Warnings: This fic is a slash fic, which to those of you who are unaware of this term, means it contains M/M implied and/or sexual situations. It also contains religious matetial that some people may find offensive.
Rating: R for both prologue and chapter one to be safe.
Fic under cut.
The secrets we keep.
The sweltering heat of the midday sun bore down on the town of Oviedo.
Parched earth had begun to crack and fragment until it were trodden into dust by all and sundry that walked these country roads and lanes.
Alone from many of the residential buildings, stood a small but rather quaint church. Until recently, the building had been all but derelict. A new parishioner had taken up the task of seeing to it that the building were restored to it’s former glory. And what a task it had been.
Father Manuel Aringarosa took a moment to contemplate the past few months work. He enjoyed a challenge, a chance to set things to rights as it were. But above all else, the event that stood out the most from his time here, had been a chance encounter with an unfortunate soul.
The first image that came to mind when he thought about this soul, was the purity he saw within the young man. Their first meeting had been a lucky one, for when Manuel had stumbled upon the figure of a starved, bedraggled young man, he was close to death. Weeks of nursing him back to health had turned up more and more horrific secrets.
The man in question it seemed, was a fugitive. An earthquake in the hills had caused the near demolishment of a prison. Many dangerous criminals had escaped that night. A few had been described in a Spanish newspaper days after. Manuel recalled looking down at the angelic features of the then nameless man he had been taking care of. His pale brow was furrowed, knitted in worry as he slept. Calling out from his dreams now and then, the man appeared as if haunted by an unseen fear.
The man’s skin was as pale as the whitewashed walls, his hair too, a platinum white.
Albino, the news report had described him as. The term just did not sit right with Manuel Aringarosa. And as the young man woke from his troubled slumber, Aringarosa saw in his pale, blue eyes a silent cry for help.
He knew in that instance that he could not turn this man over to the authorities. He would save him, save his soul.
‘ An angel should not have to face the atrocities you have’ He Manuel to himself.
He had no idea that the young man he had taken in that day would have saved his own life in return.
But saved it he had.
A group of petty thieves had entered the church, tried to steal money from the collection tray left out in good faith. When Manuel had tried to stop them, they had set about attacking him, beating him severely.
When his vision had started to cloud over, he recalled hearing a series of shouts, but this time in dear, not anger. This was followed by the sound of hurried footsteps away from him. The thieves had fled?
Into his blurred vision now, he saw a troubled face. The albino’s features accented by the raw, pale light streaming in through the windows.
He had saved him…
“ You are an angel.” He had managed to voice before pain took a hold of his senses.
Since that fateful day, the man he had named Silas had shown nothing but effort to make a go of things here, to start a new life. He’d totally devoted himself to god, to Opus Dei. Aringarosa could not have been more proud.
It came as little surprise when the priest entered the church to find the Albino lighting a prayer candle and silently saying his prayers.
Manuel thought better of disturbing him, such time was for private conversing with the almighty and ones self.
The sweltering heat of the day had made it unbearably hot in his robes even as simple and as light as these were. He would wash, change his robes and then return to the rest of the day’s chores, he decided.
Taking the side door out of the chapel, he crossed a small open pathway which lead directly to a rather understated smaller building. Here Manuel dwelt along with any numerates that passed this way seeking solace, worship and a roof over their heads.
Besides himself and the platinum haired Silas, there were few long term lodgers here.
Aringarosa gave thanks many times to god for his bond with Silas. He truly had been blessed with a chance to help this man turn his life around.
The door to Manuel’s private room opened with a strained creek. Pushing it closed behind him, he disrobed, letting out a satisfied sigh of relief as the air around him cooled his skin somewhat.
He then proceeded to fill the small basin in the corner of the room with water.
Silas had not turned round when he had heard the Priest pass him by. He had forced his mind to concentrate on praying to god for the forgiveness he needed in order to move on from the strange feelings that even now attempted to consume him.
They haunted his thoughts throughout the day. And at night it would haunt his dreams. Many a night Silas had awoken breathless, a cold sheen of sweat clinging to his pallid skin.
Manuel Aringarosa was in his every thought, especially when he tried to fight it.
Distancing himself from the Priest had only made his longing worse. His arousal plain to see at the most inappropriate of times. On occasion Silas had wondered if Aringarosa had noticed. And if this was so, did he too say nothing because he could feel the same?
