Post-canon PSL

[buenpastor]

[ it's been over a year since the rances, months now since the vatican officially sanctioned tomas as an exorcist, twelve days since they— because it's they, even if marcus isn't officially working for the church. twelve days since bennett sent them to vienna, to see to a young man named jakob who'd been hearing voices.

marcus had warned tomas about the dangers of complacency, and tomas understood why now; they'd done two exorcisms since casey, and they'd both been simple in comparison. the demons hadn't taken tomas seriously.

this recent one had. there's a learning curve to becoming a good exorcist, or so marcus kept saying, and he'd let tomas fight the demon up until it became a danger to the host, then he'd stepped in.

god likes it better when they work together; the words flow more easily, their voices join in as one. tomas knows he can be strong on his own. with marcus he feels unbeatable.

they have a room in jakob's house, it's a single bed and a bathroom that have seen very little use since their arrival. when jakob's eyes clear up and his voice is his own again, after niceties are exchanged; thank yous, a doctor is called, the family reassured. tomas and marcus go to that little room and close the door behind them.

once they call bennett he'll have them on a plane outside the country within hours, but it's late and they can afford a few hours to take a breather. ]

Comments

[missio]

[ marcus does laugh, then, the sound thick in his throat. he starts to thrust into tomas’ hand in earnest, slow unhurried thrusts. the tip of his cock is wet now, like it had been earlier just from watching tomas come apart in the bindings, and in the quiet of the room it’s obvious he’s finding it harder to breathe steadily. ]

[buenpastor]

[ tomas is too spent to get hard again, but he still feels something stirring in the pit of his stomach. ]

Tell me... [ the words are quiet, barely above marcus' breaths. ] Tell me what you'll do to me. What you want.

[missio]

[ another low groan steals its way out of his throat as he jerks harder into tomas’ hand. marcus isn’t particularly accustomed to being told what to do, especially not by tomas, and while normally he’d make light of the matter he’s kind of--preoccupied at the moment. ]

I--ah.

[ his fingers tighten in tomas’ shirt; he has to work on his ability to use words. ]

Keep saying I’m going to bend you over. Do a number on that … [ he arches again into another stroke of tomas’ fingers. ] That ridiculous arse.

[buenpastor]

[ he jerks him faster, harder. he's far from being able to do to marcus what marcus does to him, but he'll get there. ]

I want you to. I want you to have your way with me, let go...

[missio]

It’s going to be … phenomenal. You won’t want to sleep at night without getting fucked first.

[ he’s panting now, wet harsh breaths, thrusting now into tomas’ hand. he’s close now, his erection hot and heavy, nails digging in through the fabric of tomas’ tee. ]

Make you forget you ever wanted anything else.

[buenpastor]

I dream about your hands. [ it sounds like a confession, only he doesn't feel guilty about it. ] Been dreaming about your cock too.

[ he's heated now too, not hard but he could get there in a minute or two. ]

[missio]

[ they spent almost every minute together. it shouldn’t thrill marcus as much as it does, that tomas dreams of him and then wakes up with him, that possibly he occupies as much of tomas’ mind as tomas does his. it seems only fair that this obsession cuts both ways, running hotter than his own blood, consuming him in ways that even his old self would’ve thought of as sinful.

his mouth pulls clumsily back over tomas’ jaw. he’s biting his throat, shuddering. ]

Yeah … oh, yes. I’m going to fill you up, make you mine, over and over …

[buenpastor]

I'm already yours.

[ he's flushed thinking about it, marcus on top of him, gentle and commanding at once. tomas used to picture it all as rougher, hurried, clandestine. something shameful, better kept secret. reality is much better, only a secret out of necessity, not shame. ]

I want to taste you. [ another confession, quiet and curious. ]

[missio]

[ the words nearly startle him: his teeth sink in just that much harder, and his whole body shudders. he’s already close; the mere picture, a mercury-quick flash in his head, is almost his undoing. ]

Fuck, Tomas.

[buenpastor]

[ the bite makes him moan, and he crushes marcus' mouth with his into a heated kiss, pulling away just long enough to promise. ]

Soon. I'm getting there.

[ his enthusiasm is borne entirely out of wanting to make marcus feel good. he's relishing this, marcus shuddering against him, knowing he can do this, that marcus will let him. ]

[missio]

[ he wants to say something, wants to coax or encourage, but he’s caught up in the kiss as it happens, and it’s the touch of tomas’ mouth more than anything that sends him careening off the ledge: he’s gasping into tomas’ mouth and coming wordlessly into his hand, all the breath stolen from his body, all the control from his limbs. his fingers claw into the fabric of tomas’ shirt and hold him there as he spills over tomas’ fingers, messy and drawn out, like he’s been waiting for this all day. (he has.) ]

[buenpastor]

[ tomas doesn't stop kissing him, he strokes him through it slowing down as gradually as he'd sped up. he keeps touching marcus until marcus' breathing is back to normal. ]

[missio]

[ it takes awhile for him to calm down, and he's hungrily basking in the kiss until he does. tomas being proactive fucks him up tbh ]

[buenpastor]

[ tomas is feeling much better about everything. he pulls away once marcus is calmer, he should wash up in the bathroom. but he reconsider his options momentarily, and licks his hand instead. he's not even looking at marcus as he does, he's just curious. ]

[missio]

[ marcus’ eyes darken at the sight, his fingers curving in that much harder against the slope of tomas’ back. this lust is going to kill him. what a hilariously predictable way for a sacked priest to go. ]

Fuck’s sake, Tomas.

[buenpastor]

[ he looks at him, surprised and pleased by his reaction. kinda confused by the taste, but not grossed out so that's a plus. ]

What? Sorry. I'll go wash up.

[missio]

[ marcus covers his eyes with one hand. he’s flushed underneath, godddd. ]

It’s fine. Off with you.

[buenpastor]

[ tomas kisses marcus' cheek before getting up, very entertained. he washes his hands very quickly and gets a pair of clean boxers for marcus before returning to bed :D! ]

[missio]

[ he shifts so he can change into the clean pair, grimacing at the remains of the mess, then sprawls back in the bed. he’s always reliably loose-limbed after an orgasm, like a cat that just wants to sit in the sun. ]

Come here.

[ very curt orders. for snuggling ]

[buenpastor]

[ he's happy to lie down beside him. what a good christmas ]

[missio]

[ yes good. he gathers tomas into his arms with a whuff. ]

I can’t tell whether I’m proud of you or appalled at myself.

[buenpastor]

You can't be both?

[missio]

[ he takes one of tomas’ hands and threads their fingers together. he’s almost too wrung out from sex to be subsumed with emotion. almost. ]

Suppose I’ll have to find a way now.

[buenpastor]

I wasn't even trying.

[ he lifts their intertwined hands to his mouth and kisses marcus' knuckles. ]

[missio]

[ marcus just grins at him. occasionally it’s obvious marcus has the vitality of someone half his age. mostly it manifest in him being stubborn, immature, petulant. other times it’s just when he’s happy. ]

You keep saying that. It’s quite impressively building suspense for the day you decide to start.