with one hand still around his cock, considering if he could slide on to his knees before you.

"Enjoying yoursel…" you voice trails off as his fingers graze higher, pulling back your dress to inspect you.

You shiver as his touch hovers, the pad of his finger barely gracing the damp curls between your legs and as soon as he senses it, he pounces on you out of his chair. His lips find yours but are too impatient to stay there, dancing down your neck as his hand rubs against you. You have no choice but to hold on to him, weakening under his shameless need. Copia feels you trying to look behind you, to see if anyone is watching, and he laughs softly into your neck before spinning you around and snaking his arms around your waist.

The table loudly scrapes the floor as its shunted forward by you both, Copia pressing hard into your back and leaving kisses across your exposed skin. But, despite the noise and your display, no-one in the room reacts. Voices continue to murmur and glasses clink together as Copia nips at your shoulder.

The longer you look out, confused, the more bold Copia becomes and the harder it is to concentrate. But, looking at those closer to your table, you see that they are decidedly, purposefully not looking, with some finding it harder than others to ignore you both, especially as Copia's groans begin to get louder while groping and rolling against you. Apparently not happy with your restraint, he slips his hand back under your dress and strokes through your slick at an already furious pace.

You bite down hard in an attempt to stifle yourself but, with the merciless attention of Frater's fingers and the slow realisation of what exactly is happening, you start to allow yourself to let go. Soft gasps at first, still cautious. But Copia knows you can't hold out much longer and so buries two fingers inside you, drawing out a sharp, surprised moan. You try to say his name. You try to ask a question but it dies in your throat as his fingers thrust into you. You try not to collapse under the weight of the heat crawling up your chest.

As he peels down one strap of your dress, you finally find your voice again but you barely manage to address him before he interrupts.

"Our audience does not seem to be very engaged. Would you like me to make them pay attention?"

"No! I—"

You whine as he circles your clit, feeling his cock digging into you harder to find some friction. Your eyes dart around the room, aware of even more of those present smirking and blushing and doing anything they can to avert their eyes.

"Maybe they will if I throw you over this table, hm? Bend you over and have you right here."

He grunts as his hips snap forward, his words affecting him as much as you.

"I—I know you are— used to an audience but," you stutter, and yet again he interrupts.

"I do not like to be on stage alone," he says low in your ear. "And, I told you I wanted to show you off."

He inhales deeply with his face buried in your hair as his fingers pump impossibly harder, with his palm cupped to rub against your aching clit. As your pleasure builds, your vision blurs and your resolution to stay quiet completely folds as the faces in the crowd fade. You fall back against Copia, completely at his mercy and on fire in his arms - with embarrassment or desire you're not entirely sure. While you may have enjoyed a guest or two in your chambers, a crowd of this size was very intimidating but under Frater's command, your worries quickly take a backseat to his attention.

By now, he knows your body better than his own. He can coax and charm an orgasm from you at will, knowing how and where you need to be touched and tasted to the point of being able to cause your climax on cue. He curls his fingers inside you and clamps his mouth over your pulse point, sucking harshly as you cum, and swiping over your clit with every stutter of your body until you feel like you might faint. You sob as it crackles through you, trying to ignore the noticeable but momentary shift in the room - the noise and activity stops for only a fraction of a second, as everyone actively struggles to not acknowledge you.

Before you can fully come back to your senses, you are pulled to face Frater and find yourself breathing heavily into his mouth as his lips crash to yours. You stop thinking, focused on the taste of him and his possessive grasp. His mouth falls open as you grip his cock, sighing in relief as you finally rid yourself of any misgivings and sit back on the table, wrapping your legs around him. There's not much point in shame now, and so you resign yourself to your role of providing the after-dinner entertainment.

You're not surprised by Copia's impatience given how long the evening had been. Not to mention how long he must have been planning this. It's a miracle actually that he's even functional right now. As soon as you are in position, he snaps forward and you cry out as he stretches you open. He wastes no time, fucking into you as hard and fast as his body will allow. The table rattles with the force, all while you both moan and whimper with absolutely no concern if anyone is watching or not anymore. Everything fades out of focus as you allow yourself to lie back, your fingers scrunching the tablecloth as Copia commits to a punishing rhythm with threatens to steal every breath from your lungs. The thump of the table and the sound of your bodies clashing together overwhelms the buzz of the party but every person continues to pretend not to notice.

With a particularly brutal thrust, he hits the perfect spot inside you to make your body almost convulse; your back twinges into an arch as your necks snaps back just enough to get a glimpse of the crowd. The atmosphere feels thick and heavy but they still do not dare to look directly at you. Your curiosity does not escape Frater and, much to your disappointment, he slows for a moment to address it.

"Shall I get their attention now?" He thrusts as you open your mouth to answer, simply to amuse himself by forcing a piercing cry out of you. "As Frater, I should really make a toast."

Your eyes bulge with rising panic, as the bruising grip on your leg you hadn't really noticed before disappears. He reaches over you to take a glass from the table in one hand, and a small dessert spoon in the other. He looks down at you, admiring and delighting in the way you squirm.

When he taps the glass twice, the whole room stops.

Author's note: I do feel a little mean ending it there, so apologies. But uh, you can probably guess what follows. And then everyone clapped :)

Taglist: @copiasslut @kosem-sultan167 @burichu @unholyguleh @zealoushound @anomalousghost @thegholdenghoulz @gh0ul-dinner <3