Hey anyone reading this... This is my first Bonnie & Clyde story! I just watched the musical on YouTube and am in LOVE! It's based on "Take me to Church" by Hozier.

**Note: This does go into M territory. I listed it as T because otherwise probably no one would ever find it. I put bold * before and after the section where it gets hot and heavy, so if you want to skip that part you can.

PLEASE REVIEW!


I'm damn sick an' tired of people tellin' me I need to find God. Seems every damn shop owner wants to impart his words of wisdom to me an' Bonnie while we take all they got. They don't know me, us, what we been through- God ain't never helped us, an' he sure as hell ain't plannin' on startin' now.

This is hungry work- I don't do it for the hell of it... well, I suppose I do... but mostly it's cause I want to make sure we have enough. I want Bonnie to be happy. I wanna feed my folks. I wanna make sure Buck and Blanche have enough to get by, no matter how much I hate that wife a' his. If no one's gonna help you, you gotta help yourself. I'm not gonna waste my life on a farm toilin away for scraps when I can live like a king robbin' banks. It's easy money.

Every Sunday's getting more bleak. A fresh poison each week. Each Sunday when Buck and Blanche are about to leave for church, she tells me, "A little praying could do you a world of good, Clyde Barrow." And I always tell her that I'd rather stay home and worship Bonnie any day, and she leaves in a huff. Blanche is just part of the starvin' faithful. Blindly believing in a God who doesn't offer her nothing.

I suppose I'm just a pagan of the good times. My lover is the sunlight. She's my personal Goddess, but to keep the Goddess on my side, she demands a sacrifice.

"Clyde, baby?"

Ah, there she is now. Coming to collect.

"Come 'ere, sugar," I call to her, and she comes and sits on my lap, wraps her arms around my neck, and kisses me gently. God, do I love kissing this woman.

"Was Blanche goin' on about coming to church again?"

"Would it be Sunday if she didn't?"

She chuckled softly. "That church doesn't offer no absolutes. But it's a fine lookin' high horse they're ridin on."

"Finally, somethin to say Amen to."

"All they ever say is that we're all born sick, and we need to repent. I won't repent for nothin I done!" she declares. I love that fire she has in her. I laugh at the seriousness on her face.

If the heavens ever did speak, she's the last true mouthpiece. I ain't ever heard more truths than from Bonnie; certainly no truths were ever told in the church. What good was repentin' gonna do us? We had already killed six people. But Bonnie's the one to giggle at the idea of a funeral. Says they're better off dead than alive in the madness and soil of this sad earth scene.

"Take me to church, to worship in the shrine of their lies!" I tell her.

"I'd rather worship in the bedroom," she whispers coyly, leaning in to kiss my neck. Damn, this woman knows how to undo me. I should've worshiped her sooner.

"The only heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm alone with you," I tell her, picking her up bridal style and carrying her back upstairs to our bedroom. This is our ritual. Every Sunday, Buck and Blanche go to church. And everyone Sunday, I make love to Bonnie like we'll never make love again. And who knows? Each week there's a new job; who knows if we'll ever get to spend another Sunday morning with one another?

When we get upstairs and I kick the bedroom door closed, it's all kisses and caresses and buttons being undone. We both know everybody's disapproval, but neither of us gives a damn. Neither of us care that she's married (on paper). Bonnie's mine and only mine, and I would marry her in a heartbeat if I could. I've loved her and provided for her more than that bastard husband of hers ever did. He didn't know what he had when he had it. And now she's mine. All mine. I suppose marryin' her the legal way wouldn't do us no good. Bonnie and I never did things the legal way, anyway.

She's gotten my shirt open and off in a flash, but I like to take my time. I slowly undo the buttons on the back of her dress, and I can tell by the look in her eyes that she knows what I'm doing and she hates me right now. But she doesn't say anything so I continue. She lets out a satisfied hum when she feels the dress slip over her and drop to the floor.

I drop to my knees before her and start to kiss my way up her luxurious legs, running my hands up her sides and pulling her slip off over her head. There she is before me, in just her bra and her underwear, and I swear she gets more and more beautiful every time I lay eyes on her. I stare for a moment, taking it all in.

And then before I know it, she's got her arms around my neck, kissing me fiercely, pushing me into the wall. I don't even notice that she's gotten my belt undone and my zipper down until she's pushing both my slacks and my underwear down my legs. I step out of them and push her to the bed, and we stumble onto it clumsily.

She arches off the bed, allowing me access to un-clip her bra. I rip the offending garment off and throw it across the room. She smells like that new soap I stole last week. She must like it. I like it too. Her nipples are already peaked, and I can't resist taking one into my mouth. She groans as I do, and I resolve to try and tear that sound from her throat as often as I can. She latches onto my hair, keeping me there. I can't complain. She has the most perfect breasts I've ever seen.

I decide I'm satisfied with how turned on she is, and slowly kiss my way further south. Her breath hitches when I hook my fingers through her panties, and she lifts her hips allowing me to pull them down and toss them onto the pile with the rest of our clothes. There's nothing I love more than what I'm about to do. Not cars or guns or money. Nothing compares to this. Her eyes are hooded with lust. Time to make good on my promise to love her as long as I live.

Soon, she's squirming beneath me, breathing heavily, and clawing at the bedsheets. She's never looked more beautiful. I know she's almost there. I plunge two fingers into her, adding to the ministrations of my tongue. With a yell of my name, her back arches off the bed as she convulses around my fingers. I will never tire of hearing her say my name.

I lick my fingers clean. God, do I love the taste of her. As I crawl up her body, she smiles, and I kiss her. She wraps her arms around me and pulls me closer, pausing to whisper, "I love you," in my ear. "I love you too, sugar," I tell her, thrusting into her. Her eyes close as she adjusts to me. We make love with reckless abandon. To my surprise, she manages to flip me over so that she's on top. I have no idea how she gained the strength to do that, but I'm not complaining because the view from down here is exquisite. Her head thrown back, my hands on her hips, she rides me, and I swear this is the most amazing sight I've ever seen. I feel myself coiling up for release, so I reach for that slippery pearl that will bring her with me. With one more perfectly timed thrust, we come together, and she collapses on top of me, spent.

I wrap my arms around her, and stroke her hair, whispering sweet nothings to her. Here, we are not hardened criminals on the run from the law. We are just Bonnie and Clyde, two kids so completely in love we don't know how to be apart. There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin. We have each other, and that's all that matters.

"I love you, Bonnie."

"I love you too, baby," she tells me, leaning up and kissing me.

"I may be born sick, but I love it," I tell her, kissing her hair. "As long as it means that I get to be with you."

We're about to start another round when we hear Blanche and Buck come in downstairs. "Ya'll can quit you're consummating now!" Blanche calls up. "Don't think we don't know what ya'll are doin' while we're at church!"

We both laugh. "I guess we should make ourselves presentable again," she tells me, getting out of bed and gathering her clothes.

I groan at the loss of contact. "Why? It's just Blanche."

She smiles, and I can't help but smile too. Her smile always makes me smile. "Come on, you," she chides me gently, tossing my clothes at me.

She's already dressed and ready as I'm still putting my belt on. When we're both ready to face my brother and his wife, she grabs my hand, and we start to head downstairs. At the top of the stairs, she stops me and whispers in my ear, "If you're good, maybe we'll have a repeat performance tonight." She kisses my cheek, and winks, and continues down the stairs, greeting my sister-in-law as if they're long lost friends and asking how church was.

Damn, this woman was going to be the death of me.

But I love it. And I wouldn't dare change a thing about her.


So? Thoughts?