Work Text:
Fink watched from the doorway, silent and unnoticed. His drummer lifted the tiny book, striking a match to light the tapered candle. A thin wisp of smoke curled into the air as he waved the match, extinguishing the flame.
His eyes fluttered shut, a blind hand reached for the string of black beads curled at the base of the candle. He opened his mouth to speak, a low whisper. Fink tilted his head, straining his ears to catch the quiet words.
"En el nombre del Padre, y del Hijo, y del Espíritu Santo."
With this, his voice fell, leaving him scarcely more than mouthing the words. His fingers began to flutter down the string, pausing for moments at each bead.
The son of the devil chose now to intervene. He stepped into the room and stood behind his kneeling companion. He closed his eyes, taking in the near silent Spanish prayers for a long moment before his hands moved of their own accord, dropping to the drummer's shoulders.
The Snoo fell silent, the prayer beads falling with a clatter from his stilled fingers. Fink smiled, hands reaching down, spreading across The Snoo's chest like flames licking along a slip of paper, drawing an almost pained shiver down the drummer's spine. Fink leaned closer, trailing the tip of his tongue along the edge of The Snoo's ear, whispering darkly.
"You still pray to this false god?"
The Snoo kept his silence, reaching for the beads once more with a shaking hand. He resumed his prayers at the start of the third decade, closing his eyes tight, trying to ignore the ever-roaming hands of his companion.
Fink's voice grew hard. "Do not ignore me, mein Snoo."
The Snoo bit down on his lip as he felt Fink lean over him. He felt and heard Fink inhale slowly, knowing that his candle was extinguished on the exhale. Fink returned his mouth to The Snoo's ear, speaking in a low, firm voice.
"You still believe in him? You still think he loves you?" The gentle thrum of blasphemy set Fink to panting, breath hot against The Snoo's neck. "You, who are in league with the Devil himself?"
The Snoo gasped, gulped, and resumed his recitations, bound and determined to complete his Rosary.
Fink ground his teeth, loath to admit his mild annoyance, but unable to resist acting on impulse anyway.
Moving around the drummer, Fink snatched the beads from The Snoo's hand, tossing them down with a growl. The Snoo's eyes opened, he looked up into Fink's burning gaze. Fink lifted his hand to The Snoo's cheek, fingertips trailing, voice dangerous.
"You are no agent of god, Snoo." He crooked his fingers under The Snoo's chin, and brought their lips together, gently, but with purpose. He forced The Snoo's lips apart, forcing his tongue into the drummer's protesting mouth, fingers tightening on The Snoo's chin to hold his head still.
Fink pulled away after a long moment, smiling darkly. "You are mine. Don't forget it."
The red-clad demon snatched the beads from the floor, knocked the candle asunder, and left the room. The Snoo watched him go silently, then closed his eyes, clasping his hands.
And he resumed his prayers.