Ezra and Valentine

“As stated in Germaine 11:15, the Scourge shall be driven towards eternal punishment on the day of Judgement, torn from its crimson robes by the avenging shadow of the Blessed Lamia, whose kingdom shall once more…”

Ezra sighed once again, flicking his wrist out from its stationary position of constantly scribbling. Despite how sore it felt, and how much his fingers felt so swollen and aching, he had to keep writing. The page in front of him was covered in endless walls of fresh black ink, still slick with droplets that dripped down the margins, the smell of it assaulted his nose, raw and strong. He had already finished his water- his third glass tonight- and his throat felt dry, only freshened by the deep breathes he took to help himself focus. His ass hurt from the chair he had been sitting on for, what was it now, the past 4 hours? The pillow he was sitting on didn’t help much anymore, having gone flat after hour 2. His back ached, longing to lay down on the nice soft couch just feet away from him.  The only thing that could keep his eyes open was the flashing of car lights way down on the pavement below through the frosting glass, and the distant howl of the train whistle screeching off into the lateness.
If he did close his eyes, he could still remember the alleyways, the pools of filthy water surrounding his little cardboard and trash can home beneath the bridge on 43rd and Herschel Street. That cold air on his cheeks, the smell of the ink of wet newspapers, the feeling of empty stomach against brick…
A hand moved to fix the golden cross on his chest, the only jewelry or decoration he allowed himself to wear. He could still hear Sister Agatha’s soothing voice as she slipped it over him, her warm fingers on his forehead as she blessed him. And the feeling of wholeness, of revelation, that washed over him like a wave full of clarity
To be honest, he missed Sister Agatha now, on days like this. When she had “important missionary work”, and him being unable to come along, he would have to stay with her.
The nurse, he meant. The one with the blue hair, who always teetered on sarcastic insults and an almost terrifying presence. The one who carried that bonesaw, glittering silver as if she polished it everyday as if it were a gift from the Trinity themselves, carried on her back like a sword in the old movies of ninjas and warriors. Of course, he wasn’t one to take the holy authority to judge another person based on looks alone, but Ezra always felt “unsure” around her. As if she was hiding something, as if she knew something he didn’t.
And he always got the feeling that he knew something she didn’t. Something she really wanted him to reveal.
But what? He was just a mere servant of the Church, just as anyone could be. Sure, Sister Agatha had told him all sorts of things about Trinity lore and history, incredible stories of a glittering and ancient city where the streets were filled with statues of the Great Mother, and old rites that, in her words, “were almost forgotten had not a bunch of brave young men carried them on”.
What would a nurse want with religious stuff anyway, he thought, his mind briefly drifting from his work. Unless she’s devoted as Sister Agatha, maybe? Or is it because she’s…?
The young man jumped, hearing the sound of a door behind him open. Footsteps against carpet. A smell of shampoo and perfume filling the air. He turned around, seeing the woman step out from the bathroom.
Long wet blue hair falling over lightly paled skin. A red eye flickering through the cascading steam. A pair of scarred lips curled into a warm, seductively teasing smile. Nothing but a white towel covering her body.
“Oh! Uh…ya scared me, Miss Valentine. I…oh!” Seeing Valentine in nothing but a towel, all dripping wet, was for a lack of a better word immodest. And of course, such immodest behavior wasn’t the behavior of a follower of the Trinity no less. So, he quickly looked away, doing his best to hide the red on his cheeks.
Valentine snickered teasingly, that playfully knowing grin still on her face. Watching Ezra get all flustered and nervous like that, despite all his so-called devoutness was always something so exciting to see. Like toying with a puppy, watching them get all jumpy from the slightest praise or touch.
“Oh, relax! It’s not like you saw anything, kid.” Valentine rolled her eye, fixing the towel a bit higher. She watched the priest-in-training get back to his work. “What are you even doing anyway? You’ve been at that desk for a couple hours now.”
“Just working on some transcribing Mo…I mean, Sister Agatha gave me. It’s mostly old texts, but she says that once I move from this, she’ll show me how to do illuminations.”
