Part 8 - The Deacon[NSFW]

The boy01/19/2020

----

The next week was a little hectic for Thomas. He had to almost threaten the surface crew to get his shipment. They kept giving him excuses. "But she's still tired." or "Well we don't have the supplies yet." Thomas wasn't having any of it, and whipped them right back into shape as the seemed fairly scared of the thought of Thomas actually pulling away his sponsorship of this trip. Thomas then had to track down a whole case of sherry, and at least 10 brilliant souls. He wasn't about to run out next time. The deacon was a particular man, and the shipment was only a week away. He had to hurry. He spent his time not searching talking with other clients about how their distribution was going. Seems everything else was running smoothly. Thomas seethed. His one slip-up. Thomas would show that man what for. Politely, of course, but a showing nonetheless.

[

1:36 AM

]

Thomas set to work, getting new chairs, these were a much better fabric, no holes, no dust. They would be perfect. Except... They were a bad color for his room. A dark maroon. He cursed, but this would have to do. He was cleaning his place furiously, knowing that at any point the deacon would show for his gifts.

they01/19/2020

Outside, the wind ceases, and the creaking of steps returns; in the next moment, a familiar dimming of the candle- and gaslight; in the next, a familiar knocking on the door. Two knocks. Three knocks. Two knocks. Outside, a familiar voice going through the wood:

Virgil: -Muffled.- Good evening. May I come in?

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas quickly stands from the floor, dusting off his pants, and putting away his cleaning supplies. He heads to the door, unlocking the new increased locks, and opens the door.

Thomas: Ah, Deacon, you are welcome in my home. Please, have a seat, I have tea already on the stove.

Thomas steps to the side, allowing him to enter

.

they01/19/2020

The deacon nods, stepping into the doorway.

Virgil: And I thank you for your hospitality.

The deacon steps in, looking around the room slowly, before nodding once more and moving to seat themselves at the new lounge chair.

Virgil: Ah. A new color.

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas nods, closing the door behind the deacon, locking it. Thomas takes the kettle off the stove, the whistle being taken off it long ago. It had been sitting there a long time it seemed. Thomas sets the kettle on the tea tray, a little set of mushroom bread, and a cherry jam seemed to be spread onto it. This was merely a politeness to offer. Small cups on saucers are also set onto this tray. Thomas effortlessly moves the tray to the table, making sure to walk steadily. He settles the tray on the table, carefully, quietly.

Thomas: I had reason to replace them, a bit too dusty for my tastes. Do you take sugar with your tea?

they01/19/2020

The deacon lightly tips their head in a nod.

Virgil: A spoonful, and nothing more.

The deacon stares at the tray, observing what has been laid.

Virgil: I will abstain, however, from the jam.

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas scoops out a spoonful of sugar, the little bowl having a lid, of which he scrapes the top of the spoon against gently, making sure not to be abrasive. Perfectly measured. He placed this into the deacons assigned cup, placing a fine mesh sieve that fit perfectly over these cups, having hooks to hold the edges. Thomas measured out the needed amount of leaves, and placed them into the sieve. He poured the boiling water over it, enough to let the leaves soak on the top of the cup.

Thomas: Of course. Hm, a lovely device, mh? Should only be thirty seconds.

Thomas seems unconcerned with his own cup, dumping two uneven spoonful's of sugar into it along with the leaves, pouring the water over it. Thomas liked the bitter leaves, actually.

Thomas: It is a simple black tea, I hope you do not mind.

they01/19/2020

The deacon nods simply.

Virgil: A dark tea, with an equally dark taste. A popular choice among Londoners.

The deacon waits patiently, observing quietly; they spend the time by reaching over to the bread, grabbing a slice of bread without jam, and biting a corner of the bread (eating without swallowing, as usual). They then set the slice down, a perfect straight cut made along the corner.

Virgil: . . .ah, but let us dispense with formalities.

The deacon reaches for their cup, lifting it by the saucer; they pull the sieve off and set it lightly on the side of the saucer before raising the cup to their lips.

Virgil: Let us talk of business.

The deacon sips from their teacup.

.

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas settles into the chair opposite of the deacon, taking his own cup, waiting for it to cool.

