Cardinal Copia X Oc - Tumblr Posts

Working for the Knife

Chapter 1: the road ahead appears the same (link)

Cardinal Copia x OC Sister of Sin Tags: Friends to Strangers to Lovers, Childhood Trauma, Religious Guilt, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, (eventual) Workplace Relationship, Family Dynamics, Flashbacks, (eventual) smut, we're writing an album guys

After twenty years of running from her past, Sister Cecilia Honeycutt finds herself back at the Ministry, where she was raised under the thumb of her devout parents. Her hope of rebuilding her life under the anonymous shadow of religious service is quashed when Sister Imperator tasks her with helping Cardinal Copia take the Ghost Project into a new era. In the midst of navigating his new role, Copia is determined to unravel the truth behind Cecilia’s sudden disappearance and her just-as-unexpected return.

a/n: don't mind me using Ghost to examine my own complicated relationship with religion. I'm super excited and nervous to share my writing publicly; I haven't written fic in at least a decade and I think the last time I published anything online I was in middle school lmaoooo.

Reblogs, comments, and kudos are very much welcome and appreciated 🖤

Sister Cecilia Honeycutt pulls her long blonde hair into a loose bun at the nape of her neck before pinning her veil in place, sighing at her reflection in the mirror. She never thought she would be back at the Ministry, but she didn’t know where else to turn.

As she tucks the fine light hairs on her forehead underneath the band of her veil, she catches a glimpse of her eyes in the mirror and sniffles. She feels petulant. It has been a little more than a year, but the circumstances that lead her to this moment still stung.

The faux-sympathetic look in her boss’s - the congresswoman’s - eyes as she explained that the office did sympathize with her predicament, but her prior religious affiliation was too controversial. Poll numbers were down after the story broke, the congresswoman’s reelection was now in jeopardy, and the people of the district couldn’t afford to lose their champion in Congress. She was sorry that their long working relationship had to end with Cecilia’s resignation. As if Cecilia was given a choice. As if Cecilia was given a chance to explain that she didn’t even know what she believed and had long-grappled with her faith, or lack thereof.

Read the rest on AO3!

Chapter 3: A Twenty Year Summer Vacation (link)

Cardinal Copia x OC Sister of Sin Tags: Friends to Strangers to Lovers, Childhood Trauma, Religious Guilt, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, (eventual) Workplace Relationship, Family Dynamics, Flashbacks, (eventual) smut, having indecent thoughts during (un)holy communion

A new day dawns. Copia’s gentle prodding and seemingly genuine desire to know Cecilia is disarming in a way she wasn’t expecting. She’s used to the bullshit social niceties of Washington, D.C., the asking without wanting to really know, but this is uncharted territory for her.

Reblogs, comments, and kudos are very much welcome and appreciated 🖤

Cecilia wakes the next morning puffy-eyed and with a renewed sense of purpose. This feels familiar to her; crying herself to sleep and waking up ready to seize the new day was such a common occurrence in D.C. that it became as easy as breathing. The moments when she’s alone in bed, the hazy in-between of consciousness and sleep, are the only times she can let the wall down, just a little, and feel her feelings. There, it’s safe to dip into the deep well of emotion she keeps locked away in her heart and cry cry cry. Copia’s gentle prodding and seemingly genuine desire to know her is disarming in a way she wasn’t expecting. She’s used to the bullshit social niceties of Washington, D.C., the asking without wanting to really know, but this is uncharted territory for her.

She rolls out of bed, groaning as her feet hit the floor. Takes a moment to stretch. She really misses her old queen-sized, pillow top mattress; the thin dormitory mattress isn’t doing her body any favors. For as young and small as she felt last night, her creaky bones make her feel her age this morning.

When she moved in, Cecilia was surprised to find that the old brick building housing the dormitories was retrofitted with electricity at some point. Her trusty little percolator bubbles in the corner of the, one of the few non-clothing items that she brought with her from her old apartment. She grabs a mug from a closet shelf and pours herself a cup of coffee.

Morning coffee is a soothing ritual; feeling the caffeine activate her nervous system is one of her favorite parts of the day. It became a vice of necessity during her years on the Hill and was a habit she fully intended to kick upon leaving. However, Cecilia liked teetering on the edge of over-caffeination a bit too much to dial back. She figured being a semi-practicing Satanist gave her the leeway to indulge just a bit. As she sips, a feeling of deep embarrassment about how emotional she got the night before creeps over her. She thinks Copia is probably dreading having to see her again. She’s nearly forty but still feels like a child; this past year alone has been like a second puberty.

Read the rest of the chapter at AO3 here!

working for the knife: chapter 12

chapter 12: fulfill me (link) Pairing: Cardinal Copia x Sister of Sin OC Rating: this fic is explicit. 18+, minors do not interact Chapter word count: 3.5k Tags: angst, miscommunication, cliffhanger, these poor idiots Read the entire work on AO3 here! (link)

Cecilia and Copia are sitting on his couch under the guise of working, watching The Rocky Horror Picture Show instead. Cecilia suggested watching it, "for inspiration," and Copia, willing to try anything at this point, agreed. His living room is dark, save for the blue glow of the television. It’s March 2; the crocuses and daffodils are starting to poke their colorful heads up through the earth. The days are getting longer, and the warmth of the sun doesn’t feel so far away. Sister Imperator is expecting Ghost’s newest album on her desk by the end of the month.

They’re comfortable; Copia is in his red sweats, and Cecilia’s wearing an old hoodie from her college days and fleece-lined leggings. Cecilia’s legs are stretched across Copia’s lap, concealed by an old, crocheted granny-square blanket woven in acid trip colors. It’s physically cozy, but Cecilia still feels emotionally inaccessible to Copia. Her heart is miles away, and when he reaches toward her, she deflects expertly. They haven’t made any inroads in the vulnerability department since their dinner on Valentine’s Day, but they have been spending their evenings like this more often than not recently. Dinners at the dining hall have slowly transformed into shared meals in Copia’s apartment. They usually watch a movie or bad television curled up against each other after eating, not saying much except for the occasional snide comment about the drama brewing between housewives.

The longer they spend in each other’s orbit, the more desperately Copia desires to have Cecilia open up to him. He wants to know what happened the night she left; he longs to cup that secret in his hands like an injured bird, carefully, like it’s something delicate and sacred. Copia knows that he told himself he would take what he can get, a relationship in any capacity, but balancing on this tightrope is becoming excruciatingly hard. How can he prove to her that she can trust him?

"I loved Rocky Horror in college," she says. "We would dress up and go to the midnight showing almost every Friday. More fun than bar-hopping, I think." Rocky is fondling Janet’s breasts on screen as she begs for him to touch-a touch-a touch-a me. Feels appropriate, Cecilia’s wandering mind thinks. Since she felt Copia pressed hot and hard against her body while he kissed her ravenously, Cecilia has been subtly hinting with soft touches that she wants more, more, more.

"It would’ve been fun to watch this in high school too, no? There’s so much that we missed out on after you left. Um.. so much I wish we could have done. I made a whole list of plans for your first winter break." He doesn’t think he’s prying, just trying to tease some sort of response from her, or at least an acknowledgement that so much lingers in the space between them.

There’s a long pause, silent except for the movie in the background. "Copia, I… I’m still not ready to talk about this," she says, crossing her arms over her chest. Unholy Father, she thinks with exasperation, she’s already contending with Sister Imperator’s unrealistic timeline and the pressure to make sure Copia succeeds. She doesn’t need Copia trying to force his timeline on her, too. One thing at a time. She feels the walls close in on her, and it’s a little harder to breathe. What’s the rush? They’ve waited long enough, after all - what’s a little longer?

"How long are we going to play this game?" Copia asks, sounding tired. He has a hangdog expression on his face, and Cecilia feels awful.

"What do you mean?" Cecilia asks, shifting her position and leaning forward toward Copia. Their legs are still touching, and she’s suddenly very aware of how physically intimate their current arrangement is.

"You let me in a little bit, and then retreat the moment you feel vulnerable," Copia replies. "Please, Cecilia - please, let me in. You’re sitting with your legs in my lap, but you won’t open up to me." He sounds desperate, and he’s looking at her like she’s wounded him. His white eye is icy, and Cecilia feels it slicing through the very core of her.

"Copia, how many times have I told you? I’ll tell you when I’m ready," she says, feeling the urge to bolt. "Every time I open myself up to people, it backfires."

"I think not letting yourself be known backfires more than anything else," he replies gently. He knows it sounds accusatory, but he’s trying to dig his fingers in - push past the rind and into the juicy flesh inside. See what spills forth. His curiosity is killing him.

"What are you saying?" Cecilia says, pulling her legs back from Copia’s lap. Curling in on herself.

"Like with the… ah… with your old job. You hid a huge part of yourself and when the truth came out, that backfired," Copia offers meekly, knowing it’ll go over miserably the second the words leave his lips.

Her face twists in anger. "A huge part of myself that I never asked for," she bites back.

He goes on, despite his best judgement. The words spill from him of their own accord. "And you didn’t tell you parents that you were going to college… and I don’t think that went well, either. You disappeared without a word for twenty years."

Cecilia curls her arms around her knees, looking furious. She feels like she’s about to collapse in on herself, like a dying star. "I did what I had to do to keep myself safe. You don’t know what they did-" She stops herself short. The feeling of having her life ripped out from underneath her, not once but twice, is overwhelming and rushing back. She feels panicky, like she’s going to drown. Her lungs feel watery and taking a full breath seems impossible.

"I think you’ve been able to, eh rest on your laurels of being someone who works very hard and does a good job to keep people from getting to know you," Copia offers. It comes out harsher than he intended.

Cecilia scrambles up off the couch, tossing the blanket in Copia’s lap. "Stop! I can’t do this, Copia. Not like this. I - I need to leave. Goodnight."

He sees now he pushed too far, and the realization twists like a knife in his gut. Looking at her, he can see the wild, animal panic in her eyes. Fuck, he’s messed this up. "Cecilia, wait -"

"How many times have I said that I’ll tell you when I’m ready?" she says again, spitting the words like they’re venom, pulling on her boots.

"Will you ever be ready?" Copia asks - not accusatory, but with a pleading kind of vulnerability that breaks her heart.

"Twenty years is a long time, and a lot has changed. It’s hard to talk about - and I don’t mean to push you away - but I feel like I’m going to crack open and shatter when I think about what happened between then and now. Maybe the day will come when I don’t feel that way, but you can’t force it." Cecilia’s walking to the door. Copia stands up, takes a step toward her. Her hand is on the door knob, ready to twist.

"Please let me know you," he offers, one final plea.

"I’m afraid that you’ll hurt me too. Goodnight, Copia." She opens the door and steps out into the night. The movie is still playing on the television, and Copia feels desperately alone. He’s left with the impression that he’s destroyed the little progress they’ve made, and he’s wishing that Cecilia never came back in the first place.

[10:09pm] Cecilia, I’m sorry.

[10:48pm] Buona notte.

It’s Friday, March 16, and Cecilia is filled with dread. Sister Imperator has called a 2:00pm meeting with her and Copia. Cecilia knows that Sister is expecting an update on an album that still does not exist. She really hopes that Copia takes it upon himself to bear that news, because she is at her wits end.

Cecilia can tell that Copia is starting to panic, which makes her feel anxious, too. All she wants to do is fix the problem, but Copia just won’t let her. She’s suggested vision boards, affirmations, morning pages - all the tools in her arsenal, to no avail. Their thrice-daily meals have dwindled to maybe just lunch, and that’s if they don’t find themselves busy mid-day. Cecilia has given up on receiving any texts from Copia that aren’t work-related, and every time she wants to send him something funny, she hesitates and decides against it. They still haven’t had an actual conversation since she stormed out of his apartment, and the tension between them is starting to boil over.

For the past two weeks, Copia has scrapped every single song he’s tried to write. She’s watched as the pile of crumpled paper grew in his office wastebasket, eventually spilling over onto the floor. The ghouls are getting antsy, tired of waiting around with nothing to do. The emotional energy that seeps out from them when they trail in behind Copia for mass is rancid, for lack of a better word. From behind their silver masks, their eyes shoot impatient little daggers at him.

Cecilia across from Copia at his desk, watching him scratch through a lyric so fervently the paper rips. He groans and throws the entire legal pad against the wall.

"Woah!" Cecilia nearly jumps out of her chair at the noise. "Calm down, Copia."

"Sister is going to have my head on a plate if I don’t give her what she wants," Copia says, running his hands through his hair. 

"What is it she always says? Leave yourself open and you’ll receive?" Cecilia changes the affectation of her voice in a mimicry of Sister Imperator. "Have you… tried that?"

"Figlio de putana, ughhhhh." He covers his face with his hands and sighs aggrievedly. "Do you think I haven’t tried that, Cecilia? I light a black candle every morning when I wake up and say the stupidest little prayer." He pauses and makes a show of clasping his hands together in mock, exaggerated prayer. "‘O Unholy Father, I’m ready to receive the message you want me to share with the masses as soon as you get around to sending it up to me! Nema!’ I’ve tried everything." He rolls his eyes and feels the hot press of a headache starting in his temples.

"Shit, Copia, sorry I asked. I’m just trying to help," she replies, feeling a little affronted.

