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Cowgirls and Indians	By : Lechan Category: +. to F > Chrono Crusade Views: 7910 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Chrono Crusade, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 3
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- 5
Disclaimer: No, no, and no.

Author’s Note:
This fic was inspired by two things. One: Le-chan’s comments about
Rosette and Chrono doing it in the confessionals in her wonderful fic Cleansing
of the Holy Altar (and in her upcoming,
related one-shot) and two: seeing the confessionals in my own church.

So there ya go. Enjoy!

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Playtime

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(Written by: Artemis, Goddess of
the Night)

X

She didn’t want to go alone.

Which, honesty, was understandable. She’d just arrived
at the convent yesterday, for goodness sakes; torn from the home she’d
known all her life for unspeakable reasons and thrust into an unfamiliar world
with nothing but the cold comfort that her lifetime was being eaten in exchange
for his company. Her hair had been
chopped, her clothes exchanged, her schedule unfamiliar— and because she
had gotten lost while trying to find the dinning hall she was doing her new
chores on an empty stomach. Throw into the mix her cold, lonely bedroom and the
fact that her only friend was being forced to keep his distance. . .

Truthfully, it was high time that she threw a fit.

Of course, regardless of this fact, Sister Kate was not
thrilled— with the fit or her
request. And she let Rosette know this flat out: “No! You can’t
bring that—that thing with you
into the church! Into the confessionals!”

“Why not?” Rosette demanded, eyes narrowing into an icy glare that
made her look much older than 12. “And Chrono’s not a thing, he’s a person!”

“He is a devil!”

“Well, he’s still not a thing!”

The head nun pursed her lips; cheeks puffed full of angry air. “Rosette.
. .” the woman growled in a voice of forced calm after a few long
moments, her fingers idly fiddling with an ivory pen, “your—
your— ultimatum is simply out
of the question. You may NOT bring Chrono with you to confessions!”

“Fine then!” the child snorted, crossing her arms and turning her
back disrespectfully to Kate. “If you won’t let me bring him, then
I won’t go at all!”

“But you need to lift your
feelings from your chest,” Sister Kate informed, frustrated; eyes clamped
tightly shut behind her spectacles. “You need to rid yourself of the sin
of that orph—. . . of your past! That is the only way for you to fully
move forward under our tutelage! And how can you honestly admit your vices with
someone there listening to
you?”

Rosette scowled. “Father Remington will be listening
to me, anyway,” she pointed out sourly, brow furrowed in immature
stubbornness. “What’s one more person?”

“Bu— Rosette— you. . . uh. . . I— oh!” the older
woman screamed furiously, roughly yanking one of her desk drawers open and
swallowing a handful of pills from a bottle inside. “Very. Well,” she then snarled through gritted teeth, fingers
clenched and trembling furiously. “You may take the thi— CHRONO— with you to confessions. But I expect you
to fully cooperate with Father Remington and myself in the future!”

“I cooperate!” the girl retorted tartly, clearly resenting the
bitter comment. “And because I do,
I don’t think it’s too much to ask that you show Chrono a little respect!”

“I don’t need to show him
respect!” Kate huffed, seating herself wearily in her chair.
“He’s a devil!”

“He’s my friend!” Rosette’s small
fist moved, as if to strike out at the sister, but she managed to stop herself
just in time. “And if you can’t accept him, then maybe I
can’t accept this place!
I’ll go to your stupid confessionals, but I’m not gonna go to mass
tonight. Or tomorrow night, either! I’d rather talk to Chrono.”

Deciding she had nothing else to say, the child spun on her
heel, stalked to the door—

“ROSETTE—! You stop right there,
missy—!”

—and slammed it loudly shut in her wake.

And that was how she ended up standing in front of the tiny
church confessional thirty minutes later, hand in hand with her Sinner.

“Now, what is it, again, that you’re supposed to be doing?”
Chrono asked in his usual soft, calming tone. “Confessing. . . ?”

His Contractor snorted, eyebrow twitching, a hand on the
brass doorknob. “I’m to go into this little room, wait for some
random person to come sit on the other side of the window-thingy that’s
in there— probably Father Remington—and then I’m supposed to
spill my dirty little guts out; tell him every sin I’ve ever committed.
And you’re coming with me.” Giving him a sharp tug, Rosette pulled
Chrono into the dark, cramped, closet-sized compartment and shut the door
behind her.