Thomas: Of course. The shipment is on track. They may get it before the end of this week, but I am hoping to see it sooner. I heard a lot of.... Complaints. I silenced those.

Thomas sips at his tea, he winces, still too hot. He sets it back onto the saucer.

Thomas: However, your gifts are here. I spent a good deal of time tracking them down.

He reaches down from under the table, and pulls up a woven basket, a neatly decorated set of sherry(Two out of his crate of 12.) and a Bottle of brilliant souls, this one with the number 5 etched onto it.

Thomas: I hope you will accept this, as an apology for last weeks debacle, and your shipment being late.

they01/19/2020

The deacon's expression is inscrutable, but there is a curling up at the corners of their lips as they set their teacup down.

Virgil: Ah, now this. . .

The deacon reaches a hand out, touching the top of the bottle; immediately, the blue smoke inside rushes away from their touch, collecting on the bottom. They sigh, permitting a tiny smile on their lips.

Virgil: . . .ahh, there is a deep sorrow in this one. Yes, this one was searching for love. . .and she had her heart betrayed. Ate her away on the inside.

The deacon clears their throat, sitting back in their chair and raising their teacup to their lips again.

Virgil: The usual finish; brandy, then a drowning in the river. But this one has body. . .an excellent after-taste, surely. She will go well with the sherry.

The deacon seems pleased with the bottle of brilliant souls.

.

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas looks relieved, a more planned gift is always more acceptable. He had time, but next time he might not, so he had to make sure to plan beforehand. A little slip up, that's all.

Thomas: I am very glad.

Thomas takes a sip of his tea, still hot, but bearable now.

Thomas: If you require any other of my services..

Thomas nods, politely.

Thomas: You are welcome to ask.

That was all he was going to press on the matter, still very miffed about how last week went, even if it ended.... nicely. He still had eyes for the deacon. A hunt, perhaps, he could surely appreciate this.

they01/19/2020

The deacon sips from their teacup, lowering it and holding the handle gently in one hand.

Virgil: I believe I've established that the more carnal interests you presume me to have are not for hedonistic goals; they are merely. . .another means to convince those whose souls have strayed back onto their spiritual path.

The deacon lowers their teacup; their spectacle's false eyes stare at Able, and, although they can't see the amber eyes underneath, the skin around their eyes creases, as if they were narrowing their eyes.

Virgil: . . .though, whether your own soul needs that particular kind of spiritual guidance does remain. . .unclear.

1

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas is now able to drain his teacup, feeling a little singed but warm. He stares back at the deacon, smiling.

Thomas: Ah yes, spiritual guidance. I may, perhaps, be more inclined to realign myself with more convincing, tactics.

Thomas looks at the bottom of his teacup. Hm. A good sign.

Thomas: You may have to, be a bit more forceful in keeping me in line, however. If you were so inclined.

they01/19/2020

The deacon sips from their teacup, lowering it again; they're sipping slowly, making their cup last.

Virgil: Ah, have to be forceful? I can promise to use a certain kind of force, if you're in such dire need of guidance.

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas looks up at the deacon, realizing his mistake.

Thomas: May I speak frankly with you? I realize this may be a bit impolite, but, with your permission..

they01/19/2020

The skin around the deacon's eyes crinkles, but they nod solemnly.

Virgil: You have permission to voice your thoughts, then.

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas: I would be willing to make an exchange with you, the price we can settle on in a bit. Hear my offer before deciding first.

Thomas thinks about this for a bit, sorting the words in his head.

Thomas: Today, in my home, in... an hour, I offer to provide to you oral on the behalf of a soul of my own likeness, an example. You will be receiving such....treatment. I will provide payment at a later date, perhaps in... a day or two.

Thomas looks at the bottom of his teacup a bit. That wasn't there before. Huh, that seemed bad.

they01/19/2020

The deacon wordlessly sips from their cup, setting it down.

Virgil: You are offering me, then, a specific kind of service. . .and I will be receiving a soul such as yours.

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas looks at the deacon, raising his eyebrows. What a cheap tactic.

Thomas: I am offering you a sexual service. Do not get it confused.

