Chapter 1: Unholy Night
Alec
"Forgive me father, for I've been a naughty boy,"
The words slip out of me before I can think better of them, whispered into the darkness of the confession booth. The slight hitch in Father Oliver's breath tells me he knows exactly who's behind that trembling voice.
"…Alec?" His tone is a mix of shock and something so intense it makes my stomach dance in anticipation.
"Yes, father, it is I." I reply. A hint of sarcasm in my tone.
"Wha….what are you doing here?" His stuttering and almost breathless tone makes my cock twitch in anticipation, more than he knows.
"I just…miss your cock in my mouth," I admit, letting the confession hang between us like sin itself.
"You shouldn't be here, Alec, this is not the place for—"
"Then where is the place?" I cut in, as anger begins to rise in my voice. "Where is the fucking place you selfish prick?"
"Alec, please lower your tone, someone might—"
"Hear me?" I chuckle, the laughter echoing in the dark booth. "My throat has been itchy, father, my lips have been dry…" I pause, feeling the rhythm of my heartbeat in synchrony with his. I place my hand on the wall, drawing slow breaths to let him know I am closer. "I've been thirsty for you, craving for you. The scent of you has taken over every single cranny of my room. And here I am, despite myself, asking for one thing, just one thing, yet you deny me?" My tone is slightly elevated.
"Not here," he murmurs after a few seconds of long silence, a sharp edge in his voice, like he's trying to restore order to a chaos I've deliberately brought into his sacred space.
"Of course I know it won't be here," I tell him, my words dripping with audacity. "I'm a horny man, not a psychopath. I won't desecrate the church for my own desires… though I've thought about it."
He sighs, frustrated. "I'm in the middle of something, Alec. We'll—"
"No," I cut him off. "I don't care what you need to do at the moment. It doesn't fucking matter. What matters is I need you to stick your damn cock in my mouth before the night is over, or I'll do something crazy. Don't test me. You know what I'm capable of!"
He hesitates, the pause stretching thin like a taut rope. "Why are you doing this?" he asks, "why now, Alec? Why have you come to destroy… my…." He lets himself stop before he finishes his sentence.
I grin against the darkness that hide my face. "It's funny you ask," I whisper. "This…isn't this exactly what you've wanted all along? When you first came to me, Oliver."
I hear murmur something I can't decipher. Like a prayer, no, like a plea. Then his voice came in slow, raspy breaths. "You're right, it is my fault, and I shall atone."
I lean back, giving him a glimpse of my smirk, "Good boy. You know where to find me, father. I'll be waiting," I add, knowing how difficult it will be for him to resist. "Don't keep me waiting for too long."
I slip out of the booth, careful not to make a sound. The church is mostly empty, just the faint echo of my own steps on the floor. But I pass a janitor mopping near the side hallway. I smile at him, pretending to fix the hem of my sleeve.
Finally, I reach the narrow staircase leading to the rectory's private wing. Up here, it's quiet, my room is modest, tucked away behind the priest's study. One of the perks of being father Ollie's Sacristan.
I let myself draw slow deep breaths to calm my pulsing nerves, when I hear footsteps approaching. I look up to see him, his eyes are dark with restrained desire, I don't even bother with pleasantries. "Strip. Fast," I demand, impatient. "I don't have time."
And just like that, the game begins.