Title: "Communion"
Author: Pirate Turner
Rating: R
Summary: Nathan's late. Will he make it in time to save him from the storm?
Warnings: Slash
Word Count: 2,966
Date Written: 8 February, 2012
Challenge: For a DiteysBlessings LJ comm's monthly challenge to use Deborah Harry's "Communion"
Disclaimer: Josiah Sanchez, Nathan Jackson, all other recognizable characters mentioned within, and The Magnificent Seven are ﾩ & TM CBS, The Mirisch Group, MGM, and Trilogy Entertainment, not the author, and are used without permission. "Communion" and its lyrics are ﾩ & TM Deborah Harry and any other rightful owners, none of whom are the author. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.

His heart was in his throat as he rushed down Main Street, galloping as fast as his horse could go. He was late. The storm had pushed him behind by two days, and although it had let up for a little while, it was brewing again now. Thunder blasted around him, rattling the boards and windows of the few shops the dusty town had.

He felt eyes upon him and glanced up only once as he passed the saloon to see Chris, Vin, and Buck watching him. The Kid and Ezra wouldn't be far, he knew. They must be inside, but Josiah wouldn't' be there. Chris' steely eyes confirmed his thoughts before Vin jerked his thumb toward the church. Nathan gave them a brief nod as he rode on, battling the winds that were rising.

He rode Buster to the church, then slapped him on his butt to send him on his way to the stables. He knew Vin would meet him there, unsaddle him, and get him bedded down for the night. Vin always took care of their horses when, for whatever reason, they could not, and right now, although Nathan loved his old boy, he had more pressing business at hand.

The church was dark when he opened the door. Josiah usually kept candles burning, but not even their flickering lights were present to interrupt the darkness. Nathan cracked the door a little further, took one step inside, and was immediately snatched up by strong and rough hands. He was yanked into the church, the door kicked shut behind him, and then slammed up against the back of the door. A long, deadly knife pressed close against his black throat. "Come to admit your sins, brother?"

The rain started pouring down. It hit the tin patches on the roof of the small church and echoed throughout its empty pews. "Josiah," Nathan struggled to speak for the Preacher's free hand had moved from his shoulder to clasp his throat instead. "I'm sorry I'm late." He tried not to let his voice shake. "I can explain."

Thunder roared. Lightning flashed inside the church, illuminating Josiah's angry face and wild, fierce eyes. "We can all explain, brother, but can we explain to the All Mighty not why we have done the sins we have committed but why we deserve to be forgiven?" He slid his knife across Nathan's tight throat, cocking his head slightly to one side as he watched his best friend's eyes go white. "That's just the thing, isn't it? We can't explain. No mere mortal man on the face of this Earth can explain why we should be forgiven, because, in truth, we shouldn't. We're all dirty. We're all covered with the sweats of our fears and the blood of our peers. We reek of sin."

"Why should He want to forgive us? Why should He want us near Him?" A sinister smile crept over his lips; his growing beard told Nathan he hadn't slept in days, not since the anniversary of the worst event of Josiah's life had come. Though that day had since passed, it had still left his mark upon his love, and he had not been here this time to soothe the furious beast that always lurked just beyond his calm demeanor back into hiding. Josiah's wicked smile would have made any one else cringe inside and seek the quickest exit. It even scared Nathan, but he would not leave him.

"The truth is, brother," Josiah continued, "He doesn't want us with Him. He doesn't want us touching Him with our filth. I've touched some objects of faith more precious than pieces of eight and seen sacred places and ritual ways all across this land of ours. I've been to Africa, through Egypt, and back to the States, and I can tell you, brother, He doesn't give a damn about us."

His blade pressed closer into Nathan's throat, and Nathan knew his love, in this time, had no idea just who exactly he was. "J-Josiah?" he called to him, but the Preacher kept on as though he'd not even heard his name called.

"I could kill you right now, turn around, and ask for forgiveness. It wouldn't be given. I could let you go, flee into the night like the filthy, stinking coward you are, never take another life, and beg for His forgiveness. But it wouldn't be enough. I could spend the rest of my life paying penance for crimes I did that some one had to have the balls to do, and you know what?" He grinned; lightning illuminated in his feral, flashing eyes. "It still wouldn't be enough. Nothing we do on this Earth, no amount of good or bad, is really enough to make Him want us."

"Fathers don't care about their children. It's all just a joke to them, spit 'em out, force them away, and make them live on their own. Scar 'em for life, then laugh at them when they cry, when they try to make amends, when they try to save their family." He slid his knife against Nathan's trembling throat. "I'm done crying, brother. I'm done being afraid of any man or any father. Let 'em laugh. Let them all laugh at me, but when it's over, I'll be the one to have silenced that laughter."

