the Dalaverse

First of pigeongirl99's requests: Jack/Will religious!kink.

Oh yeah.

Shameful abuse of Song of Solomon. Shameful abuse of Will's wits, really, although he's not complaining.



His Banner Over Me


“In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti.”

“Jack, that’s blasphemous,” Will protests even as he shudders beneath Jack’s touch, the oil streaking his brow, the center of his breastbone, one nipple and then the other.

“And all we’ve been up to ain’t?” Jack inquires with a chuckle, swiping his tongue along the far left point of the cross. The boy’s skin tastes of peppermint and sweat and sin. Jack nips and licks his way up, over the pulse jumping in Will’s throat, along his jaw, to whisper in his ear, “‘Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine.'”

He spills more oil across Will’s belly, prompting a reflexive clench of muscles that makes him catch his own breath. “‘Because of the savor of thy good ointments thy name is as ointment poured forth, therefore do the virgins love thee.'” Will snorts at that, then breathes in sharp and swift as Jack’s fingers curve around his cock.

“‘Draw me,’” Jack murmurs, giving the lad’s rigid shaft a good, smooth pull, “‘we will run after thee: the king has brought me into his chambers...’” He slides his free hand once around the base, trickling oil down Will’s balls and into the cleft behind, urging Will’s thighs farther apart with his elbow. “'We will be glad and rejoice in thee –‘” Will cries out harshly as Jack presses a finger into him, his hips rising from the bed.

Jack strokes his cock harder, adds a second finger and a third, bites down gently on the soft lobe of the lad’s ear. “‘– we will remember thy love more than wine...’” Will’s arm goes tight around his shoulders, head nudging Jack’s, seeking his mouth to muffle the whimpers. Jack kisses him and plays the pleasure out within his body, then breaks away as he feels Will start to tremble.

“The upright love thee,’” he finishes, impressed with his powers of recall, “and so shall I.”

Will sobs like a raptured pilgrim when his seed spills over Jack’s skin.

“Well,” he sighs a few minutes later, cheeks still rose-pink, legs sprawled lazily and hand gripping Jack’s cock in a loose promise, “dirty poetry is certainly more appropriate than a holy symbol of the Church.”

Jack tucks his head under Will’s arm and laughs until his guts ache.