"What would help is if you go back to your own office and leave me alone," he says with more venom than she’s ever heard from him before. Cecilia’s blood rushes and she exhales sharply through her nose. She stands up without a word and walks next door to her office, slamming the door behind her. Copia does not follow.

The day drags on at an excruciatingly slow pace. 

Copia doesn’t knock on her door at noon for lunch, so Cecilia munches on stale almonds she finds in her desk drawer and makes herself a pot of coffee, double brewed. Twelve-thirty comes and goes with no sign of Copia, so she figures they’re not doing lunch today. That’s fine. Because she’s already in a sour mood and doesn’t see the harm in making it worse, she looks up her old boss online against her better judgement. In the corner of a photo from a recent news article, she sees her replacement - the new Chief-of-Staff - smiling widely behind the congresswoman and seethes.

Mercifully, after more than an hour of doom-scrolling, it’s nearly time for their meeting. "A little check-in," Sister Imperator had called it. Cecilia’s feeling petty, so she makes the short walk down the hall to Sister Imperator’s office alone, not bothering to let Copia know she’s on her way. To her surprise, Copia is already seated at Sister’s desk, the red horns of his biretta poking out from his head. The sight of him sitting there perched like a proud, stupid little bird infuriates her.

"Thank you for joining us, Sister Cecilia," says Sister. "Close the door, will you?"

Wordlessly, Cecilia closes the heavy wood door and slinks into the desk chair next to Copia. She crosses her ankles and folds her hands in her lap.

"Sister Imperator, I’d like to start this meeting, if I may," says Copia. Cecilia glances at him from the corner of her eye, waiting to hear what he has to say. He takes a deep breath, then continues. "I would like to formally request that Sister Cecilia be given another assignment within the Clergy."

"What?!" Cecilia balks. "Where is this coming from?"

Copia is steely, unfazed. "Our working relationship has eh, deteriorated to the point where it’s jeopardizing the Ghost Project. I cannot work with her any further." Cecilia glares at him, speechless. Copia is unfazed, starting straight ahead at Sister Imperator. It’s so quiet that Cecilia can hear the squeak of his leather gloves as he clenches and unclenches his fists. 

Sister is stony-eyed, looking from Copia to Cecilia and back again. The silence hangs heavy in the room; Cecilia feels like she can scarcely breathe in its midst. "No, Copia," Sister Imperator says after what feels like forever. Cecilia sighs her relief, and she can tell that Copia is all tense and hot and pissy under his cassock. Good. "I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but you need to figure it out like adults. You’re both sitting there pouting, and I feel like I’m talking to bickering children right now. This kind of behavior is extremely unbecoming of the future leader of the Clergy and a woman who made her living hobnobbing with politicians for ten years. Copia, you have what it takes to make this happen and it will come. It’s up to you to figure out how to get there. You’re dismissed. Don’t talk to me until you have an album, either of you. You have two weeks." Adding insult to injury, she shoos them off with a little flick of her hands.

Cecilia stands up fast enough that her chair squeaks against the stone floor. She pushes the door open hard enough that it swings back on its hinges before Copia can even rise to his feet.

Sister is nonplussed as Copia leaps up to follow Cecilia, who’s already near the other end of the hallway and no doubt on her way back to her dorm. Her habit is clenched tightly in her fist, and her hair swishes with each quick step. Meanly, Copia thinks that she’s probably going to cry it out like she always does.

--

Cecilia spends the rest of the afternoon into the evening cocooned in her comforter. She’s too angry to cry and too wired to sleep, so she just lays there, curled in on herself like a worm.

Her phone is on her pillow next to her, and it’s been silent for hours. It vibrates twice, startling her, and the screen lights up. She snakes a hand out of her blanket cocoon and brings her phone right in front of her face. The blue light is blinding, but she feels bad enough about everything else that she doesn’t care about her eyeballs getting sizzled. Surprisingly, it’s a text from Copia. 

[7:52pm] Can u come to my apartment? I think we need to talk abt this afternoon

As pissed as she is, she‘s happy to hear something from him.

[7:52pm] Yeah, I think so, too. See you in 30?

[7:54pm] K.

Cecilia intended to be an adult about this, she really did, but Copia’s passive-aggressive "K." sends her over the edge. She runs a brush through her hair so it looks passable, puts on the first matching pair she finds in her pile of shoes, and makes her way over to Copia’s quarters, grabbing her purse before she goes.

Copia hears a knock on his door and his stomach drops. Less than ten minutes have passed since he last texted Cecilia, but he doesn’t see the point in further delaying this confrontation. Through the peephole, he can see Cecilia standing outside with her arms crossed. He knows she’s pissed, but so is he. Bracing himself, he opens the door.

"What the fuck was that in Sister’s office?" Cecilia starts. She’s still wearing her habit, but her veil is absent. Oddly enough, she’s wearing bright magenta running shoes, which she kicks off and across the room moments after walking in the door. Copia grimaces; Cecilia is walking into his apartment like a tornado, all fury. One shoe hits the wall with a thunk before falling to the ground."You can’t just drop a bomb like that on me. You can’t work when I’m around? You could have at least talked to me first, you know, like an adult." Copia has a fire burning in the fireplace, and its smoky warmth is suffocating.

"I’ve tried talking to you! You’re making this impossible!" Copia yells. "I have a job to do, and I know it doesn’t matter to you, but it matters a lot to me. All you do is offer unhelpful suggestions and ice me out!"

"What’s that supposed to mean? It doesn’t matter to me? Fuck, Copia, I’m trying to help you! It matters to me because I care about you! I would’ve packed it up and asked Sister for another job weeks ago if I didn’t!" Cecilia can tell that her face is flushed bright red with how fast heat rises to her cheeks. She has no idea how long Copia’s been home, but he’s still in his vestments; the red of her face matches the red of his cassock.

"Listen, Cecilia. This is how I see it. You let me in a little bit, and then you slam the door on me every time I get too close for you. You let me kiss you and touch you and you curl up next to me on my couch, but you - you freak out any time I try to talk to you more, eh, deeply. Do you have any idea how exhausting that is to deal with? I never know which Cecilia I’m going to get at the start of the day. I can’t focus on anything else because you are the only thing I think about," Copia says. Cecilia is frowning deeply, her fists balled up tightly at her sides. He goes on: "Do you know what it feels like? I don’t even know if we can have what we ah, had before, but that’s okay! If I can at least have closure - Unholy Father, Cecilia, you disappeared right after we almost had sex and made all of these whispered promises about the future, and you sent one cryptic postcard and I never hear from you again. And I kept waiting for you to write, or call, or reappear, but that didn’t happen. I kept telling myself that I needed to move on, and just when I thought I finally did, you show up back at the Ministry and worm your way into my whole life. All this time, and I don’t even know why you left like that - you broke my heart. You can’t even acknowledge what we had, how close we were, and that’s what hurts me the most." Copia’s breath is heaving, and the white eye is making everything he sees glow like an incandescent filament. He squeezes his eyes shut and presses the heels of his palms against them before blinking them open again.

Cecilia’s mouth is agape and she’s visibly trembling. "Worm my way back in your life? That’s not fair, and you know it. I don’t know why Sister threw me into this… this impossible fucking task! I wanted a fresh start and a clean break from everything when I came back, but apparently that was too much to ask of the universe. Do you think I want to be babysitting you, Copia? Making sure you do your work? Did you ever consider that my heart was broken, too? I kept every stupid letter you ever sent me in a shoebox. I took it back with me after my mom’s funeral, and I brought it with me when I came back here. Ugh!" Her eyes are welling up with tears. She breathes out slowly, tries to count to ten. Copia says nothing, just looks at her intensely with his steely mismatched gaze. He’s fuming mad and has a furious set to his jaw; she knows her babysitting comment was a low blow. The infernal white eye, hot and bright, looking through her sends a tremor of something through her body; she’s not sure if it’s a fear response or if she’s turned on, to be quite honest. Regardless, she can’t look away. It’s captivating. Cecilia decides that there’s no use in delaying the inevitable any further, and exhales the rest of her breath in a steady stream. "Okay, Copia. I’ve never told another person this in my entire life, and you’re going to be the first. There’s no point in hiding it anymore, and if this is what we need to move forward, let’s do it. This is what happened the night I left."

working for the knife: chapter 13

chapter 13: then: August 1999 (link) Pairing: Cardinal Copia x Sister of Sin OC Rating: this fic is explicit. 18+, minors do not interact Chapter word count: 4.7k Tags: flashback, first kiss, first time, estrangement, emotional abuse, child abandonment, emotional baggage. content warning for Cecilia's shitty parents. Read the entire work on AO3 here! (link)

Thinking about starting a taglist for this fic - if you're interested in being added, feel free to reply or send me a message.

---

Cecilia is fairly certain that she’s going to lose her virginity tonight. Copia is back at the Ministry, and if she’s interpreting things correctly, the tone of his letters became increasingly flirtatious the sooner he got to being back stateside.

She’s shaved her legs and underarms twice, just to make sure they’re extra smooth. She even shaved her bush, because that’s what men like according to the trashy lifestyle magazines stocked at the bait-and-tackle shop. She glances at the clock on the bedroom wall. Copia said he would be here at 7:00, and it’s 6:45. Fifteen minutes stretch out before her in an anxious expanse. She smoothes her damp palms over the dress she’s wearing tonight - black with little white daisies - and tosses on a black, open-weave cardigan before pulling on her black Chelsea boots, scuffed and well-worn.

Cecilia paces a few times before glancing up at the clock again. It’s 6:48, so she decides to make her way out to the living room. Things have been more tense than usual with her parents lately. She’s been trying to avoid them as much as possible, which is hard when three people are living in 800 square feet. She hasn’t even told them yet that she’ll be leaving to college in a few weeks, because she keeps deciding that’s a problem for future her.

"Oh, Cecilia," her mother gasps when she steps into the living room. "You look so beautiful for your date."

Cecilia scoffs and rolls her eyes. "We’re not going on a date, Mom. We’re just catching up."

Her dad chimes in: "Copia was always such a good influence on you. You just seemed more…"

Here we go again, thinks Cecilia. "More what, Dad?" she asks.

"You know," he says, talking a little with his hands. "You cared about the church more. Being involved. He’s a good kid, a devout and faithful Son. Sister Imperator clearly likes him, and we all know she doesn’t like just anybody." Her mom is nodding along.

Cecilia tries hard not to groan and fights the urge to tell her parents that they sound like starfuckers. It’s true that Copia was her tenuous tie to the Ministry, but she can’t explain to her parents that had everything to do with him and very little to do with the Unholy Father. Can’t explain that she’s feeling more and more like she never felt the pull of belief to begin with.

Mercifully, Cecilia hears the low rumble of Copia’s LeSabre and the gentle honk of his horn. He’s a few minutes early, but his arrival couldn’t have come a moment too soon. "I’ll see you later!" she says in a sing-song voice, grabbing her purse and making a beeline for the door, slamming it behind her.

Copia is a hazy visage behind the sunlit windshield. Cecilia’s blood feels like ice in the best way possible, and even her teeth start to chatter a little with anticipation. She hears the click of the doors unlocking and saddles into the passenger seat.

She’d thought about this moment a million times, and what she would say, and what she would do, but the truth of the matter is that she’s speechless. "Hi," she says, figuring that’s a good place to start.

"Ciao, bella," Copia replies, clearly just as nervous as she is. He’s drumming an uneven rhythm on the steering wheel. He’s wearing a white button-down shirt with the top few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up and a pair of khaki chinos. Cecilia doesn’t miss the curls of chest hair peeking out from under the collar, or the way his gold grucifix necklace glints in the sun.

He’s filled out over the past few years, looking more like a man than the teenager he was when he left. His shoulders have broadened and his forearms are tan, corded with muscle, and fuzzy with hair. There’s a cute little pudge of tummy over the waist of his pants - maybe he did spend the past two years getting fat and happy on pasta and cannoli. He’s clean-shaven, having lost the sparse teenage mustache, and he must’ve gotten contacts, because the glasses are gone, too. He smells clean, like bergamot and balsam.

"I don’t know what to say," Cecilia says with a nervous laugh. Her heart is singing. "It’s good to see you."

"And you," replies Copia. "You look good, cara. No more braces?"

"No more braces." Cecilia smiles at Copia with all her teeth.

"Molto bene." He shifts the car into gear. "Are you ready?"

"I was born ready," she replies, taking her sunglasses from her bag and putting them on.

Copia navigates the swerving roads of the backcountry by the Ministry with practiced ease. "The other Brothers and I would drive down the coast and they always made me take the wheel," he explains. "This is nothing."

"The other…Brothers? Copia, did you take your vows?" Cecilia gasps. "I know how much this means to you. Congratulations!"

"I’m sorry I didn’t tell you in letters, but I thought it would be, eh, a fun little surprise to share." He looks away from the road for a second to steal a glance at her; her light hair is a fiery halo in the golden evening sun.

"Consider me surprised," she says, reclining back in her seat.

The old Buick meanders along before Copia pulls to a stop at the lake’s edge. It’s a private enclave, tucked away in trees and shrubs. The water is placid and sparkling as the sun begins its descent in the sky. "You always talked about being here so fondly in your letters," Copia explains, "I really want to eh. Share it with you." He walks around the side of the car to open the passenger door for Cecilia. Gentlemanly.

