The Naughty Sins Of A Saint

by Tiana Laveen

  “Xenia, goddamn it! I swear. Stop it!” he yelled, looking into her eyes.

  “Saint, I’ve had it up to here with you today! All I’m doing is trying to help. I don’t understand why you can’t…”

  “I don’t want you to help me anymore. That’s the whole point. Ever since I was discharged from the hospital, you’ve hardly slept. You insist on doing everything for me. You scold me like I’m some child if I try to do anything for myself. You’ve already taken off work all this time. That’s unfair enough. I told you to go back to L.A., and I’d hire someone, but now you’re jeopardizing your career for something unnecessary. You get mad at me when I try to stand up. I already had a mama! I need you to be my wife and friend – that’s it! And besides, I’m the one that’s supposed to take care of you, not the other way around.”

  “You can’t walk! I’m your wife, through sickness and health, remember?” Angry tears brimmed in her eyes. “Saint, I’m not going to let you keep doing this. Since after the first week home, you’ve been giving me a daily migraine. I can’t sleep because I keep waking up to you falling all over the damn house because you insist on trying to walk. You’ve fallen at least twenty times in the last four days. Look at your arms and legs! They’re black and blue! What if you accidentally go down on a table and bust your head open? I guess I’m supposed to just sit back and let that happen, huh?”

  “I want you to turn around and close the bathroom door behind you. I don’t want you to come in here unless I call you. I don’t care how long you don’t hear from me. Walk out and close the door.”

  “Saint, did you hear anything I just said to you?”

  “Xenia! Now!” he screamed out, slamming his fist against the bathroom wall, causing the wall hangings to shake.

  For the first time since she had ever laid eyes on him, she was afraid of him. The rage that burned in his face made her afraid to even turn her back. Saint saw her fright and was instantly changed.

  “I’m sorry. I lost my temper. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I don’t mean to scream at you, Baby, but please, do what I ask. I don’t want to argue with you, but I need you to leave me alone right now, please.” He turned away from her, his face turning red as he strained to roll over to his side. Xenia slowly closed the door and walked into their bedroom. She climbed on top of the bed, listening intently as she heard her husband repeatedly flop around. She tried to push her concern away. She winced as she heard him knocking things around, trying to raise his body up. Occasionally he would yell out in pain, but he did not ask for help. So many times she would hear him drop to the floor and wanted to rush in and help, but she knew if she opened the door, he would never forgive her.

  Xenia continued to listen to Saint’s resting, heavy breathing, and pauses. Like clockwork, she would hear him trying again and again, only to sink to the floor. Eventually, he stopped screaming and accepted his bangs and bruises as part of the experience. After thirty minutes of silence, Xenia fell asleep. The penthouse was quiet. Later she roused and looked at the clock, running her fingers through her thick, kinky curls. “5:06AM,” she said aloud. She sat up, stretched, and pulled her oversized T-shirt down as she flexed her toes. Thinking she had dreamt the entire ordeal, she looked for Saint next to her in the bed. Instead, she saw his wheelchair by the bathroom door.

  “Saint?” she said quietly as she climbed out of bed. She walked over to the bathroom door and knocked, receiving no answer.

  “Saint, just let me know if you’re OK, please,” Xenia asked. Still she heard no response.

  “Saint, I’m gonna have to come inside. You’re not saying anything.” She toggled the doorknob, realizing he had somehow managed to crawl over and lock it. She hissed in annoyance as she pulled a chair over to the door, stood on it, and took the key that rested on the trim molding over the door. She inserted the key and jimmied the door open, then peeked inside. “Oh, my God!” she screamed.

  She quickly covered her wide open mouth with her trembling hands. Her bare feet were wet with blood. Saint was standing, blood trickling from a small cut on the side of his head and from the side of his bottom lip. Blood covered his legs and back as if he had been finger painted. He leaned partially against the shower stall wall, clearly fast asleep, his chest rising and falling slowly and eyes closed.

  “Oh, my God!” Xenia screamed out again as she walked over to him, bracing herself as her feet slid. Saint’s eyes flew open. He looked over his shoulder at her.

  “Saint, you’re up! You’re standing up!” Xenia exclaimed.

