in the middle of the night, it pees

POV has a vulva and vagina and is addressed in feminine terms (sorella).

CW: Claws. Glove kink. A lot of eye contact. Grindin'. Mouth stuff. The inherent eroticism of the...Anti-Eucharist? What do we call Satanic Communion?

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Late for Mass again. The fourth week in a row now. I'd just been having so much trouble falling asleep lately, and waking up was even worse. I tried to sneak in unobtrusively but Papa's mismatched eyes landed on me immediately. He paused in the middle of his sentence, drumming his gloved fingers on the pulpit for a moment before continuing.

When it came time for Communion I dutifully lined up with my siblings, anxiously awaiting my turn and sending a quiet prayer to Satan that Papa, his representative on Earth, may have forgotten my face. I kept my eyes down as I knelt before him and opened my mouth to receive the Sacrament. After a beat, my heart dropped. He wasn't moving. The Body of our Dark Lord would not be given to me so easily today. When I finally met his gaze he tilted his head just a touch and quietly tsked at me before finally holding out the wafer.

"The Body of our Lord," he said.

"Nema," I murmured. He didn't place it on my tongue as usual, instead making me lean toward him to take it in my mouth, the tip of one of his golden claws cold against my tongue.

When he said, "The Blood of our Lord," his voice dropped lower.

"Nema."

As before he held the chalice just out of reach, subtly wagging a finger at me when I didn't immediately come to him. When the wine hit my tongue I looked up at him again, receiving only an enigmatic stare. As I rose and walked back to my seat I could feel his eyes on me.

I kept my eyes down for the rest of our Black Mass, trying my best to hide behind the people in front of me, but sure enough, when the service ended I was asked to stay behind. When the basilica was empty of everyone but the two of us, I finally dared look at him. He crooked his finger at me and led me to the vestry, holding the door open for me.

"We can speak a little more privately in here, sorella, yes?"

The vestry was smaller than I'd expected, smaller even than my own little room, though much more richly realized with dark wood almost enclosing the entire space. One wall was lined with shelves and cabinets, the one opposite had an opened closet door where spare vestments hung. The golden hem of one of Papa's albs caught my eye, just peeking out from the shadows.

The only furniture in the room was a leather-padded chair and the small table set next to it. Papa sat down with a soft groan and crossed his legs, then smoothed his chasuble over his knees and sat back, looking at me expectantly.

"I'm sorry for being late for Mass again, Papa," I said.

"This is not the second time, or even the third, is it?"

"No, Papa."

He seemed to want more from me but I couldn't find the words. All excuses felt flimsy in his presence. He started drumming his fingers again, the metal tips tapping loudly on the table, pointedly communicating his annoyance.

"And why are you late...?" He asked the question like I was an idiot. Frankly, I was starting to feel like one.

"I've been having trouble sleeping, Papa. And waking up."

"Why?"

"I..." I trailed off before shrugging helplessly, "I don't know."

"Stress?"

"I guess? I don't really know."

"You seem tense," he said thoughtfully, his fingers stopped their clattering little wave; he tapped them against the table as one, "Come here, sorella."

I hesitated and he waved impatiently, continuing to beckon me until my habit brushed against him.

"You do not indulge in the pleasures of the flesh very often here, I am told."

"What?" I'd heard him just fine; The heat rushing to my face made that clear.

"Your siblings all have their fun together, but not you."

I bit my lip and shrugged again, looking at the tasteful hardwood flooring as though an answer were written in the grain of the wood.

"Look at me," the low, disapproving voice that had appeared during Communion returned, brooking no protest. I shivered when I met his eyes and his fingers tapped loudly on the table again. 

"Do you not feel those desires?" Beneath the commanding tone there was an understanding, primed to turn sympathetic if need be. I'd been here a long time and never indulged - it wasn't a leap to think perhaps it wasn't something I wanted.