Thomas couldn't risk this going bad. Even so, through his focus he seemed to miss his last sentence.

they01/19/2020

The deacon gives the faintest of smiles, but their eyebrows furrow, presumably out of mild annoyance.

Virgil: An intimate physical examination, then?.

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas seems miffed now.

Thomas: If you must be so.... The stimulation of ones genitals by way of mouth, tongue, throat.... -he shudders a bit- to produce a seminal ejaculation or otherwise similar fluids.

This would keep him from being confused, certainly.

they01/19/2020

The deacon solemnly nods.

Virgil: Ah, I see. You wish to give what you have voiced prior to have intercourse with me. Wisely, through fellatio, a method that doesn't violate the beliefs I'm mandated to hold under the church.

The deacon raises the teacup to their lips, draining the cup empty entirely before setting it down; their face is smooth, save for the slightest crinkle around the edge of their lips.

Virgil: This is acceptable to me.

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas, a bit frustrated pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing, waving his hand as an empty gesture of agreement.

Thomas: Aye, then we're agreed.

they01/19/2020

The candlelight in the room dims very briefly, and the deacon gives a polite smile.

Virgil: Yes. We have agreed.

The deacon stands up from the desk, brushing themselves off. They reach over for the basket caring the decorate sherry and bottle of souls, humming a quiet church hymn to themselves.

Virgil: As agreed upon, I will be here within the hour; I hope, however, that you'll permit me the time until then to send the gifts you have provided me towards my home. It does take quite a bit of time to permit objects protection in the Iron Republic, after all. . .you do understand, don't you?

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas seems a bit worn down, and stands, opening the door for the deacon.

Thomas: I would suggest you keep your word, but you are free within those constraints.

He pauses. Why was that easy.

Thomas: ....Deacon?

they01/19/2020

The deacon stands up, moving towards the door but pausing just before they leave to look at Thomas.

Virgil: Yes, Thomas?

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas: Forgive me but... What did you say, before? What soul are you getting?

He looks fairly worried now.

they01/19/2020

The deacon tuts.

[

4:46 AM

]

Virgil: Why, you don't recall what you've promised in an agreement? Dangerous, that is..

[

4:49 AM

]

The deacon steps outside, passing the doorway; they speak, facing away from Thomas.

Virgil: You've agreed to offer me a soul such as your own; I do hope you keep that part.

The deacon turns their head, looking at Thomas over their shoulder.

Virgil: Now. . .I shall take my leave. Have a good evening, Thomas.

The deacon steps up the stairs, humming a familiar priest hymn to themselves as they head up to the London street.

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas nods, thinking about it. He would either need a soul like his or....... his own. He shuddered. This was... Exciting.

Thomas: Have a good evening yourself, deacon.

Thomas shuts the door, locking it. He bites his lower lip. Gods he knew what danger he was in now but.. He feels along his body. That was interesting.

---

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas cleaned up the table, putting away and cleaning the dishes. He finds himself unable to keep his mind off of the future, edging himself without relief the whole hour or so. He keeps himself ready. Thomas goes back to cleaning the floors, having removed his formal shirt, setting it onto one of the chairs. He kept his undershirt on, not wanting to be indecent at least. He scrubs at the wooden floors, focusing hard on getting every spec out of the grooves. He had to focus on something or his legs would give out. What was his soul even valued at? Certainly nothing more than a common soul. He would be able to replace it easy. Yes, that's what he would do. Simple.

they01/19/2020

Inside, the candle- and gaslight dims; outside, a familiar creaking of stairs, and an even more familiar knocking. Two knocks, then three, then two; the voice of the deacon rings out in a familiar routine.

Virgil: Good evening. May I come in?

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas nearly knocked over his bucket of water, surprised he did come back. Thomas puts the brush in the bucket and placed the cleaning supplies in the lower kitchen cabinets. He puts his over shirt back on, though it is left untucked and buttons one button off. He would have noticed if he wasn't in such a hurry to unlock and open the door.

Thomas: Ah, deacon, yes. Come in, have a seat.

He steps to the side, opening the door for him.

***

they01/19/2020

The deacon nods his head.

Virgil: I thank you, then, for your hospitality. . .

The deacon steps into the room, looking around before heading to the seat they usually take.

