
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9094837.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Fantastic_Beasts_and_Where_to_Find_Them_(Movies), The_VVitch, The_Witch_
      (2016)
  Relationship:
      Credence_Barebone/Original_Percival_Graves
  Character:
      Credence_Barebone, Original_Percival_Graves, Mary_Lou_Barebone, Modesty
      Barebone, Chastity_Barebone
  Additional Tags:
      Abuse, salem_witch_trials_era, we're_dealing_with_actual_puritans_here, I
      apologize_for_that, Animagus, implied_bestiality????, I_dunno_how_to_tag
      this, it's_like_one_sentence_in_the_beginning_that_makes_you_squint_later
      on, i_apologise_if_you_got_excited, Anal_Sex, Oral_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-12-28 Words: 5027
****** I Conjure Thee To Speak To Me ******
by L_M_Biggs
Summary
     "I confess that I have lived in sin. I have been disrespectful of my
     mother. I have been idle of my duties... To my mother, to my brothers
     and sisters, and to thee My Lord. I have, in secret, indulged in my
     wickedness... I pray to thee, oh Lord... Forgive me my sins. Forgive
     me my natural wickedness, for I know that I cannot enter the kingdom
     of heaven, but that I might be justly cleansed in hell. Please, oh
     Lord, forgive me my wickedness, for it is by my corrupt evil that
     Little Sam was stolen away by the evils of the wood. For the price of
     his unbaptized soul entering Heaven, accept my own already damned
     soul.”
Notes
     This fic is inspired by The VVitch (2015) and I have gravescredence
     on tumblr to thank for most of the ideas for how to conform the plot!
     They are wonderful and you guys should check them out!
     http://gravescredence.tumblr.com/post/155007230847/concept-the-
     vvitch-au-where-credence-is-the
“I confess that I have lived in sin.”
His hands trembled as he clenched them tighter together, blood making the scabs
stick from how long he had been praying. The beginnings of the autumn chilled
his bare back, his shoulders nearly numb from the cold licking the wounds,
freezing the blood that oozed from them.
“I have been disrespectful of my mother. I have been idle of my duties... To my
mother, to my brothers and sisters, and to thee My Lord. I have, in secret,
indulged in my wickedness... I pray to thee, oh Lord... Forgive me my sins.”
Tears slid down his cheeks and his breath hitched, his entire body trembling
with the force it took to contain his sobs. “Forgive me my natural wickedness,
for I know that I cannot enter the kingdom of heaven, but that I might be
justly cleansed in hell.” His head bowed and Credence shuddered and pressed his
lips to the knuckles of his thumbs, crusted with browned blood.
“Please, oh Lord, forgive me my wickedness, for it is by my corrupt evil that
Little Sam was stolen away by the evils of the wood. For the price of his
unbaptized soul entering Heaven, accept my own already damned soul.”
“Credence!”
The boy looked up from his hands, standing slowly and pulling his shirt on
carefully, followed by his coat, stepping into the grey daylight.
Mary Lou stood beside Chastity and Modesty, the two girls gathering the heavy
coats for the other children. “You will wash the woolens today, before the cold
sets in.”
“Yes, Mother.” The boy took the heavy basket, the wicker digging into the thick
gashes in his palms. Blood stained the edges and he knew that he would have to
scrub even more vigorously with the bar of lye soap to remove the stains from
any clothes that might be tainted with his own blood.
He sat by the creek, a frail, black figure, his long hair falling in unwashed
waves about his face as he wetted the bar of lye soap in the cold water.
The sting of the soap was quickly chased away by the numbness of the cold water
upon his fingers.
A rustling from the dried and hollowed reeds that lined the creek made the
boy’s head snap up, Credence frozen in fear. His imagination conjured up so
many images of wolves, of beasts - of witches that were rumoured to live deep
in the woods - only for his shoulders to slump as he heard Modesty laughing and
squealing.
“Modesty, come hither.” The boy looked over at the rustling reeds.
“I be not Modesty!” The girl shuffled forward, one of the reeds held as if a
broom. “I be the witch of the wood! Come to steal thee, Credence! Clickety-
Clackety! Clickety-Clackety!”
Credence sighed, shaking his head as he rested the coat in his lap. “I be here
working like a slave and you play idle.”
“Because mother hates you.” The girl called, sticking out her tongue at
Credence as the boy stood.
“Hold thy tongue!”
