Archive of Our Own

For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me.

Simon was in Heaven.
He had been scared and alone, starving for mercy. He had been saved, pulled to benediction. 

His Angel had been so generous. Sharing his face when he could have remained safely behind the mask of his space suit. Sharing his food. His kisses. His body. His love. 

Simon had gone through a baptism of blood, washed clean and delivered to paradise. He didn’t know what a sinner like him had done to be accepted there, but he would savor every morsel.

Grant that I may partake…

Grace was resplendent in the daylight. The windows allowed the light to spill in and wreath his golden hair in a halo. The brilliance was only matched by his own light that seemed to come from within. His smiles were radiant, and while shared with every Eridian that came to him, they were distinctive for Simon. Tinged with something desiring and devoted in equal measures.

Simon was a magnet, pulled to him, unable to resist. A planet constantly in orbit. Where Grace went, Simon would follow. A prodigal who would always return.

Grace granted him another of those ethereal smiles. “Now that you’re feeling better with the slurry shakes, we can start introducing solid foods from the garden. Then the Eridian scientists can take a few of your cells to create meat. It’s a process they did for me, I promise it didn’t hurt. But then you would have a better protein source.”

Simon’s mouth started watering. Something twisted low in his gut. Hunger. He told himself it was just from the thought of real meat being on offer. It had been such a rarity on Eden. Only the officers, the richest of the rich, and women with child were offered the delicacy. 

Simon wondered what the meat tasted like. He knew that Ryland would be a delicacy. 

He wanted.

He forced himself to nod. Grace could have told him the procedure to sample cells would be excruciating, but if he demanded it, his supplicant would take up any cross.

With the fear of God, with faith and love, draw near.

Simon gazed into the bathroom mirror in reverence and awe.

Grace had bitten and sucked angry red marks down the length of his neck. A devouring. A claiming.The smile worn by the Simon staring back at him was feral.

To the healing of soul and body…

Grace shuffled nervously from foot to foot, playing with the hem of his fluffy cardigan. He was beautiful. Sacrosanct. “Can we try something?” 

Simon could deny him nothing. He held out his hand in supplication. 

Grace drew closer, squeezed his hand, then sank to his knees between Simon’s legs. This was not an unusual sight for them. As much as Simon liked to worship Grace, the other man liked to offer it in turn. It did not explain the trepidation his immaculate heart was showing.

Ryland rubbed the bridge of his nose, dislodging his glasses. “I um, read about something. I’ve been really stuck in my head lately. It said maybe this would help. If you don’t want to, we can try something else. Of course. I want you to be happy, too. But could I just…”

He pressed his face forward into Simon’s clothed crotch and breathed deep. He let out a relief filled sigh that loosened his tense shoulders, then reached gently to pull the garments down and off, discarding them behind him with no care for the poor robot who would probably be responsible for cleaning them up later.

Simon did not understand what was different here, other than that they had not spent time kissing first, and that neither of them seemed to be in possession of the fire that usually preceded playing like this.

Grace nuzzled into his soft cock, brushing stubbled cheeks lightly over him in flagellation. His nerve endings were alight. His head fell backwards, but he forced it forward again. It would be a sin not to appreciate the sight of his Angel on his knees.

With gentle hands, grace guided him into his mouth, wet and welcoming. He suckled lightly, then abruptly stopped. He brought his arms to rest on either side of Simon’s thighs where they bracketed his head, breathed deeply and relaxed, taking him deeper and settling his forehead against Simon’s tense abdomen. 

He brought his hand up to card through Grace’s hair and cradle the back of his unmoving head. He seemed like he needed tenderness. Simon would give him anything he needed. He was half-hard now in Grace’s mouth, warm and home.

This was new. He liked it.

Grace was holding him inside. Cradling him. Like this, it almost felt like Grace would swallow him whole. Simon wanted to slip inside and stay forever. Burrow down, curl up within him, and never leave. No one would be able to make him leave once he was deep enough. The marriage ceremonies back on Eden spoke of becoming one flesh. Simon would meld himself into his Grace until there was no way to tell where one began and one ended. The two shall never be torn asunder. 

Eons passed. The lust in his gut didn’t extinguish. It simmered. Every age or so, Grace would let out a content little hum; and a frisson of need would spike down his spine, but it was easy to ignore. Easy to keep his hands soft where they held and caressed his beatitude.

He held Grace in reverence, and Grace held him inside.

