Work Text:
Jisung had always been devout in his faith.
From a young age, he had attended every service, every mass, every volunteer opportunity for the church imaginable. Memorized every scripture, every verse. It made sense that he would become a priest. Aside from making music– which he loved, and would have loved to have made a career out of it, but both himself and his parents knew the odds of him making it big were too slim– the church was the only thing that brought Jisung joy. So, of course he became a priest.
He stood on the altar almost every day, either practicing, preaching, or giving the body and blood of christ.
He was the image of the perfect devotee to Christ.
For the most part.
There was this person who attended his services–every day he had an evening service–who Jisung had seen many times before. He was around his own age, probably in his late twenties. He had started coming to the church a few weeks ago, and a newcomer was always going to catch his eye. He would come in moments before the service started, and before Jisung could get the chance to speak to him and get to know more about his new attendee, he was slipping out the doors.
Jisung prided himself on his interests being one with the church, every meal he ate was devoted to God, every word he spoke was a message to others sent from God, every song he wrote was to spread God’s message, and every person he approached was in the interest of bringing them closer to God.
He is ashamed to admit it is more than that, when he tries to approach this boy.
He was the image of the perfect devotee to Christ, besides one sin he felt deep in his heart he could never act upon. He was a priest, anyways, he would stay celibate for all his days on earth. It’s the same as other priests struggle with, they cannot hold women in their chambers, just as Jisung will not hold women or men alike.
He can imagine, though.
What a sinful thing is the ability to imagine. To imagine him and the angelic– a blasphemous adjective to describe the object of his desires, but an accurate one nonetheless– man who steps foot into his church every night to drink from the chalice in his palms; to imagine them hand in hand, circling each other until they stumble into a bedroom– heaven forbid a public place, though heaven already forbids, so maybe his mind will allow himself to wander there– and their lips slot together, their bodies entangle, their sounds becoming one and–
Jisung was just as pent-up as any of his celibate peers, he’s sure. It’s just an extra layer of sin to his fantasies, fantasies he’s never going to act upon, an extra layer of guilt.
So, when the seventh time he tries to approach the man, to maybe get a name from the newcomer, he’s met with the back of his head leaving the large doors of the church, he doesn’t let it ruin his day. As much as he wants to build a relationship with all of his attendees, he knows his own mind. He knows the temptation of sin. He knows that by not speaking to this man, he can prolong the amplification of the desire to sin. To sin for him.
Jisung, a very busy man, held his confessions at night. Two of the smaller priests–not quite pastors– would take a confession during the daytime hours while Jisung was either handling business, organizing events, or doing charity work. Though, holding confession at night when they had scheduled hours during the day meant that Jisung seldom had company during his hours.
He mostly spent his time dusting or cleaning the church on the off hand someone would enter; only then would he enter the confession booth and he would listen to the sins of those who he cherished and ask for them to be forgiven in the eyes of the lord.
So, after Jisung had already dusted the altar and swept under the pews, he felt himself jump at the door opening. He had hardly expected a visitor so late in the night.
“Father, may I come in?” A smooth voice, gentle yet confident, leaked through the echoing walls of the church and into Jisung’s ear. When Jisung finally locked eyes with him, he was surprised to see the very man he had been chasing.
“Ah, I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of speaking with you yet.” Jisung smiled. He was grateful that even though they hadn’t spoken, the man felt comfortable enough to come to confession. It takes a lot for a soul to gain that kind of courage, especially with a pastor one hadn’t even spoken with.
The man smiled, “Lee Minho, Father.” He leaned forward, grabbing Jisung’s hand and kissing the back of it. Jisung had to repeat in his head that the man– Lee Minho– didn’t know his thoughts.
“Old fashioned, aren’t we, Lee Minho-ssi?” Jisung chuckled, he hadn’t had anyone kiss his hand since he first started, one time, and then never again.
