Archive of Our Own ^beta

A huff of breath is knocked out of Dick as his back slams into a pillar. He barely manages to get his hands around the strong forearm pinning him to the pillar by his neck. “I thought violence was against church policies, Father?”

“You’re feeding on my parishioners, incubus.” Father Todd grits out between clenched teeth. “Did you think I was going to let that go?”

“To be honest, I was hoping you wouldn’t notice?” Dick wheezes out as Father Todd tightens his grip.

“They’re mine, you can’t have them.” Father Todd practically growls. Dick does his best to ignore how that growl gets him going. He forces his eyes open to see the intense look on the priest’s face. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, got it, no feeding from your parish!” Dick ineffectively swats at the arm holding him still. “I’m sorry.”

“Do you even know what you’re sorry for?” Father Todd says, tilting his head to the side. It shows off perfectly his wide mouth full of teeth. Too full of teeth. Sharp looking teeth. It’s a sudden way to realise exactly how Dick’s fucked up. He’d thought he could get away with fucking and feeding on a few church goers for the thrill; and when he’d caught sight of the hot young priest, so strong and vital in his black cassock and white surplice, well, Dick just hadn’t been able to resist sneaking into the church at night and attempting to tempt the priest. A string of bad ideas that have brought him to this point... He’s entered the territory of a higher demon and pissed him off. Dick’s going to have a real job getting out of this one alive.

“I...” Dick tries not to whine, writhing in the tight grip on his neck. Dark shadowy tentacles appear out of nowhere, gripping all his limbs and holding them firmly. Even the slightest bit of resistance makes them tighten on him. “I took what’s yours. I fucked and fed on your parishioners, without permission. I came into your territory without permission. I was reckless, and didn’t cover my tracks.”

“Hmm. You’re not a complete loss then.” Father Todd steps back, dropping Dick to the ground, leaving Dick to stare up at the higher demon. “You understand you have a debt to be paid to me?”

“Yes.” Dick says, rubbing at this throat. Fuck, being pinned down and choked is one of Dick’s favourite activities, but usually the humans he convinces do that to him are all too weak and can’t really even bruise him. Father Todd, on the other hand, is proving to not only be Dick’s type, but everything he needs. If he plays his cards right, this might actually be really fun. When the higher demon glares at him, Dick tags on “Uh, Father?”

“You can pay it off by being an altar boy.” Father Todd says, pulling his shadowy tentacles into his body like they’d never existed in the first place. He turns away and starts walking along the knave.

“What? No, come on!” Dick scrambles to his feet and runs after him, stopping short of tugging on the sleeve of his cassock. Dick’s willing to do whatever the higher demon wants, but taking part in church services? Not even to mess them up, or start an orgy or taint them? That can’t be right.

“I woulda thought a demon like you would prefer to work off your debt on your knees.” Father Todd says, looking down at him with a smirk of pure wickedness. Dick shudders at the thought of being on his knees for him. It’s a very nice mental image he’ll revisit later.

“...When you put it that way, Father, sure, altar boy me up.” Dick says with a nervous laugh. “Uh, I won’t spontaneously combust during a service, right?”

“Good.” Father Todd says, completely ignoring Dick’s question. Dick bites his lip, and hopes that his silence means it’s fine. Father Todd clearly has taken a lot of services and he’s fine... So damn fine... Dick shakes himself when he starts talking again. “Your second job will be convincing one of the human altar boys to leave.”

“Got it, you’re bored of him already?” Dick nods, these human kids, they grow up so fast, it’s hard to keep paying attention to them. Completely understandable that Father Todd wants his latest toy gone... Dick would do the same.

“I don’t fuck altar boys.” Father Todd says slowly, each word coming out ice cold. Dick’s been working for him for five minutes and he’s already upsetting the boss.

“Shame... I was looking forward to that.” Dick says flirtily, batting his lashes at Father Todd, and letting his gaze drop down to his entirely hidden by his cassock lower half. Dick wants to know if he’s as big and powerful there as his tentacles are. Being fucked over the altar is sounding pretty good about now.