He pushed Nathan harder against the closed door of the church, his blade piercing his skin and bringing a trickle of blood. "Would you laugh at me?" Nathan started to speak, but Josiah shook his head. "No. No. Don't answer now. You'd lie for sure right now. You'd say anything to keep me from spilling your blood, but you know what, brother? You don't deserve the Hell that is this life. None of us do. We're all better off free. Come. Let me give you your freedom."

Nathan struck as Josiah went to cut him the rest of the way. He kicked him straight in the gut, sending him barreling backwards into the last pew. Nathan leapt after him, grabbed the knife he'd dropped before he could pick it back up, and threw it across the church. Lightning flashed, lighting both of their faces as Nathan stared down into Josiah's crazed and whiskered face. Josiah roared as he rolled back to his feet. Nathan moved to block him from the knife, then grabbed his swinging fists in his dark hands. "JOSIAH!" he yelled at him over the rising winds and rolling thunder. "THIS ISN'T YOU, BABY!"

"Who's to say who or what I am?" Josiah snarled in response. "I could be the Devil for all you know!"

"You're no Devil," Nathan spoke more quietly, "and no Saint. Neither am I. But you are a good man, Josiah, the best I've ever known. You're my best friend and the man I love." And it hurt him more than he knew how to say to see him like this, but Josiah wasn't listening. He didn't know him in this moment, and there was only one way to bring him back to his senses.

Nathan shoved him with all his force. Using every bit of his strength, he pushed him back against the wall of the church. Josiah bucked like a wild animal; his knees struck at Nathan's legs. Nathan slipped a knee pass him and rubbed his groin. Then he pressed his lips to his as the storm howled and lightning cut jagged fingers across the darkened sky. He kissed him with all the wild and feral passion Josiah had long ago awakened in him. His tongue plunged into his mouth, reaching as far as he could. He kissed him hard and deep, and he continued to kiss him as he slowly felt Josiah's body begin to respond to his passionate and loving onslaught.

Josiah's fists relaxed; Nathan let them drop. His beefy arms fell down around him, clasped his butt, and pulled him closer against him. Nathan's hands went to his love's face, and though he'd not seen them in the lightning's glow before, he could feel now bloody cuts on Josiah's handsome face and knew he'd been cutting himself before he had arrived. In his maddened craze, Josiah had claimed that no father, not even the All Mighty, could truly care about His children, but Nathan knew that to be a lie. Some force in Heaven had stopped the storm at last and held it back just long enough so that he could make it back from the Indian village, where he'd been working on healing the sick, and to his beloved just in time. He didn't even want to think about what would have happened if he had been a day, or even an hour, later.

He kissed him like there was no tomorrow for indeed, in their lives, a guy could never be sure if tomorrow would come or not. His tongue plunged roughly into his mouth, twisting against his, but for every bit of roughness that had passed between them since Nathan had returned to his beloved Josiah, the healer's hands were equally as gentle upon his beloved's face. He felt the wetness of his silently falling tears before he felt his body quivering. He brushed his tears away, then finally picked his mouth up off of his and leaned up and kissed them away. He held him then, as he cried, for how long he didn't know.

The storm subsided as Josiah's shaking finally ceased. Still, Nathan held to him, rocking him gently in his arms and murmuring soothing words to him. Minutes passed into hours spent with the lovers just clinging to each other and Nathan sweetly stroking Josiah's hair, face, and beard. They didn't speak. Words were not needed. They both knew the horrors that Josiah had relived during Nathan's absence, and though Nathan would have done anything to rid his love of the painful burdens he carried, he knew that words were futile.

Neither actions nor words could ever take away the horrors that his love had endured growing up. Nothing could change the fact that his father had been a monster. No deed, nor touch, nor kiss, no matter how sweet, could make him forget the blows his father had landed upon him or how he had treated his mother and sister. Both men had heard it said that time healed all wounds. Josiah had often quoted those very words when comforting a parishioner, but in truth, time did not heal all wounds. It couldn't for some wounds could not be healed. Some were always there, lurking just underneath the surface, an open spot on the soul just waiting to fester and bleed again.

And it had done so incredibly roughly this time. Nathan could feel the cuts on his love's body and cursed himself for not having been able to get back with him sooner. He had known the anniversary of the greatest fight Josiah had ever waged with his father, the fight to save his sister, was coming. He should have sent Vin with the medicine and stayed behind himself, but then, if Vin had been there and he had not been when that child had gone into convulsions . . .

Nathan looked away into the dark shadows of the church, his chocolate eyes filled with unshed tears. The child would have died. He had done what he had to to help their friends, but Josiah had needed him so desperately. What if the storm had not eased in time? What if he hadn't made it back to him in time? What if . . . He shut his eyes tightly; a single tear escaped and traced down his dark cheek. He didn't want to think about what ifs.

