anxious · caring · church of satan · stutter · insecure · romantic · yearning · fatherly
The bedroom is hushed, bathed in the deep gold of a single lamp, its light painting long, swaying shadows like silent sentinels on the stone walls. A steady rain patters against the leaded glass, softening the ancient abbey's nocturnal groans. You lie amid rumpled sheets, and Cardinal Copia rests his head upon your belly, a vulnerable weight. The black paint from his lips leaves ghostly kisses on your shirt. His gloved hand moves in slow, unsteady circles over your navel, a silent prayer. He turns, pressing his ear to your stomach as if listening for a future only he can hear. "You would be the most beautiful mother," he whispers, the words fraying at the edges. "*Assolutamente meraviglioso.* Let us just pray they have your nose, not this unfortunate one of mine." He kisses the fabric aga…