“He’s too smart for his own good. He’s started to notice things.” Father Todd says, merely raising an eyebrow to Dick’s flirting, but otherwise not responding at all. Dick doesn’t ever get rejected, so the fact Father Todd can resist him easily is strangely, incredibly, hot to him. “I want him gone.”

“Sure, Father.” Dick nods, holding up a hand to tick off the options on his fingers. “Just to be clear when you say gone; you mean I should fuck him, drive him insane, or kill him?”

Father Todd sighs heavily, like Dick just failed already. “I want him to leave for the college on the other side of the country that’s offered him a full scholarship. Convince him to go.”

“Sounds easy enough.” Dick gives Father Todd his most winning smile, the one that convinces everyone to bed him, especially when it’s coupled with Dick lacing his fingers together behind his back and leaning forward to show off his tits. Father Todd doesn’t even glance down, away from Dick’s face though. Disappointing. Dick’s going to have to up his game if he’s going to get good and fucked by Father Todd. “Wait, what’s my first job?”

“Your first job is confessing all your sins. This is a church after all.” Father Todd says, turning on his heel and walking without seeing if Dick’s following him.

Dick looks out of the closest window. “I don’t think we’ve got time for that, it’s almost dawn already.”

“You’ll have to make it quick then.” Father Todd calls out over his shoulder. He sounds amused, and the thought he might be smiling where Dick can’t see it, makes Dick’s evil, withered, heart beat a little faster. Father Todd steps into the confessional, closing the door behind him. Dick rushes to catch up; he doesn’t think making the higher demon wait is a particularly good idea. Not that he’s had many of those lately.

Dick sits down in the confessional box, staring at the grate. He’s really going to be made to do this? “I’m sorry, Daddy, I’ve been bad.”

“That’s not how it goes, and you know it.” Father Todd sighs heavily, his tone impatient and exasperated.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” Dick sighs, feeling dirtier in this one moment than he ever has before. “I’ve fucked like... Everyone I’ve ever spoken to really...”

***

“Second job done, Father.” Dick says, flopping down into the pew next to Father Todd. He sprawls out as obscenely as he can manage, looking up at Father Todd’s strong jaw line and shock of white hair, so distinct from the rest of his dark locks. Dick wants to know if it’s a different texture to the rest. He wants it brushing up between his thighs while Father Todd eats him out. Actually, come to think of it, he hopes Father Todd’s tongue can change to be as long as his tentacles. “It was a success, of course.”

“Good.” Father Todd spares him a brief glance, but there’s a warm smile on his lips and Dick’s heart does an odd flip in chest, and his stomach feels like it’s full of butterflies. He must have eaten something bad earlier.

“Did you know that Damian’s grandfather is called the Head of the Demon?” Dick asks idly, spreading his legs as far as he dares. His cassock falls heavily between his bare legs; a tease that he hopes Father Todd will take him up on. “I mean he said it in Arabic, and I pretended not to know what it means. He said his grandfather sent him to you, which is why he didn’t want to leave; even though he really wants to go to that college.”

“Yes, I have an agreement with Ra’s.” Father Todd knocks Dick’s leg down to a less obscene and inviting level. There’s a momentary look on his face that Dick would say on anyone else would be concern. “You didn’t use your powers to convince Damian to leave?”

“Nope, just my charm and personality! Like you ordered.” Dick smiles, inching himself closer to Father Todd. Even from here he can feel the higher demon’s body heat. It makes Dick shiver even in the summer heat and the blue cassock and white surplice he’s still wearing after this morning’s service.

“Ra’s runs the League of Shadows. I’m sure you’ve heard of them.” Father Todd stares up at the giant crucifix hanging above the altar. Dick doesn’t really understand why Father Todd spends so much time staring up at it. It’s an ugly thing, not like in the old days where Christ was beatific in his agony; but no, this one, this is a modern, geometric take. The parishioners hate it, constantly whispering how they want the old one back.

“Uh... Sort of? Demon Hunters.” Dick racks his memories for anything other than vague rumours that he’s heard, but nothing else comes to mind.

“Of a kind. Except they enslave the demons they hunt, not kill them or send them back to hell.” Father Todd says, pushing one of those strong hands that Dick wants wrapped around his body through his hair. “Avoid them.”