Virgil: . . .though perhaps not for your orderliness. Your shirt is askew.

The deacon takes their seat in the lounge chair, sitting primly and properly.

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas nods, closing the door, locking it.

Thomas: Ah, apologies. Please excuse my mess.

Thomas looks at his shirt, trying to fix it turning away from Virgil to unbutton and rebutton it. There, proper. He sighs, moving to the edge of the table, nodding politely to the deacon.

Thomas: Would you like anything to drink before we.... begin?

they01/19/2020

The deacon clears their throat briefly.

Virgil: A glass of sherry, please.

The deacon wears a slight smile.

Virgil; We can discuss payment over a drink, then.

1

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas jumps, but nods, heading to the kitchen area to grab the new, unopened sherry from his cabinet. He bit his lip, pouring the sherry into the tumblers he got down with the bottle. He could talk himself to safety. His knees almost gave out, why was that more exciting that just the prospect of getting into this mans... cloak? Surely there were trousers under that. Thomas mused a bit while he set the glasses down, gently placing each glass on each side of the table. He looked a little distracted, his face flush, but he put on a smile and looked right at the deacon. He sat opposite to him, a bit more relaxed.

Thomas: Yes, a soul, like mine, correct?

they01/19/2020

The deacon grabs their glass, lifting it to their lips.

Virgil: Ah, yes, a soul like yours. . .

The deacon drinks from their glass, before lowering it, holding it in their palm.

Virgil: . . .exactly so. Exactly so.

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas seems to snap out of his thoughts a bit. He furrowed his brow. Exactly? Is that what he said?

Thomas: Ah... is that so..

He panics internally. Did he say that? He couldn't remember.

they01/19/2020

Virgil: It is so.

The deacon lowers their glass.

Virgil: I was under the impression that, after this service, you would be open to. . .abstraction. . .afterwards..

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas seems to get even redder, that was wrong. He was wrong. He got excited. Thomas links his hands together, leaning over the table.

Thomas: Now, now. I distinctly remember saying a soul.....like mine. So, you want another common soul?

Thomas was excited, this was interesting. He grins almost, the struggling was more fun than mere shipment replacements.

they01/19/2020

The deacon tilts their head slightly back, raising an eyebrow.

Virgil: Oh? . .mmh, a soul like yours? . .well, now. I must be mistaken.

The deacon raises their glass to their lip, drinking deeply; the glass is half full now as they lower it.

Virgil: . . .however, a common soul won't do if you intend to honor your part of the agreement.

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas bites his lip. So he was right.

Thomas: Well, deacon, you are of the church. What sort of soul would you compare to my own?

He was curious, though he wasn't sure the deacon would be honest. More than a common soul? Odd.

they01/19/2020

The deacon drinks deeply from their glass, setting the now nearly empty cup onto the table; they're leaning forward, linking their hands together with their arms on the table.

Virgil: Well, tell me; would you call yourself a criminal, or would you say you have your fingers in the inkpots of crime across the Neath? Certainly, your soul is heavy with the burden of sins. . .

Their face is inscrutable, but the corners of their lips curls up slightly.

Virgil: . . .but were you merely wronged, trying to fight your way through an unenlightened London?.

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas thinks about it for a second, his brows furrowing.

Thomas: I am not a criminal, deacon. I'm a man of business. Perhaps... In the past it was more of a struggle. More pockets emptied through force, more produce lifted. However... Its... Easy now.

Thomas makes an odd face, thinking very hard about his life.

Thomas: The hunt has gotten a bit, stale.

they01/19/2020

The deacon lifts their glass, pausing before they drink.

Virgil: Well now. . .a priest would say that your soul is weighed down by burden, and is in need of a larger purpose; a deacon would say that your soul is in need of a philanthropic treatment, a lesson on concern for your fellow man and practicing a modest, ascetic life such that others may thrive. . .

The deacon drinks lightly, draining their glass before setting it down.

Virgil: . . .a devil, on the other hand, would claim that your listlessness originates from your soul itself; that there is an unshaking hunger in your soul for a kind of self-destructive excitement. A devilless may be inclined to suggest that it would be easier to be rid of that frippery. . .

The deacon gives a vague smile towards Thomas as they stare at him.