  “I know. Now I need a physical therapist,” he said nonchalantly as he closed his eyes again. His breathing was labored as he rested his forehead on his arm. Xenia let him use her shoulder as a crutch as he held on tightly. He stepped out of the shower, his legs wobbling. He took a deep breath, and took another step. Xenia looked at him closely. She then looked down at the bathroom floor. It looked as if a small animal had been killed. Saint stopped as he looked at himself in the mirror. He took a deep breath and said, “I need to shave.” He felt the stubble on his cheeks and chin, ignoring the cuts, scrapes and bruises all over his body.

  “We’ll worry about that later, but first let’s get you cleaned up. You need to sit down for a while. There’s no telling how long you’ve been standing there.” Xenia tried to get him over to the bed. She grabbed a towel and placed it on the bed for him to lie on.

  “I just need to sit down for a few minutes,” Saint said wearily, as she lowered him down onto the bed. “I’m going to take a shower like I planned before I fell asleep. This afternoon I want to see a physical therapist. I can’t walk well, but at least I’m up. Every single day I plan to work on my mobility. I knew I’d walk again. It wasn’t a matter of ‘if,’ just a matter of ‘when.’ I dreamt it while in the hospital. Xenia, never let someone tell you what you can and can’t do.” Saint closed his eyes and rested.

  Xenia held his hand as he caught his breath. “Let me get you a glass of water.” Xenia disappeared down the long hall into the kitchen. She grabbed a paper towel and attempted to clean some of the blood off of her feet to no avail. She washed her hands then poured her husband the cold water. She returned to the bathroom and grabbed the peroxide and cotton balls. She lightly dabbed Saint’s cuts.

  “Don’t ever stop what you’re doing – your work, Saint. They win if you do, and then we both lose. You’d be miserable, and you know it. Everyone who depends on you will lose,” Xenia said.

  “I knew you’d say that,” he said. “Unfortunately you’re right. Hey, what’s the update on our house?” Saint asked as gulped down the water she had handed him.

  “Oh, Saint, don’t even worry about that. I told the real estate agent it wasn’t a good time for you to be relocating right now,” Xenia explained.

  “Call her back and tell her we’re leaving in a couple of months,” Saint said. Xenia rolled her eyes. Saint grunted as he reached out to the nearby nightstand to brace himself. Xenia held his arm as he slowly rose. He took small steps towards the bathroom. He leaned over and turned on the shower, turning the shower head various directions to rinse away some of the blood along the shower wall. He held his blood-covered fingers under the running water, checking the temperature. Xenia watched as he clumsily shuffled his feet until he was standing directly under the water. Saint washed himself unhurriedly, rinsing the white foamy suds.

  “Are you OK right here while I clean this up, Honey?” she asked as she looked around in disbelief.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you.” Saint kept his eyes closed, enjoying the hot water running all over his body.

  “You don’t have to keep thanking me for everything,” Xenia said as she looked at her bloodied feet.

  “Yes I do. I never want you to feel taken for granted. You don’t have to do anything for me, so I thank you for what you do, and always will.” He turned around, slicking his hair back with his hand as he allowed the water to run down his back.

  Xenia grabbed a bucket and clean
ing supplies, then scrubbed the floor vigorously. She went over the baseboards, walls, and even scrubbed her feet. Saint stepped out of the shower on his own and gradually made his way to the bathroom sink as he held onto the wall to brace himself.

  “Let me help you,” Xenia said as she rose from the floor and reached for him.

  “I got it, Baby,” he said, gaining more confidence with each step. Xenia watched as he took out a razor and meticulously shaved his face. Every time she looked over at him, she couldn’t believe he was standing. He had to lean against the sink and towel rack, but he still was standing. He slapped his cheeks with after shave and walked out of the bathroom, holding on to the back of the wheelchair as he pushed it in front of himself. Xenia started to cry hysterically.

  Saint stopped and looked back at her, “What are you crying about, Baby?” he asked.

  “I just can’t believe it. I had accepted that you wouldn’t walk again. I was fine with it. I was prepared to love you anyhow. I’d always love you. You act like you don’t need anyone. It’s upsetting. I don’t even know what I’m talking about right now.” Xenia sobbed in frustration as she got back on the floor.

  “I need you now. I’ve always needed you,” he said. “Come here.” Xenia stood up and walked over to him, helping him lie down flat on the bed. “Take your shirt off,” he said gruffly. Saint rubbed her stomach and legs. He breathed heavily as weeks of pent-up sexual frustration came to a boiling point. Pulling at her panties, he tried to drag them down to expose her freshly shaven groin. He unskillfully got them down her thighs, then reached up and pawed at her breasts. Xenia stepped away from him. She removed her bra and approached him again. He had not touched her in weeks. She ached to feel his mouth on her, but did not want to put any pressure on him.