“Will do, Father.” Dick agrees easily. He’s already working off one debt, being enslaved sounds like a nightmare. “But you’ve got an agreement...”

“We leave each other alone.” Father Todd finally turns his eyes away from that ugly crucifix to Dick. Dick tries not to react to having those eyes on him, but he thinks he might finally understand all those old saints who fell into religious fervours when looked upon by their object of obsession. He feels a little mad, and willing to do whatever Father Todd wants. “But that doesn’t apply to anyone like you. So stay away from them, Dickie.”

Hearing his name on Father Todd’s lips, Dick can hardly hold back the overwhelming feeling threatening to drown him. Father Todd lets one small smoky black tentacle come out and pat Dick on the ankle. It’s so warm and tender; it’s burning Dick up from the inside, sending a wave of need and want over him that he couldn’t fight even if the thought to try occurred to him.

“Yes, Father...” Dick moans, unable to do anything else. The soaring intense feelings crescendo and break Dick apart, leaving him whimpering and writhing on the pew. The tentacle grips tightly onto Dick’s ankle for the barest of seconds before dissolving away, but Dick doesn’t notice it go; he’s too busy coming his brains out, leaving nothing but a soggy mess in his pants.

He feels wrung out and used in a way that as an incubus he’s never done before. Usually it’s his victim that feels this way. No wonder people fall over themselves to partner up with him; this feeling is the best he’s ever experienced. He’s breathing hard, his eyes closed.

When he finally has the energy to open his eyes, Father Todd is still sitting next to him on the pew, looking perfectly put together, not even a single bead of sweat on his face, despite his thick black cassock and crisp white surplice, he’s completely unaffected in the slightest at Dick coming in his pants from two simple touches to his ankle. Dick could cry for the sheer lack of effect he has on Father Todd; but he’s finally looking at only Dick, and no longer at the crucifix.

***

The empty yawning feeling in Dick’s stomach has been getting worse lately. Since he started paying off his debt to Father Todd he hasn’t fed even once, and while Dick doesn’t need to feed more than once a month, he still has a big appetite. But feeding without the higher demon’s permission is what led him here, so with an unexpected amount of nerves, Dick approaches the demon-priest.

“Father, can I talk to you?” Dick says after the last parishioner finally leaves after the service. Dick’s not used to being nervous; it’s a strange feeling, this twitchy, odd desire to be here, but also to flee. Dick tries to control it by gripping on to the voluminous side of his white surplice, twisting it up in his fist until he’s distantly worried it’ll tear.

“Of course, my child.” Father Todd smiles benevolently at him, his eyes sparking faintly red. It’s a confusing mix of signals, the outwardly friendly and encouraging, and the hidden furtive warning. Not that Dick has much other choice than to ask now that he’s begun.

Dick looks around to make sure no one is around. “Father, I’m hungry.” He emphasises ‘hungry’ as much as he possibly can.

Father Todd pauses, and gives Dick a searching look. Dick can feel that piercing gaze right down to his malleable bones. “Hmm. So, you are. Come with me.” He hooks his arm through Dick’s, and starts walking towards the confessionals.

Dick reaches out to open the confessional booth door, only for Father Todd to press his hand lightly over his. “Father?”

“In here with me.” Father Todd whispers into his ear, and Dick shivers like a virgin on prom night. Father Todd opens his own side of the confessional sitting down on the seat like it’s a throne. Dick steps inside, closing the door behind him. A tentacle forms from high up on Father Todd’s back, pressing on the top of Dick’s head until he gets the message, and smoothly slides down onto his knees.

Father Todd holds one finger to his lips, and Dick nods, staying silent. It’s only a few minutes until confessions are due to start. Dick supposes that the Father is probably going to let him feed off the latent sexual desires that the congregation might confess too. It won’t be as good as feeding directly, but it’s better than nothing. He settles onto his heels, leaning forward just a little to rest his arms on Father Todd’s knees. The tentacle on his head starts carding through his hair; Dick sighs, enjoying the surprisingly tender touch. More tentacles come out to play, touching Dick’s shoulders, stroking the skin on show. Dick can’t remember the last time he was touched simply for its own sake; usually any touch leads directly to sex. He hadn’t realised how much he missed it.