When Ryland finally began to move, leisurely and adoringly, Simon had been hard for so long it was a miracle he had any coherent thought at all. He wasn’t sure Grace did. His eyes were glazed and unfocused, but content when they met his from under thick wet lashes. He gripped the hair on the back of Grace’s bobbing head. The orgasm came over him slowly and almost painfully. He couldn’t resist the way he pulled Grace closer to him, holding him tight while he spilled down his throat, grunting low. 

Grace indulged. Supped and savored him until he had nothing left to offer. 

Simon pulled him up for a fierce kiss, tasting himself on Grace’s lips. Sharing in the unholy communion. When he eventually released Grace to catch a breath, he brought him down into an embrace. Simon curled protectively around him, and allowed his love to rest peacefully in his arms, safe from the racing thoughts that had plagued him before. Home in the mansions of rest.

Thou has made me worthy to be a partaker

The skin of his hand was stark against the creamy white of Ryland’s back where he pressed down, encouraging him to arch and present himself for veneration. He forced Grace’s face into the dirt of the garden, the scent of loam and crushed herbs filling the air. Grace had provided the seeds, but Simon had made them flourish. He would make his love do the same.

A flush deepened over Grace’s nape and moved down his back, tantalizing Simon, spreading across the firm expanse of curving muscle displayed before him. He wanted to consume him whole. Own him completely.

“Stay there.” He commanded. Grace obeyed.

He trailed his hand down to thumb over Grace’s hole. His hole. He drank in the sight of his lover pressing back into him, like he couldn’t help himself.

“Be good, Angel.” 

Grace stilled.

Simon rewarded him with a quick swat to the flesh where his ass creased into the back of his thigh. He knew it was sensitive there, and took perverse gratification in the way the muscles clenched and jumped. The skin bloomed an even brighter red. Inviting. A ripe tomato, ready to pluck.

Simon was a weak man, he could not resist such temptation. 

He bit down into the juicy flesh, sinking his teeth in and savoring deeply. He clenched his jaw tightly, and did not release until he was satiated. Grace whimpered below him, but remained unmoving. Simon decided he could be gracious and reward that as well. He licked over the darkening marks from his teeth until Grace was moaning and shivering minutely, trying to stay still through the shocks of pain and pleasure.

Simon pulled back with a predatory grin to survey his good works. Satisfaction curled in his stomach at the sight of a mark so clearly his own, firmly emblazoned into the skin of his mate. He had sampled his appetizer, now was the time for the feast. 

He was famished. He couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He laved his tongue over Grace’s opening with relish, and groaned at the taste. No eucharist could ever have a flavor quite as sweet. Each sound that poured forth from Grace just fed his hunger. He cupped the other man’s ass cheek and pressed it away, giving him more room to dive deeper. He speared his tongue in and out and received the most beautiful litanies of moans in return.

He tore himself away from his spread long enough to growl “Touch yourself.” It was his eternal penance that he had lost his arm and couldn’t hold his holy gift with both hands. He would gladly accept that tribulation if it meant he got to keep holding on to what he had with only the one.

Grace nodded into the dirt, tears falling down and streaking mud across his face. Cherubic. His hand snaked down and cupped himself, squeezing exactly the way Simon knew he loved best and would end this course quickly. 

He threw himself back into his repast with renewed vigor. Rimming him with Ryland’s hand moving under them in time with his tongue pressing in, in, in, until Grace wailed and came into the soil below, splattering the leaves of the plants growing nearby. 

The ground was consecrated. 

Simon was dedicated.

Accept me today as a communicant 

Simon’s obedience was to prepare their lunch. He relished in it. He had carefully selected only the most perfect of the vegetables and harvested them reverently. He presented his offering to his Angel. A simple salad, but shared in quiet and solitude.

He moved in close and urged one of the small tomatoes between Grace's lips. Hand caressing his cheek, then moving lower, where he held his jaw and pressed up to force him to bite down. 

Grace’s eyes closed and he hummed in enjoyment, chewing in satisfaction. Simon reached down and grabbed his own mouthful of the produce that had been fed by Grace’s own seed. 

He bit into his tomato. 

Flavor burst over his tongue, it tasted like victory.

Take eat, this is my body…

“Please.” It hurt him to ask so plainly for something. He was so used to asking, begging, praying, and being denied. So many times he had pleaded for clemency, only to be rejected. Simon clenched his fist. He couldn’t let it shake. He couldn’t let Grace see how much it was affecting him to ask for something he craved so badly.

Of course he saw anyway.

