Noctisardor Bypass [m] ave verum corpus

Mature Content Warning

This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: gross, implied sexual activity (god there are so many mature warnings on this i'm so sorry to any onlookers i fucking hate this man)

purity, such a fleeting notion.
the breaking of a hymen could come about at any moment, and so, physically, why did it matter who she had lain with before when her spirit yearned for his? when, under the eyes of their lord, she was Virgin anew; bathed in golden light and draped in silk, the curves of her body formed in the image of a saint? and, even still, it was clear to him that her carnal desires had never truly been woken, been tested, by anyone other than him as he did now, focusing intently on the way her palm flexes against the steel line of his shoulder.
he smiles at her with the secure notion that she will come to him when she is ready, when the cuckoo has been removed from the nest.
he mourns her as she parts from him, watching almost tenderly the slender curve of her back and the loveliness of her long legs, the pluming curve of her tail. he stays exactly as she leaves him for a time, savoring the downy-soft scent of her which lingers upon his chest.
as the sun fully sinks behind the horizon and he is sure that he is alone, he resigns to the fact that his own touch will have to do; the pathetic, lonely ritual of mumbling a sacred name high-pitched under one's breath, and when he is released from heaven's clutches, he gazes down at the stained earth, the clouded water. shuddering, shell-shocked and stiff-limbed, his gaze travels skyward until he can see clearly the star of the north. the prayer that is muttered is scarcely enough to create sound, only communicated in labored breath:
bring her to me, Lord God. bring her to her creator.