"No, Papa. I...I feel them." He had it backwards, unfortunately. A lack of desire would be much easier here. I simply hadn't found anyone who was worth spending time with. Nobody else here was like him, after all. 

"It is a very easy way to relieve stress, you know? Tension," a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth when I swallowed hard, trying to stand still and ignore the ache settling between my legs.

He cocked his head to the side and considered me for a moment before asking, "Do you like men, sorella?"

Of course I heard him, but once again couldn't stop a surprised "What?" He raised his eyebrows and waited, one claw rapping hard into the table.

"Y-yes, Papa," I cleared my throat, trying to will away the blush I felt taking over my face, "I...I like men."

"Good. Then kneel."

He stood, the rustle of his vestments and click of his shoes covering the whimper that escaped me. I slowly sank to my knees, heart pounding, skipping a beat at the sound of the lock turning.

He sat back down in front of me and said, "Closer," gesturing until I was between his knees. He looked down at me, studying me, finally reaching for me. 

The tight black leather around his hand was smooth against my skin as he touched my chin and tilted my face to really look at him. Cold metal grazed my neck, and he cracked a smile when I shivered.

"The last time you were kneeling before me you just waited to receive His Body," he said, tracing my jaw with his fingers, "Do you think that is what our Lord wants?"

"I...I don't know. No?" I mumbled. How was I supposed to focus on anything other than his touch? His thumb swiped across my lips, pulling them apart.

"No, sorella," he said gently, "You should come to the Sacrament eagerly. The Lord Below celebrates desire, particularly of Him." A golden claw slipped between my lips, hooking on my teeth just enough to make me move closer. His knees bumped against my side and I squeezed my arms closer to my body, unsure if I was allowed to touch him, unsure what I'd do if I could. His thumb pushed further into my mouth for just a moment before retreating.

"I will teach you how to worship," he leaned back in his chair, the warmth of his thighs surrounding me as his hips slid closer. He rested his elbow on the little table and held his hand toward me, palm-down.

"Well?" he said after a pause, "Did you think we would use His actual Body?"

"N-no, Papa..."

"Then come to my hand."

When I stretched forward he held up a finger to halt me, saying, "'Yes, Papa,'" pointedly.

"Yes, Papa."

He nodded for me to continue. As soon as my lips touched him my eyes closed and he stopped me again with a scolding tsk.

"Sorella," he said sternly, "Does our Lord ask you to come to Him blindly?"

"No, Papa."

"No, only the Nemesis would ask you to take him in darkness. You come to Satan with open eyes, understand?"

"Yes, Papa," my cheeks were blazing hot now as I stared into that captivating white eye. I was unable to stifle a soft moan when his gloved fingers finally passed my lips, the leather so tight and supple it felt like his living skin. His expression grew darker, dreamier as I took him in and out of my mouth. The next time I moaned around him I unthinkingly closed my eyes again.

Tsk.

"His Body, sorella. Again." He seemed to be waiting for something.

I tentatively said, "Nema, Papa," and that proved to be the correct answer. Unfortunately, he had to repeat himself only moments later. I couldn't help it: the claws weren't as sharp as they looked, thankfully, but they were hard and whenever they touched the back of my tongue my body would reflexively whimper and try to close my eyes.

"His Body, sorella."

"N-nema, Papa."

The way he would linger when he was all the way in my mouth made me squirm every time. I tried to go faster - not only to avoid disappointing him more but because I wanted it faster, but no. He pulled away again, a dark amusement glinting in his eyes.

"You cannot rush devotion," he said, "Luckily your Papa is a patient man, eh? His Body."

"...Nema, Papa."

His two middle fingers were offered now and his index finger was curled against my cheek, the tip of that golden claw just barely digging into my skin.

"One cannot hurry into Satan's grace," he said quietly, then, "His Body, sorella. Again."

"You must come to Satan thoughtfully, sorella. His Body."

"Again. Our Lord wants you to approach him with an open mind and wonder in your heart, understand?"

"You must appreciate and admire His grace and light, sorella. Again. His Body."