The adjoining door to the confessional opens, and Dick hides a smile in his arms. He knows the thoughts of this particular person. He tends to have very vivid fantasies of what he’d like to do some of the female members of the choir. Dick quietly siphons off the sexual energy while he confesses all his dirty thoughts and dreams. By the time Father Todd is giving out his admonitions, Dick realises that a few tentacles are slowly dragging the hem of Father Todd’s cassock up over his knees. The pants he wears underneath are a barrier that Dick’s not surprised to see, but the fact that the tentacles start undoing his flies is a surprise.

The smoky limb resting on his head urges Dick forward; and with a smug, filthy smile he leans in close. Dick closes his mouth around Father Todd’s impressive length, feeling the stretch of his lips as he opens his mouth wide for the thick cock. The taste hits Dick’s tongue, and he starts drooling almost immediately, swallowing it all down in one go; which he knows he can only manage because he’s an incubus. The tentacle firmly keeps his head pushed down, holding him in place as Father Todd’s cockwarmer. Dick’s fingers curl tightly in the Father’s cassock, finding that floaty place where he can just exist as this, a toy to be used by his partner.

Dick’s hard within the confines of his own underwear, but he couldn’t care less. His throat is stuffed full, and the energy that Father Todd is feeding him goes beyond any other meal he’s ever had. It’s like a six course banquet when before he’d been having stale, dry, cup noodles without flavouring. He’s never felt so replete, like he won’t need to eat again for a year, let alone a month.

Dick’s lost the feeling of being around Father Todd’s cock. Even when the tentacles start rocking his head up and down that thick length, Dick’s only thinking about how good it feels to be used like a doll, to be nothing more than a cocksleeve for his master. He’s dimly aware that’s it’s a fantasy that the current parishioner being absolved of his sins has, but it’s one that Dick’s always had a soft spot for.

The confessional booth door opens and closes with a semi-regularity, and Dick ignores every single occupant, now focused solely on the being in front of him. He’s servicing Father Todd as best he can, working his throat while he’s moved by the tentacles, caressed by them until he’s a shuddering, shivering mess under his own cassock, and he comes, hard.

Saliva drips down his chin, and he loses control of himself. His horns, wings and tail slip out of his human form, and seconds later his fangs and claws have come out. If he could open his eyes, Father Todd would no doubt see slit pupils.

He hangs off Father Todd’s cock, completely limp in the tight space, and his reward for his submission is to feel him come right down his throat, hot, salty, and in a quantity that no human could hope to manage. It spills from his lips to drip down his chin. Dick slumps down further, and Father Todd lifts one of his hands to rest it on Dick’s head, the tentacles vanishing as soon as his fingers curl possessively around one of Dick’s horns.

***

Dick finally escapes the well meaning old ladies of the congregation who keep telling him what a good boy he is (and the urge to explain exactly how much of a good boy he isn’t is overwhelming), out to the small courtyard that’s formed by one wall of the church, and one wall of the rectory. He’d be surprised that he’s not alone, except for the fact he deliberately picked the one place that Father Todd is also hiding.

However, Father Todd is not alone.

He has the huge crucifix that usually hangs over the altar with him. The ugly geometric blocky representation had finally garnered enough complaints to the parochial council that Father Todd has been given the go ahead to replace it. The large wooden crucifix is currently lying flat on the ground, layers of varnish and paint being stripped off with a scraper and various chemicals that stink to high heaven.
There’d been a long discussion about what it should be replaced with, with half of the council voting for something attractive, in the vein of most St Sebastian’s; and the other wanting something a little more corpse-like, for lack of a better descriptor. Dick’s not one to judge; in fact most of his feeding comes off the back of humans weirder sexual desires, but the dead Jesus thing is odd to him. Eventually the council decided to leave the decision in Father Todd’s capable hands.

Or in actual fact, his tentacles.

Because Father Todd is sitting up against the wall, his legs bent up, one arm resting on his knee, the other holding a cigarette, while his tentacles do the hard work of stripping the wood back to bare grain. One tentacle is hovering in the air with a chisel, another has a mallet.