He pops the trunk and pulls out a red plaid blanket, soft and faded with age. After that comes a picnic basket, much to Cecilia’s delight. "You didn’t have to do this for me, Copia," she says softly, thrilled.

"I want to do this for you. Come, sit." He sits and pats the blanket beside him.

"Seeing you is enough," Cecilia replies. She’s taken with the desire to push him down on the blanket and smother him with kisses

"Consider it eh, a bonus, then," Copia replies, opening the basket and pulling out cheeses and fruits, crostini and jams and mustards, and a corked carafe of a pre-made bright orange drink. "Aperol spritz," he explains. "A good summer cocktail."

"He goes to Italy and comes back knowing about good summer cocktails," Cecilia teases. "Are these from the gardens? They’re beautiful." She’s picking up a little carton of strawberries, inspecting. They’re small and deep red, like little rubies. "Copia - this is too much. Thank you."

"I think they’re better than what you can get at the store," Copia replies. He takes a small cheese knife and wooden cutting board out of the basket last and starts explaining what each cheese is and what it pairs best with, slicing slivers for Cecilia to sample.

The sun dips lower in the sky and a chill is coming off the water. Dark, heavy clouds are gathering on the horizon, but they look too far away to worry about. The remaining little nubs of cheese are tucked back into the basket. One drink has Cecilia feeling warm and giddy, and she notices Copia inching closer to her on the blanket. 

"I thought about this a lot. What it would be like, being here with you" Copia says softly. His hand inches toward hers, and she laces their fingers together. "I missed you, Cecilia."

"I missed you too," she says, just as softly. "I’m glad you’re back. I forgot all of my Latin without you."

Copia chuckles. "Don’t say I never told you so."

"There’s something I want to tell you, too. A little surprise," Cecilia says, mirroring his words from earlier. Copia raises his eyebrows and makes one of his interested little Copia sounds. "I got into college. I’m - ugh - I’m leaving for the fall semester in a few weeks." He looks at her with a strange mix of emotions on his face, chief of which is disappointment. He thought that they had nothing but time in front of them, and now she’s the one leaving the Ministry. "Ugh, gross, I’m so sorry," she goes on. "I haven’t told anyone else, and I wanted someone to know. But I’ll be back over breaks, and we can keep writing. I might even have a phone in my dorm."

"Wait." Copia blinks at her. "You haven’t told anyone? Not even your parents?"

"They’re gonna freak out. I’m trying to make it as swift a transition as possible. They want me to rush right into a novitiate, enter the Sisterhood. Ughhhh." She grimaces, scrubs her hands down her face. "But I don’t even know if I want that, Copia. I feel like it’s something my parents want without even considering my feelings." She feels like she’s saying too much, because Copia is still not saying anything and looking at her with that indiscernible expression he’s so good at wearing. "I don’t know if I believe."

"What makes you say that?" Copia is looking at her, unblinking and owlish.

"I don’t feel anything during mass. I’ve never felt awe, or wonder, or the devil’s blackest force moving through me, not even when I was confirmed. How do you know, Copia?" Cecilia is feeling extremely overwhelmed and feels the sting of tears in her eyes. The guilt she’s carried with her since her Unholy Confirmation is threatening to spill over.

"It’s like home," Copia says. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, considering his words. "I know His black light is guiding me. I feel it here." He splays his fingers over his heart. "It’s so hard to explain, Cecilia, but I just know."

"And I think I know in the same way," she whispers back. She’s ruining everything, making him break himself open and bear his soul to her in a way that they’ve never broached before. She knows she’s rejecting something important to him, and it feels like a betrayal.

Copia says nothing, just hums, considering. "Do you know what else I know?"

Cecilia chews the inside of her lower lip and shakes her head. Her heart is thrumming furiously in her chest, and her breath catches when she looks in Copia’s kind green eyes.

"I know that I like you very much. Is it okay to kiss you?" Copia asks after a long pause, squeezing her hand. He’s so soft and so warm.

Cecilia bites her lip and nods. Yes, it’s more than okay; it’s all she’s ever wanted and it’s the only thing she’s truly certain about right now. Copia turns his head and leans in toward Cecilia, closing his eyes. Cecilia closes her eyes, too, and lets herself surrender to shivery anticipation. Copia presses his mouth to hers, chaste and so tender. Cecilia gives him a little reciprocal press of her lips before he pulls away.

"Are you nervous?" she asks, glancing down at his mouth, at that freckle on his bottom lip.

"I’m so nervous," he admits, voice wavering. "But I want to kiss you again, if that eh, is okay."

"More than okay," she replies softly. The rush of blood in her ears is overwhelmingly loud. Her heart feels like it’s going to burst from her chest.

Copia kisses her with a little more force, scooting closer to her and grasping the back of her head with his free hand. His fingers tangle in her hair. Cecilia takes a shivery little inhale against Copia’s mouth and feels his lips part the slightest amount. Tentatively, experimentally, she darts her tongue out and runs it along the seam of his mouth. He opens his mouth further, and Cecilia licks against his tongue. Copia brings them crashing down on the blanket in a flash of limbs. They’re engulfed with the feeling of hands and mouths and teeth and tongues, clumsy and longing. Copia paws at her breast through her dress and slots a thigh between her legs. Cecilia gasps, overwhelmed with the sensation of it all.

"Can we - slow down?" she asks between little pants. "Sorry."

"Don’t be sorry," Copia says, rolling onto his back and reaching for Cecilia’s hand again. "There is no hurry." His words and his touch are so soft, and Cecilia is overwhelmed for a different reason altogether. He brushes over the top of her hand with his thumb, and the gesture is achingly sweet. She finds herself wondering how she got so lucky.

They lay on the blanket for some time, watching the sky darken as the clouds roll in over the lake. Copia is still idly brushing her hand with his thumb as they talk - more about Italy, about Cecilia’s college plans (a history degree, or maybe one in political science), and Copia’s plans for his future within the Ministry. Cecilia feels so safe, and she can see something more than friendship materializing before them. A notion that she keeps tucked in the furthest recesses of her heart, that maybe she wants to stay, peeks out and makes itself known.

Cecilia shifts onto her side, propping up her head with her hand. "Can we keep kissing?" she asks. "Gotta make up for lost time."

"Mmm, you can’t tell me that you spent two years pining for me," Copia says.

"Every second," Cecilia replies. "Missed you a lot."

"Missed you, too," Copia says. "Let’s make the most of the time we have now, yes?" Cecilia closes the gap between them this time and immediately feels a full-body shiver run through her. "You’re so soft," he says against her lips. "Soft and pretty." Their angle is awkward, so Copia hoists Cecilia on top of his supine body. "Is this… is this okay?"

"Yes," Cecilia replies, pressing her body against him. Copia makes a small, strangled noise in the back of his throat. She brackets him with her arms and leans down to kiss him. Her hair hangs down like a curtain around them. Hesitantly, Copia places his right hand on Cecilia’s right side, and when she leans into his touch, he brings his other hand up on her left side. He grabs the flesh of her hips, greedy, bruising, and rocks her forward against him. Copia moans brokenly at the feeling.

"Oh, fuck," Cecilia gasps, mouth falling open. She rolls her hips against him again before crashing forward and kissing Copia full on the mouth.

"It’s good, right?" Copia mutters against her lips, canting his hips up.

"So good, holy shit," she says softly, almost disbelieving, rutting against him once more.

The air between them is charged, and it’s not long before they’re panting into each other’s mouths again. "Are you okay? With this, I mean," Copia asks. He’s so hard that it hurts, but he’s hell-set on following her lead.

"Yes, Copia. A million times yes," she replies, breathless.

"Can I - oh - can I please touch you?" he asks, shuddering a moan as she rocks herself forward, teasing.

"Anywhere," she replies. She would do anything for him, she thinks. She wants him to open her up and know her wholly, body and mind and spirit.

"Your chest," he says. "If ah, that is okay with you." Cecilia nods her consent, enthusiastic. Copia pushes himself up on those strong forearms so he’s sitting upright, somehow keeping Cecilia balanced in his lap the whole time. She shrugs the cardigan off, tossing it behind her, then reaches around and slides the thin straps of her dress off her shoulders. The top of her dress falls forward, exposing her small, pale breasts to Copia’s eager eyes. 

Tentatively, he reaches his left hand up and touches her, squeezing gently, curious. His head falls back with a breathy moan.

"That’s so nice," Cecilia says, all high and breathy. "I didn’t know this would - ah - feel so good." Copia pinches her pink nipple between his fingers, coaxing it to hardness. 

"You feel so good," is Copia’s response. He leans forward and licks a stripe down her neck, biting gently at the junction of her shoulder.

They stay like that for a while, touching and exploring with hands and mouths. Cecilia is almost tickled by the ecstasy on Copia’s face, how the simple expanse of her skin and the soft curves of her body can bring him such pleasure. He looks up at her, the affection he has for her evident in his mossy green eyes. "Do you want more?"

"I want everything," she replies, and she doesn’t know how she can convey how all-encompassing the desire for everything is. Sex with Copia, but also meals with Copia and coffee with Copia and music with Copia. A life together with Copia.

With a low growl, Copia rolls them over. Cecilia on her back looks divine, hair splayed around her like a crown. He bites her lip gently and tugs with his teeth. "Show me where," he says, considerate in spite of how charged the air is between them. She nods frantically.

Cecilia wiggles her dress up her hips the slightest bit. Grabs one of his hands and trails it down down down to rest on the front of her underwear between the peaks of her hips. Copia punches out a little moan; he can feel her body heat through the cotton. In the distance, thunder rumbles. Copia runs his fingers back and forth over the fabric experimentally, and Cecilia rolls her hips into his touch. "Can I touch you here?" he asks, moving his hand a little lower, a little further down between her milky thighs.

Sathanas, he can feel how hot and wet she is through her underwear. The other brothers would always talk about how wet they could make the pretty Italian sisters, and Copia chalked it up to young men just being lewd and boastful about their sexual exploits. His fingers are just resting on her, not pressing down, and he’s almost disbelieving when he feels how damp the fabric is already.

Cecilia nods fervently and gasps when he rubs his fingers so slightly against her underwear. Copia applies a little more pressure, tapping at her clit, and Cecilia moans. She can’t believe the pleasure she’s feeling, even through a layer of fabric. "Is under your panties okay?" She normally thinks the word panties is disgusting, but hearing Copia utter it while touching her so reverently and taking her apart is something else entirely.

"Yes, Copia, please touch me there," she whines, hands scrambling for purchase on the blanket. She didn’t know it was possible for something so soft to feel so good.

Copia crawls his fingers to the elastic edge of her underwear, ready to peel the gusset to the side, when thunder booms and the clouds above them open up in a downpour. Cecilia shrieks and rolls out from underneath Copia, pulling the top of her dress back up and grabbing her cardigan. Copia springs up after her, wadding up the blanket and grabbing the picnic basket to shove in the trunk.

Cecilia is futilely covering her head with her forearms, hopping from foot to foot as the cold rain pelts her. She hears the little click of Copia popping the locks and flings herself into the passenger seat.

"Cold!" she exclaims, wringing water from her hair.

"Fucking cockblock weather," Copia mutters, turning the car on and cranking up the heat.

Cecilia laughs. "Looks like I’m not losing my virginity tonight after all."

"We’ll eh, do it before you go, what do you say?" asks Copia. The shock of cold rain beating down on him was enough to kill his boner, and he’s not one to ignore what feels like a cosmic sign.

"Sounds like a plan, champ," Cecilia replies, grabbing his hand and lacing their fingers together.

Copia hesitates a little before saying, "I thought it was my night, too." He looks almost shy at the admission.

Cecilia gasps. "You’re a virgin? Were you saving yourself for me? I’m honestly touched." She smiles widely. "That’s so sweet, Copia."

Copia laughs nervously. "I got a lot of shit for it, but I kept a torch burning for you. I - eh - I wanted it to be special."

She leans in and kisses him. "Such a gentleman."

He kisses back. "Cara mia deserves only the best." She beams.

They spend a while like that, kissing softly and whispering promises across the center console while hot air blasts from the car’s heater, fogging up the windows. "American Girl" by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers plays quietly on the radio. The rain shows no sign of stopping, so Copia eventually offers to drive Cecilia home. The road into the former scout camp-turned-Satanic commune is washed out, so Copia parks at the entrance to the easement.

"Same time tomorrow?" he asks, peppering her neck with kisses.

She squeals, ticklish. "Same time tomorrow," she confirms. "Sleep tight, Copia."

"Buona notte, Cecilia."

She hears the gravely squelch of the road under the tires and watches Copia’s headlights disappear into the distance. She feels like she’s floating and having to wait another full day to see him again feels torturous.

As her little yellow house comes into view, something suddenly feels wrong. The closer she gets, the clearer she can see piles of her clothes strewn all over the front lawn, soggy in the rain.

"What the absolute fuck," she whispers to herself. Slowly, she walks to the front door. She takes a deep breath to steady herself before turning the front doorknob open.

"Hello?" she asks, stepping into the living room. She stomps her wet feet on the doormat and toes off her Chelsea boots.