"How can you appreciate Him if you take Him too quickly to even taste Him?"

"Come to Him devoutly, sorella. Come to Him with reverence."

"Take Him lovingly onto your tongue and the heart will follow."

"Again. His Body. His Body. Again. His Body. Again. Again. Again."

I was shaking when he finally left my mouth and simply stroked my cheek rather than scolding me again. My knees ached and the collar of my habit was soaked from a steady trickle of drool that had crept down my neck. I tried my best to keep still but couldn't help pressing my thighs together, the heat building in me approaching intolerable. My panties were soaked, dragging conspicuously with the slightest movement, constantly tearing my focus.

"You did well," he said, looking at me with warm, understanding eyes, "And how do you feel?"

"My...My knees hurt, Papa," I tried to contain the whining pitch that desperately wanted to come out.

"Poor dear," he said, mostly sympathetic and only a little mocking. He motioned for me to rise and gently touched the reddened skin, inspecting it with a satisfied hum before looking back into my eyes.

"Would you like to go?" He glanced at my knees again, "Or do you feel there is more for you to learn?"

I swallowed and felt my legs tremble beneath me, "I...I'd like to learn more from you, Papa."

"Good," his hand wrapped smoothly around my wrist and pulled me closer, parting my legs with his knee, "Sit."

He sat me firmly on his thigh before I could even think to ease myself onto him, and a kind of smug satisfaction gleamed in his eye when I whimpered at the impact. His hand slid around my waist, settling at the small of my back and pulling me even closer, rubbing my aching cunt along his leg. Purely out of reflex I put a hand against him when I lost my head for a moment. I gasped when I realized what I'd done and jerked my hand away, but he returned it to his chest, flattening his palm against the back of my hand.

"I am just a man, sorella," he said softly, then added, almost hesitantly, "Your touch is welcomed."

"Y-yes, Papa."

"So, tell me," the hand holding mine to his chest drifted away, "How long has it been for you? Since you've been with someone," he clarified. Because I was straddling his leg my habit was already above my knees, but now his hand was there too. He would push the soft black fabric just a little further up, then slowly drag his claws down my leg, striping my thigh with thin lines before repeating it. 

"It's...been a few years, Papa," I bit my lip as he moved under me, his leg and hands working in tandem to prevent me ever sitting still. His fingers reached my hip and slid under the waistband of my underwear, idly tugging at the fabric. 

"A shame we did not meet earlier," he held me still with nothing but a look as he hooked a talon around the elastic and followed it inward, musing, "I could have taught you so much."

"So, sorella, what have you learned today?"

"W...what?"

"Have you forgotten already?" His fingers were still under the waistband as he moved them back to my hip and started making me move along his thigh.

"N-no, Papa, I didn't forget," I bit my lip again and whimpered as my needy, throbbing cunt rubbed against him. 

"Then tell me," he was so close that I could clearly see his eyes for the first time; one a lovely green and the one I'd always thought was just white was actually the palest blue, though both were difficult to see with his pupils flared so wide under half-closed lids.

"You...you can't rush devotion," I managed to keep most of the words steady. He hummed a mmhmm and the hand at my back pushed me to keep moving. When I started grinding against his leg on my own a satisfied sigh rumbled from deep in his chest.

"You have to...a-appreciate His light," I whimpered when his clawed fingers dug into the flesh of my hip, "And have wonder in...in your heart."

"Good," he murmured, "More."

"Our Lord wants...wants..." I bit my lip as I tried to focus on anything but my cunt, dripping with its desperation to be filled. 

"Focus, sorella," he sounded amused but just a touch out of breath himself, and pushed his leg up against me.

"Mm...y-yes...Yes, Papa...Our Lord...wants you to approach with an o-open mind," remembering anything that had happened before this moment was approaching impossible.

"More," he said quietly as the claws dragged inwards from my hip. He searched my eyes for permission before sliding his hand into my panties, breathing out a satisfied sigh when I whimpered and grabbed the silky robe between us with a tight fist. He chuckled again when my hips jerked toward his hand.