“Does no one kiss the priest’s hands anymore?” Minho smiled, genuinely a little confused, “Sorry. I haven't been within the church for a while.”
“Well, I’m glad The Lord led you back.”
Minho looked him up and down, Jisung had to ignore the heat in his gut watching the way Minho raked his body with his eyes. Help me guard my mind from every impure thought and desire. Let my thoughts be pleasing to You, reflecting Your holiness. May I take every thought captive and make it obedient to Christ.
“Did I interrupt your cleaning?” Jisung then realized he was still holding his broom from sleeping dust underneath the pews; they needed it, for the record.
“No, no.” He set the broom down, gesturing towards the confession booth. “I’m assuming you’re here for confession? Sorry to keep you waiting with mindless chatter.”
“Father, I am not bothered with mindless chatter.” Minho looked up at him, for the first time, Jisung let himself really observe his face. This is the closest they had ever been, he fears if he doesn’t take this opportunity, he will never get the chance. Minho’s lips are full and he has the most adoring cupids bow lining his top lip, his eyes were- Jisung supposes he was wearing contacts, he wasn’t sure if that was a trend or something he missed out on– a magnificent red that would stain him like the blood of Christ. “But if you tire and wish to be rid of me.”
“I never said that, Minho-ssi.” Jisung chuckled, “I could not tire or wish to be rid of you.” Because he was a priest, he would say that to anyone walking into his church, not only the beautiful man in front of him he had been trying to speak with for the past week. Not the man who has been the star of his sin.
Minho looked him up and down, though maybe Jisung had imagined it, imagination is a dangerous gift.
“I wish not to keep you past your confession hours.” Minho smiled, his teeth were nice and white and straight, his canines were sharp. He started slowly walking towards the confession booth, the heels of his dress shoes clicking– he was always dressed nicely, Jisung wondered what he did for work. Oh, how he hoped they could chat after this. Selfishly.
“Even if you do, you will not be blamed.” Jisung followed him swiftly, “Not by me or The Lord.”
“The Lord has plenty of other things to blame me for.” Minho laughed, a sweet thing that rang in Jisung’s ears like maroon bells.
“Well, all can be forgiven.” They each stepped inside their respective booths, a thin wall with intricate patterns carved out of it separated the two men. Jisung wishes he could see Minho through it.
“Father,” Minho started, not in a traditional way for a confession, maybe he had just been out of the church so long. “Do you know Leviticus 17:10?”
This is certainly not a traditional way of confession. Jisung racked his brain through the many verses he had learned and memorized, finally landing on the right one, “If any one of the house of Israel or of the strangers who sojourn among them eats any blood, I will set my face against that person who eats blood and will cut him off from among his people.”
The was a silence, a bit of movement from the other side of the booth. “What if the circumstances were dire?” He spoke seriously, concerningly, “If one could not abstain from consuming the blood? Would they too be condemned and cut off?”
Jisung thought for a moment, he had always been not too fond of that verse for the little sense it had made- or perhaps the confusion of the need to mention eating blood. “Like… a blood transfusion? That’s to live, Minho-ssi, it’s different.”
“No.” Minho said firmly, “To eat. The need to eat and drink.”
Now, Jisung was a tad confused, “Blood is a life force that belongs to The Lord, Leviticus said so himself. Why would there be a need to challenge that? Had you accidentally had a dish of Sundae that is causing you this? You can be forgiven, especially if one did not know-“
“No.” Minho sounded nervous, stressed, now, yet continued, now in the style of a normal confession. It gave Jisung whiplash. “Bless me Father, for I have sinned.” Jisung swallowed as Minho continued frantically, “It has been two-hundred fifty-three years, seven months, and twenty-four days since my last confession.”
Jisung blinked. He couldn’t help the confusion spilling from his mouth, “T-Two-hundred fifty-three years?”
Minho stayed silent behind the booth.
“Minho-ssi,” Jisung started, but was cut off.
