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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.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Author’s Note: Good evening, dear readers. Well, I hope I can say readers in the plural (or, on AFF, even the singular would do). Apologies for the delay in posting, but I hope this new chapter will make up for it.
I’m afraid that the Quills canon will intrude all too soon on the secret world the Marquis and Coulmier are inhabiting, and we all know how that goes, but before it does, a comedic and erotic interlude. We can never have too many interludes, however they’re presented to us.
Edited to add while writing: It may be that I end up letting this spill over into two chapters. It’s what he would have wanted.
Edited to add while writing: Several chapters… It’s what he would have really wanted.

Chapter Seven
It took three days for Coulmier to be prepared to face Sade again, and when he did, he brought the things the Marquis had requested, despite his misgivings, remembering that he had regretted the omission last time. He had come to a place in his mind where he accepted his sin, and his own large part in it (he really had no one else to blame), including the loss of salvation it implied. What was done, was done, and he was pragmatic enough to continue waking up every day, going through the motions of a life that he was no longer fit for. There was a future, though what it entailed he couldn’t say, even to himself.
When he entered the cell, he was met with a smile, and then the Marquis dropped his eyes to indicate his sizeable erection. He’d been unable to pleasure himself with his hands in chains, so it was there by thought alone.
As if he had seen something terrible, Coulmier frowned on reflex and turned away to compose himself.
“Oh, come on, dear heart,” wheedled the Marquis. “The doctor was here earlier, and I smiled at him too before I realised who he was. You should have seen the look on his face.”
The frown changed into an amused smile at the thought of it, and still Coulmier didn’t turn back, hiding his pleasure at the thought of the doctor’s discomfort. “Yes,” he managed to reply, “I did hear about it from other quarters.” Madeleine had told him, and someone had told her, so he had been unsure as to the validity of it. It was gratifying to hear it was true.
“You have no idea what he put me through, Abbé,” said the Marquis, and then sighed in a long suffering way as Coulmier got himself under control and turned to face him again. “Some kind of ridiculous ducking stool contraption.” He tried to gesture with his arms and the chains rattled. “I said over and over again that I knew nothing at all about décor, or decorum or whatever it was, but he was very insistent. Said that his child wife had read one of my books and now knew all about it.”
“Really?” said Coulmier, raising an eyebrow, well aware of the reason for the doctor’s bad temper. “I find it hard to believe he would confide in you.” Sade ignored him.
“Nevertheless, Abbé, a woman can never know too much about interior design, don’t you agree?” Coulmier shook his head and waited for the punchline. “Especially her own.”
“Is it altogether useless to try to reform you?”
“Oh, how wonderful!” Sade said sarcastically. “You have come to renew our endless argument. I thought we had passed this, or are we still on seduction?” He assumed a mask of confusion for a moment. “I admit I might have skipped forward a few pages, thinking about it.” He dropped his eyes again, but this time Coulmier managed not to look.
“You make me argue with you,” he pointed out. “You do realise that by admitting there is design, you admit there is God, don’t you?”
“Not you too!” he exclaimed in response. “Have you all gone mad? Or am I really mad?” He broke into a monologue. “Perhaps I only think I have been writing truth, when in fact I’ve been writing about wood, and cream,” he said suggestively, and Coulmier felt a blush rising in his face. “Curves and bell pulls,” he continued, apparently oblivious to the embarrassment he was causing. “Oh, dear. I never did like rococo.” He shook his head comically, and looked up at Coulmier in earnest appeal. “Tell me truly. Am I imagining these chains?”
Instead of answering the ridiculous question, Coulmier walked forward, withdrawing the key to unlock them. If he intended nothing else, he knew at least Sade would be glad of a break from the cruel captivity. As he remembered from last time he was here, it was rather hard on the shoulders. “You are,” he said, “if not insane, then dizzying.” He questioned his own sanity for perhaps the thousandth time that day, and yet he still played the game with an argument. “The design you allude to exists purely for procreation, as we are told, which is why your works offend so.”
“Ha!” replied the Marquis, dismissive. “Any animal can reproduce.” Having freed one arm, Coulmier walked around de Sade to free the other. The Marquis watched him, and continued: “We only create more people, which is rather less heroic.”
“How can you bear to say that?” Coulmier asked in astonishment as he turned the key. “Life is the greatest of miracles!”
For the first time, Sade looked genuinely serious and sombre. “My dear boy, if you had seen some of the people I have, then you’d know the truth of it.”
The last manacle sprang free, and the Marquis stood up a little more slowly, groaning and stretching his arms. “At last!” he said, then his attention turned to Coulmier. He smiled dangerously. “At the risk of sounding romantic, I did dream of you…” and with that he pressed Coulmier against the wall, one forearm pressed against his neck while the ever-present erection dug into his hip. For an instant Coulmier felt real fear. Had all of this been to merely engineer an escape attempt? He swallowed, and was just able to breathe despite the pressure on his throat.
“…endlessly,” said Sade, and then released his throat only to kiss him, driving his tongue deep into Coulmier’s mouth. In panic, he struggled, feeling the electric touch of tongue against tongue before he managed to get the Marquis back a little.