His voice was almost sing-song when he said, "Sorella," in a reminding tone. 

"How- nng-"

He cut me off, looking more than a little smug as his fingers worked further in, rubbing along either side of my slit, slowly dragging the tips of his claws along the puffy, sensitive skin.

"H-how can you appreciate Him," I whimpered when I saw his eyes were having trouble staying open too, yet still they held me, "If you...take Him too quickly to...to taste Him?" A soft sound came from him, just a little something carried on a tremulous breath, and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed hard. Even under the neat lines of paint on his face I could see his skin blooming with color.

"Take Him with your tongue and...the heart will follow," I said, and his eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment before locking back onto mine. I had to shift my weight to stay comfortable and accidentally brushed my knee against him. It was hidden well under the robes, but the catch in his breath told me what I'd felt was his cock. 

He wasn't commanding any more recitations of me, only breathing through full, parted lips as his fingers finally slipped inward. 

"So wet for your Papa," he purred. The waver in his voice when he felt the slick betrayed his calm facade. Two fingers slid inside me, gently, carefully, as another quiet moan escaped his lips. He slowly worked them in and out, my own moans failing to camouflage the sounds of wet leather.

I could feel the claws, yes, hard as they were, but it didn't seem to be the first time he'd done this; his hand was deft and sure, his skill easily overtaking the brief flashes of discomfort. His other two fingers were rubbing along outside and the claws there did dig in, poking at the tender flesh every time he pushed deep inside. Pain and pleasure warred as I clenched around him, pleasure winning out every time.

I'd been gripping his robe this whole time but now, watching his eyes mist over with desire, my hand moved on its own and traveled down his body. Long, dark eyelashes fluttered shut again when I rubbed my palm along the outline of his cock. 

"How can I appreciate Him," I breathed, "If you...If I don't take the time to taste Him?" Papa didn't seem to care that I'd gotten the words wrong, especially when I squeezed him between my fingers. He tipped his head back and groaned softly before moving his fingers to my clit. When I cried out and squeezed his cock again he muttered something as his free hand went under his robe.

"Just...just a moment, sorella," he said hurriedly, the hand on me stilling for a moment as he tugged at his vestments, freeing them from under my legs. He pushed the chasuble aside and had started pulling his alb up as well when his fingers started moving again. His eyes and attention snapped back to me when he grabbed my hand and placed it on his bulge. 

"Sorry," he breathed, "Sorry about that, now..." he seemed almost shy suddenly, as if he were embarrassed to tell me to touch him. As if simply feeling how hard he was hadn't made me moan with a mad want to feel more. He shifted in his seat, making me lean over him more, bringing my face so much closer to his. His finger was still moving so smoothly over my clit and it was getting harder and harder to both stay in place and look at him. Every time he made me cry out his cock would twitch so strongly, and he would quietly echo my moans.

"Papa," I said, "Please...I..." I started unfastening his belt, grabbing at his pants to try and free the cock I needed so desperately to touch. "You- take Him with your tongue, that's...that's what you told me..."

"Yes," he breathed, "You will, sorella, soon." His hand joined mine, assisting as I started losing focus. His claws were digging into me, helping keep the finger on my clit in place as he pulled me closer to climax with every motion of his finger.

His lips parted with a breathy moan when I finally wrapped my hand around his cock, again when I spread his leaking precum around the head. I saw him looking back and forth between my eyes and lips, and his mouth was so very close...

"Papa, can...can I-"

Those full lips interrupted me, need guiding our tongues to one another, the lingering taste of the Sacrament a reminder of what higher needs we were serving together. Every time I rolled my hips toward him I felt the metal points more acutely, but with every jolt of pleasure I minded less and less. By the time the heat finally burst through me each little stab was a welcome visitor, strange as they were. My head fell back as I cried out and his mouth was on my neck, breathing his own needy moans across my skin as I shuddered in the close embrace of his arm hugging me tight.