“. . . Why, exactly? Am I to be here, that is,” he pressed, sitting
next to the child on the small bench that was built into the wall. If they sat
side by side without moving at all, they could manage to keep comfortable on
the seat. If they shifted, however, even the slightest bit, the other
wouldn’t be able to breathe. The wall was that close.

So they kept as perfectly still as they could, their legs banging into the
opposite wall whenever they twisted or turned.

“Because,” she grumbled, sounding sulky, “I don’t want
to be in here by myself. I’m sick of being alone.”

“. . .” The Sinner inwardly melted, resting his
chin lightly on top of her head; arms wrapping around her. “Okay.”

“!—?” Rosette inhaled
sharply in surprise, stiffening slightly within his sudden, unexpected—
but not unwanted—embrace. But the shock did not last long. In fact, she
soon became quite comfortable: resting her head against his shoulder, scooting
closer to his heat. A small smirk tugged on the corners of her mouth. . .

As her tongue darted out to caress the muscles lining his
neck.

“!” It was Chrono’s turn to stiffen,
startled, a breathless moan catching in his throat.
“Rosette—!” he managed to bite out, snapping his head in the
direction of her own and successfully stopping her ministrations. “What
do you think you’re doing?!”

“I’m bored,” she complained softly, brow crinkling.
“The stupid priest obviously isn’t here yet, and since it’s
close to dinner he probably won’t be anytime soon. And I don’t know
where the cursed mess hall is to go find him or to eat and. . . and. . . I haven’t seen you in days, Chrono.” The
sister-in-training’s voice grew softer towards the end of her rant, a
pout forming on her face. “I want to play.”

The devil twitched slightly, a familiar glitter in his eye. Rosette welcomed
its return—for she knew what that glimmer meant, even if he didn’t.

It meant that, with the right amount of pleading, he’d
succumb to her. He always did.

“Rosette,” he reprimanded quietly, shifting his body as best as he
could so that he could face her. “You know very well that we can’t.
. . play. . . without ending up. . .
just—no. No! We’re in a church—a confessional!”

“So what? That doesn’t matter to me,” Rosette stated firmly,
reaching out a hand and gently running her fingers through the boy’s
glossy hair. “Think about it. . . for the first time in ages, we’re
finally alone. I’ve missed you,
Chrono. I miss Seventh Bell and Ms. Jean and Joshua and all of my friends. . .
I don’t need to be missing someone who’s right here, beside me, as
well. Let’s play, Chrono. Like
old times. I want to play a game . . . say you’ll play with me.”
She teasingly brought their foreheads together, her lips lightly brushing his
own. Again, he grew rigid—trying his best to resist.

But it was a futile attempt.

“Chrono. . .” she said softly, voice barely
above a murmur; hands slipping down to touch his—! “please. . .
?”

Eyes widening helplessly to the size of dinner plates before jamming shut, the
Sinner worked to piece together a reply. “N—n—”

The girl smirked slightly, watching his face contort in a
mixture of pleasure and pain.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered mischievously, fingers dancing
and eyes shimmering with smugness. “Cat
got your tongue. . . ?” Leaning forward, she nipped and sucked said
appendage (with a relish), sliding her lips up it in order to capture his mouth
in a heated kiss.

The change within him was almost instantaneous. A quiet,
purring growl wedged itself in Chrono’s throat, making his adam’s
apple quiver and his Contractor giggle; feeling the vibrations within her own
body. Their kiss deepened drastically, tongues desperately battling for
dominance as Rosette slowly slipped down the wall, her devil pressing her lower
and lower; moving to cover her body with his own.

Tap. . . tap. . . tap.
. . tap. . .

Echoing footsteps rang through the silence that had
previously blanketed, alerting the pair to the approach of the priest. Not that
they much cared. . . as Chrono had so tastefully tried to point out earlier,
once they’d started to “play” it was impossible for them to
stop until the game was over. And this was only the beginning. . .

Still, worried of what Sister Kate might say if she found
out what was going on, Rosette tugged herself away from Chrono; clamping her
own mouth shut and muffling his wordless groan by stuffing his face into her
developing breasts. He didn’t seem to mind; instead began fondling them
with his fingers and tongue through her coarse blue jumper.