"Kitchen, Cecilia," comes her mother’s stern voice.

Well, shit. Whatever is going on, it can’t be good. She steps into the kitchen and sees a series of letters from her university splayed out on the table. Shit. Fuck.

"When were you planning to tell us about this?" asks her father. She doesn’t say anything at first, content to just stare daggers at the floor in front of her. Her blood turns cold when her father starts to read from her admission letter. "Dear Cecilia Honeycutt, we are pleased to offer you admission to our class of 2003. Your application essay about the struggles you overcame being raised in a secretive religious sect was inspiring and thought-provoking, and your academic achievements are exceptional. You are the kind of young mind we are excited to have join our spirited community of students, faculty, and alumni…" He trails off. "Is nothing we’ve done for you good enough? Is the Ministry not good enough for you, Cecilia? Sorry - the ‘secretive religious sect’ you were raised in." Her father goes on. "There’s nothing out there that you can’t find here."

"Have you ever considered that you raised me in a fucking cult?" Cecilia asks in a voice that doesn’t seem like her own. Her parents’ respective jaws drop. "Like, seriously, Mom and Dad. It’s absolutely insane that you moved across the country to follow Nihil spouting his bullshit. If it was Charles Manson you found first, you would have been killing people in the Hollywood Hills."

Her mother gasps like Cecilia slapped her. "That’s not true and you know it."

Cecilia goes on. "My whole life, it’s been so much easier to just pretend I believe because I was always living under the threat of disappointing you! I didn’t want to be confirmed, and I don’t want to be a Satanic nun, because it’s bullshit to live your life in service of something you don’t even think is real!"

"And you think leaving everything behind and not telling us is a better alternative?" asks her father, steely-eyed.

"Honestly, yeah, I do! I don’t want to live under your thumb and I don’t want to keep up bullshit appearances anymore. Shouldn’t you be proud of me? It’s all bullshit!" Cecilia is screaming now, trying to get some kind of emotional reaction from her parents.

"You know what? Pack a bag. You wanna go, you’re gonna go." He stands up, dragging her by the arm to her bedroom. 

"What are you doing?" she begs, voice hoarse.

"Bus station’s not far and a ticket is pretty cheap. You wanna be gone? You wanna leave this all behind? Let’s go then."

"Not like this!" she screams, crying now. "The dorms don’t open for three weeks - where am I gonna go, Dad? Where am I gonna go?"

"You think you’re so clever, you’ll figure it out. Hurry it up."

She sits on her bed in shock. She wishes she asked Copia to stay until she got inside, or that running up the wet road in the dark to follow him was feasible for her to do. She thinks that even if she did bolt for the door, her dad would be right behind her, ready to drag her back inside. She hiccups a single sob.

Cecilia sets her mouth in a hard line and starts shoving things indiscriminately into her duffle bag. She reaches for the red shoebox full of Copia’s letters on the top shelf of her closet. Just as her fingers brush the box, her father walks into her room, filling the space. He yanks her away from the closet by the arm and starts pulling her in the direction of the front door.

"You’re hurting me," she sobs, dragging her duffle bag behind her.

Her father doesn’t say anything, and neither does her mother when they pass her in the kitchen. "Mom! Please!" Cecilia cries, imploring her mom to do something. Her mom doesn’t say anything. Cecilia thinks the silence will haunt her for the rest of her life.

The drive to the bus station is excruciating. Cecilia sits in the backseat sniffling and hiccuping, hugging the duffle bag to her chest. They pull up, and her dad thrusts enough crumpled bills for a one-way bus ticket into her hand before speeding off into the dark night.

Cecilia finds herself in her college town a few hours later as dawn is starting to break. Bleary-eyed, she catches another bus to campus and parks herself in front of the admissions building, waiting for them to open for the day. She’s still in the same dress and cardigan as the night before, and her makeup is smeared down her face from the rain and then the tears.

Once the building opens for the business day, Cecilia storms in and in a rush, explains what just transpired to the poor, half-awake receptionist at the front desk. She spends the day getting set up in temporary housing and filling out financial aid paperwork. There’s no phone in her little shoebox of a room, and she wishes she could call Copia and just let him know that she’s okay. She decides to do the second-best thing, and walks to the bookstore. She uses the change in her wallet to buy a pre-stamped postcard. Feeling like she’s being watched, she scrawls a quick message on the back and drops it in the mail.

At the end of the week, the sibling distributing mail drops Copia’s stack of envelopes on his desk in his little cubicle.

"Grazie," he says, and starts to thumb through the letters. The shock of Cecilia’s disappearance is still new and raw. He drove to her house the next evening at 7:00 and when he honked the horn, her mother came out in her place and said that Cecilia was gone. No other explanation. He knows she wouldn’t just leave like this, and the not knowing what happened is a wound he can’t stop picking at. He’s even driven by her house a few more times, and her parents draw their blinds as soon as they hear the putter of his engine.

At the bottom of his daily mail is a postcard showing an aerial view of a sprawling university campus. "Wish you were here!" is written in the bottom right corner in a cheery retro font. He turns the postcard over and nearly gasps when he sees Cecilia’s tiny, neat handwriting.

My Copia,

You’ve probably figured out by now that I’m gone. This wasn’t how I wanted things to go. I’m so sorry - I thought we had more time. Please know it’s not you. I miss you already. 

All my love,

Cecilia

End notes: Reblogs, comments, kudos, and likes are so appreciated. Thank you sososo much for all your support so far.

working for the knife: chapter 14

chapter 14: homecoming (link) Pairing: Cardinal Copia x Sister of Sin OC Rating: this fic is explicit. 18+, minors do not interact Also, two of the three illustrations for this fic are NSFW/ sexual in nature, so they'll only be on AO3. Head over there to read the chapter if you want to see them! Chapter word count: 4.9k Tags: first time, we're resolving sexual tension baybee, tender sex, foreplay, grinding, vaginal fingering, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, feelings! Read the entire work on AO3 here! (link)

Tag list at the bottom of this chapter! Let me know if you'd like to be added.

They sit in silence on the couch as Copia takes in what Cecilia just told him. The fire crackles softly. She sniffles, wiping tears from her cheeks with the heel of her palm. She’s avoiding Copia’s eyes, looking down at floor. Guilt weighs heavy on her.

"Copia, I’m so sorry - for everything. Having to work with you so closely brought a lot of stuff to the surface. I’ve been treating you poorly without meaning to, but that’s still not okay. I know I was pushing you away but -" she pauses, shuffles her feet against the rug. "I want you to know that I never would have just left you like that, above all else," Cecilia says, pleading. "The postcard - I was scared to say too much, scared that my parents would somehow intercept it. I just wanted to let you know somehow that I was okay. I thought maybe it would be easier for you to make a clean break and not hold out hope that I’d ever be coming back…"

"I know that, cara mia. Oh, Cecilia. I can see that now. But how could your parents treat you like that? In the name of their devotion to the Ministry? They took away your freedom to choose because they didn’t like your choice. I-" He has to stop himself because he can’t find the words for the fury he feels. The ostracism, the judgement - these are not tenets of his religion, at least, not the one that he knows. He doesn’t blame Cecilia for keeping him at arm’s length when she’s been carrying the weight of this pain alone for two decades. "I should have stayed parked outside, or walked you into your house, or -" He’s starting to stammer, guilt pulling at his heart. He knows it’s not his fault, but to think that he could have done something to stop it is gut-wrenching.

"Copia, don’t beat yourself up. Please. You didn’t know. Fuck, I didn’t know how things were going to play out after you drove off. I shoved all of this down and refused to think about it, because it hurt too much. It was easier to just stop trying to reach out, because I knew the door would just get slammed in my face again. Metaphorically speaking. Sorry that you got swept up in that, too - it was just… easier to not think about where I came from. Only focus on what was ahead of me. It hurt too much to think about, and I spent so long blaming myself for the way everything went down." She meets his eyes, finally, and her brown eyes shine like amber in the firelight.

"And I’m sorry that I tense up and freeze you out whenever it feels like you’re getting too close to me. It’s how I kept myself safe for all this time - no one can hurt me if they don’t know me, if I don’t roll over and show my belly. When I find myself getting close to someone, I get scared that they’re going to leave me, too. I feel like I’m back at the bus stop, alone in my wet clothes. Or like I’m leaving my boss’s office on the Hill after I resigned, and everyone’s looking at me like I’m poison as I walk out for the last time.

"I’m still trying to wrap my head around it all, but maybe it wasn’t the Ministry’s fault after all. Maybe my parents were just shitty people who used their religion to justify being awful. I don’t know." She shrugs.

"How do you feel about the Ministry? Now that you’re back?" Copia asks. He looks at her with no hint of judgement, just curiosity. She hesitates. Years of practice are telling her to stop, hold back, but she wants to see how it feels to go forward. She doesn’t know if she has the words to unravel how she feels about it all.

"I want to shuck it off, sometimes. Not the habit or my vows, but all of it." Cecilia makes a wide, sweeping gesture with her hands. "I wish I could give everything back, start fresh. Be raised in a normal secular family where I didn’t have to deal with the overwhelming guilt of not - I don’t know - I don’t know if I really ever believed, truly. And it shocked me to find out that people actually did. In here, and in the wider world. I was always going through the motions - I don’t know if I believe in God or Satan or any of it any more than I do anything else. It was another box to check. The appearance of believing felt more important than the believing itself. It was going along to get along." She is absolutely raw, trembling, and holds Copia’s gaze. She feels like they’re on a precipice and she’s desperately afraid to ruin it. He’s looking at her so intently; the green eye is shiny with tears, and the white eye is blazing hot.

 "And I thought putting it behind me and shoving it down would free me, but it didn’t and it couldn’t - and I was still going along to get along - and I found myself running back to the place I was always running from, because in spite of how much I hated it here when I was growing up, I knew it was something I could fall back on. There’s easy comfort in the ritual of it all, and maybe that’s all it needs to be for me.

"But then I look at you and your conviction and devotion and it makes me question everything. It’s so genuine and beautiful when I see it moving though you." She feels like she’s about to cry, pink and tender like new skin under a scab. Copia doesn’t say anything, still just staring with his mismatched gaze as he takes in her words. She takes a shaky breath and prepares to leap.

"I feel like I know less than ever before about what I believe, but I know I believe in you." Cecilia ducks her head and looks at the freckle on Copia’s lower lip, leaning in to press a kiss to that very spot. She imagined kissing that freckle again so many times in the past weeks, and now that she’s done it, it’s as easy as breathing. All she wants is to do it again and again and again.

Copia takes a shivery inhale through his nose and places his hand on Cecilia’s cheek. She’s flushed red, and he can feel how hot she is even though the leather of his glove. Gently, so gently, he changes the angle of his head, fully pressing his lips to hers.

Cecilia parts her lips the smallest bit and sighs against Copia’s mouth, poking out her tongue to lick at his lip. He follows, sweet and languid, and takes her lower lip between his teeth. Bites hard enough to elicit a little gasp. The air in the room is weighty, electric. She presses tiny little kisses to his mouth as she grabs for his hand, squeezing gently. "It’s been too long, Copia," she murmurs against his lips. "I’ve been waiting for so long. I’m sorry I kept you waiting, too."

Sathanas, Copia can feel his heartbeat in his cock just from this. Cecilia is looking at him all half-lidded and dreamy. "Shall we, eh, make up for lost time?" Copia asks. He runs his other hand up the length of her thigh, feather light. She whimpers.

"Please," Cecilia says. Nothing to hide, nothing to hold back. She presses her thighs together, trying to find a little friction. She would be lying to herself if she said she hadn’t gotten herself off to this fantasy a million times over in her expensive, lonely apartment a million lifetimes ago. The last relic of the past she couldn’t fully unmoor herself from, no matter how hard she tried - her sweet Copia.

Copia makes a low noise in the back of his throat and hoists Cecilia onto his lap. He crushes their lips together hard enough to bruise and she licks into his mouth. Copia reciprocates and laughs softly when their teeth click together. The shivery slip-slide of their tongues draws another whimper from Cecilia’s throat. This feels different than when they kissed in his office. It’s still so new, but there’s a certainty now to the way they move against each other. She throws her arms over his shoulders, leaning forward and nosing against the cord of his neck before dragging her wet, open mouth down down down; under her tongue, she feels his pulse, blood-hot, thundering beneath his skin. She rolls her hips down on him, pauses when she feels how hard he is already, and does it again. Her breathing gets shaky. Copia tosses his head back and moans, grabbing the meat of her hips and rocking her back and forth.

"Fuck, Copia, fuck, fuck -" she keens. "It feels so good." He presses his bulge up against her, rolls his hips, and Cecilia nearly sobs, dragging her hands down his chest. Her short black nails scratch against the red wool of his cassock. She can feel herself getting slick and her underwear starting to stick against her. She idly wonders if somehow, through his heavy layers, Copia can feel how wet she is, too. Her clit throbs at the thought. 