Old texts, huh? Valentine had heard Double mentioning to Marie about certain old books she kept in the catacombs, during a report for her files back at Lab 0, for preservation. She had tried to find them herself, but the catacombs were much larger than anyone could ever expect, so most of the time she had come back empty-handed. And here, that shapeshifter was giving him access? Something surely must have been special about him, or Double may be had grown a heart somewhere in that vast, churning chasm of meat and viscera and eyes and teeth she called a body.
Nah, couldn't have been that, right? Either way, maybe there was something she could squeeze out of him- after all, Valentine knew as much about Ezra as he did her. Normally, she was okay with keeping one's distance, but if Ezra had some information that she wasn't allowed to access, well, his business was then her's.
A sly chuckle escaped Valentine's lips, and with that trained stealthy- and seductive- walk, she glided across the apartment to him, gently placing a hand on Ezra's shoulder.
"Well, why don't you take a break then, hmm? I understand how wrapped up one can get in work, and a break now and then could really clear your mind..." Valentine made sure to not try and talk down to him- the art of extraction was a mastered one for her. Talking down to him would only drive him off, so she made sure to be as comforting as possible. It also helped to have some medical knowledge- give some credibility too. "You do look a bit haggard, and I know just the thing to help you unwind."
Now, Ezra was a religious man- or young man, whatever it was. He believed in the Trinity above, and all their promises as written in the Secular Texts. It was why, through a combination of faith and loyalty to the woman who saved him, that he had taken up the great job of transcribing texts from one of the Canticles, one of the oldest books of the Church, from its original text to a new book for preservation. It was indeed a hard job, and required a month of Sister Agatha tutoring him in language, but the knowledge he was contributing to the Church was reward enough for him.
But, he was also human- unfortunately, and wasn't blessed with the patience of St. Babylonia- at least not yet- and that meant the urge to get off the chair and sit on something that didn't put splinters in his ass did sound quite welcoming.
Besides, Valentine was a nurse, and she knew what was best. If not, why would Sister Agatha keep her around the Church for those important tasks?
"Yeah, I guess, you're right." Ezra slowly stood up, his legs feeling a bit weak from sitting at the desk for so long. "A break wouldn't be so bad, and I could finish up the rest later tonight."
He had to admit, hearing the professional and warm voice Valentine put on was comforting- it reminded him a bit of Sister Agatha, whenever she would read the scriptures to him during his lessons. So secure and welcoming, with that tone of understanding that let the world know they knew exactly what they were talking about.
"Wonderful." Valentine smiled, her scarred lips flickering in the headlights of a passing taxi through the window. Her blue hair, still damp from her shower, gave off the sweet aroma of perfume that tickled Ezra's nose. Her towel, still clinging to her rather voluptuous chest lightly brushed on the young man's side, like teasing fingers drawing him closer to her. "Please, sit down on the couch. I have something for back pain- and believe me, I'm sure you'll enjoy it~"
As if on cue, Valentine gave her chest a playful sway, disguising it as a mere turning around. The mounds, slick and wet with droplets of warm water, bounced lightly, revealing their fullness and weight pressing against the relatively thin fabric of their barrier. Ezra, as if on instinct, turned away with a red face, out of fear that Miss Valentine would take him as a filthy hedonistic pervert for looking at it like that.
Valentine lead Ezra to the couch, sitting down first before guiding him to sit down next to her, making sure they were close together. Her naked leg brushed on Ezra's pants leg, her feet brushed against his socks, the toes gently rubbing against his. Ezra's face was as red as her eye, his own eyes looked sheepishly at her face- and just her face- in that reservedly nervous way of saying "I'm not looking at your breasts, please oh Venus, Goddess of Passions above, I am not looking at your breasts."
And he was such adorable putty in her hands.
"Say, Miss Valentine, if I may ask..." He stammered, that light accent- of which Valentine couldn't place exactly where, but she knew it was from somewhere out in the country surrounding Maplecrest's limits- trickling out in a shy whisper, contrast to the years of grace and civility that accent had taken. "Why are ya still in your towel...?"