“Stop!” he cried out, and then there it was again. He couldn’t breathe. This was worse than the arm at his throat, because the full length of their bodies was pressing together and there was one very good reason why they shouldn’t. Desperately, with actual mortal terror, Coulmier turned his face away, gaining enough freedom to gasp: “Marquis! Wait!”
Something in his voice must have been more immediate and insistent than the usual refusal, because Coulmier found himself able to raise a hand between them. With his other, he reached into his robes where he had secreted the objects he had brought. First, he pulled out a miniature bottle of oil, and handed it over silently as the Marquis said “Ahh…” in understanding. He was relieved that none of it had spilled and that the cork was still sitting in the top.
Next, he withdrew the blade, small, but dangerous enough to do some real damage. It shone so brightly in the gloom of the cell, catching all of the light for its own that it looked almost ethereal. “Well, such a wicked little thing,” Sade remarked. “Even I would have got this out of the way first,” he said suggestively, with a marked glance at Coulmier, followed by a raised eyebrow at the bottle of oil. “Let’s keep you safe, shall we, for now?” he said then, and it wasn’t clear if he was talking to Coulmier or the knife, but he walked away a short distance to place it on the floor, where it could do no harm.
“Marquis, I…” Coulmier began as Sade came back, catching his eye. He thought to beg the Marquis not to use the knife on him, and was astonished to find it resembled a dark desire within him rather than a fear. The fear was that Sade would do whatever he liked, and that there would be no stopping him. No refusal, just the begging. He tried to marshal his thoughts into order to express them but it was impossible.
“Shh…” said the Marquis, as if calming those same thoughts. He smiled again. “Now, where were we?” he asked, then looked down at the bottle he still held. “Yes. I believe we were about to try this out.”
Some of his feelings about that must have showed in his face, because the Marquis suddenly let go of a low, amused chuckle that made him feel terribly dirty, and he looked away. He felt Sade taking his hand as if to shake it, but then he turned it palm upwards and sprinkled some of the oil onto it before placing the bottle on the floor near them.
Coulmier had a mere moment to appreciate the experience of having a naked Marquis de Sade crouched at his feet as he put the bottle down. But then he stood up again, and it occurred to him, not for the first time, how great his magnetism was. His mere presence made you want to do his bidding. If the Marquis had only chosen a different path, one similar to his own perhaps, he would have been a great converter to the faith.
Gasping, he looked down, and saw the Marquis’ finger drawing slow lazy circles on his palm, spreading the oil around. It tickled, and then it warmed, and then it almost seemed to ache so that he unconsciously leaned his body in, wanting something he couldn’t put into words, and something he daren’t quite put into action.
As the gap between them closed, the Marquis sighed as if he had been waiting for it, and pulled Coulmier’s right hand down to his waiting rod of flesh, groaning in pleasure at the first touch of his oil-slick fingers. Shocked, Coulmier drew in a startled breath as he looked back into Sade’s eyes and couldn’t stop his hand from opening up from the relaxed position, so that only the centre of his palm touched the Marquis there.
“So,” he said deeply, “you’re prepared have me fuck all of your cherished beliefs right out of you, but you won’t touch my prick?” His smirk was twisted and knowing. “An interesting and telling manifesto to be sure, but not entirely pleasing.”
So warned, Coulmier swallowed and consciously, deliberately, closed his hand around the other man’s erection, not able to get a truly stationary grip on it because of the way the oil made his hand slither over the skin. The Marquis narrowed his eyes in lust.
“Oh, much better,” he growled in his throat, “but you can do more than that,” he threatened. “I’ve seen you, remember?”
Coulmier did indeed remember when the Marquis had watched him, and he bit his lip so hard it hurt, tasted blood, and turned his face away from Sade’s unwavering gaze before moving his hand more quickly, up and down the length and girth of his erection. It occurred to him to wonder how something so large could fit inside his body as it had, and that thought made him shiver.
A hand grabbed at his chin, and turned his face back. “Look,” Sade commanded. “Watch,” he ordered. “Close your eyes and I’ll kiss you.” Clearly, the desired effect of those words was to make Coulmier keep the eye contact, and he did, not daring to blink as he attempted to get it over and done with as quickly as he could. He tightened his grip, made it longer, then shorter, then quicker. In dismay, he realised the Marquis could probably take hours of this from him, because he just wasn’t experienced enough. Still, he tried harder, his eyes watering as Sade stared at him with an insolent smirk.
“Oh, Abbé,” he said at last, “you do know how to give a good blessing.”
“Must you…” Coulmier said, stopping short. His hand was hot, slippery, alternately pumping and squeezing and coaxing, and beginning to ache. He stopped what he was going to say because the censure nearly made him close his eyes in annoyance. He scowled instead, and Sade laughed at him. “Be quiet or I’ll stop,” he warned.
“Stop and I’ll kill you,” Sade said indulgently, “and they’ll all say you deserved it, for handling such a weapon near a lunatic.”
He tried to avoid it, he really did, but the terrible double entendre made him want to shake his head. He couldn’t do that, so instead he blinked, and then blinked again to get rid of the tears that had sprung up while he had tried to keep his eyes open for so long. And again until he knew he was fluttering his eyelashes. He sighed as the Marquis laughed at him again, intimately.
“There we go!” he said, because he had been waiting for it, and less than a second later, Coulmier was struggling to breathe again.
- 6
- 7
- 8
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The Ruined Abbe