Shards of Salvation

Shards of Salvation

TIMELINE : 4 years after Gabriel Van Helsing becomes a Hunter for the Order.
PLACE : Vatican City, Rome, Italy.
DISCLAIMER : I don’t own these characters. I make no money.
PAIRING : Gabriel/Carl
RATING : R to NC-17
BETA : No. Don’t use one. Don’t recommend it. Thanks. My writing is my own. My mistakes are my own. This is for fun, not for sale.

Late Evening July 05

CHAPTER THREE

Some hours later July 05

Gabriel walked carefully down the corridor towards the cloisters. He’d just recently been let out of the healing ward. He would never cease to be amazed by how much skill the Monks of the Vatican had…not to mention their friars. The hunter quirked a smile. Carl certainly had come at the right moment.

It still hurt, he would not deny that. He would not be wearing his leather for at least a week. Perhaps it was not such a good idea to seek Carl out especially after what happened earlier that afternoon. He wasn’t used to the light black cotton pants and shirt he was wearing, nor was he used to walking around without any weapons. It made him feel well… It made him feel naked, vulnerable.

He found the friar’s door and rapped on it a couple of times. No answer. Hm. That was odd. "Carl? Are you in there?" he asked. Where else would Carl be at this time of night? Surely not down in the lab.

He could not help but wonder why Carl had spent all that time in the sun. Thinking back, the friar had seemed quite exhausted, and he had not been wearing the monk robes. Very strange indeed.

Gabriel pushed open the door too the small room and discovered it was empty. It was puzzling because he had told Carl he was going to come by and see him after he got out of the Healing ward. Perhaps Carl had decided not to wait? Van Helsing shook his head, no, it was more likely because he got called to handle something else, or he was down in the lab.

The hunter smiled fondly at the idea of Carl in the lab, bustling about, fingers caressing the various instruments he was currently perfecting. It was a heavy sigh that escaped from Gabriel’s lips when he wished that those fingers worked on his own particular instrument on a regular basis. How sweet that would be to actually have Carl be the one to give him release instead of a nameless young man in the brothels.

He wandered about the friar’s small room, marveling at how neat it was. Carl had a tendency to be perpetually organized. Van Helsing would have sat down, but it was far too painful at the moment to do that. He gazed fondly down at the younger man’s bed, trailing his fingers over it to grasp the pillow and bring it to his face.

Carl’s scent, so unique…

Then his eyes opened wide with astonishment. Now -that- was certainly not something he was expecting to see under the friar’s pillow. A bible, perhaps, something he was working on, a few documents. But…this?

Gabriel picked up the article and stared at it in bemusement. How had he managed to even get a hold of one living here? Carl must have a great deal more secrets than he let on. The hunter flipped through the pages of the leaflet. It described a great -many- things, including some that brought a light blush to the hunter’s cheeks, especially with the added art. Goodness. There were even little notations and questions along the sides of the magazine.

He would never have imagined that Carl would be interested in men in a physical sense. He -knew- that friars were able to do whatever they wanted, not yet devoted to God. Yet…somehow he had imagined the young man as being perfectly pious, a blushing virgin, someone utterly unaware of their body. Just imagining Carl in certain positions was causing a part of him to become rapidly and painfully hard.

Footsteps…someone was coming! Hurriedly, Gabriel put the article back where he had found it and hid in the small closet, leaving the door open a bit for air. Call it a hunter’s instinct, for Carl would not have worried about him being there. In fact, when the footsteps turned out to -be- Carl he almost revealed himself until he saw that the friar looked a bit nervous.

"Really, Carl." The friar spoke to himself sternly, Nothing to be afraid of. No one had any reason to come into his room. He was just more nervous now because of the particular form of research he was undertaking. It would be the end of his career in the Vatican if anyone discovered…oh dear. "Damnit, what are you thinking? You idiot!" he remembered where he had hurriedly stuffed the article and grabbed it with a sigh.

He removed his robe, and placed it carefully over the edge of a chair. Underneath he was wearing perfectly normal clothing. In fact, he’d just been in the city, and when he went out to purchase these particular articles he had not wanted to be recognized. He set the papers on his small desk and bolted the door to his room. Van Helsing would be in the Healing Ward until at least the next day, so Brother Ferdinand had told him, so he would have to wait till then to ask the hunter about the mission.

For tonight, he would embark on a little quest of his own. An experiment of sorts based on his reading material. He would find out -just- what it felt like, at least sort of, anyway and satisfy his curiosity as to whether or not it would actually feel good.

Van Helsing watched, fascinated. He’d never seen Carl in anything but the awful monk robe before and to be privileged to see that lean slight form snug in a nice pair of breeches and a tunic was enough to make him want to squirm.

Carl sat down at his desk to study the papers there carefully for a few moments. "Yes, right." he murmured to himself. This was not going to be -easy-. After a while, he folded the papers together and took them over to a locked chest. Carefully he put them inside, all the way at the bottom.

In the closet, Gabriel was starting to become extremely uncomfortable. The ache in his groin was making it difficult to breathe properly.