"I should’ve - ah - had my way with you much sooner. Do you know how badly I wanted this? How long I’ve wanted you?" He cants his hips and grinds up against her. He thinks Cecilia might just come from this alone, with the little pleasured noises she’s punching out and how her hips are getting jerky. He moves a hand to her breast, pinching a nipple through her bra. "I should have bent you over my desk and fucked you on that very first day. And every day after that. Ah - fucking ruined you. Diavoletta." She gasps and moves to kiss his neck again; she can taste the salt of his sweat, tacky on his skin. "Grind that pussy on me - just like that. I’m gonna make you come."

She feels drunk with arousal, her pulse throbbing in every cell in her body. "Not yet. Gotta feel you. Wanna get you inside," she murmurs against his neck before moving to kiss him again.

Copia licks another kiss against her mouth and growls. "Get up, Cecilia. I want to eat you."

Wordlessly, she nods and scrambles up from his lap. Fuck - they’re not even naked yet and she’s already feeling empty and achy from the loss of contact. Her cunt clenches around nothing. She wants to envelop him, press against him like a python, never let him go. 

Copia stands too, and in a flash of limbs, Cecilia is seated, ankles crossed politely out of habit, and Copia’s on his knees in front of her. The dainty little criss-cross of her legs while she pants and twitches her hips against the couch might be the most obscene thing he’s seen in a while. He reaches between his legs and palms himself over this clothes. She moans at the sight of it. His pupils are blown wide, and even his white iris is scarcely visible around the dark void. Like an eclipse, Cecilia thinks dreamily.

Catlike, Copia nuzzles against the curve of her calf. He pushes his hands up her thighs, dragging her habit up as he goes. "I need you to scoot forward and uncross your ankles," he asks. "No more manners, not for me. Piccola troia - ah - playing coy." He bends down and kisses the inside of her ankle. Cecilia immediately obliges, moaning at the sweet pressure the movement puts on her clit. "That’s more like it." He gives the swell of her right calf a little bite.

"Copia - please -" she says, breathless.

He presses a kiss to the top of her thigh while her muscles tremble underneath. She feels like a rabbit, like prey. She’s eager to be devoured, skinned raw and undone. No more hiding away. She wants to be wholly consumed. "Lift your hips for me. I need to get this out of my way." He presses his fingers against the meat of her quadriceps, dimpling her flesh with the force of it.

Cecilia does as he asks, and Copia pushes her habit fully up around her ample hips, leaving it bunched around her waist. Cecilia grabs the hem, arching her back as she pulls it up and over her head. The garment is tossed somewhere to the side of the couch. He scapes his fingertips down her thighs, squeezing her knees. She squeals, ticklish, and parts her legs. He shifts forward on his knees, pushing his nose into the mound of her panties, black and lacy, and sighing reverently. "Copia! Oh, my god," she gasps.

"Ah - He is not here," Copia tuts. He inhales deeply, bumping the tip of his nose against her clit. She gasps again, and he nuzzles in further. "Your panties are soaked through, Cecilia. I can smell how hot you are for me." Musky and acidic and animal. He nips at her inner thigh, then soothes the sting with his tongue.

Copia’s words send a jolt of pleasure straight through her. Cecilia reaches behind her to unclasp her bra and shrugs it off, tossing it aside. She grabs both breasts and twists her nipples between her fingers, rolling and pinching until they’re peaked.

"Beautiful," Copia says, looking up. He nuzzles into her clothed cunt again, breath fanning against the sticky gusset, before hooking his fingers under the lacy waistband. "Please let me taste you, Cecilia."

"Yes, Copia, please, please, please, anything-" To her surprise, he licks a sodden stripe up the crotch of her underwear and sucks the wet fabric into his mouth before pulling her underwear down. It’s absolutely filthy, and it draws a wanton moan from Cecilia. Copia relishes the little gasp she makes as her wet cunt meets the cool air. The tawny curls at the apex of her thighs are darkened and damp. With a gloved finger, Copia strokes along the seam of her, petting lightly. She’s so slick that the slide of it is effortless. He presses gently on her clit, circling his fingertip before tracing it back down. He pokes at her entrance, just a suggestion. She squirms, bucking her hips into his touch, trying to push him inside.

"You’re so fucking wet, Cecilia. All for me," he says reverently, bringing his slick, gloved finger to his mouth and sucking. "Unholy Ghost, Overlord, Taker of Life; bless Sister Cecilia and her beautiful offering she’s presenting to me, which I shall, hehe, ravish thoroughly. I receive her body, unholy and divine, through Sathanas, our Father in Hell. May black light guide us. Nema."

From between her legs, Copia looks up expectedly, waiting for her response. He drags his finger torturously slow up and down a few times, never touching too long on where she needs him most. She can see the shiny suggestion of her arousal coating the black leather of his glove. The white eye makes her feel incandescent with lust. This is the closest thing to a religious experience that Cecilia’s ever had. "N-nema. All for you. Only for you," she says, trembling as the deep well of want within her springs to life.

Copia reaches around Cecilia, grabbing a handful of her ass, and pulls her further toward his face. He wastes no time nosing his way in, licking a broad stripe across her cunt before tracing the pointed tip of his tongue through her folds. He’s savoring everything; the way she tastes, the wet slide of his tongue through her slick, moving at a maddeningly slow pace to take it all in. He wants to commit every detail

of the first time he has his mouth on her to memory. Cecilia bucks her hips forward, desperate for more, bumping Copia’s long, beautiful nose against her clit, and she gasps. Copia spreads her lips with his fingers and starts suckling around her clit. The suction is so gentle, barely-there, but Cecilia nearly shrieks, clasping her hand over her mouth. Copia makes the lewdest slurping noise she’s ever heard, and if she wasn’t so single-mindedly horny, she might’ve marveled at how as sound like that could come from this deeply awkward, deeply sweet man.

"Fuck!" she exclaims, grabbing at the arm of the couch as Copia flicks the point of his tongue against her clit. In response, he looks up at her for the briefest moment before glancing back down and continuing his ministrations. She swears she saw him smirk, the cheeky motherfucker.

With one hand, he teases her entrance while working her clit with his mouth, and with the other, he’s reached under his cassock, grabbing his cock through his trousers. She feels on the verge of delirium watching Copia service her pussy while touching himself. The suggestion of his hand jacking himself under the heavy red wool and the way the fabric shifts is more obscene than if he was naked before her and touching himself. She gasps and writhes as Copia pushes his fingers in and crooks them upward.

"Fuck, Copia - Copia - please." 

"So needy. Look what you’ve denied yourself." 

He massages up again, and she sees stars. The pleasure blooming in her pelvis is overwhelming and the slick sounds coming from between her legs get louder and louder. His fingers find a clever rhythm, fucking in and out and swiping against that little sweet spot inside of her. "Oh - oh - fuck - coming - coming!" She gasps and arches her hips up as her orgasm hits her, traveling through her body in a wave of warmth. She feels a gush of wetness leave her body, and through the ringing in her ears, she can hear the messy squelch of Copia fingering her through her climax.

Copia pulls himself away and stands up, the bottom half of his face shining with her slick in the lamplight. The black paint on his top lip is completely gone; Cecilia idly thinks about the smudges she’ll find between her legs later. "Let me take care of you," she says. Glancing down to where Copia is very obviously hard under his cassock, she adds "that can’t be comfortable."

"My knees hurt worse," he adds sheepishly. "Must be getting old."

"My old man," Cecilia says, standing from the couch and immediately feeling her legs tremble beneath her. "As if I’m one to talk." She hears Copia chuckle as she presses a kiss to his mouth. Cecilia suppresses a moan when she tastes herself on his lips.

"Cosí bella, Cecilia," says Copia reverently, pulling away from the kiss and cupping her tits, drawing his thumbs over her nipples. "They’re so hard for me." He bends down and kisses the peak of each breast, almost chaste. Her little silver grucifix dangles down her sternum, and Copia thinks she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Cecilia takes his hands and pulls off his gloves, one finger at a time. They’re pale and freckled, and his knuckles are fuzzy with brown hair. His nails are trimmed short and neat, and his palms are free from callouses, soft. She kisses his each of his knuckles and takes his pellegrina off, one shoulder at a time. It falls to the floor. She strips him of one piece of clothing after another, fingers making quick work of the buttons on his cassock, until he’s in nothing but his underwear. The way his erection tents the fabric makes her mouth water. She doesn’t miss the little damp patch where his head is. "Beautiful," she whispers, dropping to her knees and kissing the soft, hairy curve of his belly above his waistband. "My Copia. May I?"

Overcome, he nods, and Cecilia finally pulls his underwear down toward his ankles. Freed from its confines, his erection springs up toward his belly. He steps out of the pooled fabric and helps Cecilia rise to standing before pulling her close, pressing her tight against him and kissing the crown of her head. She trembles in his arms.

"It’s taken us so long to get here," he says. "I don’t want to waste any more time."

Cecilia reaches down and holds his cock in her hand. It’s pretty and thick and long, flushed blood red and pearling precum at the tip. The shiny skin of his head, peaking out from underneath the foreskin, is pink like his lips, his tongue, his nipples. She gives him a little squeeze, drawing a full-body shiver from Copia, before dropping to her knees again and taking him in her mouth. Copia moans, long and reedy, as Cecilia mouths at the tip, using her one hand to stoke him slow and firm while the other cups his balls. He’s salty and so, so wet. "So good," he praises, petting at her hair.

She presses the flat of her tongue to the underside of his head before suckling a few times, hollowing her cheeks and pulling off with a pop. Copia nearly buckles and pulls Cecilia up, kissing her full on the mouth. "I’m going to come if you keep that up."

She smirks. "Another time."

"Another time," he agrees.

"Next time, maybe," Cecilia adds suggestively, giving him another little stroke and feeling pleased when his cock twitches in response.

Copia nods. "Next time. But I, eh, can’t wait for this time." He pulls her in close again, licking into her mouth. Her grasp on his cock wavers and he takes the chance to lead her to his room and gently lay her down on his bed.

"I feel like I’m having sex for the first time," Cecilia admits with a sheepish smile, leaning against the headboard and running her nails up her torso, just for the pleasant little shiver it induces. She lets her legs fall open, blooming like a flower, and cups her breasts with a squeeze.

"I wanted it to be you. So badly," Copia says, earnest in a way that makes Cecilia’s heart ache. How many people, after all, get a second chance at a first time? He opens the top drawer of his bedside table and pulls out a bottle of lube, slicking himself up.

Cecilia laughs. "You’re so prepared."

Copia gives her a little smirk and shifts to straddle her. "What do they say? Eh, wetter is better?"

"And so considerate, too."

"With all the Satanic orgies, the Ministry stays well-stocked." Copia winks, running his slick fingers along Cecilia’s cunt, warming her up. She shudders at the feeling and has a quick realization that he’s feeling her, skin-to-skin, for the first time. She swallows a moan.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks. "I felt you get so slippery just now." He’s still idly touching her. The exploratory, featherlight brushes of his fingers through her folds are driving her insane. He teases her with a press on her clit, rolling it under the pad of his finger, and she grinds against his hand.

Punching out a little exhale, she says, "Your gloves are off. And they weren’t before. How do I feel?"

Copia hums, moving his hand back to his cock and stroking, considering. "So hot. And so soft. All mine." He grabs himself firm at the base, rubs his head up and down Cecilia’s slit a few times, being sure to bump her clit each time. The wet slide of his cock nudging her clit makes her whine. "Can’t wait for my cock to feel you, too." Slowly, he lines himself up and pushes in. Cecilia gasps and pulls him down for a kiss, slow and wet. Copia’s eyes roll back when he bottoms out; he truly cannot remember if there was a time he’s ever been this hard. "Are you okay, Cecilia?" he manages to choke out.

Cecilia’s brain is on fire and she can’t find any words to describe how good this feels. The stretch of him filling her, the heat and press of his beautiful body. She makes a little affirmative noise and scrapes her nails down Copia’s sides, leaving shaky red trails in her wake. He keens, grinding against her pelvis, trying to get as deep into her as he can. Without warning, Copia draws almost all the way out, the head of his cock lingering on the rim of her cunt. Cecilia’s about to voice her protest before Copia fucks himself fully back in. Cecilia jolts and feels tears of pleasure prick the corners of her eyes. "Fuck - Copia - do that again."

Copia obliges, setting a steady, undulating pace. "Your pussy was made for me. Do you know that? So tight and hot and wet, and it’s mine." Cecilia feels like she’s bobbing in the ocean, treading water and at the mercy of the waves, lost to the pleasure of it all. With one hand, she grabs the short hairs on the back of his neck and pulls him down for a kiss that’s all tongue. With the other, she slithers down between their bodies and starts rubbing tight little circles onto her clit.

With any previous lover, she would have been embarrassed at the squelching noises coming from between her legs, but Copia seems to delight in the filthy wetness of it all. Cecilia moans into his mouth and feels herself clench. Without any warning, Copia pulls all the way out and presses himself against the side of Cecilia’s body. She can feel how hot and hard he is against her thigh. "What are you - oh, oh." Copia’s hand is between her legs again, fingers massaging in and out of her cunt. She keens a low moan and rocks her hips into his hand.

"Do you think you can come again? Just like this? I want to feel you get my fingers all wet," he murmurs, pressing into her, and that really gets her going. She groans, eyes fluttering, as he rubs against the sweet spot inside her while she circles her clit. "Is that the spot? Right there? Oh, Cecilia." He continues on, babbling, "Your pussy’s making such pretty noises, Cecilia. Mine mine mine. Keep touching yourself. Wanna feel you squirt - fucking - yes, yes, get me all wet."

