save you from that sunday sermon

[notapaladin]

Hi, have some COMPLETELY gratuitous priest kink with modern!acatl & teomitl Living The Dream of seducing the hot priest.

-

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”

The inside of the confessional booth was dry and smelled of incense. Outside, it promised to be another scorching hot day, but away from the sun all was dark and cool. Soothing, Acatl had always thought.

It was less soothing now.

It wasn’t the first time Teomitl had come to confession, but they were always small things—losing his temper, judging too quickly. He swore he was working on his flaws, and Acatl believed him. They’d known each other since Acatl’s transferal to this large parish, when Teomitl had bounded up to him after Mass with a smile that had struck him to the core. It was a smile he’d soon grown dangerously used to seeing every Sunday, a few rows back from the front. But outside of Mass and confession they never really spoke, and this was the first time Teomitl had ever sat on this side of the screen, in his neatly-pressed suit and shiny shoes and met his eyes.

He swallowed. It didn’t help his dry throat. Christ, but he wished he’d brought a bottle of water in with him. “Go on.”

Teomitl’s eyes were very dark as he crossed himself. “Father, Son, Holy Spirit.” The quick, sure movement of his hand imprinted itself on the back of Acatl’s eyelids when he blinked. “It has been...” And here he paused, frowning. “One week since my last confession?”

“Two.” He’d noticed Teomitl’s absence like a lost tooth. Even mentioning it made his face heat up, and he was glad for the darkness of the booth. It is not a sin to have a routine, he told himself. It’s not a sin to form a friendly attachment. He’s a parishioner, nothing more. Besides, he’ll be off to college in a few months, and I won’t see him again.

But Teomitl was slightly flushed, eyes widening, and he felt himself blush faintly in response. “You noticed?”

Acatl couldn’t look away from his face. “I did. God will forgive whatever sins you’ve committed since then, you know that. You never need to hide from Him.”

Now Teomitl was definitely blushing. He shrugged out of his suit jacket, and Acatl recognized it for the nervous, stalling-for-time gesture it was. “Even if...”

He was silent. In his years as a priest, he’d heard a great deal of sins, many of them sexual, and few truly capable of shocking him. Besides, he couldn’t imagine Teomitl doing anything horrible. Embarrassing, maybe. But a true, mortal sin? No. Not him. He would never. He’s a fine, upstanding young man—better even than I was in the seminary, though of course he’s far more worldly. Indeed, though he always took them out for church Acatl could make out the tiny holes where piercings decorated his earlobes the rest of the week. It was more than a little distracting.

Finally, Teomitl met his eyes again and spoke. “There’s...someone I want very badly, Father.”

Christ on the cross. Not high school relationship drama. “And?”

“Someone—unsuitable.” Teomitl caught his lower lip between his teeth for a moment, gaze drifting to the floor. “My family would never approve.”

He could think of a lot of women who could be unsuitable for the youngest son of an obscenely wealthy family. “Is she too old for you? Too poor? Seeing someone else?” He thought for a moment. “A teacher?” God knows I remember what my last year of high school was like. I think my entire class thought they were in love with the science teacher. Thank goodness all that’s well behind me now.

Teomitl shook his head. After a moment, he took a deep breath. “A man.”

Acatl felt his world gently tilt and resettle itself on this new angle. He knew he should say something—something reassuring, something comforting—but all he could do was blink at nothing. A man, Teomitl had said. Nothing like the awkward mumblings he’d heard before, of Oh, there’s a boy from school...

Eventually, he found his voice, and the words tore themselves from his heart. “Teomitl. God has made you to love whom you love, and He loves you no matter who that is. And love can never be a sin.” I don’t care what your family might have made you think. I’d have words with them, if I thought it would do any good.

Teomitl’s smile lit up the booth. “Mm. I hoped you’d say that.”

He couldn’t help smiling in return. It was infectious, even as it woke a little voice in him that hissed he was going too far, getting too attached. “Tell me about him?”

