(It kinda sucks writing about a pyrenees puppy after my old boy has passed. I swear I'll adopt a new (Racquetball approved) one eventually.

Content warning) 

Michael stayed absolutely still until Church's breathing evened out, telling him that he was asleep. He wasn't going to chance saying another slew of disturbing sentences just to check, though. Instead, he got up and quickly headed out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind himself.

"Migel?"

Jumping, he turned towards Hanna where he stood in his own doorway. The puppy, of course, was snuggled in his arms, fluffy bum dragging on the floor as it snored with its tongue poking out.

"Yes, Hanna?"

Michael quickly made his way over to him, guiding him back to bed with a hand on his back. He climbed in after setting the puppy near his pillow, then got settled beneath the blankets.

"Is Chesh okay?"

His little voice sounded worried, making Michael smile. He really did care for the demon, even if he was a killer. Hanna didn't know the difference... which was definitely safer for him.

"Yeah. He's okay, sweetie."

That made Hanna smile wider, then snuggle in with a sleepy yawn. Michael made sure that he was tucked in, then got up and walked to the door.

"Good night, Hanna. Sleep well."

He already had his arms around the puppy, which was still snoring, when he replied quietly.

"Ganide, Migel."

Michael gave a hushed chuckle and carefully shut the door. He honestly wasn't quite sure what he was going to do the next day, but after all the excitement already, he really just needed to crash. After a quick cup of water from the kitchen he sauntered over to the sofa and fell onto it with a content sigh. He was out in seconds, completely forgetting to do his nightly prayers... even in his head.

Come morning he was awoken by the sound of a certain puppy pawing at Hanna's door.

Probly has to pee.

Groaning, he pushed himself up onto his arms, then yawned and literally flopped over onto the floor.

"That... wasn't the best idea."

Getting himself up, Michael quickly but quietly ran to Hanna's door and let the puppy out. It bolted to the kitchen and squatted, just barely hitting the newspaper in time.

"Good boy."

He finished his business and Michael cleaned up the papers since he'd used them a lot, then cleaned the washcloth before putting it back down with a new bunch of papers. He thought that he'd want to go back to Hanna after he was finished, but he actually just sat down at his feet and whined.

"Ah. I know what you want."

With a childish grin, Michael grabbed some slices of turkey from the fridge and sat down on the floor, letting Max jump into his lap before beginning to hand him small pieces of food.

"I need to get you some dog food. Church is going to get really upset if he finds out you're eating our food."

The puppy rolled over onto his back, making Michael roll his eyes as he fed him like a darn prince getting grapes from a servant.

"Your name really should be spoiled or cocky."

He gave a quiet "Wuff" and yawned, making Michael do the same... minus the bark.

"....el."

Hmm?

Michael looked up at the same time Max did, wondering what that sound had been.

"Michael..."

Ah, Church.

His mind flashed back to what he had said the previous night but he quickly pushed those thoughts aside as he nudged Max off his lap and stood. Surely Church had just been joking and heck, Michael would be surprised if he even remembered anything because of the state he'd been in. So, he got Max back into Hanna's room and shut the door, then quietly slipped into Church's.

He was on his back still, his chest rising and falling beneath the bandages he'd put on him the previous night. He walked over, ignoring the demon's open eyes as he checked his forehead.

"Well, you don't have a fever... I think. You demons seem to run hotter than us to begin with though."

When he didn't respond Michael reached for one of the binding knots and got it undone enough to peak beneath it.

Man, he's healing really fast.

"Lift your back a little..."

He did as told without a word, allowing him to look at most of the other bullet wounds to see that they, too, have healed up, for the most part. Once he was satisfied he fastened the bandages back securely and stood up.

"You look good. Only one is still open a little and it looks like its closing up now. The rest are already beginning to scab over."

When Church didn't respond again Michael just sighed and stood up, glaring down at his eyes in the dark room. The sun hadn't come up quite yet so it was a little hard to see. The only way he had managed to check his injury was because the moonlight coming in from his balcony gave him just enough light to look.

"Uh, well, since I'm up. What do you want for breakfast?"

Michael was suddenly on his back... and not on the floor. Church had his left hand on his chest, easily pinning him against his blankets as he slowly finished shifting his body around so that he could loom over him. His eyes began to glow in the darkness, making Michael's stomach twist into knots.

"Ch-Church? Calm down. H-Hanna's in the other room."

