Confessions of his desires

Sickening

(18+ / explicit content / gore)

That didn't happen. That didn't happen.

His thoughts were so loud, so insistent, that you'd heard them before the church doors, heard them even through the cacophony of families leaving Mass. They rose over the chorus of muttering plans like a declaration.

That didn't happen. That didn't happen.

You'd known Father Jean to be delusional--but this was bordering on pathetic. Slinking through the crowd, you passed into the church, smoothing your hands over your mini skirt, meandering around the side of the pews. You'd spotted him up at the altar already, his back was toward the absent audience. A shiver of desire crawled up your spine when you recalled the previous week, recalled his thick, muscular frame and his eager cock, twitching for you despite his inner-protests. It seemed he hadn't stopped protesting.

That didn't happen. That didn't happ--

"Good morning, Father Jean," you announced, tone sickeningly saccharine.

A rod shot up his back, his shoulders crowding at the mere sound of your voice. Even as his mind shouted at him to leave, to go to his office, do literally anything other than talk to you, he found himself opening his mouth, spurred on by the devil in his boiling blood.

"You're late." There was no glow of warmth to his words.

Do not look at her. It did not happen.

"I'm so sorry, Father." Every step was long, deliberate--a prowl. "I guess I just... overslept."

You could feel him seethe at your blatant lie and nonchalant disrespect, even when he turned around. His eyes flicked towards your face, then down, appraising your outfit. He was momentarily grateful that you hadn't shown up during Mass in such a short skirt and thin, low cut top, that he hadn't needed to maintain composure while you watched. Catching himself, he glanced up, then more naturally off to the side, his gaze finally resting on the ground.

It did not happen. Just walk away.

He cleared his throat. "Did you need something? I have a lot of work to do."

Even if you hadn't been able to hear his self-denials, his anxious dismissal told you everything you needed to know. You cast about for some reason to make him stay. Knowing that he probably wouldn't believe you anyway, you figured it was safe to divulge at least part of the truth.

"I... just wanted to make sure you were okay."

With one simple admission, you had destroyed the protective barrier that he'd built up over the last seven days. He froze, unsure how to respond while maintaining his delusion. Logically, there really wasn't any way to do so. To his credit, though, he certainly tried.

Nothinghappenednothinghappenednoth--

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Although you understood the value of subtlety, the time had passed for beating around the bush. Still, you weren't quite ready to be wholly forthcoming.

"You sort of... I mean, I guess I left you in a bit of a state last week, Father."

There it was. Maybe not the best wording you could have chosen, but he needed to face the truth. He needed to admit what had happened, that you two had fucked, that resistance was effectively futile. His eyes narrowed and you felt his blood pressure and adrenaline soar.

Calm yourself, calm down.

"A state." Jean swallowed, turning back to the altar. His long fingers trailed the length of the tall candle in front of him, grazing over the cool brass before resting on the cloth adorning the surface. He stood there for a moment, silent while he fisted the fabric, knuckles paler than the white weave. "You did far more than that."