“—!” Rosette’s noggin bashed painfully against the wall
when she threw her head back, wanting to moan with desire but knowing that if
she was heard—! A loud rapping interrupted her internal struggle,
however. There was someone sitting behind the miniscule window— the one
covered in thick, criss-crossed planks—waiting for her to begin their
session. In fact, if she squinted, she could see a man’s silhouette. A
man who looked remarkably like Father Remington. (Surprise surprise.
Wasn’t there any other minister
in this church?)

“Want to begin?” the blonde man asked gently after a minute, a
smile clearly detectable in his tone. He obviously had no idea what was going on
beside him . . .

“Please!” Rosette squeaked, though the words
were more directed towards Chrono than Remington. Her eyes followed the
devil’s progress down her belly, his tongue swathing a trailing
path— flipping up her long dress with a quick flick of the wrist.

Father Remington chuckled. “Anxious, are we?”

“Very.” The word was
spoken in a tone much more needy that
she would have liked, but the breathy quality in which it was uttered seemed to
water down the lustfulness one could detect within it if they listened
properly. Remington didn’t mention anything, anyway.

Chrono, on the other hand, who had heard her perfectly well,
smirked at her reply; eyes shining. He began to toy with the stretchy material
that kept her bloomers snug around her hips, fingers playfully darting in and
out. She arched, trying not to kick her feet too loudly. No suspicious noises
could be made. . .

“All right, then,” the minister continued
cheerfully, the rustling of cloth suggesting that he just crossed his legs.
“Let’s proceed.”

The child swallowed, feeling her insides burn and writhe like fiery snakes;
gaze locked with her devilish devil’s. “For— for—give
me! ” she hissed, voice catching in her throat as a silent scream
ripped through her body, hands subconsciously clenching the bench. For Chrono
had just swiftly yanked her legs apart— much farther than normal—
and pressed his face flush against her heated crotch. “F. . . father. . .
for I have si—sinned.”

“What have you done?” the priest inquired gently, though he sounded
slightly curious as to why her pitch was so high, so strained.

“I— I—!” Rosette released a muffled, strangled, puffed
grunt that sounded more (thankfully) like she had stubbed her toe than anything
else; eyes fixed on her demon’s face, which kept disappearing and
reappearing from her line of vision. Of course, she could feel him when she couldn’t see him—ramming his nose and
tongue against her cloth barrier, breathing in her spicy scent—and
watching him as he did this to her made the whole experience one hundred times
more potent. Passion peaking as the knots in her abdomen almost grew painful, she frantically looped her legs
around Chrono’s neck—catching his head and forcing him to stay
close, pushing herself against him. His growl of approval was lost within her
body. “—uuuuh—er,
uh. . . c—can’t think of a—any—aaa!—any. . .thing—!”

“Really?” Remington sounded surprised.
“Nothing comes to mind? Well, that’s to be expected, I suppose,
since you didn’t come here out of choice. This is on Sister Kate’s
orders, right?”

“Yes!”
Again, the response was directed towards her Sinner—who had very
gracefully managed to slide her panties down to her knees; his warm breath
tickling her already molten, dripping core. “Yes, that’s
right!”

“Well, think for a bit, and I’m sure something
will come to you,” the priest said encouragingly, never suspecting that
at that moment the girl’s mind was already completely devoted to a
separate (though quite sinful) topic. Her demon had begun snuffling around
again, nose buried in her wet folds. Positioning her thighs so that they draped
over his shoulders, Chrono lifted his head and smirked slightly, fangs
glistening, before thrusting his tongue roughly into her pussy.

“AH—!”
The girl couldn’t help but yelp, face screwed up and head tossing side to
side in tantalizing torture. Beads of sweat formed all over her skin, adding an
unearthly sort of shinning glow to her already angelic form.

“Oh, have you thought of something?” Father Remington asked
pleasantly, interested.

“Ch—Chronooo—!” she moaned, feeling her back slide
painfully up the wall, blouse catching on stray splinters of wood. Chrono
continued to force her up higher and higher, using gravity and the few inches
of extra room to push harder and deeper inside his lover with his tongue, free
fingers moving to help.

