Madara... Madara, Madara, Madara, Madara...

"Tell me", I said.

He was still crying, but more softly now as his soul started to realise he was exactly where he wanted and needed to be.

"It was you", he said. "It was always you. I just knew it. Everything I did. This..." He took a pause, as if gesticulating. "This was all thanks to you. I didn't even know what you looked like. You didn't even know what I looked like. Yet you helped me."

I leaned forwards, put my forehead to the screen. I heard Madara do the same.

And I heard his voice not through the openings in the confessional, but through the screen.

"It was always you", he whispered.

"It was always you for me as well", I murmured.

We were quiet for a while, leaning out foreheads together, nothing but a thin screen between us.

"Madara-" I began.

But he interrupted me.

"Close your eyes, Father."

I did.

And I heard his shoes echo in my cathedral as he went from his side of the confessional to mine.

I felt his presence as he stood in the opening, watching over me.

"I want to open my eyes so badly", I murmured through gritted teeth.

"Just wait", Madara said, and leaned forwards. I felt the warmth from his face against mine. "I want to see if you remember this, father."

And I did. I did remember. The sensation of his hair against my cheeks. The distinct smell of his skin.

And the sensation of his lips against mine, as he kissed me softly, a rose petals landing on snow.

We parted.

And I stood up, and I looked at him.

I immediately scooped him up in my embrace, walked out with distinct steps and carried him to the main altar where I sat down, and held him closely against my chest. We clung to each other, hardly daring to look at one another, him hiding his face against my rib cage, me melting my lips on top of his head, one hand in the back of his neck for protection.

"I was so frightened", Madara whispered. "That you wouldn't show up. That you thought I-" He swallowed, unable to finish the sentence.

"That I what thought you what?" I prompted softly.

"That you wouldn't be interested in me now you knew about my appearance." Suddenly, Madara seemed stressed out by this fact, and started speaking in a rapid manner. "I know I look quite unusual! I know I'm not awfully fit! But-"

"Shh", I stopped him, and grabbed his chin with my index finger.

I forced his head up, and we looked eyes from up close for the first time.

He truly was beautiful, his eyes the same warm brown as Izuna's, but with an intensity in them that was purely his. His skin was pearly and slightly dry, a hint of a dark beard shining through.

You're beautiful... You're so, so beautiful.

And I tried to imagine him with burns all over his body and face, or in a wheelchair, or as a trans man, or as a trans woman, and realised nothing matter. That I had fallen for his soul already, and nothing that had to do with his appearance could crack that connection.

So when I told him he was beautiful, and always would be, no matter what, I truly meant it.

And we found ourselves kissing madly.

We found ourselves on our way down the steps to my room, hand in hand.

We found ourselves in my familiar, Spartan room, somehow feeling more at home now that this man was in it.

We found ourselves standing opposite one another, a slight distance apart, looking at each other.

The intensity between us was so tense that God left the room.

"Your religion..." Madara began.

"I would turn down heaven and hell for you", I said with intensity. "There is nothing you, nor God can do about it. If God is dissatisfied with my behaviour, he should have created me with a greater resistance against temptations."

Madara threw himself at me.

I backed him into the wall, pinned his hands up against it, pushed him up using my groin. Madara moaned sweetly, blushing. I bit his neck as a reward.

"I want to do so many sick things to you", I murmured into his ear.

"Please", he begged.

"No", I said, and it took everything within me to say such a simple word. It was as if a dam within me had burst now, releasing all of the desires that had ever been felt in the entire universe on me, and I tried not to drown. "No. I want to take care of you. Of us. I've waited for this for so long."

He leaned his forehead against my shoulder, still pinned up by his hands. I let him, at least for a while, before realising I needed my hands, but still wanted him in that delicious position in front of me.

I released him, went out of my room to collect rope I had in a storage room next to my little kitchen, and cut two long pieces. I came back, happy to see that Madara was exactly where I had left him, with his wrists still against the wall, the ghost of my hands still around them. I tied the one rope to a pair of thin metal pipes going from floor to ceiling in one corner of the room, and the other to the pipes of the radiator, both pair of pipes conveniently in the opposing corners of the wall where I had Madara's so that when I tied his wrists, he was forced flat against said wall.

I had basically crucified him.

I came to him, but he looked down, blushing, I grabbed the lower part of his shirt, lifted it up, put my other hand on his stomach. He sucked in his breath, then moaned as he pressed his hips towards me.

I wasn't having it, so I put my knee to his groin and forced him back which made him whimper.

"Don't worry", I said. "I will give you everything."

I did.

I took off his trousers so he was completely naked from his waist down. I kissed his thighs almost all the way to the top. I licked his abdomen in agonisingly slow circles. I caressed his neck, his waist, his thighs. I left bitemarks all over his arms. I kissed him slowly with my tongue.

And all the while, he sighed and moaned for me, moved his body in a dance with my hands and my mouth. In the end, he started tugging against the rope, desiring release.

I released him.

He threw himself over me in a hug so passionate, it was crystal clear this was more than just sex for him; this was longing, this was love.

As it was for me.

We tumbled down in a bed in a frenzy of clothes and duvets, fighting one another until finally, we ended up with him on his back, me on top of him, looking at each other lovingly, panting.

"I love you", I told him.

"I love you, too", he said without a moment's hesitation.

Sleeping with him was the answer to all of my prayers, to all of the stars I had ever made wishes upon. I placed his legs softly on my shoulders and stretched him until he was as open for me as our souls were to one another. I pushed myself in, felt him embrace me, his muscles hugging my dick harshly. I thrusted rhythmically, and he leaned his head back and moaned on par with my thrusts, arching his back. I increased my pace, stopped, increase my pace, stopped, all in a manner that would maximise the pleasure for my beautiful lover.

It was him who decided when I came.

He did so by grabbing my face, looking straight at me.

"I want you."

I started thrusting at an obscene pace, causing him to make incredibly lewd noises.

And I came with a scream, but kept thrusting, and just as I had landed, he came too, wetting the skin on my abdomen. He grabbed the sheets and arched his back up to me, and I put my hand to his neck as he came and pushed, which worked wonders to prolong the orgasm until my lover was completely spent.

I pulled out, a sliver of wetness connecting us from where I had filled him up. I put my arms around him and hugged him close, both of us steaming with warmth and sweat. He curled up, and let me kiss him on his head over and over, letting me take complete control.

"I love you", he said.

"I love you, too", I echoed.