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For I Have Sinned	By : Albina Category: A through F > The Da Vinci Code Views: 2234 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The DaVinci Code, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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- 1-For I Have Sinned
- 1
Title: For I Have Sinned
Author: Angelica Albina aka Carol Anne Caiafa
Fandom: The Da Vinci Code
Pairing: Aringarosa/Silas
Rating: Hard R
Summary: Silas has no sins to reveal at confession time…
Warnings: Explicit m/m sexual fantasies, religious imagery, hints of pain and D/s
Disclaimer: Don’t own them, no profit, suing is futile!
Word Count: 1,021
A/N: Written as a challenge fic for the 50kinkyways LJ Community, under my other pen name of Carol Anne Caiafa, prompt #20, Standing in Corner
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned…”
As always, Bishop Aringarosa himself heard Silas’s confession, rather than the priest who regularly attended to the spiritual direction of the numeraries at Opus Dei World Headquarters. He trusted no other with guiding the precious soul of his protégé along the Lord’s path, and Silas was ever thankful for the Bishop’s attentiveness, and the small but distinct signs of this great man’s favor. Like allowing Silas to confess his sins in the Bishop’s private quarters, and the way the Bishop smiled beatifically down at his kneeling pupil, or bent to kiss his forehead and stroke his hair.
Each penance the Bishop gave out to Silas was accepted with humility and gratitude, the austerity of every one a mark of not only God’s, but Aringarosa’s love. Silas surrendered himself completely to Aringarosa, hearing only the divine will in the words of his Father in Christ. He cherished both the Bishop’s severity and compassion, essential to his training as a soldier of God.
On this day, Silas prepared for the sacraments as usual; the wool of his robe and the thick carpet as he knelt would have been comfortable if the barbs of the cilice around his right thigh had not cut into him unmercifully. He breathed deeply and looked up, gazing upon the beloved face of the Bishop in utter adoration. Whispering, reverential, he asked for the Bishop’s blessing and received it, but found himself struggling for the words yet to come, the revelation of his sins.
Silas could not think of anything to confess.
He had not given himself over to unclean thoughts, nor had he been negligent in his corporal mortification. Every duty had been carried out with the utmost willingness, and he had spoken ill of nobody. Yet he knew himself to be a sinner in the eyes of the Lord, and felt his face flush with shame. Silas looked down at the floor again, and tried once more to compose his words.
A strong but gentle hand reached down to tilt Silas’s face upwards; the dark eyes of the Bishop were questioning and sorrowful as he asked, “There is something on your mind, perhaps, my son?”
Mutely, Silas shook his head. Aringarosa sighed deeply, noticing the sadness with a tinge of fear in the albino’s eyes.
“My Silas,” the Bishop said firmly but kindly, “I think you are distracted. You should withdraw for a little while, to gather your thoughts. Stand in the corner over there, so you can reflect upon your sins.”
Reluctantly Silas rose to his feet. “Yes, Father,” he whispered, blushing and crestfallen. He stood facing the wall with his hands clenched in front of him, and squeezed his eyes shut. Silas knew that Bishop Aringarosa had ordered this for his own good, but still he burned with humiliation. More than anything, he longed to please the Bishop, this man who was the savior of his body and soul. The thought of disappointing Aringarosa in any way was almost too much to bear.
He would do anything for Bishop Aringarosa, absolutely anything to be deserving of his mentor’s forgiveness and love. Miserably, Silas tried not to think of how blissful it would be to be on his knees before Aringarosa once more, feeling the caress of slim dark fingers through his snowy hair or the touch of the Bishop’s lips upon his brow. His breath came shallowly and his limbs tensed as he longed to prostrate himself before the Bishop in utter, abject penitence and kiss Aringarosa’s feet, worshipfully unbuckling his mentor’s sandals so that he could stroke and adore each foot in turn before pressing his mouth to first one, and then the other. He pictured himself begging for the Bishop to forgive his transgressions, abasing himself, confessing to the vilest of iniquities so that Aringarosa would punish and absolve him.
Silas felt his blood race and his temples throb as images he had held back for so long began to flood his mind. There was no pleasure he would deny his mentor, no way in which he would not submit to the man he so completely adored. He wondered what it would be like to raise the Bishop’s cassock, pushing it upwards and kissing along the length of Aringarosa’s calves and thighs. His breath caught in his throat as he imagined peeling away the cloth wrapped around the Bishop’s loins, and taking the hardened shaft of the man he loved so much into his mouth. Silas could almost taste the warmth and faint salty tang of the Bishop’s skin as his tongue encircled Aringarosa’s cock, and the low sighs and moans of his mentor seemed nearly real. Phantom fingers gripped wisps of Silas’s white hair, urging his head further down.
Stifling a lustful groan, Silas imagined himself and the Bishop naked upon Aringarosa’s bed, their lips passionately locked, their bodies pressed together. Slicked fingers entered and stretched the albino monk, a soft pillow slid under Silas’s hips, and then the Bishop was above him, thrusting deep but slowly within him. Silas moaned as the Bishop murmured tender endearments in Spanish, and slowly caressed his mentor’s shoulders and back, embracing him tightly whilst they moved as one.
His hands balled into fists, Silas drove the spikes of his cilice into his flesh with a convulsive twitch of his thigh. He was swollen with arousal, and fought in vain to banish these desires with an onslaught of the self-inflicted suffering that he had been taught would cleanse his soul.
Aching with guilt at the wicked thoughts he could not make cease, Silas leaned against the nearest wall for support before his legs gave out under him. His forehead was beaded with sweat, and his eyes stung with remorseful tears that he struggled not to shed. Not only had he gone against the Church’s prohibitions by desiring a man, he had, if only in his mind, broken his vow of chastity. At least, Silas thought grimly as he waited for Aringarosa to release him from his purgatory, he now had a sin that he could confess to the Bishop.
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For I Have Sinned