“Good timing, Dickie.” Father Todd smirks, blowing out a long stream of smoke.

“Hey, Father.” Dick takes in the scene, feeling something twist deep inside him. “Something you need help with?”

“I need a life model for this new crucifix.” Father Todd says, giving Dick a lingering once-over. “You’re it.”

“If you insist.” Dick grins, already stripping off. “Although, honestly this is not what usually happens when I get nailed to a flat surface.”

“Down prettyboy, you’re not getting fucked today.” Father Todd shakes his head, that smirk fixed firmly on his face. Several of his tentacles move away from the lump of wood, out to where Dick’s standing, left only in his boxer briefs. “I’m gonna pose you, and work from that. Gonna wrap you all up in my tentacles to get a really close match.”

Dick watches as the smoky black tentacles wrap around his limbs, posing him into the classic T shape. Dick stays in the pose, letting those tentacles move all over him, sensing and feeling the shape of him. “This feels so good, Father.” Dick says, sighing happily. It’s like a post-fuck massage, and honestly, Dick could get used to this.

“I’m thrilled you’re enjoying yourself.” Father Todd says dryly. Dick lets his eyes slip shut as he hears the chisel bite into the wood. He loses track of time, wrapped up as he is, only dimly aware of the thunk of the mallet into the end of the chisel, and the soft falling of woodchips. Eventually, Father Todd clears his throat, and Dick opens his eyes.

There’s a near perfect recreation of Dick’s current body, nailed to the cross. The only thing that’s lacking is the face. “You know, it’s a little unfair you’re so good at everything.” Dick sighs, moving closer to inspect the work.

“Ironic, coming from you.” Father Todd grins, all devil may care and inviting. “Now, put a good look on your pretty face. You’ve gotta be really practiced at that.”

“It’s one of my premier skills, it’s true.” Dick nods, he thinks back to all the images of the crucifixion he’s seen, picking out his favourite face and mimicking it. One that verged on blasphemous, with a mouth hanging open, and tears streaming down the cheeks. It looked more like sex than misery. Perfect for the weird, slightly tainted church that Father Todd is running under the noses of a very conservative congregation.

Dick’s face is covered by gentle, smoky tentacles. The chisel and mallet go back into action, and soon enough; a carved face, weeping and desperate, is revealed in the wood. “Well, not to brag, but I think this might be your masterpiece, Father.” Dick says, reaching out to trace the gentle curve of the wooden version of his own jaw.

“Worthy of worship, certainly.” Father Todd says; an intense look in his eyes that temporarily takes Dick’s breath away. It’s fervent and dangerous. “Finally, something that people should fall to their knees and stare at while they pray.”

***

Four months have gone by in the blink of an eye; the new crucifix has been installed over the altar, and Dick’s got used to taking part in services. But he’s noticed things. And he’s fairly sure it’s the same things that Father Todd was worried that Damian Wayne would notice. It’s only small little moments; the way that the congregation’s eyes sometimes glaze over like they’re in a trance during Father Todd’s sermons, the tone and words of a hymn sometimes slipping from English or Latin into a discordant mishmash of words, like a needle slipping on a record, only to right itself again, or the sins spoken of during their confessions becoming more violent and out of character. As Dick wafts the incense burner around, he’s reminded of a conversation he had with Father Todd a few months ago.

“What are you going to do with them?” Dick had asked when they were all alone.

“Who?” Father Todd had said, staring up at the horrible crucifix. “Oh, my parishioners?”

“Yeah, I mean, if they’re yours, do you have a plan for them?” Dick was hoping to get on the Father’s good side by offering to help him.

Father Todd had smirked at him, mouth full of teeth and a malicious glint in his eyes. “Well, that’d be telling, Dickie.”

He’d walked off and Dick had been left standing there, a chill running down his spine.

A new hymn starts up, at first perfectly normal, but within three lines, it’s morphed. Dick knows this song; he can feel it in his bones. It’s an old song from hell, a hymnal to sacrifices. Dick watches as the entire congregation goes into a deep trance, their voices seamlessly continuing on the hymn with no breaks.