“It’s true! Mother believes you to be a witch, bred in evil sin.” Modesty
looked up at her brother, and Credence felt something dark in his chest unfurl
at her defiance. “Black Percy says that you traded Sam to the witch of the
woods!”
“Damn your Black Percy, Modesty.” He snapped, throwing the soap into the basket
amongst the other coats.
“Black Percy says that you et upon Sam and used his fat to make butter!”
Credence paused, staring down at his youngest sister, feeling the hurt at the
confirmation of what he had always known. He stepped forward, over the woolens
still in the basket. “Aye. It is true. I let the witch steal Sam. I am the
witch of the woods.” Credence stood over the girl, pushing his hair from his
face. “When I sleep my spirit slips away from me body and dances naked among
the woods to please the Devil.”
“Credence...” Modesty’s eyes widened as she shuffled back, looking up at her
brother.
“He bid me sign his book and bring him an unbaptised babe.” Credence stood now
over Modesty, leaning forward and grasping her, lifting him into his skinny
arms and holding her squealing, struggling for to his chest, shouting over her
cries. “I boiled and baked his wee body and I will boil and bake thee too if
thoust displeases me!”
“Mother!” The girl squealed and raced off, struggling out of Credence’s grip
and shoving him so that he stumbled and fell back upon the bank of the creek,
the boy gasping as his shoulders slammed upon the hardened ground. He groaned
and rolled onto his elbows, forcing himself up before he heard footsteps
nearby.
“Modesty, do not cause me mischief.” The boy called, turning, only to stop at
the sight of the large billy goat his mother had traded for some months ago.
Black Percy was a large, proud beast, with enormous horns that curved into
sharp points. He had provided their mother’s nanny goat with numerous small
kids that she traded for soap and candles and other such small things. He
easily escaped his pen at all hours of the day and often times could be found
dancing and wandering about the farm, bleating as he was chased about by the
delighted orphans.
The goat’s slitted eyes stared at him, thin nostrils flaring as it breathed,
steam clouding the chilled air from it’s snout.
“Dost thou think me a witch as well?” Credence sighed, reaching out to touch a
long, curved horn, tugging the goat close to plant a brief kiss on it’s snout.
The goat let out a bleat and fleshy lips nuzzled and nipped at Credence’s ear,
the boy laughing as he scratched behind the goat’s own silky black ear. “What
lies do you whisper to Modesty, speak, Black Percy, or I will have no more of
thee!” A bleat and the goat gently nudged it’s great horned head against his
own, the boy gently tugging on the creature’s beard. “Unruly creature.” He
murmured, standing to return to his task of scrubbing the coats as Black Percy
went trotting off.
Sitting beside the river he paused when a realisation struck him some moments
later. Lifting his hands from their task he stared. The blood had long washed
away, but now the cuts were healed and gone, leaving only thin, pale scars in
their wake.
He resolved not to tell his mother of this.
For certainly she would lock him in the goat’s barn and burn him.
--
Credence sighed as he collected another rabbit’s corpse from the traps he laid,
laying them again before he moved on towards home. Six rabbits in his pack, the
pelts would fetch a handsome trade and the meat would make a hearty stew. He
walked the paths through the woods daily, always to check his traps and to
bring back food. And if perhaps he was more idle than he should be and spent
more time away from the sharp, cruel eye of his mother then that was no
business but his own and God would surely forgive this small wickedness atop
all of the others.
Modesty stood beside Black Percy, whispering in the beast’s ear and chattering,
laughing and dancing about the beast as it reared up on it’s hind legs,
wobbling and prancing back and forth, jumping and bucking about as if he was
truly dancing with Modesty.
“Black Percy, Black Percy,
Crown upon his head!
Black Percy, Black Percy,
To nanny queen is wed!”
“Modesty!” Credence called with a sigh, brushing the girl away from the goat
and grunting as the beast nudged firmly against his side. “Stop it, both of
you!” The boy looked to Modesty. “Mother will surely strike you if she knew you
were speaking to a goat.”
“Mother will not know, Black Percy told me that he wrought a spell upon me,
that Mother will not hear when I speak to him.” Modesty proudly reassured,
looking about before whispering. “Black Percy says that he wishes to speak with
you too, Credence.”
“I will not be part of your childish idleness, Modesty, now go thither and
collect the corn else I will force you to help me with these rabbits.” He
lifted the pack, dangling it near the girl and sending her squealing round back
of the house.