“Are you going to drive a stake into my chest, or may I continue?” It’s asked timidly, as gears started turning in Jisung’s head. The consumption of blood, two-hundred years, a stake to the heart: Minho was a vampire. At least, if this wasn’t all a big prank being pulled on him. He sounded genuinely fearful right now, though. And as any good priest should, he needed to give comfort.
“Continue,” He spoke softly, trying not to let his voice shake.
“I would like to make it clear that I am disgusted with myself.” He swallowed, “I haven’t properly talked to anyone about this in the same amount of time as my absence from the church.”
“I will listen.” Jisung found himself saying before he could stop himself, “And the Lord will listen and forgive.”
“Will you forgive, Father?” Minho’s voice was filled with something akin to desperation.
“I could never not forgive you, Minho-ssi.”
Minho swallowed, letting a silence fill the booth before taking a shaky breath. “I was a devout Church-goer in my youth, as many were at my time. I wanted nothing more than to give my life to the Lord. I grew up in the late Joseon Dynasty, Christian missionaries had only just made landfall in Korea and my family was one of the first to devote themselves. I was stricken with an illness when I was young. Well- the age I look now. Maybe twenty-five or twenty-six. I was one of the victims of the Hongyeok epidemic. If they still teach that, I’m not too sure.”
“They do.” Jisung couldn’t help himself saying.
“Mm.” Minho hummed, “I was frail and weak and feverish and about to die, I wandered the street. That’s when this… thing attacked me. Drained me of all I was. Yet, I woke up. I woke up so hungry, so thirsty, I couldn’t help myself.”
Jisung could hear Minho tearing up, but he wasn’t sure how to help besides letting him finish.
“I killed an innocent girl who had the misfortune of being kind and trying to help me. In the middle of a street, too, left her there. People saw. Obviously, I wouldn’t be welcome at the church anymore.”
“But you’re welcome now.” Jisung supplied softly, “At least, here, you are.”
“You’re not scared?”
Jisung shrugged, “Perhaps I should be. But I could not be afraid of you, Minho-ssi.”
Minho swallowed again, he could hear it through the barrier. “I felt so, so guilty. I still do. I starved myself to the brink of death out of guilt, but that only made it worse. I was tearing people apart. Flesh and all- when I starved myself, that is. You lose all your senses and you become even more a danger.”
“What about now?”
“I still feel guilty.” A beat, “That’s why I’m here.”
“Guilt and admission are the first steps to forgiveness.”
“I’ve stolen from hospitals, as well.”
Jisung nods, though Minho can’t see it.
“The dead taste terrible. My body wants to reject it, tries to force me to vomit it all up. Those people won’t get properly put to rest, either. I can’t bring myself to kill someone who is healthy and alive and breathing. But stolen blood bags and dead bodies are enough to drive a man insane, Father.”
“Mm.” Jisung hums, “You’re still so human, after all this time.”
“It’s a painful existence. My sense of self is so human yet my body is so foreign.”
“I imagine it must be.” Jisung sighs. He feels insane, insane that instead of stabbing this man with a stake and tossing holy water on him he instead wants to offer himself to him. “Can you consume blood without killing them?”
“It takes much discipline. I have, though. A man, maybe a hundred years ago, asked me to. I did, and then he led a mob from the villiage to attempt on my life. I only let schizophrenics and dementia patients live, now.” He gulps, “I fear I would not survive another attack like that, especially with modern technology. I was badly injured, almost dead. Sometimes I wish I were dead, though.”
“Because of the long life you have lived?”
“And the suffering I bring onto others. I couldn’t die yet, though. I had to confess before I did.”
Jisung’s heart settled deep in his chest, “Minho-ssi.”
Minho did not answer. Jisung felt as if he was going to vomit. He had come here to confess, and end his life. Either by the hands of the church, or by his own hands after the confession. Jisung needed to stall- to make him believe he is worth something, maybe to give him a purpose, or to give him an attachment to this realm.