His lips found mine again, eagerly taking in the sound of my bliss, smiling when I whimpered at his touch. His hand moved slowly, sweetly, just on the edge of anything that would overstimulate me but playing with the sensitivity nonetheless. His cock twitched when he made me shiver, a reminder that he was still held by me, still in need.

With every stroke of my hand he seemed to melt a little more. Our leader, our guide on this Earth, Papa Emeritus the Third, touched by divinity and little else - now rocking his hips in time to my hand, his vestments crumpled and pushed out of the way, the smeared paint around his mouth revealing the soft, flushed skin of a mortal man. His hand twined into my hair, crushing our lips together in a kiss that only got messier and more frantic as he lost his composure. He couldn't keep his hands still - grabbing my hips and ass to keep me grinding against him, dragging his fingers along my thigh, the claws digging in and releasing as they wandered my body, finally tugging at the sleeve of my habit.

I broke away from the kiss that we'd seemingly fallen into hours ago and said, "I want- let me taste you, Papa, please, I-"

He ignored me and pulled at my sleeve again, "This," he said, "Take this off." I managed to unzip myself and he helped pull it off, letting it pool around my waist as he mouthed at my naked breast, groping the other.

He sighed happily against my skin and said, "I know you want- I know what you want, sorella," he sucked at my nipple for a moment before continuing, "but I want to hear you cum again, so," he looked up at me and smiled, "you will." His tone was as decisive as his grasp when he took my hand off his cock and laced his fingers through mine. He leaned back and nudged me with his leg, watching me grind on his thigh with a hungry, approving smile as he lazily stroked himself. He was still squeezing my breast, idly rubbing his thumb across my nipple as his attention flicked between my eyes and my cunt.

The claws weren't digging into me but pressing in just enough to make their own indentations in my skin, and when his thumb swiped again it briefly left a thin trace in the skin above my nipple. My thighs were covered in lines from hip to knee, and the sight gave me an odd thrill. I pressed his hand harder into me and moaned as the pinpricks turned into tiny sparks of pleasure. He seemed amused but squeezed tighter and delicately pinched, catching my nipple between the claws, his breath hitching when I shuddered with pleasure.

When my hips started falling out of any rhythm and my cries were almost a constant note, he pulled at my nipple again to bring me closer, bring me back to his mouth. He took my nipple in his mouth again and groaned when my nails dug into the back of his neck, and when my orgasm surged through me like lightning he dug his claws in and moaned softly into me.

"Good, sorella, so good for your Papa," I heard him faintly. His arms went around me as I slumped against his chest, the smooth, supple leather on his hands soothing the scratches he left in me, making me shiver when the metal points brushed across my back. As I caught my breath I felt his hitch and saw he was slowly pumping his cock. He touched my chin and made me look him in the eye again before drawing near, as if to kiss me again, but instead his lips went to my ear.

"Devotion is shown on your knees."

"Yes, Papa," I shivered. I managed to rise on shaking legs before kneeling again. He slid forward in his seat, gripping his cock as I moved closer, letting out a shaking breath when my lips touched him. When I wrapped my hand around him he loosened his grip but kept his hand close, grazing my skin with a claw whenever I was close enough. I mouthed at the underside of his cock, running my tongue along the length of him, whimpering when his claw tapped my cheek.

"His Body, sorella," he murmured, sucking in a breath when I met his eye again.

I dutifully said, "Nema, Papa," before tonguing at his leaking slit, savoring his trembling breaths as much as my first taste of him. I wrapped my lips around his cock and gently worked his foreskin down, following it with my mouth and taking as much of him as I could. When I moaned softly around him I felt his hand go around the back of my head, grabbing my veil to direct me.

"Good," he breathed, moving my head faster, "That- ah- good, sorella, just...just like that," his other hand slid along my arm to my shoulder before raking back down, the gold sketching lines across my skin. The sensation made me shiver, made me forget I'd even closed my eyes again until I heard it again.

