Disclaimer: I don't own Chrono Crusade, but in some parallel universe. . . I probably still don't.

Author's Note: Well, I'll be. This is the last chapter. I don't think I've ever finished a chapter fic so quickly before. Though I suppose this wasn't much of a chapter fic to begin with, ne? At least, not length wise, anyway. (sweat drop) Ah well.

Moving along, here you are- the chapter I know you've all been waiting for. (Oh, don't look at me like that. We both know it. Why'dya think I was waiting to do this one last, huh? (;) I do hope it meets expectations. I personally think this is the perfect place for them to. . . er "nookie". . . given their profession. . . (Ek! I'm so bad! (flushes deep magenta and smacks her own wrist))

Well, thank you all so very much for reading! (: I can't believe how many reviews I got for this- I was sure I was only going to make twenty! (blush) I love you all! XD

Hope you enjoy- and please continue to read my fics!

Hugs, Kisses, and Moon-Lit Nights,

Maiden of the Moon

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SEVEN

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Sin Seven: Luxuria

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Sssft.

A match in the darkness; friction on friction.

Ssss. . .

Flickering into life, a candle awoke from its slumber. A single beacon in the blackness. Soon, another flame appeared- dancing on the tip of its wick. Then a third and a fourth. . . until the empty stone room was glowing eerily; overcast and a sinful shade of gray. All color was muted. All except. . .

Red. A demonic tint- devilish and deep. Two pools of the hue floated before her in the gloom. Glittering through the shadows like twin pools of molten lava, like sparkling coals in a heated pit. They ignited a fire within her.

Hellfire.

Burning as acid in the depths of her stomach, trickling down her pale thighs. She whimpered in involuntarily surprise, still holding the divine offerings in her hands.

". . ."

He smiled, staring at her from over his shoulder with his ebony lashes half-hiding his burning ruby orbs. An innocent gesture followed: crooked fingers, swishing locks, a whispered name.

She did as she was told.

They met at the hard marble alter mere second later; she on one side, he on the other. Footsteps echoing over the pews, they began to circle the holy table- placing flowers and blessed artifacts carefully upon it. Slender hands smoothed the linen cloth covering its surface.

Fixing a candelabra on the edge- his head tilt towards it- he locked a gaze upon her; a gaze that cut easily through his violet bangs and remained on her face. Memorizing it. Admiring it. Cherishing it. Worshiping it.

She cast him a glance, fingers trailing slowly up and down an ivory cross. Her ocean pools shone suggestively through the darkness; shock gone. Mischief had taken its place.

It was time to play. And she liked to play.

His eyes flashed. He liked to play, too.

The candles' steady light wavered.

A smug smirk tugging on the corners of her mouth, she allowed her tongue to dart out and moisten her full pink lips.

Play a game with me. . .

He growled, brow furrowing and canines bared. Taking two steps closer, he stopped before her- caging her with his arms between his chest and the edge of the altar. There was an expression on his face that she couldn't place: mysterious and haunted and longing and hungry- worthy of his name.

Sinner.

Butterflies that had once fluttered through her tummy had long since curled into ash, unable to take the heat coursing through her veins. A moan tumbled from her throat, ending in a breathy pant as his clawed hands dug suddenly into her hips-

And his lips sealed over her own. She immediately responded, wrapping her shapely legs around his waist and lacing her hands in his plait; falling with him upon the icy surface of the chantry behind her.

Fire. She was on fire. It was consuming her, swallowing her- as cruel and scorching as the flames of eternal damnation. He felt it, too- the sensation of being burnt by every brushing touch. And he, like she, didn't want the feeling to stop. Didn't ever want to cool down again.

Clothing was torn off frantically, the heat only growing.

A glass shattered, spilling blood-wine over the floor.

Neither noticed.

The flower vase fell with a dull crack, roses and lilacs spilling everywhere.

She gasped, arching and writhing even more.

Communion bread scattered the length of the room when with a flick of her wrist she smacked the basket aside. Relics and crosses tumbled over, the sounds of their falls reverberating off of the thick walls. The candelabra tilted dangerously, slipping off entirely when the altar cloth was forcibly yanked- his hands automatically clenching the course cloth in pleasurable pain.

Sweat glistened on his tanned skin; her flesh covered in bleeding cuts and shallow punctures. She cried for an increase in his actions, tangling them in the sanctified sheet. Over and over and over again. . . hearts one, minds one, souls one, bodies one. And then she screamed for him- and he for her, collapsing upon her moist breasts with silent gasps and pants, the fire only partly extinguished.

They exchanged glances, their eyes as red as Hell itself.

"More."

He grinned.

And then he complied.

Damnation.

Merciless damnation.

Sweet, eternal, merciless damnation would befall them both for such naughty, dirty sins.

But neither could care less.

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Sin Seven: Lust


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