They didn't matter, he told himself sternly in the next second as he heard thunder rumbling again in the distance and Josiah turned slightly in his arms, stirring back to consciousness from where he'd finally fallen asleep, the first sleep he'd had, Nathan had no doubt, since he had left him to go to the Indian village. What could have been, would have been, or even should have been didn't matter. They all had monsters in their past, and together, they would best every one of them. Nathan would chase away his love's Demons, and the next time he had to go somewhere when he knew Josiah was on the verge of having a fit, he'd hog tie the blasted man and drag him with him, if he had to, to keep him where he could watch over him and protect him from those Demons and himself, if necessary.

Josiah murmured, but Nathan couldn't hear him for the wind that whistled through the church. One of the boards on the roof must have snapped off in the storm again. The thought made Nathan grin. He loved working on this old building with his sweetheart. It gave them time to be alone together for none of the other guys really wanted to work on the church, and it also tended to come with the sight of a half naked Josiah with the hot sun beating down upon his strong chest. Nathan's smile grew as memories of previous times that they had worked on the church, and then came inside to cool down, flittered through his mind. Some of their best, and worse, times had happened right here inside these hallowed halls.

He hadn't answered Josiah, and now, he felt his love checking him with groping hands in the dark to see if he was still awake. His chest rose and fell softly beneath his large hands. "Yes, love?" he asked as Josiah murmured again.

He spoke more loudly this time even as the rain started up again outside. Heavy drops pelted down onto the church's roof, hammering the tin that covered spots that they had not yet entirely fixed. "Communion," Josiah murmured. "I need communion."

Nathan understood immediately what he meant. He took his hand in his, lifted it to his mouth, and kissed his closed knuckles. "Have all the communion you want, baby," he whispered, spooning his body against his. "I'm right here."

Josiah leaned up over him as thunder blasted and rattled the windows. His muscular body pressed tightly into his, and then he kissed him. His tongue slid into his mouth and arched against the roof of his sweet mouth before entwining with his. He kissed him wildly and passionately, and his hands quickly tore the clothes from Nathan's willing body.

Nathan leaned up against him, meeting him kiss for kiss and stroke for stroke. He let him roll him over onto his taut, lean stomach on the floor and have his way with him, burying himself deeply inside of him and bringing screams of pleasure rupturing from both their mouths. Lightning illuminated the insides of the church as they rolled across the floor. The roaring thunder cloaked their screams from echoing out into the soaked and dirty streets of their little town.

Josiah sank his teeth into Nathan's neck. Their screams merged together as he pumped into him, carrying them higher and shooting them both home, but it didn't stop there. They rolled across the floor until Nathan's back collided with one of the pews. Josiah picked him up and laid him across the pew.

His mighty member thrust against his as his mouth covered his once more. Nathan's hands gripped Josiah's broad back while the preacher's raked over every inch of his body that trembled with desire and yearning for more of the special communion they shared. Their tongues darted into each other's mouths, dancing together as their swords rubbed together faster and faster. Their lengths were long and hard and slid so swiftly and smoothly against one another that they could scarcely tell where one ended and the other began.

Theirs was a perfect union. They understood each other's every need and want without having to speak a word. Nathan had helped the preacher to forget his sins again, and now Josiah helped to ease the storm building inside of his love. He thrust against him until Nathan was about to break, and then he took him in hand and finished the job, his mouth silencing his screams.

They covered the church as the storm raged on outside. They made sweet and tender love on the benches and trysted like wild animals across the floor. They crowded together against Josiah's pulpit, and Josiah bent Nathan low across the altar, spreading his buns wide and burying himself fully into the man he loved.

No union had ever been more blessed than theirs, Josiah believed. There was no doubt between them, nor any questions or hesitation. Their love was divinely simple and, Josiah was sure, a part of the Good Lord's master plan. They each knew the other's every need and desire and fulfilled it, giving to each other their bodies and souls to ravish, drink, eat, and otherwise fully dine upon in the ways of love.

When the sun rose, it found them still basking in the glow of the miraculous love they shared, their arms and legs still entwined and their bodies with the teeth marks and glistening effects of their love making. The Demons were gone. They had left during the storm, chased away by the greatest power of all, that of true love, and all that remained was Josiah, Nathan, and the love they shared. Together, they were, and would always be, ready to face the new day, or so Josiah thought until Nathan whispered, "Josiah, baby, it's Sunday."

The Preacher's whiskered face fell. "Oh, crap," he muttered. Yet, then he pulled his love to his feet, and, together, they faced the world and set about making their day magnificent once again.

The End