Credence sighed and moved to the stump where he cut wood for the fire, pulling
his knife from his pocket and carefully cut along the neck. He worked his
fingers beneath the skin, grasping at the neck of the rabbit and pulling until
the skull popped off, dangling limply where Credence’s strong, thin fingers had
ripped the windpipe in half. Blood coated his fingers as he worked the fur off
the rest of the small carcass, stopping at the paws before he picked up his
knife once more to cut the limbs off. He turned the knife, careful to not
puncture the organs and spoil the meat as he gutted the small creature. Placing
the carcass aside he picked up the next rabbit, repeating the ritual over and
over again.
Looking down at the soft brown fur he couldn’t help but lift it to his cheek,
sighing at the warmth and softness. He wondered at the idea of fur gloves. Of
being able to tuck his cold, aching fingers into that softness. But Mother
would no doubt know of his wicked transgression, depriving them of more to
trade for for his own selfishness. So he simply placed the fur aside and began
to cut the small bodies into even smaller bits, standing to enter their hovel
and collect a pot to begin the stew.
He froze when he saw Mary Lou seated at the table, staring at him with her
hands folded over their worn, well kept Bible.
“Credence.” She stated simply. “Modesty says you have been speaking to Black
Percy.”
Credence froze, stepping back slightly. “I have not. She lies.” His voice took
an edge of desperation, his eyes flickering to the window as his hands shook.
“I have been about me chores, Mother. Bringing rabbits home to please you.
Modesty was playing idle with Black Percy when I just arrived.”
“Kneel, Credence.” The boy knelt, helpless to obey his mother as she stood.
“What does God’s word tell us about witchcraft, boy?”
“When thou art come into the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee, thou
shalt not learn to do after the abominations of those nations... As is written
in the book of Deuteronomy.” Credence recited, his heart pounding in his chest.
“Thy wickedness bleeds into your brothers and sisters. One rotten stalk ruins
the crop.” She moved to stand before his kneeling form. “Hold out your hands.”
Credence slowly held out his trembling hands, staring at the smooth, healed
skin, a damning proof of his wickedness, his deviation from God’s righteous
punishments.
“As I suspected.” The woman walked to the fire, pulling the long, iron rod that
she used to turn the wood within the hearth. Credence choked on a sob, closing
his eyes and holding his hand out.
The iron sizzled across his palm, blistering and burning the delicate flesh.
The smell of cooking, burning meat filled the air and Credence was certain that
the iron would cleave his flesh and find bone if left for a second longer. He
couldn’t help the scream that escaped him, jerking his hand back the moment the
iron was lifted, a long strip of flesh burnt to the surface of the metal,
smoking as his mother stared at him with cold, unflinching eyes.
“You will kneel outside this night and pray that The Lord might forgive you
your sins.”
Credence nodded, standing shakily, his head light and clouded with the pain.
Collecting the large stew pot he returned to the stump, collecting the pieces
of dismembered and gutted rabbits and placing them in the pot, his wounded hand
pressed close to his chest as he worked.
He looked up as the final piece was placed within the pot and his eyes narrowed
as he stared at Modesty, the girl watching him with wide, fearful eyes, her
arms wrapped about the neck of Black Percy as the goat surveyed Credence’s
suffering.
Turning back to his work, Credence entered the house, opening the small cabinet
where he kept their vegetables. He collected carrots, cleaned of dirt and their
weedy tops, potatoes that he had dug up, and mushrooms found within the wood,
their fleshy brown tops cleaned in the creek and the first few fed to their
smallest goat to be sure that it was not poisoned. He stared at the knife as he
placed the pot on the fire, lifting his hand and choking on an agonised sob as
he clutched his fingers about the knife.
Every cut was agony. The pressure of the wood upon his burnt palm sending
searing pain jolting up his arm, clawing at the tendons of his neck as his
teeth ground together. His prayers left him in that moment as he begged only
for an end to the pain, to the agony of where his skin was burnt from flesh and
the wooden handle dug unrelenting into the tormented skin.
The orphans piled in for dinner and Credence did not eat, sent outside the
moment all were seated, prepared for grace upon their meal. Credence did not
pray the grace. Instead he knelt outside, staring up at the sky. There was no
moon this night, the endless stars the only light other than the faint candle
that flickered from within the house.