Virgil: . . .less eloquently, to live without an unsatisfied need. . .ah, but I'm merely rambling; you've asked for a deacon's consultation alone. Another glass of sherry, please..

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas nods, getting up to refill the deacon's glass. Heading back from the kitchen with the full glass and the bottle, setting both onto the table. He curses himself for not just doing this in the first place, and settles down into his chair.

Thomas: Mh, perhaps, perhaps. Though finding a new chase can be just as exciting. Maybe I'll expand my ventures, maybe merely my interests. Though that still leaves the question, what sort of soul would you compare to my own?.

they01/19/2020

The deacon smiles curtly.

Virgil: From the perspective of a priest? Or a devil?

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas sighs, placing his hands on the table.

Thomas: Let's hear both.

He smiles, a bit of a faux smile.

they01/19/2020

The deacon leans back, lightly tapping the side of their jawbone.

Virgil: A popular saint would say that your soul is common, but marred. A simple answer, but. . .vague, isn't it? After all, you must agree that you are not merely common. I shan't claim you're notable, but you're certainly not unremarkable. . .

The deacon counts off on their fingers as they list.

Virgil: You have invested in many projects, and sponsored many travels. You have connections with a variety of people, both amoral and respectable. . .recently, you've sponsored a voyage to the Surface. A late return back, perhaps. . .but you've done it nonetheless.

The deacon smiles curtly, sitting up more as they rest their hands on the table.

Virgil: A common soul couldn't do that, surely. . .a brilliant soul? No. . .you're more experienced than that.

The deacon smiles wider, showing a rare flash of teeth.

Virgil: . . .a coruscating soul. Yes, that ought to be, in your own words, a soul like yours..

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas winces. He was.... flattered but, certainly not convinced. How could he challenge him on this? Thomas didn't think he could. He wish he had a drink, staring at his own glass. He would have to find a way to get them both different drinks at some point.

Thomas: ...Surely you don't....

He grips the glass, and bites his tongue. That was, a bit rude.

Thomas: Acceptable. You may have it within the time I've laid out. We agreed on..... three days, correct?

That would be enough time. Exciting, he would have to track one down, at the very least, and then.... likely give up his profits for the month. This would be rough, but he could budget it later. For now...

Thomas: Now.... About my other services.

they01/19/2020

The deacon raises an eyebrow.

Virgil: Your words were that you would provide as such within, if I recall correctly, a day or two.

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas smiles, leaning in slightly.

Thomas: The next day after the service. One to two days, after..

they01/19/2020

The deacon resumes a neutral gaze, lifting their glass of sherry to their mouth (a bit less gracefully than usual for them).

Virgil: . . .ah, so it seems.

The deacon drinks from their glass, drawing deeply from it until they've emptied it in one sip; they place the empty glass down.

Virgil: I suppose, then, that we ought to begin?

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas's smile widens. See? Everything was....under control. His slip-up will cost him, but its a small price to pay to finally get this man under his own game.

Thomas: If you would be so kind as to allow me to, I will begin.

He nods politely.

they01/19/2020

The deacon nods his head, rubbing a finger around the rim of their empty glass for a brief moment before standing up.

Virgil: I will allow you to lead. I won't, however, allow you to undress me, nor directly touch what you haven't agreed to touch or what you must touch by necessity of the service..

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas holds up a hand, sighing. Has he never done these sorts of things before?

Thomas: Sit, please. Here is fine. That is what we agreed upon, yes?

Thomas stands, a little miffed but understanding. Perhaps he was new to this sort of service.

Thomas: I will need to clean up afterwards at any rate..

they01/19/2020

The deacon sits down again, grabbing the sherry bottle and filling another glass.

Virgil: We have not agreed on a location, merely that a service would happen. . .from my unofficial business with the church, I would've presumed that you would prefer a more private setting.

The deacon drinks from their glass, draining it half-way.

Virgil: I suppose that was misguided, then.

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas looks unamused, getting under the table, sighing. He kneels in position. Thomas almost reaches out, but remembers.