"So? I'm comfortable in it." Valentine stated in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. "It's nice to be out of that tight uniform all day. Besides, what do you care? Aren't young priests or whatever they call you supposed to have a vow of celibacy? Not to like any tempting women, no matter how attractive they are~? That would be awful if you broke that, right~?"
Then, with a teasing wink as if to say "I won't tell anyone", Valentine gently slipped her towel a bit lower, letting her breasts slowly lift a bit higher. She brushed her foot slower along Ezra's, and a free hand moved to cup his cheek, a thumb circling slowly around the red stain that graced the young servant's face.
Now, Ezra was a young man- only 17, and from what he heard from Sister Agatha, all young men have times in their lives as they grow older where they are faced with temptations, and that such urges are natural. But, Sister Agatha had stated in that same calming voice, those young men were prey to the incantations of sin, and those "natural urges" are mere tricks by a tainted world to turn that desire to lust, instead of towards a desire to serve the Trinity in their eternal and all-powerful Glory. She had also stated that Ezra, as her "student", would- no, must- prove his devotion to the Church, the Blessed Mother Lamia, and also Sister Agatha herself, by overcoming these base temptations.
So, for a lack of a better word, Ezra steeled himself and although his face went red as blood, he instead closed his eyes and kept his voice as calm as could be.
But, his back still hurt like all hell, and he couldn't finish what his moth..Sister had asked of him if he was trying to keep his spine from breaking in two.
"Y...yes, that's right! Uh...where is the medicine for the back pain ya offered, Miss Valentine? I'd just need to get back to work.."
Tough. Valentine had to respect that. But, she was no quitter.
Instead, she gave his cheek a playful pinch, letting out a low sultry chuckle.
"Aww, trying to rush me~? If only you knew how many people would kill to have a personal physical with me?" The way she said kill, to Ezra, sounded funny- as if she was telling a joke that she knew the gruesome punchline to. "It won't be very long. Just a simple relaxant, is all. Please, if you'd take off your shirt..."
"My shirt? Listen, I ain't good in medical stuff like you are, but I'm not getting naked just for some medicine..not in front of you, at least..."
Valentine held back a smirk, seeing him getting all worked up just about taking off his shirt was really an amusing sight. Double had been right about one thing- Ezra really was modest, maybe too much for her, but you know what they say: those who are the most repressed have the most to give.
"It's just your shirt, Ezra. I'm not asking you to strip for me. If you'd like, I could remove my towel to make it more comfortable..."
Just as she reached to pull her already loosening towel, Ezra jumped up.
"Fine, fine! Jus'...lemme do it, okay?"
With the nervousness of a schoolboy being asked to answer a question, Ezra took off his light worn overcoat- an old preacher's robe Double had given him he used as a coat or just as stated an overshirt- and then slipped up the plain featureless shirt he wore beneath that. His frame was skinny, not bone-thin like certain orphans Valentine had seen before, but not fat, the sign of good eating. She noticed a few cuts on his sides, leading up around his back like a long red snake, uneven and flowing, as if someone had dragged a knife's tip ever so daintily across the skin. Aside from that, he looked totally normal. Clean, even smelling faintly of the incense that hung in the air in the nave of the Cathedral.
Double had certainly taken care of him, but for what? That was Valentine had sought to find out.
"There now, don't you feel better? Here, why don't you lay down on my lap and just relax~?"
"Y..your lap?"
Valentine didn't answer- no, she enjoyed that looked of flusteredness, like a mouse before the teasing cat. Instead, she simply gripped harder on Ezra's shoulder, letting his head rest on her wet, soft lap. His cheek nuzzled the smoothness of her pale-ish skin and the softness of the damp towel. He could smell the aroma of fresh, clean body, lightly sweet and sharp and warm, the gentle motions of her natural movements making her body seemingly absorb him closer. Ezra would then feel Valentine's hand lightly, but firmly, press down on the top of his head, pretending as if she wasn't holding him there.