“Why must I suffer?” He whispered when his prayers had run thin, his hands
shaking with pain as he looked to the sky. “God, have I not attoned enough for
my wickedness? Have I not bourne the pain and sins of the others? Why hast thou
instructed mother to hurt me more? To beat and burn and enact penance upon my
flesh for sins that I never wished for or committed? The sin of witchcraft, the
sin my mother bore but not myself.” Tears streamed down his face and Credence
sobbed as he bowed his head, his hair curtaining his face as his shoulders
shook.
When his sobs receded and the candle inside the house was long snuffed out, he
ran his unharmed hand over his face, the boy taking in a shuddering breath as
he looked to the sky again. His limbs were numb with the chill of the cold and
as he pressed his hands to his lips he found his breath to be nearly as cold as
his fingers, unable to warm the digits.
He jumped slightly as he was gently jostled by a horned head, turning to see
Black Percy looking at him with his milky eyes, the black slots of his pupils
fixed on Credence. The goat stared at him for a long moment before calmly,
sedately, walking towards the woods.
Credence’s breath caught for a moment as he stared after the beast, wondering
if he should simply leave it be. But then he thought of mother and how she
would beat him more severely if he lost Black Percy than if he left to retrieve
the goat. Pulling himself to his feet the boy wrapped his hand in a
handkerchief he had stolen while his mother had been serving stew to the other
orphans. He clutched his knife handle in his unharmed hand and made his way
into the darkness.
“Black Percy!” He called, sighing when he lost sight of the goat, listening for
movement and following blindly. He squinted when he caught sight of something
in the inky depths of the night, flickering and moving.
A lantern?
He stumbled over roots and the brown autumn foliage that littered the ground,
approaching the light. Credence startled and gasped as he realised it was a
bonfire, towering golden red flames filling the air, licking towards the stars.
There was no one in sight and as he turned, looking around, he caught sight of
Black Percy.
“Impossible beast.” The boy sighed, approaching the goat, only for Black Percy
to dance away from him. Turning playfully and leaping into the air. Credence
glanced back at the darkness of the wood, trying once more to grasp at least
one of Black Percy’s horns. “Mind me, Black Percy! Tis’ far too dark and mother
will scold me more for leaving thee.” The goat paid him no mind, as he had
expected, and instead shuffled forward then back, twisting and leaping and
bleating loudly in the darkness.
Credence couldn’t help the smile that twitched his lips, taking a hesitant
little hop towards the beast, laughing when the goat bleated at him. Another
hop, then another, twisting and turning and imitating the goat as Black Percy
took up his acrobatics again. Credence laughed, unashamed and echoing and
thrilling as he turned and danced and leapt, following the goat in dizzying
circles around the fire. His coat became too warm and he cast it aside, his
shirt became soaked with sweat from his dancing and that soon followed. He
threw off his pants and smallclothes, brittle dry leave crunching beneath his
bare feet and pricking the tender soles of his feet.
Credence turned and turned, his own laughter and Black Percy’s bleating ringing
in his ears until he tumbled to the ground, laying atop his discarded coat,
chest heaving as he stared at the fire, naked and soaked in sweat and warmed
impossibly by the fire. His dark eyes drooped as he watched the black
silhouette of the goat still boundlessly leaping and playing around the flames.
He gasped when he saw the black shape of the creature change, transforming,
shifting grotesquely until a man stood where Black Percy had been.
He felt that he should run, should cry out in horror, scream of witchcraft and
run back to his mother.
But all he could do was lay on the ground, gasping as the man approached him,
kneeling and looming slowly. He couldn’t make out any distinct features, the
firelight casting menacing shapes and shadows across the man’s visage, but he
could see the man’s eyes, so incredibly dark and brown. Credence shivered at
the sight of those eyes and their intensity, almost as if they were flaying him
bare and showing his guts to the cold night air, letting him shiver in all of
his exposure.
“What dost thou want?” The man whispered and Credence gasped at the hot breath
brushing over his mouth.
Before he could even begin to form a response, before he could deny that he
wanted anything, his mouth was moving, his tongue and lips forming a single
word that echoed louder than his laughter had through the hollow cavity of his
chest.
“Thee.”
--
Credence gasped as he woke, sitting bolt upright and turning about to see where
he was. Black Percy raised his great horned head languidly, looking at him as
he huffed a breath out of his slitted nostrils. The boy flushed, looking down
and petting the goat’s flank where he had been curled against the heat of the
beast. He was in the stable, Nanny laying nearby, her pregnant stomach heaving
with her breaths as she slept. Credence straightened, bending so that his head
didn’t hit the ceiling of the small stable, Black Percy stood as well,
following him out as Credence adjusted his ruffled clothing, brushing away
straw and dew and rubbing his eyes to rid himself of the last vestiges of his
horrible dream.