And now he had the pleasure of watching Teomitl bite his lip, shyly pleased. “Ah. He’s...older than me, and single. Very handsome. Very kind. Patient. I look at him sometimes and think, God, I’m glad he’s not a teacher, I’d die if I had to put up with my idiot classmates being into him. But I still get to see him—and talk to him—so that’s enough.”

“He sounds like a prize.” Acatl was not going to be jealous. He was not. It wasn’t his place. “Are you...going to tell him?”

“Do you think I should?”

It wasn’t a hesitant question. Acatl was sure, looking at Teomitl’s face, that he’d already made up his mind. Still...to be asked for his opinion warmed his heart. “I think that the worst that could happen is that he would turn you down gently, and then you would know how he felt.” And then his brain shut off and his traitorous mouth kept moving, because apparently he had more to say. “But...I cannot see how he’d say no, Teomitl. I can’t see how anyone could say no to you.”

“...Oh.”

Teomitl was silent for a long, long moment. And then he reached across the space separating them, and put a hand on Acatl’s knee.

Acatl promptly forgot how to breathe. The touch electrified him, warm skin searing through the thin fabric of his cassock and the dress slacks he wore underneath it, and even the crimson shame coursing through his veins was erased. Shame required him to think, and he wasn’t capable of that with Teomitl touching him.

“Teomitl.” It came out as a croak.

Teomitl rubbed his thumb in a gentle little circle over the inside of his knee, which didn’t help at all. And then they locked eyes, and the smile that had been flickering around the edges of his face turned slow and hungry. “Father Acatl.”

He became gradually aware that he was gaping like a fish. It took three tries for him to find his voice, and even then he stuttered. “I—you--!”

Teomitl’s eyes gleamed. “I told you. I want you very badly.”

“Ngk.” He’s an incubus in human shape. That’s the only explanation. “I can’t...”

Nails scratched lightly at his thigh, and he made a strangled noise. Teomitl was looking at him through lowered lashes now, pinning him in place with the heat of his gaze. “You just told me you can’t see anyone rejecting me. Are you really not including yourself?”

“I—I am a priest.” It wasn’t an answer.

And Teomitl knew it, because his fingers started to trail lightly up the inside of Acatl’s thigh. “And so?”

“I took vows.” He should pull away. He knew he should pull away. But he couldn’t move, and the blood racing through his veins was pulsing through his cock even from such a simple touch. I’ve never—Christ, I’ve never— He’d never been this close before. He’d never been this tempted before. Outside the confessional, he knew the church was deserted. Nobody would hear if he cried out, and the statues of the saints were only plaster and paint.

“Ah.” Teomitl’s smile turned mocking. “Those. Do they really matter to you right now?”

He drew a slow breath. “They should. I’ve kept them this long.”

“Father.” Now Teomitl was licking his lips, slow and pointed, and he couldn’t look away from how dark they were. It would be so easy—so, so easy—to capture them with his own. “Have you never even thought about...” He trailed off, letting his fingertips continue their slow slide up Acatl’s inseam, and there was no way Acatl could hide his arousal.

He had to close his eyes. He couldn’t lie to Teomitl’s face. “No. Never.”

“A righteous man.”

And gods, his voice was a purr. It made Acatl think of smashing his vows like glass on the floor, and for a moment all he could do was breathe. “A man of the cloth.” His own voice shook.

Long, strong fingers came to rest at the base of his throat, gently tugging his collar aside. Frozen, feeling his heartbeat in every inch of his own skin, he let it happen. “Too much cloth, I think.”

When he swallowed, Teomitl’s fingers brushed against his bare skin. “You—you’re mocking me.”

Teomitl lowered his voice. There was no more humor in it, nothing but a deadly seriousness. “I do not mock, Father. Look at me.”

He opened his eyes. Teomitl was leaning forward, legs spread and eyes burning. Acatl’s gaze fell unbidden to the bulge in his slacks, and it made his mouth water. His slack fingers twitched at the arms of his chair; for the space of a heartbeat, he was nearly overwhelmed with the urge to touch. To palm all that hardness, to undo belt and zipper and—

He’d never heard his own voice so rough. “I’m looking.”