“Simon, are you sure? That’s…” The scientist hesitated. “I would give you anything you wanted. I will give you this if that’s what you want. I just… On Earth people would think it’s strange. They wouldn’t even be okay with the fact that we’ve been eating a version of our own meat. The idea would be completely taboo.”

Simon shook his head. He didn’t care what people on Earth would think. They had sent his love away. They could all rot. He had his own slice of Heaven and his very own Angel and he would spend the rest of his days showing his sacred worship however he pleased. 

“I don’t care. I want it. Please” Simon supplicated.

Grace’s eyes darkened. It was possible it was just at Simon’s begging, but it was good to think that perhaps Simon wasn’t the only one affected by the thought of what he was going to do. “Of course. Yeah, of course Simon. I’m yours. You can have me in any way you want.” Grace said it like it was easy. Maybe to him, it was. It had been tormenting Simon for weeks.

They moved to the kitchen where Ryland carefully pulled out a tray of the meburger, clearly labeled “Grace”. He looked over to Simon with a questioning gaze, and when Simon met it resolutely, placed it on the counter and began to ready a serving. 

Simon’s mouth watered. He was ravenous. He had petitioned his holy man for a blessing, and it was bestowed upon him. Grace set a bowl in front of him and surveyed him with intent eyes. Not judging, just observing in the way he was prone to do.

The meat smelled tantalizing. Simon knew, rationally, that it wouldn’t have texture or taste any different than his own. He wasn’t a very rational man anymore. He felt like he was boiled down to a gaping maw of need, and all he needed was to pull his Grace closer. To have him and hold him and never let go. 

He slowly raised the spoon to his lips and inhaled the scent of the ambrosia. Immaculate. He took the first bite tentatively. Not because he was second guessing, but because he was afraid that once he began he would never be able to stop. He was Covetous that way.

Grace was delectable.

Drink if it all of you, this is my blood…

Simon did most of their cooking because he had a fascination with taking care of Grace in the same way that Grace took care of him. Every once in a while something interesting he and Adrian were tinkering with would pull his attention away long enough, and he would come home to Ryland in the kitchen, having decided he would rather begin preparations himself than wait for Simon to return.

He was chopping root vegetables when Simon finally crawled in, tired but content with the work he had done. Grace thought it was hilarious that the potatoes had done so well growing on Erid. Simon wasn’t really sure why, but let him find his amusement where he could. The other man had tried to explain it, but it was an Earth reference that flew over his head.

Grace began his ritual chatter outlining his day. Simon usually loved to listen to the PTA drama and the details about what mischief each pebble had gotten themselves into. This time he let the words wash over him, simply enjoying the honeyed tone Grace used just for him. The rhythmic thunk thunk of the knife on the cutting board lulling him into a headspace placid and sticky. 

He drew near, pressing his body against his Angel’s back, burying his forehead into the taut muscle between his shoulders. He was soothed by the rhythmic movement of Grace’s arm where he kept chopping. He swayed back and forth in time with the body in front of him, and let himself sink down into the hymn of Grace’s words washing over him like benediction. 

He floated for an eternity, a bodiless host, at peace and safe. 

After an incomprehensible span of time, Grace finished his carnage on the vegetables and turned to welcome Simon’s body closer, wrapping his arms around him and holding him secure. Simon sunk deeper, burrowing as far in as their physical limitations would allow. Grace slid his hands down the ridges of his back and pulled him impossibly tighter. A spike of arousal slid through the fog in his brain. He hadn’t even realized he was hard. Grace chuckled and the sound reverberated through him. He shivered.

Grace grabbed his hips and began to push and pull, slowly fucking Simon onto himself with the gentlest of movements. Simon let himself be led. He would follow his shepherd anywhere. 

He fumbled his hand between them and fiddled with the clasp of the other man’s belt. Whatever strange spell had come over him was working rapidly, rabidly. He had to feel Grace’s skin against his own immediately or he would go even more insane. He was so needy. Ryland’s hands moved from his hips to slap his shaking hands away and replace them with his own, making quick work of removing their clothing that Simon had been struggling with. He kept up the rocking motions Grace had set for them even though he wasn’t enforcing it anymore. He knew he was not supposed to stop.

“Shhhhhh.” Grace soothed him with a kiss brushed lightly over his cheek. He hadn’t even realized he had been whimpering. Grace presented his hand to Simon’s lips and he did not hesitate to open his mouth and lick. He knew what was wanted from him. He allowed saliva to pool in his open mouth and let it fall to Grace’s patient hand, drooling around his tongue where it still moved over adoring and dexterous fingers. 

