Thread: ugh

RE Lights in the North Nova's drabble Confession AU JonSatin ---------- Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been a week since my last confession. Jon said nothing he didnt have to because he recognized the voice. You werent supposed to remember, but he did. The man said he was nineteen, and he claimed to work as a whore in town. For three months, he had been coming to confess every Friday evening, when the church was emptiest and Jon held private confessions. At first the young priest had tried to help the young man, asked him to come in for counseling and tried to assign penance that would help him. After a month, it had become clear that wasnt why Satin came. He began to tell Jon a story about a young priest he was attracted to, a young priest with dark, curly hair and grey eyes. Satin spoke about coming to mass only to watch the priest, and how he fantasized, even when he was with a client, about what it would be like to make love to him. At first Jon had tried to stop Satin from speaking about it, but the young man was persistent and soon he could do nothing but sit and listen, and try to stop his body from responding. I continue to sell my body to make my living But its easier now that I can think of him, Satins voice was smooth and wicked, but with that faux varnish of innocence that could almost make you love him. When they hit me, or theyre rough, I can just close my eyes and think of Father Snow, and how different he would be. Hes such a passionate man in mass, but I think hed be very tender. He paused, and Jon could almost hear the smile that played along the whores lips, Do you think hed be tender, Father? Jon said nothing, balling his fists on his robe and trying to ignore the way that sweat was running down his back even though it was late November and the church ran cold. I guess youre not supposed to think about that sort of thing, are you? I wonder, though. I wonder if Father Snow thinks about me. Thats wicked, isnt it? But I know hes seen me. When he gave mass last Sunday I felt his eyes fall on me when he held up the bread and I could tell, there was this faint glimmer of recognition His neck felt tight, and unthinking, Jon reached up to tug at the white collar, the piece of cloth that was meant to remind him he was no longer part of the secular world. Satin was a good six years younger than he, and the young man should not have been able to twist him this way. But he did, and even worse, he knew what he did to Jon and seemed to enjoy it too. God help him. I thought about going to him after the mass. Satin was speaking again, and Jon could do nothing but listen. After everyone else had gone while he put away the tools of his trade. Hed take me on the altar, as tenderly as good man can- The whores narration was broken by the sound of a lighter flicking, and soon the confessional was filled with the inexplicably comforting smell of cigarette smoke. This too was something Jon had begged him not to do, but had eventually given up resisting. At least this vice calmed his nerves a little. Right in front of God, while Jesus watched us from that cross he hangs on up high. Then sound of Satin exhaling loudly, and then Jon would be able to see the cigarette smoke drift through the wooden lattice that divided the rooms of the confessional, curling towards him like Satins voice often did when he was alone. Wed make love facing one another, and Id watch his doubt slowly fade from those perfect grey eyes, and be replaced by the passion he has when he speaks about Gods love. The other man was never more explicit with him than that, but the images of what he described came as they always did. Jon could see them on the altar, see the way the heavy cloth that sat on it bunched up under the others back as they moved as one. He could almost feel what Satins skin would be like against his arms as they held one another, and the pain of the mans nails scraping into his back. God help them both. Satins thin, pale fingers would curl through the holes of the lattice, and Jons eyes would be drawn to the chipped and torn black polish on the nails. And wed both know that God didnt mind because God loves sinners And Father Snow is holy enough to know how to save us both. There was the sound of something rustling, and Jon knew that the other man was putting out his cigarette. He didnt know how the whore did it, but hed never found a single butt or burn in the confessional. This was usually where Satin asked for penance, and Jon stuttered as he attempted to assign rosaries and readings. But there was only silence this time, a full five minutes of it before Satins fingers disappeared and there was the sound of the heavy velvet curtain being drawn back. The priest thought that perhaps he had been spared, and he sat back in his seat almost panting as he tried to collect himself. The young priests relief was broken with surprise and fear when the curtain on his side of the confessional drew open, and Satin stood before him. He felt his heart might hammer out