“It’s all for you.” Teomitl was smiling again, crooked and almost teasing, but the hand that was sliding up Acatl’s thigh was now brushing warm knuckles against his erection and he had to bite back a whine. “If you want to take it.”

He took one deep breath, and another. He was suddenly, acutely aware of all the layers separating their skin, of their suits and his cassock which now definitely had too many buttons—no, he could hike it up, it would be fine. “I—“ There were no words. He had no words here, and no defense in the eyes of God.

Forgive me, O Lord, for what I am about to do.

He stood up, grabbed Teomitl, and pulled him into a hard kiss. It was messy and awkward—he’d only ever kissed anyone once, and that had been at his senior prom just to see what it was like—but Teomitl knew what he was doing; he tilted his head, buried his hands in Acatl’s hair, and made it hungry. Filthy. He heard a growl and realized it was coming from his own throat as their bodies pressed together, molding Teomitl’s lean, solid muscle against his own frame. Too many clothes. We’re wearing—too many fucking clothes—

Teomitl clearly had the same idea. His hands left Acatl’s hair to scramble over his cassock instead, popping buttons and fumbling with his collar until clearly giving it up as a lost cause. “Christ—how many layers—“

Acatl thought he should probably pull away so at least Teomitl could see what he was doing, but it seemed far more important to undo his shirt buttons and bare the base of his throat so he could lower his head and find out what sort of noises the boy made when he put his mouth there. He licked over the pulse in his jugular and was rewarded with a breathless gasp that made him rock forward on instinct, grinding roughly against Teomitl’s hard cock. “Leave it. You say you want me?”

Teomitl let out a frustrated little snarl and grabbed his hips, fingers digging in almost hard enough to hurt. “Fuck. Yes. Jesus, yes—want you to fuck me right here—“

Even the thought of it made him groan, but then the words sank in and his breath stuttered. “I’ve never—I don’t—“ Never thought I’d do this, didn’t plan for this, don’t know how—

“I do.” And Teomitl’s grin was wild and bright as he pressed him against the confessional bench; when the backs of his knees hit the edge they bent automatically, and then his cassock was hiked up around his waist and Teomitl was staring down at him with a predatory light in his eye. His shirt was half undone and there was a red mark on his throat, and he looked obscene.

He looked divine.

“Jesus Christ.”

He didn’t realize he’d spoken the words aloud until Teomitl’s mouth curved into a slow grin. “Taking the Lord’s name in vain?”

He didn’t get a chance to respond; Teomitl was undoing his belt and stepping neatly out of his trousers and underwear, and his mouth went dry at the sight. He was magnificent. This was worth taking the Lord’s name in vain for. This was worth anything. “Teo—“ He was cut off by Teomitl moving to straddle his thighs, as easily as though he’d done it a hundred times before. Maybe he had; Acatl wouldn’t be surprised.

The hands that freed his erection and gave it a slow, wickedly light caress certainly knew what they were doing, and he had to grit his teeth against an embarrassingly needy hiss. Teomitl’s hot, solid weight pinned him to the bench, leaving him just enough room to rock into that touch; seeking something to anchor him to earth, he dug his nails into Teomitl’s thighs. That got an immediate response—Teomitl’s eyes widened, and he sucked in a hard breath before rasping out, “I’d rather you take me.”

His cock jumped a little at the mere thought, and for a moment he had to squeeze his eyes shut. God, he really wants me—he could have anyone he wanted, anyone at all, and he picked me— “Fuck. Christ. Okay.” Not eloquent, but he was past that now.

There was lube. Thank God there was lube. Thank God that Teomitl had come prepared, was arching his back like something out of the filthiest late-night porn videos he’d ever watched—but better, so much better, because this was real. He slid one slick finger into that heat, careful, and was rewarded with a hitched breath; encouraged, he pressed a kiss to Teomitl’s collarbone and got an actual gasp in response.