“I’m still devout in my faith, Father. Hundreds of years and attempts on my life by the church do not change that. I had to get that out of the way.”
“Minho-ssi, this may be unprofessional, but may we exit the booth?”
“…Why?”
“I won't hurt you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I am sorry for all these sins and the sins of my past life.” As if he trusted Jisung’s words like that of the lord, he heard Minho’s door slowly open. He shortly followed.
“You are forgiven.” Jisung mumbles, stepping out of the booth rather hastily.
“Are you going to kill me now?” Minho says after a moment of silence. He’s nervous.
“Are you thirsty?” Jisung says without thinking, a common theme today. Jisung supposes pretty boys are his weakness.
Minho swallowed, his eyes drifting down to his throat before raising once again to meet Jisung’s own.
“I won’t tell anyone. I already know. I’m offering.”
“You’re…” Minho’s mouth fell slack, giving Jisung a prime viewing to the sharp fangs that hung from the roof, before Minho covered it with his hand.
“It felt a little blasphemous to offer myself in the confession booth.”
“So…” Minho paused, “You know it’s against the lord, yet…”
“I care for your wellbeing, Minho-ssi.” Jisung took a step towards him, “Even if your needs aren’t exactly… the same as mine.” He took another step, “Matthew 25:35: For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink.” He took another step, they were practically chest to chest now. A selfish, selfish indulgence on Jisung’s part, for certain. “Isaiah 58:10: Feed the hungry and help those in trouble. Then your light will shine out from the darkness, and the darkness around you will be bright as noon.”
“Father, I can’t. I won’t let myself.” Minho said, but Jisung saw where his sinful eyes were lingering.
“Minho-ssi. I would rather have to beg for the lord’s forgiveness than lose your soul tonight.”
“Father…”
“No. This- This isn’t a matter of myself as your priest anymore. This isn’t Father Jisung talking, just Jisung.”
“Jisung… I can’t. I can’t.”
“You can, Minho-ssi.”
Minho’s eyes darted around the room, around Jisung’s body, anywhere they would land that wouldn’t make them stay still. Jisung raised his hands, reaching behind him to undo the buttons of his collar. He could see Minho’s eyes widening once he caught it, his shaking hands stilling.
“Minho-ssi.” Jisung was selfish, really. He pressed himself up against the older man, almost baring his neck for him. This was all so selfish. Sin is a dangerous thing, you see. It was dangerous because it felt so, so good. “Drink.”
He felt Minho’s hands rest on his hips. It felt so nice, so right, Jisung found it hard to believe his indulgences were sinful. He had never indulged outside the fantasies in his bedroom at night. It was dangerously delicious. “Jisung…Father, I-”
“Shh… You poor thing.” Jisung raised his hands to stroke the side on Minho’s face, he was such a fragile thing, really, despite being his elder by two centuries.
Jisung almost bared his neck again, to tempt him, maybe. Though, apparently Minho didn’t need tempting, because before he could even try to coax him, lips were on his own.
They were soft, softer than he could’ve imagined. Jisung had kissed a girl one time, when he was young and stupid. It was nothing like this. Nothing that made him press forward into Minho, snaking his arms from his cheek to the back of his head to bring him even closer.
Jisung didn’t know how to use his tongue, but he could surely try. This feeling- this sin, it was too good to give up. It was one thing to abstain from sin before he knew the sweet fangs it had, but now it seems he’s addicted to the venom it brought. He wouldn’t be able to stop now.
Jisung felt his tongue prick on the sharp fang’s in Minho’s mouth, he felt the vampire groan around him. A delicious sound. Jisung should’ve never become a priest, he knew he was too greedy for that. He wanted to hear more.
The blood mixing around both their mouths only encouraged the vampire further, pressing into Jisung until they stumbled back into the confession booth. If not to muffle the sound then to at least shield them from any watching eyes.
“I feel dazed,” Jisung says between kisses. He had never felt like this before, so brainless.