“Perfect.” His love praised him. It was headier than the pleasure rolling through him as they moved together.

Grace reached his soaking hand down to grasp them together. Sliding his palm over their tips where Simon was already leaking heavily and spreading the combination of their fluids over where they were joined. Simon knew the moan he let out was pathetic. Grace didn’t seem to mind.

He was tormented. His avenging Angel was punishing him with movements firm and slow. Gliding over the both of them leisurely, in a way that would drive any man mad. Making him suffer through the most divine torture imaginable. Simon wanted to show Grace his devotion. Maybe just devotion with a little more swiftness. 

He battled his hand between them and forced one of Grace’s out of the way. He grasped them both with a firm hand, tangling his fingers around the other man’s. He spurred them into moving faster, encouraging Grace to join him in his desperation. Their breathing got heavier. It was hard to tell which one of them was making which sounds. Their combined movements were becoming frantic. Grace was joining in on his frenzy, Simon could feel it.

He moved his hand faster and Grace’s head fell back with a cry as he came, exposing his beautiful neck and straining the cords of muscle in stark relief. His hand that wasn’t busy between them flew back to grasp the counter behind him in support.

“Fuck!” Grace yelled. Simon growled in response. He loved it when he got his Angel to blaspheme.

“Ow, fuck.” Grace continued. Simon stilled. That wasn’t the sound that he loved. “I accidentally grabbed the knife. Cheese and rice that hurts.”

Grace raised his hand to inspect the damage. Blood oozed from a long shallow cut down the length of his palm, glinting menacingly in the overhead light. Simon’s heart picked up. His breath stuttered in his lungs. He couldn’t look away. He was entranced.

Grace turned his hand this way and that to evaluate. “It’s not too deep. It won’t need stitches or anything. That’s good. I’ve had enough horrific injuries to last several lifetimes.” He laughed lightly. There was ringing in Simon’s ears. His eyes were locked on the movement of Grace’s hand, on the ichor that was staining pious skin. He was falling. Grace was oblivious. “It’s okay. I’ll go get the first aid kit. We can probably clean this up ourselves, but if not I can ask Armando…”

Small drops of blood were falling to the floor. Desecrated. Wasted.

Drip.

Drip.

“Simon?”

“Hey, hey”

“Simon!”

He snapped back from wherever he had gone with a jolt.

Soft eyes full of concern met his own. “Are you okay?”

Simon nodded. Stopped. Shook his head. Stopped. Nodded again. 

“Hey, that’s okay. You don’t have to know. We can figure this out.” Grace reassured. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t… The blood. It’s… calling me. It’s all bad memories. I can’t stop them. I can’t look away.” Every time he tried, his eyes were inevitably drawn right back.

“That’s okay. That’s okay.” Grace soothed. “I’ll get it cleaned up and I’ll wrap it and you won’t be able to see it anymore. We’ll take care of this. I’ll take care of you.” Unthinkingly, he brought his hand up to brush Simon’s cheek comfortingly like he always did. 

Simon flinched, and the movement pressed his confused and still hard cock into the mess Grace had made over their stomachs. The warm blood on his face ignited a frisson of something in him. The warm come on his cock sent a wave of undeniable pleasure through him. He let out a groan at the conflicting sensations.

“Oh.” Grace said, dumbfounded. “Oh. Well, that’s one way to take care of you.” He got a wicked gleam in his eye. “We could make some better memories instead.” 

Simon’s heart raced. No. Yes. He couldn’t tell which way was up anymore. He didn’t know which way to swim to pull himself out of this. 

“Breathe.” Grace commanded him. He sucked in a breath. It was okay. He didn’t have to pull himself out. His Miracle had rescued him once, and he would do it again. Simon would trust Grace with anything. If he thought this could help, Simon would unhesitatingly offer himself up as an evening sacrifice. Fire burned deep in his gut, blazing through the fog in his mind.

He nodded. Ryland searched his eyes, and he must have liked what he found there, because he slowly lowered his injured hand back to wrap lovingly around Simon’s length. It was overwhelming. The heat, the slide, the thought that this was part of Grace; something that had moments ago been inside him and was now covering the most intimate part of himself. He was lost, no longer to the blood ocean, but to his Grace. 

