Hellfire {ChoroOso}

Hellfire

He paced in frustration. He couldn't get the images out of his head. The way the man's body moved so fluidly, so sensually, it was truly captivating... The way he'd grinned, his dark eyes that looked almost red, his hair catching the light. It was simply impossible to look away. It was like the world ceased to exist, the two of them were all there was.

He hated it. He had to hate it. He refused to believe otherwise. He was a man of God, virtuous and impossible to tempt into sin. He'd devoted his life to this, and some gypsy whore would not be the one to pull him away from it. Surely, the man was evil, must be the devil himself. How else could he have made Choromatsu feel this way.

He shook his head, and turned to the painting of Mary on the wall. With a sigh, he closed his eyes, lowered his head, and folded his hands in prayer.

Beata Maria
You know I am a righteous man
Of my virtue I am justly proud

He lifted his head to look again at the painting, brows furrowed.

Beata Maria
You know I'm so much purer than
The common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd

Turning to the fireplace, he dropped his hands to his sides, clenching his fists as he gazed into the flames, watching them dance... Dance...like hedid. His mind morphed the flames into his figure. Dipping and spinning, provocative and confident.

Then tell me, Maria
Why I see him dancing there
Why his smoldering eyes still scorch my soul

The memory of his dance replayed yet again, for the hundredth time. The man moving closer, leaping onto the ledge in front of him, wrapping his sheer scarf around his neck, pulling him closer, teasing, licking his lips and locking eyes with him. Bumping their noses before pulling back.

I feel him, I see him
The sun caught in his raven hair
Is blazing in me out of all control

The heat pooling in his stomach, the flush he just knew was painting his cheeks. Watching the dance continue, the beautiful, disgusting man trailing his hands over his own body, caressing himself. Imagining those hands being his own. The dancer's soft skin beneath his fingertips, he could almost feel the way his breathing would hitch, before sighing softly.

Like fire
Hellfire
This fire in my skin
This burning
Desire
Is turning me to sin

He realized where his thoughts were leading when he imagined the dancer's arms around his neck, leaning so close, he could feel his breath, his piercing red gaze through lidded eyes, lips so tantalizingly close, then pulling the dancer's hips closer...
He whipped around to face the paintings, a look akin to panic in his eyes.

It's not my fault
I'm not to blame
It is the gypsy man
The witch who sent this flame

Hands gripping his hair in frustration, he felt his heart racing.

It's not my fault
If in God's plan
He made the devil so much
Stronger than a man

He dropped to his knees, looking up to the heavens, hands raised up, then clasping in front of him.

Protect me, Maria
Don't let this siren cast his spell
Don't let his fire sear my flesh and bone

He felt tears beginning to prick his eyes as he cried up to the Holy Mother, face contorting as he pleaded in desperation.

Destroy Osomatsu
And let him taste the fires of hell
Or else let him be mine and mine alone

He paused, thinking back over his words. He returned to the fireplace, glaring into it. He made a decision then. He knew what he wanted. One way or another, he would get what he wanted. Whichever one happened would be up to Osomatsu. Possessiveness filled him. He pulled out the white scarf, bringing it to his face, nuzzling into it, then returned his gaze to the flames.

Hellfire
Dark fire
Now gypsy, it's your turn
Choose me or
Your pyre
Be mine or you will burn!

He threw the scarf into the fire, grinning as he watched the flames devour it.

God have mercy on him

He did the sign of the cross.

God have mercy on me

He looked to the heavens.

But he will be mine

His nails dug into his palms as he finally let the fantasy continue, the fantasy of him capturing Osomatsu's lips, hands touching every inch of him, stripping him bare and claiming him as his own, ravishing him as he pleases. The fantasy he would see become reality, or...

Or he will burn!