“Are you okay?” Minho asks, ever attentive, ever caring. He pulled away to look at Jisung, the wreck that he was. Minho didn’t look much better, his eyes a deep red, his mouth and teeth with small traces of blood.
“Yes, yes, please,” Jisung begged, going back into his lips. Minho bit his lip, a small pinch followed by a wonderful floating sensation that made Jisung keen. “Minho-ssi.”
“Hyung.”
“Hm?”
“Call me Hyung, please, Jisung.”
“Minho-hyung.” Minho groaned, squeezing Jisung’s hips. “Minho-hyung, did you put a spell on me?”
Minho blinked at him a few times, pulling away, “No? I can’t do that.”
“You’re really just…” Jisung started, eyes glazed over, “Forgive me, I have sinned.”
“Father…”
“I’ve wanted you. Selfishly. Since the first time you entered the church I have had the most blasphemous fantasies of you and I that I knew I could never act on. I want you. Both in the bedroom and in my home- in my fantasies of the future you are everything. It makes sense you’ve enchanted me. I barely even know you, yet, just now I gave up my vow of celibacy to kiss you. There is something wrong with me.”
“There is nothing wrong with you.” Minho sets a hand in his hair, stroking it softly. “I thought you had enchanted me, actually. I thought maybe you were a supernatural or a witch, who had casted a spell on me. I saw you at one of your charity events at the hospital- one glimpse and it convinced me to go to your church after two-hundred years of the church doing nothing but try to end my life.”
Jisung blinked up at him, a little speechless.
“I want you in my home as well, Jisung-ah.”
And then, Jisung was sinking down to his knees, pressing Minho against the back of the confession booth. For his sin to be reciprocated, now that was the final pull needed to snap the string Jisung had been tugging his whole life. “And your bedroom?”
“Ah, that would be blasphemous, wouldn’t it?” He spoke, yet his hand was still in Jisung’s hair, almost pulling him towards the bulge of his pants.
“Are we not already too far gone to worry of blasphemy?”
“I suppose we are.” Jisung looked up at him, all doe-eyed and needy and needing. “You are so beautiful, Jisung.”
Jisung didn’t know what he was doing, but he knew what happened in his deepest fantasies. He pressed his lips against Minho’s pants, a hiss arising from him. The hand in his hair tightened. He mouthed at it, drinking in the gasps and the way Minho’s eyes went a little wild.
“Are you sure you’re a priest?”
Jisung nodded, “Just hadn’t met anyone worth sinning for.”
“I fear your affections are wasted on me. The church may have my head for this one.”
Jisung fiddled with the hem of Minho’s pants, fumbling to reach for what he wanted, “They won’t. I am this church. This is between me, you, and the Lord.”
“The Lord won’t forgive me for defiling his little priest.” Jisung worked Minho out of his pants as if he were a practiced whore, slapping his dick against his cheek.
“The Lord always forgives.”
“I’m afraid he wouldn’t forgive me for how I want to steal you away and keep you to myself. I want to taste you, Jisung.”
Jisung groaned at his words, the grip in his hair tightened. He tested the waters of his fantasies, leaving a chaste kiss to the tip of Minho’s dick.
“God, Jisung.”
“Do not use the Lord’s name in vain.”
Minho chuckled as Jisung mouthed along the side of his dick, “Not vain; no. Adoration. You’re so angelic, Jisung. My God.” Jisung should ignore the way his dick twitched in interest. He supposes he’s too far gone to worry about blasphemy.
Jisung looked up at him with those same wet eyes, “Your God?” He gently let his mouth enclose the tip on Minho’s dick, it satisfied a deep itch to sin in his heart.
“My savior. My Jisung.” Jisung moaned around him, taking him a little further. “You’re so perfect.” The grip on his hair loosened, turning soft, adoring, loving.
