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The Ruined Abbe	By : pip Category: M through R > Quills Views: 2536 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Quills, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from this story.

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Chapter Three
What had he done? Or rather, not done? Coulmier found that the atmosphere thickened as soon as Sade turned to face him. Words failed him as he looked into the other man's eyes.
"Abbé?" Sade prompted, arms folded, leaning nonchalantly against the wall. "You appear to have dropped something."
Distracted, Coulmier broke the eye contact and dropped his gaze to the whip that was on the floor near his feet. Quickly, with an indrawn breath that sounded too loud, he stooped to pick it up again, this time with no intent save to escape this terrible, humiliating situation. Since when had he taken part in Sade's games? This was ridiculous! What was he thinking? What did he mean by coming here?
The Marquis cleared his throat – loudly.
"Bring it to me," he commanded. Coulmier shook his head.
"This has gone far enough," he noted. "I'm sorry, Marquis, my behaviour is inexcusable." How could he encourage the very lunacy he had been trying to temper? Inexcusable? It was worse than that. He looked up and was captivated by the darkness in those eyes again.
"Indeed," said Sade, as if he knew everything that went on inside Coulmier's head. "All the more reason to do as I say."
"This is not a game!" He almost shouted, unsure if he was more annoyed with Sade for the sinister tone, or himself for responding to it.
"I should say not," Sade remarked, tilting his head slightly and narrowing his eyes. "I see how you poison yourself with imaginings." There was a terrible kind of sympathy in his voice that made Coulmier almost blush, as his dreams came to the forefront of his mind. Dreams of Sade with the whip in his hand. Again he broke the eye contact and was reminded of the Marquis' nakedness. He had a way of making one forget.
"I may have often been dismissive and argumentative, but do not assume me capable of ignorance, dear Abbé."
Coulmier huffed in response, taking in their bare surroundings again. How changed this place was! And how… unchanged.
"This too shall pass," he said eventually, with a heavy sigh. How had things come to such a head? This place, him, the Marquis. What could he have done to mitigate all of this? There must have been a mistake he made somewhere. And as he did all too often these days, he struggled in vain within himself to find the fault.
"It will pass when you do, Abbé, as you know all too well, nature being as she is." Now, when it would have been easiest to disarm him, they fell back into their familiar roles, and Coulmier grimaced wryly at his own foolish fancies.
"So we will continue with the same unending argument then?" he asked absently, smiling a little.
"Were you expecting this," he gestured at the cell, "to change me?"
It was exactly what he would have expected Sade to say, and Coulmier answered without stopping to think, feeling comfortable in Sade's company again, for it was he who had changed, not the Marquis.
"No. It was just…" he said, leaving the thought unspoken, a note of longing in his voice, remembering those dreams where the pain was cleansing and almost spiritual. Absolution. It was a hunger that before now he had always been able to assuage. What made Sade feature in his dreams was his certainty that there would be no timidity on his part. He would not shrink from what was necessary.
"And there they are!" the Sade exclaimed in evident glee. "Imaginings!"
"Do not ridicule me, Marquis!" he said, his voice too loud again, exasperated and frustrated in equal measure.
"I would never dream of it!" he retorted in mock offence, one hand over his heart as if wounded. But then… ah, then he came closer, and it was still there, that breathless something between them. He barely felt the whip as Sade took it from his hand. It was not friendship, no, but something heavier. If forced to think of a word to describe it, then Coulmier might well have chosen sensual, though he had little enough experience of it.
"Now, humiliation is a different thing altogether," Sade confided, lifting Coulmier's chin with the whip handle, so that they stood face to face, so close that they exchanged breath. Had he thought Sade a devil? He was much more tempting than any Satan.
"Punishment…" the Marquis murmured with a kind of yearning, and he made it sound so much like comfort that Coulmier was truly sorry he couldn't have forgotten his place for a while longer and indulged him.
"It is the last thing you need," he said, nervous, regretful, and partly guilty, "and besides it is beyond my ability to grant."
"But," said Sade wickedly, "it is not beyond mine."
Coulmier swallowed, and stood stiff in the Marquis' grip, as if he were a statue. Still, that sinful tempting continued.
"I could make you a promise that it would be as simple as that," said the Marquis, walking around him in a tight circle that kept him on edge. "Would that appeal to you?"
"You can make no such promises," he replied coolly, unwilling to entertain the thought of it, lest he be lost.
"And now I am a liar. Did you come here merely to insult me? Truly, your words sting, Abbé."
Coulmier betrayed his feelings about that with a fluttering of his eyelashes.
"A promise," breathed the Marquis from behind him, in his left ear. "For you, only pain," he whispered moving to his right ear. "Nothing more or less."
Pain, payment, perhaps it would work, if the promise was real, and while he knew Sade to be guilty of many things, he could truly say that dishonesty had never been one of them. In his misery, he dared to imagine it was possible. "You would stop when I say?" he asked, so tired of his muddled thoughts of late that he was ready to grasp at anything to have even a trace of his old clarity back.
"Of course." Now Sade was before him again, and he wasn't mocking or smiling, just perceptive. Too perceptive, but it was too late to think of that now it was so close. It was not an indulgence he craved, but an necessity.
"Nothing else?" Coulmier asked, wishing simultaneously for release and escape, wishing they were one and the same, but somehow finding them to be quite different.
"Only the pain, if that is your wish."
"It is," he said, barely speaking, frightened in his very soul at what he was negotiating.
"Remove your robe," Sade ordered quietly, turning away from him to stare at the far wall. Somehow that made him easier to obey, and Coulmier found his fingers undoing the buttons as if of their own accord. He opened his robe to the waist and pulled it down to settle around his hips, thinking to be spared the indignity of undressing completely. The Marquis glanced around, then looked away again.