Thomas: Too private. Now, if you'd be so kind as to expose yourself. So I can begin..

they01/19/2020

The deacon leans back in their chair, setting their glass down onto the table noiselessly; in the next moment, Thomas can see a pair of gloved hands reach down, clasping at buttons running down the length of their coat and undoing those holding fabric together around his groin. . .after that, a graceful unbuttoning of several layers of undershirts. . . . . .the deacon undoes the last layer of clothing (noticeably, the colors darkened from a pure white on the outside to a darker maroon as the layers passed), and they brush aside the fabric, spreading their legs slightly. Underneath, Thomas can see a small region of black, shiny carapace (not unlike insect chitin) covered in short, bristly hairs, and a slit residing where one would expect unmentionables; a small, red tip is poking out at the very top of the slit. The deacon sighs, leaning forward to fill another glass of sherry as they speak evenly without concern.

Virgil: Well now. Get to it..

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas looked... well confused would be a way of putting it politely. Do devils just.....not? He made a note of this, and steels himself. This or.... breaking a deal. He could just imagine it as something else, perhaps? Thomas makes an unamused sounding groan, but leans in, tepidly pressing his lips against the slit. He wanted to complain, but that was rude. He shuts his eyes, imagining maybe a more appealing thing, Able's rear came to mind. That would do, and he gets to work, running his tongue along the outside, still unsure as to what to do in this situation. How do people..... engage with these? Thomas griped in his head.

they01/19/2020

The deacon fills another glass of sherry, sighing wordlessly as Thomas's tongue runs along the outside of slit; underneath, the black carapace shifts, feeling smooth (save for the rough bristles coming through at the edge) and crinkling underneath Thomas's tongue, the texture similar to the shells on the Zee's wildlife. The only soft part of the entire region is the slowly swelling red tip, smooth and slippery under Thomas's tongue as they graze it. The deacon raises a glass to their lips, sipping quietly for a moment.

Virgil: Ah. . .

As Thomas licks at the slit, the soft, red tip at the top slowly expands, slipping its way out. . .

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas opens his eyes, leaning back briefly. Curious. He wondered... Thomas gets a bit more aggressive, putting more effort onto the tip, letting his mouth cover it as he runs his tongue over the tip, but still paying attention to the slit Odd, but certainly not the oddest thing he's had in his mouth.

they01/19/2020

The deacon sits back a little more, taking a larger sip of sherry from their glass. Below, the red tip starts moving, pressing lightly against Thomas's lips as it slowly slithers its way out of the slit. . .then, a small pressure on Thomas's chin; another tip is starting to poke its way out, showing a sort of double-pronged member swelling underneath Thomas's attention and growing still. . . Meanwhile, the deacon reaches over to grab the bottle of sherry; they've emptied their glass, and are now just refilling it readily, holding the decanter in one hand and a glass in the other.

Virgil: Hmm. You seem to be enjoying yourself.

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas seems to get visibly excited, and then doubles down on his attention. He actively pushes into the deacons groin, taking both of the tips into his mouth. His tongue doesn't seem to be able to sit still, writhing a bit manically against the member.. Thomas looks up at the deacon whilst he presses harder, his tongue pressing between the slit and the expanding member in his mouth. Fairly flush, but looking more smug than embarrassed.

they01/19/2020

The deacon spreads their legs a bit more, filling a glass and draining it in one draw. Meanwhile, the double-pronged member pushes out farther, swelling out and comfortably filling out the space between Thomas's lips as it starts sliding out further, and it continues beyond that; slowly transitioning from red to a dark maroon to black, their member swells outwards, growing to a moderate length (filling Thomas's mouth and still growing) but maintaining a comfortable girth.

Virgil: Mmh. Push your tongue between the tips..

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas, not one to argue with a cock in his mouth, pulls out a bit, enough to get in between the split of the member. He keeps only the very tips of them in his mouth, gliding his tongue along them before parting them with his tongue. He watches the deacon carefully, tepidly using one hand to steady the member in his mouth. Thomas makes a little hum, forcing his tongue between the split, allowing him to gently suck on them as he did so. He wanted this to last.

they01/19/2020

The deacon leans back a little more in their chair, sighing as they fill another glass (how many was that now?). The pronged member swells at Thomas's prodding at the split, suddenly pushing forward as the deacon's member elongates further; while of modest girth, Virgil's member is now long enough to cover the length of Thomas's face from chin to forehead, and it's still growing further, trying to slither its way into Thomas's mouth and throat.