Pleasure built with an inevitability. Grace wanted him to come with the feeling of his blood and his hand over soft flesh, so he would. He capitulated. Rapture crested devastatingly. He was undone.

Grace deliberately stroked him through every wave of ecstasy until it was too much. It would never be enough. He floated and rested in the comfort of his savior’s hold, safe in the knowledge that he would always be caught when he came back down. Grace raised his hand for inspection again. It was filthy. He examined it for a moment, then brought it to his own mouth and took a curious lick. “Hm.”

Simon stared. He was transfixed. Parched. He had never known thirst like this. Ryland brought his hand to Simon’s mouth and presented it in a perverted mirror of how all of this had started. He knew what was wanted from him. He again did not hesitate. The taste of the blood and their spend combined blossomed in his mouth. It was succulent. He licked until his Grace was made clean, smears of blood and come disappearing into his mouth.

He was suffering. He was sanctified.

“Okay, now I really need to go find the first aid kit. I need to disinfect this like woah.”

This is thy pure body, and this is thine own precious blood

Grace would give him anything. Grace had given him everything. 

His beautiful love would give him whatever he asked for, and Simon had learned to ask. Had grown comfortable in the knowledge that when he did, he would receive.

Grace was above him where he belonged, magnificent in the moonlight through the window. Opulent in their bed. In their home. In their love. They had found sanctuary in the hallowed halls that the Eridians built for them. Simon stared at him in reverence. He could never make himself worthy of the Grace he had been given, but he would appreciate all of him for as long as he lived.

Grace’s thighs around him shook with need as he hovered over him, waiting. “Are you ready?” 

Simon nodded. He would take whatever Grace would minister to him. Grace was giving, and Simon would take, and take, and take. He held his cock ready and tried to remain still as his love slowly lowered himself down, easing them into joining in the most blissful way. His stomach clenched and his cock jumped and he couldn’t help the way his breath stuttered out as his Angel welcomed him home. Grace was warm and tight and perfect around him. 

Simon grasped his hip, cautioning him slower, begging for more. “Fuck, beautiful. You’re amazing like this. So good to me.” He moaned.

Grace just smiled and eased himself lower, sinking down until they were pressed flush together, Simon disappearing inside of him. He had never seen a vision so exquisite.

Simon dug his nails into the delicate skin of Grace's back and they groaned together as he shifted forward in response. He began to rock his hips slowly and firmly, dragging Simon deeper in and then almost completely out before sucking him back down again. Dragging them both into ecstasy.

According to the people who raised him, this was probably a sin. But how could it be when he had never been so worshipful? Hail Mary, full of “Grace! Ah… please” he prayed. 

Grace would deny him nothing. He leaned forward to press his lips to Simon’s, trapping his own length between their bodies and rocking shallowly. The angle wasn’t as deep, and Grace couldn’t move as quickly. Simon’s head swam anyway. He was drowning in Grace’s kiss. When they broke apart with a gasp, Simon buried his face into the other man’s neck, panting and overwhelmed. A bead of sweat rolled down, and he reached out his tongue to trace after it.

Grace’s hips faltered, and he pulled back to stare down at the disciple below him. Simon was a bug under his microscope, flayed apart and examined. He was exactly where he wanted to be. 

“I think it’s time.” His reverend decided.

Simon sucked in a breath. He nodded. It was time. His Grace gave him everything.

Ryland shifted to the side and reached past his head to where they had left a bowl before they began. Simon steadied him the best he was able with the hand against his side. When Grace settled back down over him, his eyes were dark and possessive. Simon knew his were reflecting the same. He was crazed. Overtaken with need for the man on top of him, around him, soon to be inside of him.

Grace solemnly lifted a piece of meat from the bowl and held it up so they could both see. It was dark pink, temptingly juicy and tender. Simon was tender for him in return. Their eyes locked and Grace held the rest of himself still and steady as he slowly reached forward and offered the oblation to Simon’s waiting mouth.

Grace would deny him nothing. Simon would do the same in return. He parted his lips with a shaky sigh and opened to accept. Grace’s calloused fingers gently placed the portion between his teeth, then receded to trace softly around his mouth as he bit down.

Flavor exploded. Sumptuous. Euphoric. He was nourished.

Grace held his eyes and began to move over him again with a renewed vigor, building them both back toward their peak. He held out as long as he could, savoring the taste and feel of his love, but he was overwhelmed, and he could not withstand the passion forever. He swallowed, he came.

He had never been so satiated. So content and full.

He was in Grace. Grace was in him. He was in heaven.