‘A fool’s hope’ The albino thought to himself bitterly.
Distance was not the answer, it maimed his heart to be away from his mentor. If he were to remain, he would have to keep his sinful thoughts at bay. Banish them as he would any sin.
The raw flesh on his back stung in stark sympathy of his thoughts and perhaps intentions. Gritting his teeth, he forced back tears of frustration and gave thanks to god for the small, but prominent, reminder of his oaths.
He would retire to his room for the afternoon, prayer and chastisement would be the order of the day. And yet Silas was fearful.
To keep such thoughts at bay while awake was a struggle, but at night? At night it was as thought sin hunted him relentlessly, he could not negate sleep forever.
The short walk back to the living quarters seemed to take an eternity. The sun beating down on the pale monk all the while. He hated being out in the light, even now in his new life. Not because of the effects on his skin alone. Darkness had always offered some kind of safety to him. People could not stop, stare or whisper in quiet contempt if one was unseen.
Aringarosa was different. He would look upon Silas with a glint of adoration in his eyes, speak words of Silas appearing like some ethereal being, just as he had the day Silas had saved his life. He made it almost a joy to be seen in his company.
‘No more A ghost when I am with him.’ Silas thought inwardly as he entered the confines of the small building he shared with a few others.
Locks were forbidden here as they were in any Opus Dei residence. There were rules that had to be adhered to. The most profound of these concerning living arrangements being the right to privacy. No one other than the rooms occupant should be allowed to enter that room for the duration of their time here. There were few exceptions to this rule. Rooms were for private prayer, study and the practice of corporal mortification. Socializing was for elsewhere, and sexual activity of any kind was strictly forbidden.
The narrow corridor was staggered with doors either side of it, each leading to a room. Silas tried to be as quiet as he possibly could as he passed the first few doors, he did not wish to disturb anyone. His mind was focussed on the day ahead, what he must do now.
It was upon passing the next door he noticed that it, unlike the others, were barely ajar. Pausing, he could hear from within, the sound of water being poured into a basin. This was Father Aringarosa’s room, the monk noted, a small trickle of curiosity seeping into his mind even after all he had vowed to do.
He should leave, that was his first thought, leave and continue with what he had intended to do. Temptation and curiosity were cruel and unforgiving when combined.
The focussed mind he may have clung to before now, had all but evaded him and Silas found himself almost unknowingly attempting to catch a glimpse of the room’s occupant through the small gap between door and frame.
Pale hands rested on the dark wood of the doors frame for balance. His sky-blue eyes squinting into the light that streamed out from the simple room, taking a while to adjust to the light.
Inside, he could almost clearly see the outline of his mentor, Father Aringarosa, as he washed himself at the basin.
Silas felt his jaw slacken somewhat as his eyes grew more accustomed to the light. He could tell now that Aringarosa was completely Naked.
The monk’s mind was almost swamped then, by all the sinful thoughts he had fought so hard to force down inside of himself for so long. He found himself inwardly disgusted that it took something such as this to break his very determined resolve. Such a simple thing.
But even his disgust could not dampen the surge of raging lust he felt within. His growing arousal plain to see as it tented his robe.
‘If anyone were to enter this corridor now…’ Lust purged even his doubts, cutting them short and replacing them with a sense of urgency. Was this so wrong? To admire the form of one he had looked up to in adoration for so long? To want to feel the touch of another that he cared deeply for and to touch in return?
The lust told him that it was not, coursing through the Albino’s veins, his breathing becoming shallower as he watched his mentor with an adoration he reserved only for him.
Manuel Aringarosa pulled the water soaked cloth over his tanned skin. Droplets, of water collecting where they could, cascaded down over the contours of his body. A motion that Silas found almost hypnotic. His arousal throbbed almost painfully, causing the monk to shift on his feet in order to make himself more comfortable.
Oh how he longed to be close to Aringarosa, to lay with him.
He almost wished that the priest would find him here, almost. The reality of that situation deterred Silas somewhat, and he moved to step away from the door, this went against the way!
The floor under his sandal clad foot gave a loud creak under pressure, startling the monk. Silas stumbled, his other foot catching on his robe. Unable to compensate, he fell.