Mary Lou stood in the doorway of the house, staring at him, her long dark hair
twisted into a braid and her nightgown covered in blood.
“What did you do to them?” She demanded, storming over and grasping Credence by
his hair. “Devil child! What have you done!?”
Credence shouted and struggled as he was dragged into the house, led up the
stairs to the sleeping cots of the orphans. They were all deathly pale, their
mouths crusted with blood. Chastity laid, still breathing, if not raggedly,
coughing red splotches onto her pillow, Mary Lou instantly disregarding the
other children in order to shoo a shaking and pale Modesty away from the
favoured child.
“What have you done, you witch? Cast a spell upon them?” The woman’s eyes fixed
upon Credence and the boy shook his head, trembling as he stepped back.
“I have not-”
“He lies!” Modesty screeched from where she was huddled now behind Mary Lou.
Her lips were pale and her eyes wide and wild, and when she moved with was as
if her actions were not her own. Mary Lou whipped her head around to stare at
the girl, Modesty cringing at the attention but continuing to speak. “He
consorts with Black Percy! He stole away Sam and et of him and he said he’d
steal me away too and boil and bake thee!”
“That’s not true!” Credence shouted back, stepping forward, only for Mary Lou
to brandish the knife she had been using to bleed the ill blood from the
orphans.
“Where were you last night, boy?” Mary Lou demanded. “Out with the Devil in the
woods?”
“I was not, I swear it, I was in the stables.”
“He dances naked to the pleasure of the Devil!” Modest howled, clutching her
stomach as she choked and gasped in pain, and Credence covered his ears.
“Liar, speak not such lies of me!”
“Witch!” Mary Lou grabbed Credence’s hair, shoving him down the ladder leading
up to the orphans room. The boy let out a shout as he tumbled down, his
shoulder slamming into the floor, knocking the wind from him as his head
cracked upon the hard dirt ground. “I’ll not have a witch in my house!”
She dragged Credence’s thin, dazed form to the goat stables, shoving him in
before she struggled and lifted several slabs of wood that had been leftover
from building the stable. Credence let out a desperate shout as he tried to get
his feet under him, standing and throwing himself at the doorway, trying to
push past Mary Lou, only for the woman slap him so hard he spun and fell once
more into the straw of the stable.
“Wretched creature.” She hissed, throwing the wood atop Credence, who curled to
try and protect himself, feeling the heavy planks bruising his shoulders. She
was running, into the house, and he struggled to regain himself, feeling sick
and dizzy and fragile, as if he might shake apart if the wind so much as
ghosted through him. He had just managed to shove two planks of wood off of his
frame when Mary Lou returned with the candle.
“No!” He shouted, scrambling out of the way, further into the stable where the
goats were bleating and shuffling and screaming along with him.
There was a sound of wet impact and Mary Lou jerked, blood spurting from her
side, soaking her white nightshirt in blood as she crumpled and clawed at the
horn of Black Percy, the goat throwing her aside as she choked and gurgled. The
candle flickered out on impact with the ground and Credence gasped and
shuddered as he stared at the dripping white wax, his eyes sliding over to
stare at Black Percy, the goat standing still, blood gleaming rich and black on
the goat’s horn, dripping down the silky fur of his snout.
Credence stood, chest heaving as he stared down at the goat, stepping forward,
trembling as he watched the great beast. The goat turned, walking towards the
woods. Credence stared at the beast, turning his gaze to look at Mary Lou, the
woman dead on the ground, blood spattering her mouth and face from where she
had drowned in it. He watched her unmoving face for a moment more before he
looked to the woods.
Black Percy stood, watching him, silent and unmoving, the goat waiting for him
to decide.
Credence took the first step towards the woods. Why should he stay behind?
There was nothing left for him here but dying children, orphans he had cared
for but who had never cared for him in return.
When he was side by side with Black Percy, overlooking the small farm with the
brood of dying children in the house, he couldn’t help but feel a thrill
curling, clawing at the bottom of his chest. Most certainly the sin he had
felt.
They walked the same way they had the night before, in his dream that Credence
was not certain was simply a dream. They walked for what felt like hours,
arriving at the clearing just as the early dusk settled upon the forest, the
stars bearing witness as Credence stood before the bonfire lit in the empty
clearing.