Cecilia bites her lip and nods, screwing her eyes shut as she gives into the feeling. She can hear the wet slide of Copia touching himself with his other hand, his knuckles bumping her thigh, and feels herself flutter. "I’m getting close," she chokes out.

"Oh, dolcezza. Is that it? Just like that? Oh, baby. Come on come on come on," he chants, low and growling, speeding up the movement of his clever fingers. He presses up into her sensitive spot, rubbing back and forth and he dips his head down to mouth at her nipple.

When he gives her nipple a gentle bite, Cecilia feels herself come undone by Copia’s fingers for the second time this evening. Her vision gets fuzzy as she feels her cunt contract around his fingers and she grabs at Copia to ground herself. Copia straddles her again and slides into her once more, fucking her through her orgasm. He gasps at the feeling of her fluttering around him and bites down onto her neck, sharp enough to sting but not hard enough to bruise.

"So beautiful when you’re coming for me," he says, breathless, and with the way his thrusts are getting jerky, she can tell that he’s close, too. "Where do you want me to - ah - finish?"

"Inside," she gasps. "Fucking fill me up, Copia, give me everything, I want to feel you dripping out of me." 

Copia has the wherewithal to cock an eyebrow. "Are you-" he starts, and Cecilia nods quickly.

"IUD," she replies breathlessly.

Copia bends down and kisses her full on the mouth, and his hips stutter an uneven rhythm. "Are you gonna come? Gonna fill me up? Gonna give it to me real good?" she asks, syrupy, talking him through it. Wordless, Copia gives a little whine in response. "You’ve been so good to me - oh - made me feel so good. Wanna hear you say my name." 

He comes with a series of short breathy moans and Cecilia’s name on his mouth, eyebrows knit tightly together. Cecilia feels his cock kick inside of her and Copia grinds as close as he can get, desperate to give it all to her, as his balls draw up hot and tight to his body. She gives him a few fluttery squeezes, just for the fun of it, and he sighs. Copia collapses on his forearms and brings his forehead against Cecilia’s, brow damp. She cranes her head up and kisses his nose, then his mouth. He huffs a pleased little laugh and kisses her back.

"I don’t want to let you go," she murmurs, carding her fingers through his hair. "You feel so right inside of me."

"You never have to, Cecilia. Cara mia. I’m yours." He shivers as an aftershock trembles through him.

Overcome, Cecilia kisses him again, deep and slow and long. "I love you. I love you. This is home."

Copia’s eyes are shining as he looks down at her. "You’re all I ever wanted. Ti amo."

Tag list: @sakuraspoke @circle--of--confusion

End notes: "The shivery slip-slide of their tongues draws another whimper from Cecilia’s throat" was the first sentence of this fic that I wrote. We've come a long way - thanks for being along for the ride!

working for the knife: chapter 15

chapter 15: if I could turn back the time (link) Pairing: Cardinal Copia x Sister of Sin OC Rating: this fic is explicit. 18+, minors do not interact Also, two of the four (!!!) illustrations for this chapter are NSFW/ sexual in nature, so they'll only be on AO3. Head over there to read the chapter if you want to see them! Chapter word count: 7.5k Tags: this is so self-indulgent lmao, tender sex, hand-wavy dreams, tender sex, oral sex (m and f receiving), vaginal sex, feelings!! Read the entire work on AO3 here! (link)

Cecilia wakes the next morning to an empty spot next to her in bed. She reaches her hand out and finds the sheets cold. Her mind immediately goes to all of the men before who had snuck away while she slept. She feels her blood turn icy and jolts up, on the verge of tears, until she hears a guitar strumming in the living room.

"I just wanna be, wanna bewitch… be with? you in the moonlight."

The little flame of panic is snuffed out just as quickly as it was ignited. Immediately, she sighs her relief and hops out of bed. When she pads to the living room, she sees Copia sitting on the floor in only his underwear, playing his vintage acoustic Stella and singing softly to himself. His face is clean, devoid of any paint, and his hair is mussed from sleep. Candles flicker and the dense smoke of incense hangs in the air. The white eye seems to glow in the hazy light. "Copia… how long have you been awake?" she asks, rubbing her eyes. The first light of dawn outside is soft and grey.

"I have it. I have the album," Copia says, setting the guitar aside. He’s practically vibrating with excitement. "Look." He hands Cecilia her black notebook, which he must have plucked from her purse, long forgotten by his front door.

She thumbs through pages of lyrics, with notes about musical arrangements scribbled off to the side. "This is incredible," she says. "When did you do all of this?"

"Early this morning. It came to me in a dream," he replies eagerly. "I’ll meet with the ghouls later and we’ll come up with the music, but I think this is it."

"I don’t understand… an entire album, something you’ve been agonizing over for months about not being able to write, just came to you in a dream!?"

"Leave yourself open and you’ll receive," Copia replies cryptically, doing a silly, spooky finger wiggle. He saddles up behind Cecilia. "But that’s not the only thing that, eh, came in my dreams last night." He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Cecilia snorts. "Smooth." He presses his hips against her ass and loops his arms around her neck. She sighs when she feels how hard he is. "Is that a morning boner, or are you just that eager for round two?"

Copia hums and wiggles his hips back and forth against her, considering. "I would say, eh, 30-70." He presses a series of kisses up the side of her neck.

Cecilia hums back. "Is that so? Should we do something about that?" She arches her back a little and grinds into him.

Copia growls into her hair and nips at her neck. "Don’t make me beg."

That’s a fun thought, Cecilia considers and tucks it away for the future. Copia spins her around and crashes his mouth into hers. He gropes at her breasts through the thin borrowed t-shirt of his that she’s wearing and walks them back toward the couch. Her nipples are peaked through the well-worn fabric. Cecilia’s lower half hits the arm of the couch, and Copia has her arching backwards as he kisses her deeply.

"Turn around," he says against her mouth, and she quickly obliges. The couch is the perfect height for Cecilia to bend her body forward and arch her spine, presenting herself for Copia. Feeling cheeky, she wiggles her ass.

He places his hands on her haunches and presses his hard cock against her, grinding up a little along her rear. Cecilia moans and feels herself getting wet. "Let me show you what I dreamt about last night," he says, dropping down and nuzzling his face against the curve of her ass.

"Please," she says, getting shivery with anticipation. Copia gives each cheek a little kiss. He pulls her underwear down, leaving them bunched around her thighs, and runs a finger along her slippery cunt.

"Eager," he murmurs, drawing his finger forward and rubbing on her clit. Cecilia feels her knees buckle and moans, grabbing at the couch cushion. "So ready for me, cara mia. Do you think you could come just from this?"

"Maybe. But more would be nice," she manages as Copia continues touching her nonchalantly, knowing it’s completely at odds with how turned on he is.

Cecilia hears the wet suck of Copia licking his finger clean. Obscene. "I think more would be nice, too." She hears him shift just a bit and feels him grab at the inside of her thighs, moving her legs farther apart, and suddenly she’s moaning loud and low at Copia lapping at her cunt. Just as it was last night, he’s loud and sloppy with the noises he makes as he eats her out. She’s taken with how enthusiastically noisy he is with his mouth on her.

"Copia!" she gasps as he wiggles his tongue a little bit inside. The warm, wet heat of his mouth makes her blood hum, pooling right at the apex of her thighs. She can feel the tickle of his mustache and grips the nubby fabric of the couch, nearly white-knuckled now. If she’s being honest with herself, she’s still pretty wound up from the night before, and she can feel herself being brought off quickly. He responds with a slurping, wet suck on her cunt before pulling away.

"Can I please fuck you? Like this, from behind?" he asks, still so polite in spite of it all. It makes her ache. His hands haven’t left her hips, and now he’s running them up and down her body reverently.

"Oh - please Copia. I missed having you inside me," Cecilia says with a moan.

"Mmm, I never want to leave." He shucks his underwear down his hips and grips his cock at the base, squeezing. His dick is blood-hot and he’s so hard that he throbs in time with his heartbeat. Copia is so tightly wound that he feels out of his mind with lust. He gives himself a few quick strokes before rubbing along the length of Cecilia’s slit. She’s swollen and glistening for him, so soft and so open. She moans her pleasure and presses her hips back against him, pushing the head of his cock just in past her entrance with a little hitch of her breath, and he slides all the way in with one roll of his hips. Copia sighs as he bottoms out, plastering himself along Cecilia’s back and fucking her with quick shallow snaps of his hips.

"You feel so good," she gasps. "Can’t wait to have you every way."

"We have nothing but - oh - time," he replies, losing his words when he feels her clench. For the first time in their lives, he knows that it’s true.

The room is quiet except for the slippery sounds of skin-on-skin and their quiet little pants. They lose themselves to the feeling; the candles flicker like fireflies as the light of the morning spreads across Copia’s apartment. Half-delirious, Cecilia thinks that the Ministry may have been onto something when they talk about how sacred sex is. She’s never felt closer to the unholy and divine than when Copia’s moving inside her. Copia reaches underneath Cecilia’s t-shirt - thin and soft with wear, borrowed from the back of his dresser - and grabs at her breasts, pulls at her nipples until they’re achingly hard. She feels electric with his hands on her; she never wants to be without him again.

They’re unhurried with it this morning, content to savor the slow, wet drag of their bodies against each other. Cecilia’s orgasm comes softly, in a way that feels like a leaf unfurling or waves lapping the shore. Gentle, rolling, but no less dilute in its pleasure.

Copia’s not long behind, murmuring Cecilia’s name with a sweet little whine. He reaches around her torso and snuggles her close, pressing his face into her back. "Amoré mio," he says softly, kissing the knobs of her spine through her shirt.

Copia snuffs the candles after they pull apart. They find their way back into bed after a shower. Copia towel dries his hair and pads to the kitchen, puts a kettle of water on to boil. Cecilia is still naked, snuggled up under the duvet, feeling very dreamy but too electrified to sleep. Copia comes back with two cups of tea in matching yellow mugs with little painted blue birds on them. He nestles Cecilia’s mug into her palms, then slinks back in bed, being careful to not spill his tea. They sit against the headboard and sip, and Cecilia is stricken with how this feels as easy as breathing, like they were always meant to be here together. 

"So," she says, "when are you going to tell Sister the good news?"

Copia balks. "I don’t think Sister Imperator needs to know that we slept together."

Cecilia laughs. "You wrote an entire album this morning after it came to you in a dream, and us having sex is still the first thing that comes to mind?"

Copia sets his mug on his nightstand and curls up against Cecilia. "But you can’t blame me for having it on my mind, can you?" He presses a kiss to her damp hair and she preens. "Besides, I don’t want to talk to her today. It’s Saturday, and the most beautiful woman in the world is in my bed. I don’t want to do anything besides sleep and have sex."

Cecilia drains the honeyed dregs of her tea and sets the mug aside. "Mmm, I could be amicable to that," she replies, cuddling up to Copia and kissing his cheek.

"Ehhh… I do have something to tell you though, amore." He pauses. Cecilia looks up at him expectantly. "I think all the songs finally came to me because we had sex. Please pardon the pun, hehe."

Incredulous, she barks a little laugh. "Are you kidding?" 

Copia shakes his head, nosing against her neck. "With these things, meaning, eh, when you’re waiting for a message to move through you, sometimes one has to give to ah. Receive. You know when people say they put their blood, sweat, and tears into their work?"

"Yes, go on," Cecilia says.

"Sometimes, it’s quite literal. Like an offering."

"And in this case, you think that the offering was…"

Copia makes a little jerk-off motion and splays his fingers. "My, eh, ejaculate."

"The sex magic stuff isn’t as sexy when you put it like that," Cecilia laughs.

"But please don’t think that I’m using you to do my work!" Copia quickly adds. "I didn’t even, eh, connect the dots until I woke up this morning."

"I know you’re not using me," Cecilia says, taking his hand and kissing his knuckles one at a time. "Besides, I’m happy to provide divine inspiration whenever you need it." She gives him a cheeky little wink.

"My muse," Copia replies, giving Cecilia a quick kiss.

"Yours," Cecilia replies. Copia covers his mouth and yawns. "Maybe you should get some sleep," she says, pushing a fluff of hair back from his forehead.

"Not a half-bad idea," Copia says, yawning again. He readjusts so he’s fully lying down, pawing at Cecilia to do the same. She pulls the duvet up to their chins and closes her eyes, feeling Copia curl up against her. He starts to snore, and she’s not far behind.

Cecilia wakes up again to the light of the afternoon. Copia is still curled up against her, nuzzling into her hair with one hand resting on a breast.

"Cara mia. It’s it true what you said?" Copia murmurs against her sleepily. "About the letters?"

Cecilia turns her head to kiss his nose. "Every last one. All the photos and pressed flowers, too."

"Mmm. I have all of yours saved, too. Maybe we can go through them together sometime?"

Cecilia kisses him again. "I would love that."

Wordlessly, Copia snuggles closer to her. He presses his face into her shoulder, and she can feel that he’s been crying. Cecilia strokes his hair and cradles him. Guilt pulls at her heart, and she knows she needs to do better, to be better. She has nowhere to hide anymore, and for the first time in a long time, she wants to be seen. She wants to be known.