"Entirely, Abbé," he instructed. "You would not want any of the knots in this leather to become caught in your waistband."
With a deep breath, he complied, because it was sensible. He wanted to be hurt, but not harmed. When he was done, the black material fell to his feet and he stepped out of it silently. There were no other instructions. Looking around, he saw a fixture in the wall that was for a torch, and made his way over to it, feeling a tremor of nerves in his legs. He raised his arms up to the fixture to keep them out of the way, and stood with the back of his naked body displayed to the Marquis. There were no salacious comments and no shocking caresses, but he felt the look as a touch. It was the same look he had given Sade's body earlier, when he had been unable to carry out the act.
"Begin," he said quietly, and so it did.

~~~~~~~~~~

At the beginning he restrained himself (yes, really!) for he was not certain the Abbé would take his punishment so well, yet even he, the Marquis, was surprised at how he bore it. When he didn't beg for it to stop, Sade relaxed into his role, relishing the sound of the whip as it struck that white flesh, admiring the marks it left.
Sometimes, Coulmier made a sound, and often he didn't. Those were the worst, the silent ones, those that took his breath away. The Marquis experienced it vicariously, and since the Abbé seemed capable of bearing almost as much pain as himself, he felt no guilt or remorse. What use were those things? What use to either of them?
At last, when his arm tired, he stopped, and took stock of his handiwork. Oh, it was beautiful! The Abbé's shuddering breathing punctuated the silence and he didn't move one inch, just clung to the torch sconce with both hands as if it might be his only anchor in the world. But for the Marquis, there were other considerations.
Seeing as he had not a stitch of clothing to his name, he bent and freed the white collar from Coulmier's black robe and unfolded it, tearing it into tiny strips of material that he soaked in the bowl of water they permitted him to have in his cell. It was true! They treated him like a dog.
The Marquis knew many things. Knew that when he laid the makeshift bandages over the worst of the lashes, Coulmier was feeling it as if the whip fell again. To soothe him, he hummed Au Clair de la Lune, grinning from ear to ear.
He worked quickly, by necessity, because while he would have loved to draw this bit out, there was something else he wanted to make Coulmier understand, and it had to be done while he was still so lost, hurt and vulnerable. It was the lesson he had to teach. The whipping had not been any kind of lesson at all, and the Marquis knew that too. Each twisted, deformed thought that religion had put in the Abbé's head, Sade knew, and since they really were friends, he had decided Coulmier was too good a man to be left to that kind of stupidity.
Without speaking, he twisted Coulmier's fingers away from their anchor and turned him around into his embrace. His cheeks were wet, but he hadn't cried or sobbed once. It was the sting of the whip that had brought the tears, a physical response rather than an emotional one, and Sade sighed at the sight of them, drinking in Coulmier's appearance as if he might never lay eyes on him again. Most likely, he wouldn't.
"Th-thank…" Coulmier began, unable to continue with the way his breath still pulled in and out of his lungs, too quickly. The Marquis smiled.
"I don't care a fuck for your gratitude," he said cruelly, deliberately, and then without further discussion, he encircled one hand around Coulmier's flaccid flesh to manipulate it to some kind of interest. By instinct, Coulmier tried to pull away, but Sade simply laid a heavy hand on his back, on those same welts and bleeding bruises he had made, and the result of that was just as he expected.
Gasping, Coulmier surged forward, away from the pain, into his arms, clinging to him with his hands as if he were a saviour. Sade found the thought quite amusing, but he didn't stop what he was doing, and by now Coulmier's erection was hard as rock in his palm.
It was a matter of personal pride, of course. The Marquis had boasted more than once that he could manipulate a willing man to completion in less than two minutes. And because he didn't want to give up that claim, he let his hand use every single trick and twist of grip that he knew to make it happen, whether Coulmier was willing or not.
Still Coulmier clung to him, but his breathlessness was replaced by a low, guttural grunting. He sounded like an animal. Aren't we all? Sade thought happily, glad at this proof that the Abbé, despite his God and his protestations to the contrary, was the same as the rest of the human race.
With no thought for anything save pleasure, he buried his face in Coulmier's neck and bit him there, at the point when he felt the warmth and stickiness of completion spurting over his fingers. It had taken a minute or so, most likely due to the years of self-denial. Still, he used his hand, continuing past the pleasure to overstimulation so that Coulmier hissed. Sade kissed the mark he had made on the other man's neck, and nuzzled him there, moving his lips up so that they crushed Coulmier's earlobe.
"The next time you come to me for pain without pleasure," he intoned darkly, "I'll fuck you so hard you won't walk properly for a week, do you understand me, boy?"
When no reply was forthcoming, he increased the pressure of his hand on Coulmier's back, and pressed his own erection against his hip to make the point quite clear. "Well?" he demanded.
"Yes!" Coulmier gasped, struggling now to be let free, which the Marquis allowed with a mocking smile on his lips.
He chuckled as Coulmier grabbed his black robe and fought his way back into it, licked at his fingers while his companion did up the buttons in outrage, a look of scandal on his reddened face. "Bring lubricant next time," Sade advised, "for your own sake."
He chuckled again, then laughed out loud when Coulmier felt at his neck for his white collar, realising it was missing, then on the heels of that, why it was missing.
Without a word, Coulmier made his way to the cell door and wrenched the key violently to unlock it and get out. Sade had to admit, there was a good chance that was the last he'd see of his dear friend the Abbé, but it had been worth it. If he was very lucky, in a few days Madeleine might come to censure him.
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The Ruined Abbe