He gave a sinister smirk, but instead of answering with words, Church just leaned down and licked from Michael's collar bone to his jaw as he growled quietly the entire time.

"I am perfectly calm, little human. Just going to enjoy my breakfast."

His hand moved from his chest but Michael didn't dare try to get away until he knew what he was trying to do. When his hand returned to his skin it was skimming down his thigh, not stopping until it grasped his knee and slowly lifted it up. He moved his body south, nose nuzzling against Michael's inner thigh before his tongue began running up towards his knee, over it, then down to his ankle.

Everything about the situation was completely wrong, but every time Michael tried to pray in his mind or tell him to stop, the thoughts just wouldn't materialize. Instead, he moaned and felt his back arch, much to his own dismay, but Church's obvious pleasure as his growls got louder. 

Why had I taken off my pants in the middle of the night? These boxers aren't doing anything to slow him down.

"Roll over."

His voice finally managed to scratch out a quiet reply.

"N-No."

"Naughty priest. I don't feel any heat coming from where I touch you. You want it," Church's voice hissed into his ear as he leaned over, making Michael's body definitely heat up... but not in the way he needed it to. When he didn't reply verbally or move, Church gave an annoyed growl and covered his mouth with his own. His lips moved against Michael's, harsh and hungry. It was clear that he was trying to goad him into letting him do as he wanted. 

I can't give my body up to another man. A demon. I'd lose my chance at ever getting back my priesthood. I'd be shunned from what my life revolves around.

It isn't worth it.

Michael turned his head away and bit his lip, trying to pull himself out of his daze enough to fight him off... but then he was suddenly on his knees and Church had his hands locked onto his waist like vises.

"Ch-Church?"

A deep, bellowing growl answered him before he began pressing himself against the thin fabric of his boxers. There was no way Michael could forget that Church was naked. Especially not with a certain something nudging at him. He tried to form an actual sentence but each time his mouth opened to actually speak it just ended up as a moan, every time getting louder and louder as Church moved against him. When he picked up his pace Michael could feel the friction from him through his boxers, searing his skin with a need he desperately wanted to withhold. It was becoming harder and harder not to beg him to just remove the useless cloth separating them and let him have him, especially as his tongue began moving along his bare shoulder.

When had my shirt... been taken off? 

Michael looked around with hazy eyes, noting that said shirt was shredded everywhere around him. Oh well... it's not important. His attention quickly refocused back onto what was and he was surprised to realize that Church was slowing down. He also began to lower his body back down onto his, forcing Michael to relax back onto the blankets. His muscles were working overtime against his naked back as he panted over his left shoulder, but he refused to stop his hips completely, giving a thrust every few moments. He was definitely still stiff, so Michael's guess was just that his injuries were causing him to get tired faster than normal. Heck, he was panting himself, and he wasn't even injured... and he had just basically held himself up while Church...

God! I need help!

In fact, he really did, because Church's fingers were slipping beneath the slim waistband of his boxers and sliding them down.

"Such a perverted little priest," Church chided as he leaned over, his face suddenly appearing in Michael's blurred vision to lick at the tears clouding it. Everything about his expression as he did so showed pure dominance mixed with an unhealthy dose of smugness.

"I'm going to turn you into a slut for me."

Why am I letting him do this? He doesn't love. Demons don't love. He is just going to use me for stress relief and heck, he's probably going to laugh at me, too. He already sounds like he is with the comments he's making.

"Nn, Chesh?"

The sound of Hanna's voice had them both freezing instantly. Church hissed, but the second they heard the door-handle rattle he was off of Michael and pulling on a pair of boxers. Michael didn't hesitate to grab a blanket and wrap himself up, keeping his back to the door since he knew his face looked extremely pained... because he was seriously hurting. He might not have done much physically, but he was hurting severely spiritually. He'd let himself almost do something terrible... and for what reason?

He heard Church walk over to the door and greet Hanna when he opened it, scooping up the kid and kissing his forehead.

"Hey Hanna, want me to get you some breakfast?"

"Yesh!"

He gave a deep chuckle and replied, "alright, let's go make some pancakes."

The door shut a moment later as Hanna laughed and the puppy barked with excitement... but all Michael could do was groan and hug one of Church's pillows, burying his face in it. He shouldn't be crying. He was a man and he had let it happen, but it hurt him so badly, in so many ways. Some of which, he didn't even understand.