A man of his word, Cecilia and Copia spend the rest of Saturday drifting in and out of sleep and sex. Copia makes the executive decision early Sunday morning that they can afford to indulge their burgeoning relationship a little more.

Copia’s head is nestled between Cecilia’s soft, pale legs. His hands are wrapped around her upper thighs, gripping gently like she’s something sacred, like she’s something he can’t bear to let go of. He’s taking her apart with slow, lazy kitten licks on her clit, and her hands are threaded through his hair, pulling just hard enough to make his scalp sting. She’s moaning breathlessly, lost to the feeling. Over the past day and a half, Cecilia doesn’t think she’s been anything less than semi-aroused once, and her and Copia have been more than happy to indulge each other in a litany of ways. For the first time in a long time, maybe the first time ever, she feels open and fulfilled in every way a person can be. She hopes the feeling never leaves her; that they can enter this new frontier committed to staying open to each other.

Hours ago, Copia woke her up in the dark blue of the early morning by nosing against her neck and pushing his hips into her thigh. They were sleeping naked - something uncommon for either one of them under normal circumstances, but clothes seemed like an afterthought not even worth considering in their cozy cocoon. Cecilia stirred slightly and half-opened her eyes. "Hmm?" She felt where he was pressed against her, hot and hard and leaking, and sighed a little.

"I woke up and I want you so badly. Cara mia, can I, please?" Copia was whispering, which felt appropriate for the unholy hour they woke up to. His voice was rough with sleep. He pressed his lips to her neck and nibbled a little bite before rutting his hips into the softness of her leg, almost on instinct. A shiver of pleasure rippled through Cecilia with the feeling of the slow, wet drag of his dick against her skin. Never in her life had a lover roused her in the middle of the night so desperately, so sweetly because they wanted her so badly. The notion is tender and erotic all at once.

"Yes, yes," she replied, turning her head and taking his mouth in a kiss that was all tongue. He moaned against her lips and slithered his hand up to pinch a nipple. The feeling went straight to Cecilia’s cunt, like a pleasurable electric shock, lighting her insides up. Incandescent. Her inner thighs were getting sticky where they met.

Copia swung a leg over Cecilia’s body and settled on top of her. He grabbed the base of his cock, dragging it up and down Cecilia’s slit. He chuckled quietly. "So wet already?" 

She exhaled shakily. "I don’t think I’ve stopped being wet since Friday night," she replied with a small laugh.

Copia pushed all the way in with one roll of his hips and punched out a breathy groan. Enveloped in the dark around them, they rutted against each other, chasing their pleasure quickly, quietly. Cecilia thought it’s such a beautiful thing for pleasure and permission to be given and accepted so freely. Copia came with a sweet little whine, then pulled out and let his talented fingers bring Cecilia over the edge.

In the present, Copia pulls his mouth away from Cecilia’s cunt and nuzzles against her inner thigh. "I never want to leave, dolcezza. Wanna live with my face in your pussy for the rest of my life. Forget Ghost, forget the Ministry," he sighs reverently, peppering her skin with kisses. Cecilia giggles at the tickle of his mustache. "I’m giving Sister Imperator my resignation letter early Monday morning."

"You never have to leave," she says, running her fingers through his mousy brown hair. He looks up at her so contentedly that she thinks he might start purring like a cat, and Cecilia’s heart skips a beat at the sight. "Let me get my mouth on your dick. I still haven’t had the chance to suck you off properly."

"Oh? Is that a complaint about how things have been going so far?" Copia asks teasingly, eyebrows shooting up. He wiggles a hand around from the top of her thigh and slides a finger into Cecilia, eliciting a gasp. She cants her hips up as Copia pets just past her entrance, gentle and teasing.

"Wanna use my mouth to - oh, Copia! Oh - make you feel good," she replies, words escaping her when he slides a second finger inside her. She thought that at some point in the last thirty-six or so hours, the thrill of his touch would lose its edge, its newness. She’s now convinced that they’ll spend the rest of their days helping each other chase their pleasure. She never wants to leave Copia’s apartment or his bed. Build a cozy little world together where they can make up for the two decades they spent apart and get to know the other wholly in every way.

"Mmm, you’ve convinced me," he replies, sliding his fingers, wet with Cecilia’s slick, over his tongue. The lewd sight of Copia sucking her arousal off his skin is enough to make her moan. Cecilia sits up and pulls Copia with her. Now that he’s not lying prone and is sitting with his knees under him, she can see that he’s very hard. His cock is jutting up toward his stomach, flushed dark red and leaking precum. His foreskin has slid down, exposing the pink of his head. He looks tantalizing, and Cecilia is shivering with the anticipation of getting him in her mouth.

"Stand up," she says, getting off the bed and rising to stand herself. Copia does as he’s told, rolling off the bed, cock bouncing with his steps as he moves a few paces away from the mattress. Cecilia steps over to him, placing her hands on his pale, freckled shoulders and squeezing. To feel him under her hands, blood and bone and flesh, so soft and hot and human, is still surreal. He dips down and kisses her, sweet and gentle, cupping her face. She can taste herself on his lips. Cecilia’s hands roam down as their mouths move against each other, and she cards her fingers through his chest hair and tweaks his nipples, eliciting a gasp from Copia. She smirks, and her hands continue downward. Once she reaches the soft swell of his hips, she breaks their kiss and begins kneeling down before him. The syrupy slowness of her descent is making her quads burn, but the way Copia’s breath catches with anticipation is worth the ache. Her nails scratch down the meat of his thighs, and she leans in toward the gutter of his hip. She sighs and kisses along the hollow valley at the top of his right leg. Copia shudders; he can feel her warm exhale fan across his erection, which gives a twitch of interest at the sensation. A fresh dribble of pre slides down the head of him.

"Give me Unholy Communion?" Cecilia asks sweetly, blinking up at him. Her hands are now resting on the tops of her thighs, patient and expectant.

Copia moans bodily, the sound coming from deep within the core of him. "Oh, Sathanas. Oh, Cecilia," he says. He touches the top of her head and slides his hand down to the base of her neck.

"Well, Cardinal?" she asks from the floor. "Feed me His Unholy Body. Tend to your flock. Don’t deny me what is mine to take."

Copia moans, whiny, hips jutting forward of their own accord. His cock twitches again, and Cecilia opens her mouth, sticking her tongue out. Copia grips his dick hard at the base, feeding the tip into Cecilia’s waiting mouth. She wraps her lips around him, pink as a flower, and swallows him down. One hand comes up to grip his remaining length that she can’t quite fit into her mouth, and her other hand slides up to grip under the curve of his ass. She gives him a squeeze, eliciting a ticklish laugh from Copia, as she sucks him into her mouth, hollowing her cheeks. He tastes like salt and pussy and musky sweat; objectively, she knows it’s a little gross, but she takes a strange pride in knowing it came from where their bodies met as one. She bobs her head back, feeling the weight of him on her tongue, the heavy slide of it, and swallows him down again, setting an unhurried pace.

Copia’s making little mewling noises above her, and Cecilia clenches her thighs, trying to find a little pressure, a little friction. Her cunt throbs, swollen. She’s never been so turned on when giving head, but knowing that she’s undoing him like this with her mouth alone is making her pussy clench. His hand is still gently cupping the back of her head, petting her hair and letting her take the lead.

Slowly, she jacks him with her left hand while suckling the tip. Copia gasps and moans, mutters something in Italian she doesn’t quite catch. She swirls her tongue around the underside, giving the frenulum a wiggle with the pointed tip, and brings the hand on his ass to his balls, giving them an experimental fondle. Copia bucks his hips forward and nearly buckles at the knees. Cecilia feels a spurt of pre, warm and salty, splash her tongue.

"Brava ragazza, my Cecilia. You feel so fucking good." He’s stroking the back of her head, carding his fingers through her blonde locks. She’s drooling now, getting him wet and messy, and she looks absolutely divine in the act. "Your mouth is so pretty on me." She hums in response, looking up at him through her blonde eyelashes, and the sight of her naked on her knees for him nearly makes Copia come. Cecilia feels his cock throb in her mouth and makes a pleased chuckling noise. The vibration elicits another moan from Copia. "Cecilia, my honey, is it okay if I fuck your mouth?" Cecilia slides his cock out of her mouth and massages her jaw. She nuzzles her cheek against the blonde baby hairs on the pale part of his thigh where the sun never touches. Soft. She likes that she gets to see this secret part of him. "Can you, um - can you tell me that you’re going to do it?" she asks, looking up at him.

"Oh, Lord Below. You’re going to kill me, Cecilia. You -" He groans, sounding beside himself, then swallows dryly. "I’m going to fuck you mouth, Cecilia. Your Cardinal is going to fuck your mouth - oh, fuck - and you’re going to take it all." He’s blushing crimson from his forehead to his sternum, shiny with a film of sweat. His cock throbs up toward his belly, and he moans. "Open your mouth, please, and take it."

Cecilia obliges eagerly, feeling warm about how unflinchingly polite he still is, like he can’t help but be sweet even when he’s telling her to suck his dick.

Cecilia opens her mouth. With one hand on the back of her head and one hand on his cock, he thrusts shallowly forward. She rolls her lips over her teeth as she takes him in, and his other hand finds its place on the back of her neck. His cock is heavy and warm on her tongue, all velvety soft over the length of him. His thrusts are shallow, almost shy, at first, and his hands are cupping her skull gently, like she’s made of glass. Her mouth is so hot around him, and she’s making these breathy little noises in the back of her throat, breathing in and out through her nose. The lizard-brained animal instinct kicks in, and Copia starts rocking his hips into her mouth with more vigor. Cecilia widens her jaw to accommodate the stretch and feels her eyes start to water. She’s thankful in the moment that she’s not wearing mascara, no black rivulets to drip down her cheeks. She rocks forward on her knees, spreading her legs to try and find some relief by rolling her hips in time with Copia’s thrusts. She’s soaking, she knows it, and she can feel the damp coolness of arousal in the curls of hair between her legs. His fingers grip a little harder onto her head, nails barely scratching into her scalp, as he holds her steady.

"Look at you - you’re more faithful than you thought, Cecilia, aren’t you? Taking me so well. Taking communion so well. Do you want to - ah - do this during mass? Get on your knees for me? Show the congregation how you worship? Show your devotion to your Cardinal? Oh, oh."

Cecilia nods as best she can and moans around Copia’s cock, pressing the flat of her tongue right under his head. He feels the vibration of it travel all the way up his spine, electricity tingling the base of his skull. He tosses his head back and moans. His hips buck forward, but he stops himself short from hitting the back of Cecilia’s throat. She’s making these little half-gulping sounds and getting his dick so wet. The slide of it between her lips is so slippery it’s almost frictionless. With each thrust, he trembles. He pets one of his hands down her silky blonde hair, and she looks up with him with her big, brown doe eyes, all watery with the effort of it, and oh-

"Oh - fuck - fuck, and if this is the only way you want to worship Satan? All the better for me, diavolleta. Our own secret ritual, just for you and me."

Cecilia moans loudly at that, at the way Copia so effortlessly tapped into something she’s felt for a long, long time. It’s always been him. Copia is making these high-pitched little grunts, and his hips are starting to stutter. His fingers clench in her hair, scratching along her scalp. The dull sting of it feels divine. Cecilia swipes her fingers along her pussy, keening at how slippery she finds herself.

"His Unholy - ohh - Body." Copia punches out the words with a whine. He comes with a shiver, the warm salt of his release filling Cecilia’s mouth. Cecilia brings her palms up to his thighs, worshipful, and slides them up to his torso, feeling his muscles jump under his skin. She swallows dutifully, suckling him through it. His hands drop from her head and she pulls away, kissing the shiny tip of him.

"Nema," she says, placing another kiss to the head of his cock. Copia shivers. He reaches down to grasp her hands, pulling her up from her knees. Without a word, he pulls her into his arms and kisses her full on the mouth, sighing contentedly when he tastes the salt of his release. He squeezes her, delighted, and she nuzzles her head against his shoulder, peppering kisses along the junction of his neck. He walks them back to the mattress and flops down, boneless, before pulling Cecilia down on top of him. 

"Am I squishing you?" she asks, kissing along his jawline. He hasn’t shaved in a few days, and she feels the catch of stubble under her lips.

"Not at all," Copia replies. "But I’d let you smother me, if it made you happy."

Cecilia laughs. "You make me happy," she replies, so caught up in the rosy glow of the moment that she doesn’t even care how cheesy it sounds. She rolls off Copia, laying on her side and looking at him lovingly. He gazes at her out of the corner of his eye. There’s an ease and a softness to him, sprawled out on the mattress like this. His hair falls in gentle waves, and without any makeup, she can make out all of the freckles that dot his face. It feels precious and private to see him in this way; it’s a gift she hopes she can keep receiving.

Absently, she shifts her thighs, pressing them together, and gasps. She was so caught up in the warm glow of Copia’s orgasm that the lingering throbbing between her legs became an afterthought.

"Oh - oh no," Copia says, shifting onto his side. He gets close, touching their noses together. "Cecilia, did you come?" He sounds genuinely concerned, which touches her. 