The friar double checked his door, just to make sure that it was indeed locked and sighed with relief. He opened his satchel, retrieved a couple of vials, and put them on his bedside table carefully. Licking his lips he looked around for something that might get him ‘in the mood’, as it was referred to. Oh…there we go.

He ran his hands over a throwing dagger he’d been fiddling with earlier that day. It could fit into a wrist band and if flung properly would extend. Just the thing when caught in close quarters with an enemy. Van Helsing would surely make good use of it. He caressed the hilt, imagining his friend’s hands picking up the weapon and his gorgeous eyes studying it carefully.

That did it, just the image of Gabriel’s eyes in his mind had him leaping to attention. Good Lord, was he really that desperate? All it took was a thought. He stepped back from the weapon and drew off his tunic, shivering slightly in the light breeze from his small window.

Heated eyes roamed eagerly over the exposed flesh of the young friar’s form. What a pair of perfectly pert nipples Carl had! They simply begged to be licked and sucked. His chest was smooth, hairless except for a small patch of light colored fuzz above his bellybutton. Gabriel wondered what it would be like to nuzzle against that particular spot, kissing and licking.

The friar’s body was lean and his skin would have been pale if not for the obvious sunburn along his shoulders, neck and face. Pale and probably very soft. The hunter’s fingers twitched, and one hand snuck down to stroke his aching cock carefully.

As for Carl, he lay down on his bed and took several deep breaths. This would not be easy. Perhaps if he tried this on his stomach? Hm. That might work. He stuck a course towel underneath and turned over. Oooh….he ground his hips against the towel, what a feeling. What a strange feeling.

The position alone made Gabriel want to burst out of the closet and fling himself onto the friar. Yet he kept his place and stilled his hand so as not to make any noise. What he would not give to be the one to slide those breeches down to reveal the sweet contours of the friar’s small ass!

The breeches sadly remained for the moment. Carl reached towards the vial and poured some of the liquid on his fingers. A gentle smelling oil of some kind. He loosened the ties of the pants enough so that he could slide his hand behind and test the experiment. Carl’s breathing became slightly ragged as he closed his eyes and imagined something other than his finger there. He imagined a hot, heavy body positioned over him, his cock thick and ready to take what was waiting to be given. The friar whimpered, he’d spent many hours reading but he wasn’t sure he was prepared for this.

With a soft cry, he dipped his lubricated finger within, his eyes squeezed shut and his free hand grasping the bed sheet. The sensation made his body twitch and the blood rush to his groin. Pain shot through him and lingered when he attempted to move his finger. It was supposed to hurt, he’d read. It was normal. His hips moved of their own accord, rubbing his own hard organ and allowing the finger to penetrate further.

Light tears wetted his cheeks and Carl groaned. He continued to move his finger, determined not to give in. Around and around, he swirled it. Each time it seemed to get a little easier until the pain became a dull ache and the tip of his finger brushed a little spot that made him tremble. "Ah…god…" he gasped and stilled his finger.

What had that been? It was pleasure like he’d never experienced, a kind of jolt that had caused his entire body to come alive with need and want. Another finger joined the first, stretching the tight space, pulling in and out to search for that spot once more. Now he was in a frenzy, desire coursing through him. He added a third finger, the pain now forgotten. Soon, he was dizzily fucking himself.

He altered his position to make this easier and wished he had something buried further there, buried to the hilt. Sweat glistened on his skin and his nipples became hard peaks of need. His free hand grasped his cock and he rocked back and forth. Stifled cries of pleasure rippled through his body. He could never have imagined how good this would feel!

Finally he came, his body trembling as his fingers withdrew. He writhed on the bed, grasping his pillow to try and calm himself down. Tears bathed his cheeks now and he could not stop shivering. He drew the course towel away and curled up in his bed, hugging himself tightly into a small ball.

"God forgive me…" he whispered brokenly. "I want him…"

In the closet, Van Helsing had barely been able to control his own desire as he watched the friar perform the most intimate of acts. Those final words hit him as though he had been punched in the stomach. Who did Carl want? Rage built in his heart as he attempted to figure this out and could not put a face to those words. He watched helplessly as Carl cried into his pillow.

When the friar was clearly asleep, Van Helsing stepped carefully out of the closet. He knelt down by the bed and drew a blanket over his friend’s shivering frame. If there was one thing that he was thankful for, it was that Carl was a deep sleeper.

He brushed the hair from the side of the friar’s face and gazed at it lovingly. Whoever Carl wanted, Gabriel knew that it would never be. Carl was tied to the Vatican as surely as there were chains binding his feet. His whole life’s work was here. The shivering subsided and the young man’s head cuddled against the hand that stroked it.

The hunter bent down and pressed his lips against his friend’s forehead and rose. No matter what happened, he would not let anything happen to Carl. It was clear to Gabriel that the young friar was still an innocent and he vowed then and there to protect that innocence as long as he lived no matter -what- he wanted personally.

He stood and unbolted the door to the friar’s room, casting one last glance at the young man before he found his own chambers and his own release.

**To Be Continued**