Virgil: Good. . .start putting it into your throat.

The deacon lifts a glass, tilting their head back and allowing sherry to pour down their throat. Afterwards, they set the glass down, their posture slightly askew.

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas lingers on the split just a bit longer, a little fixated on it before he starts leaning into it. He moves his hands to the floor again, getting more flush as he feels it reach the back of his throat. He wasn't done though, and made sure they had enough air in their lungs and started guiding it down his throat. He was slow, he had to be, coating the member with his tongue as he leaned in, until he reached back to the deacon's groin. A feat he surely had done before, but this was a more exciting case. He wondered though, did he like gagging? Possibly not, that is too noisy, he thought. Thomas stares up at the deacon, now redder than ever, feeling the fullness in his throat. He grabbed his own thigh, merely to stop himself from feeling himself. It was a bit tight, though.

.

they01/19/2020

The deacon is holding the partially emptied bottle of sherry in their right hand, lifting a glass in their left hand for a brief moment before setting it down on the table; they grab at their glasses, sighing contentedly as they pull it off, their eyes closed.

Virgil: Mmh. . .

The deacon opens their eyes, looking down at Thomas; piercing amber, with a red slit in the center, stare at Thomas, a curt grin taking over their face briefly; meanwhile, their member is still growing (though its growth is starting to peter off) as the new length pushes Thomas's head back a bit, leaving a moderate gap between their lips and the base of the deacon's groin.

Virgil: . . .put all of it into your throat.

The deacon breaks their gaze with Thomas, their voice and throat buzzing quietly; they lift the entire bottle of sherry, pulling it to their lips and tilting their head back ever so slightly as they take several swigs of the stuff.

.

January 20, 2020

The boy01/20/2020

Thomas cuts off a bit of a moan, merely to try and stay somewhat polite. He seemed to shudder at their gaze, and keeps looking up. Thomas guides himself down the expanding member, trying to keep up with it when it does, pressing himself actively against the deacons groin. He can feel himself in need to breathe, but ignores it, a hand gently grazing over his own groin, sparking a little muffled whimper out of him. Sherry well spent it seems..

.

they01/20/2020

The deacon leans back a little more, sighing as they lean backwards, their hip pushing forward into Thomas's face; their member still grows, tapering out to a final length capable of covering the length of Thomas's face and more.

Virgil: Ahh. . .there you go. . .mmh. . .

The deacon reaches a free hand down, cradling the back of Thomas's head for a moment. They tilt their head back, taking a swig of sherry, before looking down at Thomas, a devilish smile curling at the edge of their lips as their amber eyes stare a hole through Thomas.

Virgil: . . .hm. I wonder what a deacon would say, seeing you like this. . ?

The deacon suddenly pushes on the back of Thomas's head, forcing his member deeper and putting pressure at the back of his throat, before the new length slips down into his throat; the sensation feels like the double tip is just above his adam's apple, skewering his esophagus and making it near impossible to breathe.

The boy01/20/2020

Thomas gags, feeling the need to breathe more and more, but instead of pushing away, he pushes further. His tongue is trying to writhe under the deacons member. Thomas feels along his own stomach, tepidly touching his throat, and seems to shudder. He grazes his groin, but he knows he's too close to be messing around with that. He looks blissful, if the deacon killed him like this he'd probably not mind. Thomas studies his face, indeed, what would he say? That he was filth? A common whore made for using? Gods he sure hoped so.

they01/20/2020

The deacon sighs, closing their eyes and tilting their head back, raising the bottle to their lips.

Virgil: . . . they'd say you're enjoying yourself too much. . .

The deacon tilts the bottle back, drinking a little more sherry; as they drink, their member throbs inside of Thomas's throat, the double tip splitting a little and scraping against the walls of their throat. The deacon pulls the bottle away from their mouth, sighing contentedly, their eyes closed as their head tilts back, the bottle of sherry held loosely in their other hand. They speak evenly, a low buzzing underneath their voice as they tilt their head forward to look at Thomas.