of his chest as he got his first close-up look at the one who had been torturing him so elegantly for the past three months, and his lips parted uselessly as Satin drew the curtain closed behind him. You You cant be in here. Desperate protests from a man who already knew what was going to happen. Shhh He was more beautiful than Jon had thought another man could be, a thin face framed by messy dark hair that curled loosely to his shoulders. Satins blue eyes were cold and piercing, but they filled with a sort of softness when they traced over Jons body. The whores lips were as thick as his own, and Jon couldnt stop his eyes from being drawn to them when the young man spoke. Ive sinned so terribly Father, the only way for you to save me is to lay your hands upon me, with that he was straddling the priest, and Jon would later be ashamed to admit he was shaking. So then, see if you can drive my demons out. There was no time to respond, no opportunity to resist. Satin pressed his lips to Jons and the holy man was lost. The calm that followed in his heart reminded him of when he prayed alone in the gardens, and before long he was kissing back the best he was able. The priests lips would be gentle and unsure, and he would be all too willing to let the whore guide him. He was able to do little more than whimper desperately when Satins hips moved down into his, and Jons hands flew not to push the young man away, but to tug on his pants and beg for more. Satin kept the kissing slow, even though Jon attempted to rush it with his need, trying to take more and more. Eventually, the priest would be able to move his lips the way that the other man wanted him to, and only then would he be rewarded with the feeling of Satins hot tongue sliding into his desperate mouth. Their tongues danced, twisting and stroking until Jon thought he would not be able to stand it anymore. Devotion and lust outweighed the doubt in his storm-grey eyes when Satin slid away from him, hands reaching for the man but not attempting to stop his movements. And now, I eat of the body. He had Jons robes up and slacks down around his knees with a few quick and obviously practiced movements, and the priest shuddered with anticipation when the other took his hard length in his soft hands. The mans mouth was smooth and soft, and he had some insight into where Satin had gotten his name before he was able to think nothing at all. Instinct guided his hands to Satins hair, but he was too shy to pull roughly Like he wanted to. The young man was teasing him again, but the torture was so sweet Jon would have borne it for an eternity. It seemed that would not be his fate, however, because before he could release in the way that his body was begging him to Satins warm mouth was gone, and replaced by the cool air of the church. The priest moaned as loudly as he dared, eyes searching helplessly for the whores. No explanation was given, but there was again the sound of plastic crinkling and then the feel of something being rolled down the length of his cock. Its a condom , the priests mind told him, thoughts barely able to make their way through the cloud of lust that occupied him. Jon knew what was coming then, and he almost hated the way he wished for it instead of resisting it. Greedily, he watched the young man pull down his own pants to the knees, and Jon would have to bite the back of his hand to keep from crying out when Satin settled in his lap and pushed his body back on to Jons. It was good, better than he thought it would be, and his arms wrapped tightly around the others chest when he laid his back along Jons body. The sharp tug Satin gave his hair only excited him more, and soon their lips pressed together again as the whore began to move his hips, rising and falling ever so slightly along Jons length. His mouth greedily swallowed every sound of pleasure the priest made, and his other hand reached for one of the holy mans, guiding it down to his own stiff cock. What followed was the kind of ecstasy Jon had thought would only be possible in heaven. He didnt know how long they were lost in one another, and the priest was only vaguely aware of the feeling of Satins cum spilling in his hand soon after his own orgasm. They held each other tightly for a while after that, Jons arms tight around Satins chest, and Satins wrapped more languidly around Jons neck as they continued to kiss softly. Every inch the younger man moved away from him after that was torture, because it allowed his shame and doubt to creep back in, and the priest would panic slightly as he tried to think of the best way to clear a confessional of the smell of cigarette smoke and sex. Jons mind cleared again as Satin kissed him one last time after pulling his pants up. Thank-you, Father Snow. His voice was soft, teasing, and almost shy, and the priest knew it would haunt him until the day he died. The young man would stop after he parted the curtain again, smiling back at the man who sat still panting and trying to compose himself. Ill see you Sunday, at mass.