"His Body," he reminded me, so quietly I almost mistook it for a breath. When I tried to respond he kept me in place with my mouth full.

"His Body, sorella," he laughed softly and drummed his claws against my arm. I made a questioning noise and he laughed again. He brushed his thumb across my cheek and gave me an encouraging smile. I tried to say it, managed something like eh-aw and he started moving my head again.

"It is a different way to take the Sacrament," he said breathlessly, "But you have- ah- have to do it properly, you know?" He pulled at my veil, raising me up more on my knees as his hips started rolling, thrusting his cock into my mouth more and more quickly, more deeply. His grip tightened on my shoulder, the five little points of almost-pain only making my moans louder. He groaned and tipped his head back, his whole body trembling as he panted desperately, whimpers filling the room until he gasped and pushed all the way into my mouth.

"Fuck," he choked, and his body locked for a moment until a deep growl rumbled from him and he spilled into my mouth, thick and hot and coating my tongue.

His hands loosened and he slid further down in his chair as his body went slack, his mitre dangerously close to tipping from his head as he panted for breath. A shiver rushed over his whole body from the soft parting licks I gave him. He squeezed my hand and let out a soft phew before looking at me, giving me a tired smile as he adjusted his mitre.

"Thank you, Papa," I smiled at him and flicked my tongue under the head of his cock even as he was softening in my hand.

"Ah," he flinched, "That- that will be enough, sorella, thank you." He sat up straight and tucked himself back into his pants, loudly clearing his throat as he set his vestments back into place. When I had my arms back in my sleeves he leaned over to zip up the back for me, his face lingering close to mine before giving me a soft kiss on the cheek. He brushed some stray hairs from my face and adjusted my veil for me, then took my hands to help me stand.

I tried to make myself presentable and his hands came to rest on my hips as he watched me smooth my habit. When I was done he sat back and cleared his throat again, looking away.

"Well," he said quietly, "I...I hope this has been, ah, helpful, sorella."

"Yes, I...Thank you, Papa." I stood for a moment, unsure what to do as we both stewed in the awkwardness that settled over the room, then turned to leave.

"Sorella?" his voice was soft and uncertain, so unlike the Papa I'd only known from afar until today. When I turned he beckoned me closer, taking my hand when he could. He looked up at me, searching my eyes for a moment before pulling me to him again for a parting kiss.

"Be well, sorella."

I waited outside the doors until I heard his voice echo through the basilica. He had already started his sermon when I entered, and his mismatched eyes lingered on me as I took my time finding a seat. Whenever my attention would drift and I started looking around the room, at all the beautiful artwork and ornamentation surrounding us, a sharp tap would echo from the pulpit.

When it was time for Communion I kept my eyes to the ground as I knelt before him. I waited before meeting his eye and he made me reach for the Sacrament again, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he subtly gave me a disapproving shake of his head.

Once the basilica had emptied he cleared his throat loudly and opened the vestry door, tapping his fingers against the wood as I approached.

"Late again, sorella."

"Only by a minute, Papa."

"A minute late is still late," he scolded, shutting the door behind us, "And I see you still do not understand how to properly take the Sacrament."

"I am a slow learner, Papa," goosebumps rushed over me when his fingers curled around my shoulders.

"Very well." His breath was warm against my neck.

"Kneel."

Thank you very much for reading 💚💜

I am handing out spiritual Neosporin and band-aids for all the psychic damage those claws have caused to the coochies of our minds.

If you enjoyed Terzo being such a patient and helpful Papa and can spare some cents for a broke bitch, I have a tip jar

Don't know why I made Terzo a sweet softboi here so don't ask. Turns out it was me being a flippin' genius.

Have instead a little note from my outline that made me laugh:

Yea that's basically it that's the story.

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Also I guess sometimes people want to be tagged when I write things?????? I guess let me know if you? also want? tagged????