Devil at the Vatican (BL)

Chapter 18

Elio waited for hours in the dark for the priest to return. He dozed off at a point, but the creaking of the ship startled him back to consciousness. There was clamoring outside the door, followed by the sounds of chatting guests and busy crewmen. Based on the smells alone, he knew when the dinner hour came and went. 

It was a couple of hours after silence deafened the ship that Elio began to wiggle from his bonds. His bladder screamed for release. He was adamant that he would not wet himself on this lovely bed.

Marcel tied the stoles rather tightly, so it took quite a while of struggling before he managed to pull one arm free. After untying his other arm and legs, Elio rushed over to the chamber pot to urinate. Once that was done, he simply sat on the bed, continuing to wait for Marcel. 

"He forgot about you. You thought you were special but the only thing that is special about you is meeeeeeeee...."

"Hush!" Elio snapped at the demon. Tingles spread across Elio's stomach, and he crossed his legs. He could hear the demon clearer now, as a separate voice inside of him, distinct and foreign.

"Remember how good it felt when he touched you?" the demon hissed. "You perverted boy..."

"You are making me think these things." Elio brought one of the bracelets to his stomach to chase away the demon's teasing. Nothing happened. His belly still felt warm. His heart still raced. 

"I can't control you like this, not with those bracelets on. You want him all on your own. You wanted Andries all on your own and you wanted to hurt Marvin... all on your own."

"No, you made me want those things," Elio cried, clenching his head in his hands. "You put that sin in my head. You are disgusting..."

"Did I make you lust your father? The butler Cecil? Did I bring you to lust Landon or Ellery? No because your lust has always been your own... although I might have had a hand in manifesting it."

"You twisted it. You ruined me, stole my virginity."

The demon was silent. Because it was a part of him, Elio could tell it was thinking, considering what to say back. The thing was... intelligent.

"I'm going to find Marcel."

Partially driven by anger, partially driven by fear, Elio left their cabin and stepped into the corridor. First, he knocked on Petru's cabin door, but he did not respond. Placing an ear on the door, Elio heard Petru's soft snores. No matter how many times he knocked, the man would not awaken. 

The corridor was long and dark, like the long hallways of Oliver's mansion. A crewman carrying a lantern passed him in the hall, only offering a small nod in greeting. 

"Excuse me," Elio said, following after him. 

The crewman vanished behind a corner, but when Elio reached that same corner, the crewman was gone. There was only a lantern posted on the wall and a stretch of wooden doors. Just by the sounds of the ship, it was clear, much of it was hollow, empty.

There was a door open in the middle of the hall, leading to a flight of steps downwards. Elio followed the stairs two levels down. Maybe it was his preoccupation with navigation, but the sway of the ship was barely noticeable down here. 

The stench of stale bread and body odor hit Elio as soon as he entered the corridors. No decorations coated the walls. The doors all looked like service entrances. The sound of rats carried into the air. Elio walked until he reached a large open space with long tables and rotted wooden chairs. 

About a dozen people turned to look at him when he walked in. A group of four men were the closest to Elio, huddled around a table playing cards. Elio crossed his arms over his chest. The cold was sharper in steerage.

"I am looking for Father Marcel," Elio said, his voice suddenly hoarse.

Nothing. The people just stared at him as he stood there. Feeling rather awkward, Elio offered a smile and little wave. They then resumed their business, playing cards and talking amongst themselves.

"You look for the priest?" a voice said behind him, coming from the back corner of the room.

Elio jumped and spun around. A boy just a few years younger than himself sat on a crate with a piece of bread in his hands, dark thick brown curls curtaining his eyebrows. Elio nodded and replied, "Do you know where he is?"

"He go up," the boy said with a thick Italian accent. "To the captain of the ship."

"Where is the captain?"

"Up." He pointed upwards. "He left with the pretty girl. The... the red hair girl Faustina. She take him."

Elio's stomach soured. His memory transported him back the bed, now realizing how beautiful the young woman was... her slender arms held fast against her body and the shape of her neck. 

Elio didn't know why but he rushed out of the room, down the hall, and up the stairs. He had to force himself to travel at a relaxed pace. Though he expected the demon to taunt him, the beast continued to stay silent. 

No crewmen would talk to Elio, and if they did, their English was lacking. Elio wandered the upper floors aimlessly, searching for Father Marcel. He found his way back to his room a few times in his trek but continued to find it empty. 

Finally, Elio made his way to the dining gallery on the top floor passengers were allowed. It was a beautiful room that opened to a large patio deck on the ship. Windows lined three of the walls, which would have led to a spectacular view when the sun was up. 

A sound drew Elio to the glass doors that opened to the deck, which also faced the front of the ship. He crept over, careful of his footing on the creaky wooden floors. Darkness swallowed him in the gallery except for the few bright lanterns along the outside walls. 

Once he made it to one of the doors, Elio opened the curtain ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of what was outside. 

His eyes widen. His breath hitched. The ship seemed to careen into a whirlwind just then and fall off the edge of the earth. It took every ounce of resolve to keep his knees from buckling. 

Father Marcel... the man he trusted with the good of his soul, the one that decided to haul him across the world to cleanse the evil from his body... was standing at the inner corner of the deck with the front of his pants undone. Elio's eyes could make out his rigid stomach. A trail of hair traced from his belly button down to the deep V of his hips. The priest's head dropped back. Veins in his neck protruded as his breathing quickened.

Below him was the red-headed woman Faustina, on her knees, with Father Marcel's throbbing member in her mouth.