Father Todd throws his arms wide, his robes ripping as his tentacles shoot out in all directions. Not one of the humans around them even blinks at this, their eyes starting to glow white. The tentacles reach for Dick, slipping under his cassock, ripping it to shreds and leaving him standing in an entirely untouched white surplice.

“Well, don’t you look fucking angelic, Dickie.” Father Todd smirks, his voice resonating with the hymnal that keeps going.

“Father...” Dick starts and stops, watching a tentacle flick up to the crucifix and hitting it just so. Parts fall off, and the crucifix creaks and moves into a new shape; It’s Dick, held up by tentacles in a spread eagle pose, obviously penetrated in both holes by tentacles and clearly loving it.

Father Todd holds out a hand to him, and after a split second’s hesitation, Dick takes it. He’s pulled right over to the altar, lifted up and thrown across it, sending the chalice, candle, and bible crashing violently to the ground. Dick’s legs are pulled apart by tentacles, until he’s as spread as the wooden version hanging above him.

The congregation keep singing, even as they begin to wither.

Father Todd looms over Dick, staring down at him, eyes glowing red. “It’s time. Do you, Dick, take this demon to have and to hold?”

Dick looks up at the higher demon, and can’t hold back his smirk. “I do. Take me, Father.”

Father Todd returns the smirk, sliding a tentacle deep into Dick’s waiting body. He’s pinned down on the altar, being fucked in front of everyone. As soon as one’s in nice and deep, there’s another pressing insistently against his rim. If Dick were human he’d be having trouble right now, but he’s not, and he can only welcome the stretch and push. His entire body moves with Father Todd’s hard thrusts. Ecstasy licks up his spine, so Dick fully submits to whatever Father Todd wants to do to him. Tentacles roll all over his body, caressing every inch of his skin, even as they avoid his surplice. One creeps up to his mouth, and Dick sucks on it with no thought at all.

It’s so much, even for a demon like Dick, it’s sensation after sensation, with Father Todd adding more and more tentacles inside him, finding and filling all the empty spaces Dick’s ever had. He’s spread and filled and wanted; Father Todd’s voice echoing in his ears and head, praising him over and over, comparing Dick’s ecstasy to all the religious icons that Dick’s heard of, and a few he hasn’t.

He blinks away tears, staring out at the congregation. Their eyes are blazing white, still singing even as they turn to dust. Their souls fly up, into a whirling vortex around Father Todd; each and every soul turning from pure white to black smoke, and joining into the mass of writhing tentacles; one of which flies up to touch the wooden statue of Dick, tapping on it. The point of contact hardens the wood, petrifying it into stone and fixing it in place. It’s the perfect symbol of the desecrated, and now thoroughly de-sanctified church.

The corruption is tainting everything around them, and Dick laughs around the tentacle deep in his mouth; if any of his body was free to move he’d be rolling around in pure glee. Father Todd adds yet another tentacle to his already stuffed hole, squirming up and into the one spot that makes Dick’s toes curl. The one tentacle in Dick’s mouth vanishes, letting out his moans. Wrapped up in Father Todd’s arms, Dick lets go as pleasure subsumes him. His tail flicks out, entwining with yet another tentacle. His wings pop out, pushing him upward into Father Todd’s lap; his claws and fangs slide out, breaking the skin of the limbs he’s holding. Even the points on his horns catch on the tentacles and souls whirling around them.

They’re all alone in the corrupted church now; Dick uses his powerful wings to flip them over until he’s crouched in Father Todd’s lap, riding the sheer mass of tentacles filling him up so much better than anything ever has. Dick can feel the ecstasy overwhelm him; he comes helplessly inside his surplice, letting out an unearthly scream; so loud it cracks the rafters up above. Father Todd simply laughs darkly as he orgasms; so much cum being pushed inside Dick that it spurts down onto the altar, despite the mass of tentacles plugging him up.

“Call me Jason, and I’ll burn the entire world for you, Dickie.” Jason says, thrusting ever deeper inside. “You and I, we can rule here. Just say my name...”

Dick’s never felt so loved. He whispers “Jason”; and like a death knell for Gotham, Jason’s eyes burn with the fires of hell.