“Chrono? How so?”

“R—release. . . !”

Rosette was whimpering now, leading the minister to believe
that she was sobbing. Which she was, but not for the reason he probably
thought— the Sinner had just found her sweet spot, nipping the bundle of
nerves with his teeth, then massaging it in tight, quick circles with the pad
of his thumb. And still, his tongue continued to penetrate her, farther and
farther with each action.

“What do you mea— oh, releasing him from the tomb? Rosette, don’t cry, that wasn’t a sin—that
was quite noble! He shouldn’t have been in there anyway. . . you did him
a favor. God will bless you for that. But surely there is something else you’d like to get off of your
chest?”

He was suckling the girl, now, kissing her center and using his hands to move
her up and down. She was helping, naturally— lifting and lowering her
hips to a frenzied beat, gripping Chrono’s hair and pulling him as close
as she could. Carelessness was the result of their recklessness:
Rosette’s head slammed into the ceiling once, alarming Remington.

“Rosette? Are you all right?”

“Yesssss. . . ah!” She clamped her legs around the demon, toes curling
when her organism hit— crashing over her like a tsunami. White-hot waves
of pleasure sprang forth from within her, tendrils and coils of want snapping,
spots of color and light bursting before her eyes. Chrono managed to mute his
happy sigh, greedily lapping up her liquid pleasure and savoring its sweetness.
Allowing her (after a few breathless seconds) to slide limply down the wall
again, the demon tenderly fixed her underwear, placing her in his lap and
curling his arms protectively around her body, burying his face in the nape of
her neck.

“Oh? You have another idea?” the father asked
patiently. “Let’s hear it!”

“Huh?” Rosette gave a start, jolting back to
complete consciousness and whipping her head around to face the small barred
window. She glanced back at her Sinner, who shrugged lightly, not having been
paying attention. (But his huge, charming smile was enough to make up for his
lack of usefulness. She grinned in return before re-addressing the situation at
hand.) “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“What’s your idea,” he clarified. “Sin idea?”

“Uh. . . oh, yes, that!” She laughed nervously, shifting against
the lump in Chrono’s pants and trying not to smirk. He snarled softly in
her ear. Ooo, she was going to pay later. . . she couldn’t wait.
“I’d have to say that my biggest sin—that I can think
of—was. . . hitting Joshua when he was bad. And the other kids, too, I
guess.” The exorcist-to-be attempted to sound remorseful. “I tend
to use my fist to get my point across. . .”

It was her turn to shoot the devil, who had on his face an
expression that clearly said we know,
a nasty look. An elbow in the gut was his punishment. But he took it like a
man— the grin on his mouth appearing to be a permanent fixture.

“I see. . .” Remington was muttering, sounding
thoughtful. “Do you truly regret it?”

“N— er, yes. Yes, I do.”

Another chuckle from outside. “Well, in that case, ten Hail Marys ought
to do it. Sound fair?”

Whatever. Didn’t really matter to her—she never
planned on doing them, anyway. “Uh. . . yeah, okay, thanks.”

“All right, then!”

The pair within the confessional sat in silence, straining their ears so that
they could hear the blonde man’s every move. He seemed to be preparing to
go—standing, dusting off his cassock, and sauntering calmly away, calling
out a cheerful “We’re done here. You can go play, now!” to
Rosette as he walked past.

“. . .” Rosette blushed at his word choice,
catching Chrono’s eye from over her shoulder. His grin had, if possible,
grown.

“Did you hear that, little Contractor. . . ?” he
breathed into her ear, tickling her sides when she gave a pleasurable squirm.
“We can go play now. . . shall
we?”

The girl beamed in return, looking just as eager. “Wonderful idea.”

X

“So?”

“So what?”

Sister Kate made an exasperated noise in the back of her
throat, slamming her tea cup down on its saucer. “So, how did confessions go? Did Rosette show up?”

“Oh.” Remington grinned, leaning back slightly in his chair.
“Yes, she did.”

“And Chrono?”

“What about him?”

The head nun gave the minister a cold glare. “Did she bring him with? She
had threatened to.”

Father Remington’s small smile widened slightly, eyes
glittering in amusement as he lifted his drink to his lips. “. . . Yes.
She did.”

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