How had Jisung gone without this for so long? The feeling of being loved so sinfully by another. Only in part sin, he supposes, part in pure love. The fact they are both men makes even the gentlest and purest actions sinful in the eyes of others.
Jisung worked his mouth further, watching as eyes looked down on him, blown out and full of amazement and complete adoration with him. He was sloppy, he was sure. He didn’t know what he was doing, his teeth scraped one too many times, but it still all felt so correct. So right, despite his errors.
“You’re so good, Jisung-ah, I think- God— I think you’re heaven to me.” Minho mumbled, making Jisung groan and put even more effort into pleasing him. “I would devote myself to you, you know. Every day.” He panted, tensing against Jisung, and he could tell he was close.
Jisung pulled away, letting his hands stay firm on Minho’s cock. He used his deft fingers to bring him to a finish, painting his face like a beautiful art piece. “Jisung-ah…” Minho panted, placing his hand underneath Jisung’s chin, tilting it up so Jisung had no choice but to look in his eyes.
It made it easy to believe his words, that Jisung was everything, that he could be worshiped. Jisung could see it in his eyes. “Minho-hyung.”
“Please,” Minho started, nervous, “I… It’s selfish. My desires. My desires to care for you in my own home, to treat you like that of a wife… It’s wrong and selfish and-“
“Then it seems wrong that I wish for that in turn?”
“You…”
“Drink from me, Minho-hyung.” Jisung pleaded as Minho wiped the spend from his face with his thumb, so caring with his touch. His words made Minho still. “Make me yours, take me home.”
“The church…”
“Peter 4:8.” He raised himself off of his knees, pressing a chaste kiss to Minho’s soft lips. “Above all, love each other deeply,” Another kiss, filled with adoration, “Because love covers over a multitude of sins.”
“They’ll come for you, too.”
“I don’t need their approval in my faith.” Jisung smiled at him, “I only need The Lords, and I interpret his words to mean this is something he would now object to.” He kissed Minho again, “Drink from me, Jagiya.”
That seemed to be the piece of confirmation Minho needed to sink his fangs into the side of Jisung’s neck, making him groan. It was the same sensation with his lips- a small pinch, before the area was overcome with a tingling numbness that made Jisung want to stop thinking. He could feel Minho’s tongue lap up the blood leaking from his neck, a warm feeling overlapping the numbness. It was blissful, heavenly.
Once Minho seemed to be satisfied, he pulled away from the crook of his neck, mouth covered in his blood. It should scare Jisung, but it really doesn’t. Minho’s eyes– not red, anymore, a nice dark almond color. Jisung supposes he was a man starving– flickered between Jisung’s eyes, lips, and the blood on his neck.
“Jagiya.” He panted, breathless.
Jisung smiled, “I make music.”
“Hm?” Minho paused at the change of topic, cocking his head to the side like a confused puppy.
“Since I’m leaving the church, I’m going to make more music.” He smiled further, a heart shaped one that Minho really couldn’t help but kiss.
“I have a couple extra rooms, you can convert them into studios.” Minho smiled back, dumb and lovesick. “And you don’t have to leave the church…” He looked down, “I know it makes you very happy, right?”
Jisung nodded, “Very.”
“I can be a secret, if you so wish. I don’t mind.”
“I do.” Jisung frowned, “I’ve lived my whole life in a war between my love of the church, and my love.” He took Minho's hands in his own, “I can go preach at some very tolerant Anglican Church or something. Show you off as a husband?”
Minho laughed, a soft one that made Jisung’s ears tingle from the love escaping it, “Husband? Are we jumping the gun a little?”
Jisung returned the laugh, watching Minho’s face light up at the sound, “I think we jumped the gun already too many times tonight to be concerned about it.”
“I would be your husband in a heartbeat, if the church allowed it.” Minho smiled, a little sadly.
“Let’s find a church that will, then.” Jisung kissed the sad smile off of Minho’s face. They both laughed. “Let’s go before the sunrise.”
Minho nodded, “Let’s go home.”