"There now." Valentine's voice dripped like wine, sweet and strong into his ear. He could still see her teasing smirk disguised as an almost motherly smile. "Doesn't that feel much more comfortable~? Here, you just lay there while I get your...medicine ready~"
From where Ezra lay, he could only see a hand slide over to reach into the medical bag beside the couch- something she always used for her 'work', whatever that work might have been- and pull out a small silver vial. Unable to turn his head from Valentine's gentle press on his head, he could only hear the soft pop of the vial's cap come loose and then the feeling of a light, warm drizzle against his back, followed by three fingers sheathed in rubber slowly moving along his spine in long, gentle, deliberate strokes.
"Aah..." Ezra blushed as a soft sigh escaped his lips. It wasn't the sigh that made him blush- that was just human nature, but it was more how Valentine would perceive it. His back rose against the nurse's gentle fingers, letting them roll up and down along their tips, spreading the warmth around his aching back. "Oh, uh...sorry 'bout that, Miss Valentine..."
"No need to be sorry, Ezra. It's a nurse's job to ensure that every patient feels comfortable. Besides, this is a very powerful relaxant. To put it simply, it'll relax your muscles from being stationary for so long, as well as having a bit of...my own modifications to double it's potency." Valentine cooed softly, making sure to keep her voice as gentle and as low as possible, letting her surgeon-skilled digits glide and massage the young man's back. The rubber gloves glistened with clear oil, focusing on the space just below his neck, pressing, tapping, and circling. Her other hand busied itself by moving to run gingerly through the light blonde of Ezra's hair, gently brushing along the neatly combed back locks of hair that Double had always instructed him to do every morning so he could look "proper".
Ezra let out a soft gasp, jumping up from the woman's lap for a moment before being brought down again by the nurse's guiding hand. It felt...strange, like soft tongues of flame leaping along his back, but strange in a good way- the soothing heat combined with the slow stroking of his hair felt nice, relaxing even. In fact, it reminded him of the way Sister Agatha's voice, always so gentle and echoing with holy reverence and compassion, would sound as she read to him different parts of the text. A tingling in his ear, something that reminded him of security and safety.
He began to relax a bit more, his head resting itself a bit on Valentine's exposed legs.
"Aah...well, this...this feels kinda nice, Doctor Valentine..." He stammered, his accent that usually was hidden in his calm and direct nature slipping out as Valentine massaged his back and head. "Thanks...heh..."
Valentine stifled a chuckle. The young preacher was now melting into her charm. Of course, it wouldn't be that easy. She just needed to reel him in a bit, get to make him feel more comfortable.
Besides, Valentine always liked to have a bit of background on those around her. Helped to build a profile, find out how they worked, see if they were friend or enemy.
"I'm glad you're enjoying it, Ezra. Just relax and let your friendly nurse take care of you~. And although Doctor Valentine does have a nice ring to it...please, call me Valentine, okay sweetie~?"
Ezra nodded, taking a deep breath and relaxing. His back arched less and less, feeling the long, slow strokes of Valentine's fingers gliding along his oiled back, the gentle twirls and taps of the woman's fingers in his hair like ghosts, invisible yet only there by the soothing slips of their fingertips.
"So, if you don't mind me asking...why don't you tell me a bit about yourself, Ezra~? After all, you seem to tell everything to Dou...I mean, Sister Agatha, so what would the harm be in telling me?"
At this, Ezra looked sheepishly away from her, keeping his face locked on the blank screen of the television across from them. He was never a fan of talking about himself- all he ever said was that he was a simple servant boy, and he worked for the Church. Whoever did not like it was free to leave. As one of the Seven Commandments stated, "Man Shall Keep Thyself Humble".
But, Sister Agatha knew. He told her all of the stories. The orphanages. The missionaries. The brothel. The beating. The revelations. The stirring of faith that illuminated his path even when he spent rainy nights in those run-down shelters and the homemade shacks he made. She knew it all. And she understood. She understood every word.