In the Midnight Hour {Florence/Scott} {R}

[Rev.Fr. Florence Claude]

It was a dark night, and the entire chapel had been empty, except for the night janitor mopping up the marble tiles and a couple of devouts coming in just to get in a short prayer before heading on home. Florence Claude walked the aisle of the church proudly, letting his authority radiate. Out there in the bustling streets of Faraway, people hardly ever gave him a second look or a respectable bow. Instead, they treated him like a regular person, something he knew he didn't deserve. But in here, he was a god, so to speak. He of course, didn't refer to himself as such. But even though he didn't, his actions sure showed it.

The impact between his shoes and the tiles clicked rather loudly as it echoed inside the church chambers. A mother and child got up from their seat and headed towards the reverend at once, asking for a blessing and a prayer. Being the kind-hearted man that he was, he placed his hand on both the woman and her child's forehead, muttering a couple of prayers in Latin, before letting go. The two smiled in thanks and began heading out the door, followed by a couple of others.

A loud creak broke the night's silence as the priest shut the wooden doors to the church. He bid one last goodbye to the night janitor, paying him a small amount for his services before it sounded shut. Florence took a deep breath, taking in everything that had happened during the day, the things he had accomplished, and the things that he was still going to do. Taking small steps back to the front of the church, he spotted a figure at the corner of his eyes. A man was there, sitting silently in end of one of the pews. Approaching the man from behind, he clasped his shoulder, gripping hard but not too forcefully on it.

"Good to see that you showed up," the holy man spoke, his voice cold and sharp, though obviously pleased. He put his other hand on the younger man's left shoulder, resting it there.

[Scott Flaurer]

Scott shuddered as he felt the cold pang of the priests bony fingers touch his shoulder. It was as though there was a huge weight that pinned him down to the ground, keeping him unable to move away. And though he was already wearing a jacket, it couldn't keep himself from feeling the chills that ran back up and down his spine. The boy took a deep breath, sighing, as he let the man behind him slowly massage his back.

Flashes of images from years ago played in stop-motion in his head. Sunday school. Missing parents. Friendly-looking priest. Games in the confessional booth. Panting. Blood. Tears. These visions that spent years playing in his head a good ten to twelve years ago began resurfacing once more. And though he was sure that his experience when he was younger was quite traumatic, something about it kicked his senses into action, making a certain part of him switch on. He didn't tell this to anyone, of course, especially not his step-brother. He would probably flip out if he did. Maybe even kick him out for not telling him sooner. But what could Tom have done? It wasn't as though Tom made things easier for him. He just realized that it wouldn't have mattered. It was done. And ten years later, he was still feeling the repercussions. And just then, having short visual fits of his brother getting pissed at him, he felt himself getting even more 'encouraged'.

He felt the jacket slide off his shoulders and down on to his waist, as two hands held him by the chest. He stood up, doing exactly as he was asked to do, moving his hand towards the garbed man, tracing it lower and lower. Scott looked over to the man, his black pools looking as innocent and as fragile as they could ever be, as though asking for him to stop. Ignoring his request, the man pulled off his shirt and threw it aside, letting out a silent hushed sound. In the midst of everything, whatever it was the man was saying, he couldn't hear. He was too busy trying to make himself focus on other things.

^{TAG - Florence
WORDS - a few
NOTES - O____O *shudders*
TUNES - Silence
CREDIT - MUNZTAR * of caution 2.0}

[Rev.Fr. Florence Claude]

Florence opened his mouth ever so narrowly but no sound escaped his lips. Biting his tongue was something that he was getting quite accustomed to, whether it be when dealing with incompetent people or just containing himself during his 'extra-curricular' activities. His fingers played around in the younger man's hair, gently pulling at them. He then urged the boy to go down on his knees, at first, gently then forcefully.

This was not a random out-of-the-blue occurence. The priest didn't just randomly hook up with random strangers lurking on the grounds of his church. Oh, no. This particular scenario had been going on for quite some time already. As though pressing a rewind button, he remembered when it all started. It had been a couple of months since a tragedy had hit Florence, and he was very unlike himself at the time. He was in a dark place. Similarly, someone else in the church was feeling just as he was.

This little boy was crying, saying that he had lost his parents. And naturally, the priest offered to keep him company. And before he could even comprehend anything that was going on, it was happening. He blamed it on temptation, on the devil, for bringing the child to him. But as time went by, the kid grew older, and he began to visit Claude more. It was then when the boy shared his life and all the sins that came along with it.

He was a rather troubled boy, and Florence understood why he had been delivered to him. He was there to comfort the young lad, making sure that even only during those times that they would meet, he could ease his pain. Ease the suffering and show the boy a little bit of happiness. Though it seemed like it wasn't the right thing to do, the boy would often come back to him, practically asking for help, needing the relief that he provided. And naturally, being the good-hearted soul that he was, obliged the child's request. He knew that there shouldn't have been anything to gain on his end of things, but was it entirely his fault if he felt a sense of euphoria? Was it really a fault to be acknowledged and rewarded by the gods for his utmost service and loyalty?

Another silent gasp escaped his lips as the shirtless boy remained on his knees. The holyman ran his wrist across his forehead, feeling the sweat rapidly running down his face. He let out a grunt, before pulling the boy up rather forcefully. "Get up."

[Scott Flaurer]

Obeying the sudden command of the older man, he got up, no questions, and felt the man's hands spin him around. His chest slammed against the wall almost forcefully, but he didn't mind it. In fact, he actually liked it a little bit. He felt a strong grip against his shoulders, before feeling the hands moving up to his hair, grasping it tightly. He felt the cold marble wall pressed against his cheek as his jeans slid off of his waist. He bit his lip, almost drawing blood as he did so. It had hurt, the first couple of times they had done it, but now, he was already numb. He had gone through it for the longest time and now, whatever it was, he didn't feel it. Not just the pain, but also the shame and the embarrassment that went along with it.

Maybe it was true what the priest had said. Maybe he was troubled. After all, would someone who was completely sane put himself through what it was that he was doing to himself? What kind of sane person would suddenly have unwanted feelings for not only a random stranger, but also his step brother? It was all just too much for Scott. There were just all these emotions in him that were swimming around that he had no control over. And yet, despite all of his actions, he seemed to breeze through his own life. He thought it wasn't fair, that he got to get away with everything that was wrong in his life, while others lose family members, live off on the streets, and go through so much worse.

It was probably why Scott made it a point to punish himself often. If the heavens wouldn't pass any form of judgement towards him, then he figured he would to himself. He felt his hands pushed up above his head, being pressed against the wall once more. His whole chest bumped against the wall over and over again as the man behind him continued. The boy wanted to scream and just let everything out, but he kept his mouth shut. He knew the man wouldn't be pleased if he made any noise. Instead, he just took everything in, knowing it was probably what he deserved.

^{TAG - Florence
WORDS - a few
NOTES - Sorry. I didn't know what else to put. -_-
TUNES - Silence
CREDIT - MUNZTAR * of caution 2.0}