He knelt before the black goat, staring into it’s watchful eyes.
“Black Percy... I conjure thee to speak to me... Speak as you spoke to
Modesty.” He waited, his heart fluttering fearfully in his chest. When the goat
did not respond, simply stared at him, the boy sighed, looking away before
glancing back at the goat. “Do you understand my English tongue?” The boy
asked, searching those eyes before he sighed and turned to stand, to go back to
the house.
“What dost thou want?” That same low, rumbling voice from his dream, heavy and
seductive and rolling cross Credence’s skin like a caress.
The boy shivered, remaining kneeling beside the fire as he stared at the goat.
“What... What canst thou give?”
He swore that the beast smiled at him at that.
“Wouldst thou like the taste of butter?” The features of the goat were
changing, the horns shrinking, receding. “A pair of fur gloves?” The beast’s
limbs straightened and lengthened, thick black fur thinning to patches along
the broad chest, a thick thatch nestled between powerful thighs. “Wouldst thou
like to see the world?” His skin was warm and tanned from sunlight, his limps
corded with heavy muscle, the body of a man who saw great work and who bore
great power.
“Yes.” The boy whispered, watching the face turn human, the features so
handsome and sharp, inky black eyes staring down at him. He trembled as the man
crouched before him, crawling forward, Credence shuffling and nearly tumbling
onto his back as he looked up at the man.
“Would you like to live... deliciously?.”
“Yes.” Credence gasped out. “I... I have nothing to offer in return.”
Black Percy smiled, the expression dark and hungry but so very warm. “I will
guide thee.”
Credence arched and gasped as the man’s lips covered his own, pulling a low,
needful sound from the man’s throat as he pulled Credence closer. The teeth of
the man tugged and nipped at Credence’s lip, his broad hands sliding down to
Credence’s thighs, pushing them open to reveal his taint to the warm air
surrounding the fire.
“Percy...” The boy gasped, moaning when he felt the man’s tongue trace over the
sinful crevice of his thighs, pressing into his body and tasting him, the man’s
long, strong fingers wrapping about his shameful arousal.
He could feel something burning inside him, something wanting and bone deep,
infecting his marrow as he clenched his teeth against the overwhelming
pleasure. He was spiralling to high, too fast, rising like the smoke from the
fire, watching the lights and shadows of the flames casting themselves over the
muscles of Percy’s back, the man - the he goat, the devil he was sure - pulling
back slowly to look at him.
Inky black eyes stared at him and Credence’s eyes could not help but look away
in shyness, gasping when his gaze landed on the heavy, thick length of the
man’s own shame. He let out a startled, stuttering noise when the man pressed
the wide, flushed tip against his entrance, jolting at the first inch of hard,
unyielding flesh that pressed in. It branded him, burning and dragging as
surely as his mother’s iron staff. The heated, dragging pleasure that filled
him making his head thrash, his long black hair thrown about his face, catching
in the autumn leaves. The broad hand of the man tugged his head up from the
ground, pulling him forward, onto his cock, until Credence’s thighs straddled
the man’s lap, the hard flesh of him embedded inside Credence as if he might
never walk again without feeling it.
“You are mine now,” The man growled, sighing into Credence’s neck and shoulders
as he caught the scent of the boy’s own arousal. “As I am yours, my sinful
bride.”
Credence gasped as he felt the man thrust into him, groaning and crying out and
throwing his head back to scream his pleasure to the stars as they watched
their sinful coupling.
And oh, he wished to be cleansed by this sin. To burn away Mary Lou, to twist
and burn away every inch of fear from him. As Percy groaned and thrust and
moved Credence’s body as he willed, he felt more powerful than Mary Lou could
ever have hoped to be back at the Plantation. This was his power, over this
man, this beast, this great godly creature, he had dominion.
He threw his head back and howled and laughed to the moonless sky, his cry wild
and free and threaded with the newfound pleasure of freedom, of flesh that had
only ever known pain. He looked down when he felt his body shudder and clench,
convulsing wildly about the man who grinned and looked up at him with gleaming,
eager eyes. He watched Credence as if he were holy, as if he were testament to
be adored and obeyed, his gleaming white teeth pressing to the boy’s collarbone
as the man looked up at him and groaned, filling Credence with sin and delight
that burned in his belly.
Credence Barebone was the bride of this devil, devout now not to his mother’s
god but to this personal Satan, and he was free.
And oh what might his new freedom, his new power, grant him if he only asked?
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