For several years now, you have served in the church.
Temptations and sins no longer lingered in your mind.
Of course, that all changed when a certain man came seeking 'forgiveness' in the very church you served in.
"Forgive me, sister, for I have sinned."
You looked at the wooden lattice, barely able to distinguish his features in the dim light.
"It seems I lust after a woman," He continued, his grin heard through his words. "She's a lovely thing. So sweet and innocent. Even works in a church, you see."
Your fingers grasped the rosary hanging from your neck.
Could it be...that he was talking about you? There were few women that served in the church after all.
His voice was undeniable; too easy to recognize. He had visited far too many times when you served at the confessing booth, always confessing.
"She's beautiful, like an angel. Her skin is so fair, her voice like a song. She's mine in every way, but there's a problem, sister. There's always a fucking problem."
But they were small sins. Mediocre ones.
Something you could wave away without a thought or worry.
"She's too naive. Too stupid to realize that she's mine."
But now?
This was something you just couldn't ignore.
Your fingers gripping your rosemary. Your heart pounding out of your chest. He couldn't be talking about you. There was just no way.
"I'm a sinner, sister. I lust after this beautiful creature, and I think it's a sin for her to waste such beauty."
His fingers drummed against the wooden seat, his foot tapping against the floor as he let out an annoyed sigh.
"I have also done things, sister. Things to women that I shouldn't have. But can you blame me? They're such...interesting creatures."
"Are you confessing another sin?" You hoarsely whispered.
"Confessing?" He asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "How funny."
Your mouth dry and your throat hoarse.
You were sure your hands would bleed soon as you gripped your rosemary for dear life.
The only words you could think of at the moment were a silent prayer to the gods.
For protection.
For him to leave.
For anything.
For the sake of your sanity, you needed to get out of that confessional booth.
For the sake of your life, y/n.
"What is so amusing about it? You've—you've come seeking forgiveness, have you not?"
Your voice held the evident tone of fear as you tried your best to suppress it.
"Sister, I didn't come here to seek forgiveness. I came to confess, sure." He laughed as he went silent for a second. "Confessing my arse."
"You know what I love about this damn church? It's so welcoming to people like me. Sinners, adulterers, gamblers. You guys are so fucking pathetic."
As the words left his lips, the undeniable sound of the wood breaking filled your ears as he tore through the booth.
You fell to the floor, your wide eyes staring up at him as he loomed over you.
"But you guys are so fucking stupid too, you see. Sure, the gods might forgive these fools, these sinners. But they're tainted with sin, sister. They cant help but sin, even after they fucking begged for forgiveness."
His eyes sharp and blue, his dirtied blonde hair pushed back. A sly smile on his lips as he titled his head at you.
How pathetic.
How beautiful you looked.
So helpless.
So pure.
"Don't—don't come any closer!"
You desperately tried to back away from him, your palms bleeding from the split wood, your back now pressed into the wall of the broken confession booth.
"Now, now, sister, why shouldn't I?"
He whispered as he leaned in closer towards you. A smirk spread across his face, almost devilish.
"I don't think I properly introduced myself." He sweetly said. "The names Simon. Simon Riley."
Your breath was shaky, your mind racing with fear. He looked down at your hands, your palms bleeding from your desperate attempt to escape him.
"Tsk, tsk. You're bleeding now, sister. You should be more careful, no?"
He reached with his free hand, grabbing your chin. Your wide, fearful eyes met his cold, unbroken gaze.
"Cat got your tongue, sister? Tell me, what's your name? Or should I just keep calling you 'sister'?"
He looked from your hands at your bleeding palms.
To your trembling body.
To your trembling eyes.
To your trembling lips.
To your trembling chin.
To your trembling chest, shaking with every breath.
He loved it.
He relished it.
He could drown in you if you let him.
Asking was the last on his mind as he looked at you.
It wasn't like he was planning on asking for permission in the beginning anyways, y/n.
"...I-I'm...y/n—please..."
You whispered shakily as you shut your eyes. What were you even begging for?
For forgiveness?
For mercy?
Poor, poor, you.
"Y/n? Fitting for a woman like yourself , don't you think?"
Your trembling voice went silent. There was nothing left to say.
"Look at me and tell me, y/n," he whispered as leaned his head in, his face was just inches from yours.
"Do you think the gods would forgive me? If I were to taint their innocent little priestess?" He whispered, his gaze piercing through to your very soul as your eyes opened to meet his again.
The tangible smell of blood and sweat lingered on him as he leaned in closer.
"Do you think they would understand? That the beauty of a woman such as yourself shouldn't be left untouched."
Heat.
Desire.
Anger.
Fear.
All these emotions coursed through you.
"You think that the gods would forgive me for something they would never be able to experience? A saint like yourself? Fuck, it's not everyday you find someone like you, y/n."
His voice was quiet and calm, as if he was comforting you and offering advice.
His gaze was still so cold and piercing.
"After all," he whispered, "they have never been able to know the touch of a woman. That is something they can never experience, dear priestess."
His eyes slowly drifted, traveling from your face to your hair, to your lips, to your neck.
"I've waited too fucking long for you, y/n." He murmured under his breath. He brushed his fingers along your soft, trembling neck.
Your voice lost in your throat as you desperately grasped his arm.
Desperate for what?
Desperate for him to ruin you?
Desperate for him to taint you?
"Look at you. A sinner such as myself, with a you, a priestess who devoted herself to the gods, is sinning on this very altar tonight? My, my, how low you've stooped my love."
Utterly disgraceful, y/n.
Have you no shame?
What of the promises you gave to the gods? The devotions you took when you entered the church?
"I'll make you forget the vows you took. Your devotion to the gods. By the end of tonight, the only name you'll be screaming out is mine and mine only."
His hand hot.
His body hot.
His touch so sinful as he brushed his fingers across your collarbone.
My, my.
How low you've stooped, sister.
How low indeed.
"So give this sinner a taste of heaven, yeah?"