  “Sit on my face,” Saint said, seeming to read her mind. Xenia got on the bed, hovering above his head with her neglected wetness. Saint reached up and aggressively pulled her hips down towards his mouth, devouring her hungrily. He stopped momentarily, and exhaled.

  “Baby, it’s been so long since I’ve tasted you. I’ve got to slow down. I’m too eager.” He started again, this time skillfully, deliberately, beautifully. Xenia pushed against the back of the headboard, bracing herself as her loud moans reverberated throughout the entire penthouse. Saint kept going at her, moving faster and faster as she bucked against his warm mouth.

  “Ahhh. Oh, Saint!” She panted, finally getting what she had been longing for. She rocked over his slick lips as he groaned loudly, gulping every drop of her as she rained relentlessly above him.

  “I needed my elixir,” he exclaimed as he licked his lips, still holding her ass in place as she trembled. She looked over her shoulder. She smiled naughtily as she saw his soldier standing at attention.

  “Yeah, he still works,” he laughed. She worked her way in reverse over his body, quickly taking him into her mouth. He moaned as she worked her lips and tongue to perfection, making his dick twitch as it was bathed in a new awakening.

  Saint looked down at her momentarily. ‘I taught her well,’ he thought as waves of love and lust massaged his body.

  “Baby, that feels so good,” he said as he felt his balls tighten. She licked the tip once more before sitting back up and sliding down onto his thickness. He held her hips as she moved back and forth, rocking on him forcefully. He tilted his head back, his fingers digging into her ass as his head ground deeply into the pillow. “Ahhh, damn, Baby. Yeah, that’s it,” he sighed.

  “We’re supposed to take care of each other. You’re not just supposed to protect me. If I’m your ‘queen,’ let me be one,” Xenia pleaded, her eyes watering up. “You have no idea how sick and broken-hearted I was when you were in the hospital. I need you.” Saint looked up at her languidly, trying desperately to keep from having his orgasm arrive too soon.

  “I hear you, Baby. I’m listening. Damn, I missed making love to you,” he said. He inhaled deeply, comforted by her all too familiar floral perfume as it filled the room. He reached down to his hard cock and grabbed the base of his shaft. He jerked his thickness in and out of her, pumping it, making her scream with delight as she clawed his chest.

  “Let me try something,” Saint said. He slid out of her, then painfully scooted his body down further on the bed. She looked at him and grabbed his arm. He looked back at her, reached over to her hand that was gripping his flesh and gently removed her fingers, one by one. She understood. No words needed to be shared. She watched him work through the pain and get into the position he wanted. He lie on his side, bringing her closer to him. Xenia went limp as he brought her ass next to his groin, spooning her lovingly. She laid her head on his arm as he cradled her. Saint lifted her leg up with his other arm. She felt him slowly, tenderly enter her. He rocked back and forth carefully. Xenia cried out as she gripped the sheets. After he was fully engulfed, he secured her with his legs. Saint’s thighs wrapped around hers as he thrust in and out of her, squeezing her, loving her, needing her. He nestled his head on her upper shoulder as he continued to rhythmically move in and out, ignoring his pain to experience the wonderful pleasure only her body could provide. He breathed heavily into her ear, his mouth slightly ajar as his sighs and moans were welcome music. She felt moisture on her shoulder. She turned her head slightly and looked up at him. Saint’s eyes were closed as a storm of tears ran down his cheeks onto her body.

  Without opening his eyes, he continued to cry. “I’d die without you. You have to know – if something ever happened to you, I wouldn’t make it. I found out I’m not as strong as my father. I couldn’t keep going through the motions. I felt his pain for just a split second, and it was unbearable. That’s why I have to protect you. I have to.”

  Xenia’s emotions went into overload. Back-to-back orgasms came as she continued to feel her husband claim her body over and over. He pulled out then pushed all eight inches deep inside again, marking her once more, making her remember, in case there was any doubt, to whom she belonged. She wailed out, shaking and falling under his incantation. Saint felt her body quaking against his, causing him to no longer be able to hold his climax back. He wrapped his arm tightly around her stomach, bringing her as close to his body as he could. He forcefully burst forth inside her, grinding against her butt cheeks with each stroke of his flexing pelvis. He lowered his head to her back, still holding her tightly and breathing heavily.

