Take Me To Church (Erisol fanfic)

Take Me To Church

It was only when he was alone with him that he could feel clean from his sins.  Whenever the violet blood was by himself he couldn’t stop the darkness from flooding his thoughts.  He hated himself.  He was despicable.  He could only squeeze his eyes shut against the salty tears that slid down his face and clench his fists tightly as he screamed at the heavens that he knew he was born sick.  Nothing could make the darkness go away- nothing except him. 

            He had let himself be deluded into thinking that he had been just another low blooded piece of trash littering the planet until he discovered that he could offer him what no other being could.  He was different from all the others and he wished he had found him sooner.  Every word the yellow blood spoke to him was absolute- his lisping language the sea dweller’s testament.  He found himself making a pilgrimage to the communal hive at least once a week, each time feeling a bit more desperate.  Every time the psionic would take him in and lead him to the respiteblock.

            The Aquarius would repent to the double horned troll as finger tips danced across skin.  All the words he wanted to hear were breathlessly whispered into his ear from behind oversized double fangs.  He drank in every gasp he heard, tasted every bead of sweat, and caressed every muscle twitch.  He knew he was sick but he loved it if it meant the yellow blooded troll would command him to be well.  He worshipped the troll above him and sobbed his undying devotion to him as he was worked over the edge.  He would lay exhausted, in a state of deathless death as the troll next to him lay wearing nothing but a smirk.

            He would feel exalted and his god would demand sacrifices.  His lover was the moon in his sky and he would gladly bring the expensive computer parts he asked for or wear the Gemini symbol on a chain around his neck.  He even submitted to handing over his priceless amethyst ring even if for no reason other than the fact that it was his favorite possession.  No matter what was asked of him it was always worth it.

            The darkness would inevitably return to his thoughts and he would find himself back at the communal hive building writhing underneath the low blood in confession.  The psionic would press gentle kisses across his salty skin and he would feel cleansed again.  He would moan his prayers into his deity’s mouth as the ritual was performed.  Afterwards, his matesprit would roll onto his back with a smirk on his lips and stroke his gills absently as the Aquarius curled into him and professed his faith in gasping breaths against his lover’s neck.  He was sick but he loved it.