She shrugs. "I didn’t, but, you know. It’s okay." Her long-practiced denial comes bubbling up again.

"I can, if you want. Make you come, I mean," Copia replies. His sudden shyness is at odds with the fervor he was fucking into her mouth moments ago. He kisses the tip of her nose and brushes his fingertips along her ribs. She shivers, ticklish, and smirks.

"Since you offered so nicely," Cecilia says. Copia walks his fingers around the side of her body, over the softness of her belly and down between her thighs. He smirks when he feels how wet she is.

"Don’t deny yourself, dolcezza," he says. Slips a finger between her lips, hot snd swollen. Her mouth falls open and her eyes flutter shut. She parts her legs, and Copia crooks his finger up, just past the entrance to her cunt, and holds it there. "Especially after you worshipped your Cardinal so well."

Cecilia punches out a breathy moan, and Copia pushes two fingers fully into Cecilia, massaging upwards. Cecilia can feel electricity pooling at the base of her spine, ready to unfurl through her body. "Oh - Copia," she chokes out. Copia rubs the pad of his thumb over her clit, and she arches her hips into his touch. "Is smothering you still on the table?"

He’s sultry with the way he’s fingering her, all slow, lazy swipes of his fingers. In and out. In and out. His white eye is hot, voracious, and Cecilia’s certain that if he hasn’t just spilled into her mouth, he would be hard and aching where he’s pressed against her. "Do you want to -?" he asks. He swallows, trying to downplay the eager tremor in his voice. Sathanas, Lord Almighty down below, he truly thinks Cecilia might be the death of him.

"Can I?" she asks. "Maybe my Cardinal should take Unholy Communion, too."

Copia moans brokenly. "Unholy fucking Father, Cecilia," he says, sliding his fingers out of her pussy and licking them clean. "Please get up here, right now." In a gesture that’s equally lewd and silly, he makes a vee with his fingers and wiggles his tongue through the gap.

Cecilia swings one leg over Copia’s torso, settling down over his belly button. She grinds down onto the soft, hairy warmth of his belly, and he groans when he feels how wet she is. "I’m going to eat you until you see stars. Come here." He loops his arms around the tops of her thighs and pulls her up toward his face. She hovers above his mouth, and he whines, pulling her down. Eager, hungry. She swivels her hips and settles her cunt down over his mouth. Her stomach crunches in like she’s been punched when she feels the first swipe of his tongue between her lips. She grips the headboard hard and moans.

He laps at her like a parched man, broad strokes of his tongue. His nose is nestled up against her clit, and whether it’s intentional or not, the tip keeps bumping up against her, making her toes curl. Copia’s making these sweet mewling noises, like he’s the one getting head, and she can feel the warmth of his exhale as he moves her mouth against her.

Cecilia has quickly discovered that Copia goes down on her like he kisses; sensuous and wet and full of tongue. He mouth maps her, and his eyes are screwed shut in focused pleasure. His fingers are pressing into the meat of her thighs, hard enough to dimple and with enough pressure that a dull, pleasant ache radiates outward.

The only sounds in the room are her punched-out breaths and Copia’s little mews and the wet, smooth slide of flesh-on-flesh. His hot tongue, that clever muscle, wiggles up inside her, and she grinds forward against Copia’s face. To her surprise, he moans with it. She rocks forward again, little twitches of her hips, and feels her orgasm start to build between her legs.

"Maybe we should get you on the altar," she pants, picking up the pace. "Show the congregation how you worship."

He moans again, muffled, and sucks on her clit. True to his promise, stars blink in the corners of Cecilia’s vision, and she crumples forward as her climax crests and breaks. A noise like a sob falls from her, and she grinds her hips as she rides it out. She looks down between her legs and sees Copia’s face, resplendent with ecstasy. He taps her thigh and she clambers off him. He gasps like he’s coming up for air, then curls against Cecilia, kissing her with soft presses of his lips. She can’t help but smile wryly at tasting herself on his mouth as she kisses him back. He pulls away, face shiny with her slick, and she laughs brightly.

"That was so good, Copia," she praises, running her fingers through his hair. He leans into the touch.

"I’ll let you smother me any day, any time" he replies. He pauses, biting his lower lip and considering what he says next. "Was that okay?" he asks. "With the eh… religion stuff?"

"I would have said something if it wasn’t," she says, scratching against his scalp. "I brought it up first. The long and short of it is that it’s complicated for me. But how I feel about you isn’t. Besides, if something does bother me, I’m going to be better about talking about it. Promise. Uh - I’m not very practiced at this sort of thing. But I want to get better at it with you." The words feel clumsy coming out. The prickly urge to run creeps up, but she breathes through it. She’s safe, and she’s safe with Copia.

Copia laughs, breaking the tension. "We can be inexperienced together. I hope it’s not eh, in bad taste to say, but I haven’t dated anyone in… ten years? Maybe a little more? I am very out of practice, cara mia." He leans in and kisses her forehead. She nuzzles closer to him.

"Is that what we’re doing?" she asks, mirth crinkling the corners of her eyes.

Copia blinks back at her. "Of course that’s what we’re doing. Dating. If you, ah, if you’re okay with that."

"More than okay with it," Cecilia replies. "You’ve done a very good job of wooing me." She pauses and huffs a little laugh. "Sorry it took me so long to meet you where you were at. Thanks for sticking with me."

"Cecilia. It’s okay. I know - I know it was hard to talk about. And we’ll never get back the time we lost, but I am going to hold your story so gently. Keep it close to my heart. Keep it safe with me. Besides." Copia laughs softly. "It took us how long? Twenty-two years to get here. I think we can do away with the pretense, my baby." He punctuates the sentence with a kiss to Cecilia’s nose, and she feels like she’s glowing. "I know a lot is about to change, but I want to change ah, with you. Together."

"Together," Cecilia says, grasping for his hand. She leans forward and kisses him softly, then wrinkles her nose. "Shower?" she asks. "We’re both a little nasty."

"Mmm, but spent and sticky is a good look on you," he replies.

"We can do it all again later, but I need a shower now. C’mon." Copia sighs and rolls his eyes, faux-beleaguered, and lets Cecilia pull him out of bed. The thrill of finally being here with each other makes them clumsy, nearly tripping over the piles of sheets and blankets on the floor.

Cecilia turns the shower on all the way, as hot as it can go, and the pipes in the walls rumble to life. She steps into the shower, and Copia crowds into the small space with her. He gasps when the streams of hot water hit him.

"You like this?" he asks, shrinking out of the path of the shower head. "It’s burning hot."

"I love it," she replies. Her pale skin is starting to turn pink, and steam swirls around them. "I want to look like a boiled lobster when I leave the shower."

"You’re insane," Copia laughs.

They suds up washcloths and wash themselves soft and clean. Copia uses peppermint Castile soap, and the chill of it is a pleasant contrast to the heat of the water. Copia washes Cecilia’s back, moving her long blonde hair out of the way and kissing down her spine as he goes.

"You’re so sweet," she sighs. 

The tender newness of it all is so exciting; every new detail that emerges is like seeing Copia with brand-new eyes. How he blinks water droplets from his eyelashes, the way rivulets of water catch in the hair on his chest and belly, the freckles on his shoulders extending down over his triceps. The faint raised lines of the tattoo on his right pectoral, the interlocking sixes etched onto his skin. She brushes it with her fingers, captivated.

"I got it when I became a Cardinal," he says. "Like a rite of passage."

"Did it hurt?" she asks.

"Hmm. Maybe like a bee sting, or a cat scratch. It was over so quickly though. Took no time at all."

Cecilia leans forward and kisses it. His pulse thrums beneath her lips.

They stand in the shower for so long, touching and talking and exploring, that the water starts to run cold. Copia’s towels have the same bleached scratchiness as hotel towels, and Cecilia makes a mental note to introduce him to fabric softener and woolen dryer balls someday. The domesticity of it makes her heart flutter.

Still naked, they crawl back into bed. No other place is as appealing or appropriate. They tangle into each other once again, like vines growing toward the same light. "What does Monday look like?" Cecilia asks.

"What do you mean?" Copia asks in reply.

"You know… are we still getting breakfast? Do you feel comfortable kissing me in public? Oh, no, what are we going to tell Sister? Is she gonna freak out?" The words leave her in a frantic rush, one thought after another.

Copia kisses her hair. "Of course we’re getting breakfast, silly little goose. I’ll kiss you anywhere you want me to." He punctuates the sentence by kissing her mouth, then trailing down her neck and along her collarbone. They’re both cool and soft from the shower. "I can tell Sister, if you want me to. When you want me to. Or we can tell her together. Whatever you’re comfortable with. She, ah - I don’t know how she’ll react, truthfully. But what you and I do is not any of her business."

Anxiety clenches in Cecilia’s stomach. "Do you think we’ll… get in trouble?" It’s a childish impulse, she knows, but she feels compelled to ask regardless.

"Why do you think that? Are we doing anything wrong? You have to remember - it’s not as uptight about these things as it is out there. I’ve walked past Sister and Nihil moaning and groaning in her office more times than I care to count."

Cecilia grimaces. "Don’t they… hate each other, or something? She acts like she can’t stand him."

Copia laughs. "Their relationship is beyond me. She keeps him on a tight leash but you know what? I think he likes it." He pauses to take in Cecilia’s exaggerated disgusted face. "So at the very least, we are not the only workplace romance."

"I can’t believe you just compared us to them," she says.

"We could never be that dysfunctional, even if we tried," replies Copia.

"And what a relief that is. We even got our first fight out of the way, right off the bat."

Copia hesitates. "And everything is eh, everything is okay on that front?"

"I think it needed to happen," says Cecilia. "I’m glad that it did. I’m very good at the whole repression thing, so it might take time, but I want to work through all that. No more hiding."

"But are you okay?" Copia asks.

"I’m okay," Cecilia says, and as she says the words, a huge weight feels lifted off her chest. "Are you?"

"I’m okay," says Copia in turn. "More than okay, in fact."

How this sweet, sincere man has always managed to cut right to the core of her, she’ll never fully understand.

They spend the rest of the day sweet and sleepy and curious, curled up in bed together. When the golden light of dusk fades away to the blue of twilight, Cecilia begrudgingly decides she should go back to her room and prepare for the week ahead. Copia insists on feeding them before she departs (some sort of delicious bulgur wheat salad), and he insists on walking her back to her room. 

She picks her habit up from the place on the living room floor it’s occupied since Friday night. Her underwear are lost to who-knows-where, and she decides to forego them entirely for their brief walk.

"You can keep them, as a reminder of our first time," she tells Copia with a wink. Her cheeky teasing, coupled with the knowledge that she’s bare under her clothes, makes it hard for him to not pull her back to bed for one more round.

She insists on keeping the shirt she slept in that first night ("I’m gifting you my favorite pair of underwear. It’s only fair," she says, folding it up and tucking it in her purse.) She steps into her magenta running shoes while Copia combs back his hair in the bathroom mirror. He settles on wearing his red sweats; no need to get fully dressed when he’s coming right back and slipping into bed again. He also forgoes his paints and tries to ignore how he feels naked in public without them.

Feeling bold, he reaches for her hand, and she laces their fingers together, keeping them that way for the entirety of their walk to the dormitories.

"Well," Cecilia starts when they reach her room. "I’ll see you tomorrow morning?"

"Same time," says Copia. "I’ll meet you here?"

"As always," replies Cecilia.

"I’ll ah - I’ll miss you between now and then."

"And I’ll miss you." Cecilia rolls up on her toes and kisses Copia, not caring about who sees. Copia kisses back tenderly at first, then something shifts. He’s like a man starved, slipping his tongue into her mouth and gripping hard on her hip. Cecilia suppresses the urge to moan. Wordlessly, Copia pulls away, kissing her forehead softly, as quickly as he started. He can’t find the words within him to convey everything he’s feeling; he loves her, he wants her to stay forever, he never wants to let her go.

"You should bring some things over," is what he settles on. "If you ever want to stay the night."

"Moving me in so soon?" Cecilia asks, breathless from their kiss. She’s going to play that one over in her head; Copia’s hungry desperation and the plainness of his desire is making her blood hum.

"I don’t want to waste anymore time," Copia says, low and ragged. "No pretense, my honey."

"I like how you think," Cecilia replies. She swallows dryly. "We should say goodnight, because I think we’re on the verge of staying up all night if we keep going on like this." She steps closer to whisper, "and making all my neighbors hate me, too."

Copia sighs, heavy, and runs a hand through his hair. His face is red. He’s trying to play it cool, but she has him flustered. "Damn responsibilities," he mutters. "Buona notte, amore mio. I’ll see you tomorrow."

"Can’t wait," Cecilia replies. She kisses him and nips at his lip.

"Don’t start something you don’t intend to finish." He gives her ass a playful smack as she turns to unlock her door.

"Goodnight, Copia," she says, stepping inside. They kiss once more, and out of the corner of her eye, Cecilia sees her next-door neighbor shyly give her a double thumbs-up. No more hiding. They couldn’t if they tried.

Tag list: @sakuraspoke @circle--of--confusion

End notes: I've reached the point where I've posted nearly everything I've written so far, so updates might be a little slower going forward. Thanks for all the support!!