  Xenia reached up to her shoulder, touching the fresh tears on her body left from her ‘king’ as a gift of his undying love. She smiled as she quietly cried. They cradled together, breathless, sweaty, in love, and satisfied.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 11

  “I’m glad you listened to me for a change. What made you change your mind?” Raphael chastised as he opened the library door for Saint. Saint shrugged and tediously made his way through the tight twists and turns of the narrow library entrance way with his cane. He looked at the revolving door and shook his head, venturing towards another one-way door instead.

  “We should’ve used the handicap entry. Just getting in the door has exhausted me. I’m ready to take a nap,” Saint teased as he gripped his laptop in one hand and his cane in the other. “To answer your question, too many things have been happening that don’t make sense. I feel compelled to find out why I am the way I am. It’s getting worse, it’s getting stronger. It’s not just dreams anymore, shit’s happening. I don’t have control over it, and it’s happening too often. Luckily Xenia was asleep, but I had a nightmare, and when I woke up, my body was drifting back down to the bed. There was another smoke ring incident, too. This is getting ridiculous,” Saint said, his mind racing.

  “Let’s go over there,” Raphael said as he pointed to a table off in a corner. The early morning sunlight caressed the old, worn chairs. “I did a little research online. I’m tellin’ you, your mother was on to somethin’,” Raphael said as the chair squeaked beneath his weight. “You should’ve looked at this years ago.”

  “I understand
, but I told you, I just wanted to be a normal kid. I didn’t want to think about ghosts and goblins. I didn’t want to be different from everyone else.”

  “But you are. You’ve always been, and you have to accept it. Anyway, I read some stuff and looked up those things your mother told you about. I found out that there’s an Angel of Life and an Angel of Death given as a gift to chosen babies. Usually these children beat the odds, like comin’ to parents that weren’t fertile. You said yourself that your parents didn’t want children. They tried to avoid it, but you were conceived anyway.”

  “All birth control has a failure rate, Raphael. Besides, it wasn’t an immaculate conception. They were definitely knockin’ boots,” Saint said as he recalled hearing his parents making love various times throughout his childhood.

  “I know, but it helps explain what I’m about to tell you. Wait right here.” Raphael got up and walked to another part of the library, leaving Saint alone with his thoughts. Saint looked at his closed laptop, sighed and popped it open. He hit the “Power” button and waited as an internet connection was established.

  “Mom, I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” Saint said softly. “Please help me with whatever we find out today.” Raphael returned with three leather bound books. He set them on the table, making a great thud as he took his seat.

  “What the hell are these?” Saint asked in bewilderment. “This is like a scene from some wizard movie. All that’s missing is the layers of dust on and some silly-ass glitter flying in the air. Don’t show me a bunch of ancient sketches of demons ’n shit. It’s not gonna help me, and I’m not part of some ancient fairytale.”

  “Cut it out, Man. You’ve been runnin’ your whole life. It’s time to own up, Son. Accept this shit! This is your life. Now listen, there’s a reason you were able to heal so quickly,” Raphael said excitedly as he opened one of the books. I read online last night about this book right here, ‘Angel of Life and Mercy and Angel of Death – Other Apocalyptic Teachings.’” Raphael flipped through it. “Here it is. Listen. The Angel of Mercy, sometimes called ‘the Angel of Life,’ is a spirit that breathes life into chosen fetuses seven days after their conception. The chosen ones, more times male than female, has the discernment of truth. Often times there are hereditary links. In other words, one or both parents may also have the Angel of Mercy’s influence. The child with this gift is capable of reviving life depending on the type of injury and how long the victim has been incapacitated. A child with the spirit of the Angel of Mercy may find a bird that’s fallen from a nest and broken its wing. That child can pick up the bird, press on its heart, and heal it, giving it new life. Each time this is done, the child becomes more aware of the gift. Any child or adult who uses the gift will need restore their energy through creation. Creation for children includes creative expression which can, at times, appear obsessive. It can be sports, the fine arts, or any number of activities that the child seems to need rather than only desire. Adults tend to be obsessed with a mission and are oftentimes workaholics. The Angel of Mercy provides one astounding gift that’s often used during the dream state – levitation. A person with the breath from the Angel of Mercy may physically float during times of trouble.” Raphael closed the book, using his hand as a bookmark. “Man, this is some serious sci-fi shit, and it fits you to a T. Remember that rabbit back in the sixth grade?”