Virgil: Sigh. . .a right slut aren't you, ending up on the tip of a devil's cock. . .you have no standards, do you,Thomas?

The deacon moves their hand, gripping the top of Thomas's head and pulling them back slightly; their eyes are overcast with glare by the candlelight.

Virgil: . . .well, now, I can't very well be teaching you such bad habits. . .mmh, but, then again, the church doesn't need to know about this.

The deacon pulls Thomas's head back onto their cock, pushing his head hard into their groin as their twin tipped member flares in his throat suddenly.

Virgil: . . .sigh. . .I suppose it's for the best, if you just end up choking; there can't possibly be any redemption for a whore like you.

Deep inside, Thomas can feel the devil's member swell up, filling up his mouth and throat comfortably with slimy flesh; deep inside, he can feel an uncomfortable pinching as the twin tips flare up and press against the walls of his throat before suddenly squirting a greasy, thick sludge into his esophagus. Deep inside, his throat feels vaguely warm. Meanwhile, the deacon raises the bottle to their lips, sighing.

Virgil: . . .mmh. . .you're not pulling off? You're actually gonna swallow that stuff?

The deacon takes a light sip of sherry, before looking at Thomas.

Virgil: . . .how disgusting..

The boy01/20/2020

Thomas is close to passing out, though perhaps more for the deacons words at this point than his own physical needs for air. Thomas presses into the deacon of his own desires, but does appreciate the hand at the back of his head. He steadily tries to keep his throat relaxed, looking up at the deacon even more flush and blissful than before. He feels his fluids, and whimpers into his groin. He felt like if he was talked down to any more he may find his own release soon. Thomas refused to let himself have that satisfaction, that would take the fun out of it. He could feel the tense feeling in his pants, but merely wished to ignore it. He was disgusting wasn't he? He manages to get out a fairly muffled moan, even with his head fading a bit.

they01/20/2020

The deacon sighs, their member slowly retreating back into their slit; they set the bottle down onto the table, and start buttoning themselves back up, pausing at the last few buttons to wait for their member to fully retreat.

Virgil: Ah. . .there's my end of the deal, dealt with.

The twin-tipped member is slowly retreating out of Thomas's mouth, the tip dragging against the walls of their throat and the back of their mouth as it starts to quickly return, slipping back into the devil's slit; as it the tip trails into Thomas's mouth, they feel a hot, spicy sensation coating his mouth as the split-tipped cock throbs one last time, depositing an oily, thick sludge onto his tongue. The deacon starts buttoning themselves up, working layer by layer.

Virgil: Mmh, yes. You've had your fun. I expect payment, then, in two days at most. After today, as you've established..

The boy01/20/2020

Thomas gasps, his breathing ragged and forced. He was sure he was going to pass out. Maybe another time.

Thomas: Hhh.... hhh.. Yes... hhkkrf!...

Thomas tries to make sure none of the fluids escaped his mouth, swallowing. He slowly gets out from under the table, standing, breathing hard.

Thomas: hhhf.... yes... Let me...

Thomas vaguely tries to straighten his hair, and tuck his shirt in, but it doesn't do much.

Thomas: Let me get the door for you...

He starts to move to the door, his hands shaking, a little slow at the locks, before opening the door.

they01/20/2020

The deacon finishes buttoning themselves; they put their guarded glasses back on, before standing up and heading towards the door.

Virgil: Ah, thank you. I will be arriving back here in two days as a courtesy call; best to check up and make sure that you have the coruscating soul on its way, yes?

The deacon heads over to the doorway, walking without making a noise; they pause before passing the doorway, turning their head to look at Thomas.

Virgil: . . .I expect to see you at a sermon after this, lest you submit to swallowing filth again.

The deacon nods their head, heading out into the London air and heading up the stairs.

Virgil: Have a good evening, Thomas..

The boy01/20/2020

Thomas nods politely, but that comment made his face light up faster than the rest of that whole endeavor. He whimpers a bit. Too close, he knew he was too close.

Thomas: A-....Ah.....yes.....deacon... you as well...

He closes the door, a bit more quickly than usual. He presses his back against the door, groaning. He would have to visit the baths, and.... perhaps change his clothing...

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