He likes that. Good. He mouthed harder at that same spot, the back of his mind spinning into overdrive as he tried to remember what he’d read about how to make it good; Teomitl deserved the best. A bit more lube, a different angle, and suddenly Teomitl’s panting kicked up into a sharp little cry. He trembled at the sound and did it again.

There wasn’t any way Acatl could get deeper, but from the way Teomitl ground his hips he seemed determined to try. “Oh—oh, you liar,” he breathed delightedly, spreading his legs wider for better access. This time when he wriggled it pressed their cocks together, and Acatl had to take a slow breath to keep himself under control.

“I confess in the sight of the Lord my God that I have sinned,” he murmured against Teomitl’s throat, and nipped sharply at the skin to punctuate his words. Then he added another finger, reveling in the incoherent whine that stuttered out. It was tight—tighter than he thought it would be, and for a moment he worried it would hurt—but then Teomitl arched and rolled his hips forward and that seemed to do something, because he had a bit more room to move.

He had to move, had to keep stretching Teomitl open, because to do otherwise would have been to deprive himself of the boy’s reactions. He was done with depriving himself. Each broken gasp and high-pitched keen was music to his ears, a feast for a starving man, and as he left marks all over the long column of Teomitl’s throat he could feel their vibrations against his mouth. Teomitl’s voice nearly cracked when he tried to actually speak. “Ah—hah, Father, please—“

“Hmm?” He’d never felt like this before—stretched taut with power, with anticipation. Dangerous. A blisteringly hot thought lanced through him—Christ, I could keep you strung out like this for hours—and his cock twitched with the intensity of it. He curled his fingers inside him purely to feel the way his walls clenched and rippled, and Teomitl broke.

“Fuck me, damn you!”

He sent up a brief, heartfelt prayer for stamina. He knew he was going to need it. “God—yes—“

And then he was pulling his fingers out, and guiding himself in, and the sheer slick heat bearing down around him made his eyes roll back in his head. Teomitl lowered himself down; he was doing most of the work and Acatl thanked God for that, because it was all he could do to keep himself steady. By the time he was sheathed to the hilt they were both trembling, and he had to drop his head to Teomitl’s shoulder and take a few deep breaths before he could even think coherently. “Oh, my Lord...”

Teomitl hissed through his teeth, rocking impatiently. “Praying at a time like this?”

His body seemed to know what to do better than he did; it was almost second nature to settle his hands at Teomitl’s waist, to brace his feet on the floor and grind his hips up. Teomitl dug his nails into his shoulders, and even through his clothes it made him jolt. “You.” Teomitl did something with his thighs, and for a moment he couldn’t speak at all. “You should try it. Don’t—nngh, recall you actually confessing a sin.”

He could think of a few Teomitl had committed since his arrival; looking at him the way he was now, for instance, was definitely Pride inspiring the sin of Lust. Worse, judging by the way he smirked he was entirely unrepentant. In response to Acatl’s words, he raised his hips up and then sank back down, a smooth motion that pulled a groan out of him. It would be easy, he thought, to let Teomitl do all the work—but he didn’t feel like taking it easy, and Teomitl had been making the sweetest sounds earlier.

It still took a few tries to establish any kind of rhythm; he got nearly a quarter of the way through a mental Our Father before Teomitl shifted his hips at just the right angle, and he bucked his hips up in response, and Teomitl made a desperate noise and clenched down around him so hard he raked his nails down Teomitl’s back and snarled something profane into his ear. “Like that?”

Teomitl nodded frantically and did it again, setting up a steady rise-and-fall; all Acatl could do in response was meet it as best he could. But like this—now that they’d figured out how they were proceeding, now that he knew what to do—he could claw back some of his focus. It was easier to kiss Teomitl like this, rough and messy, and when he bit at his throat Teomitl gasped.

And then he started to speak. “Bless me—Lord—“ Teomitl’s voice went high, reedy, and he keened as Acatl rolled his hips upwards. “For I have—“ He broke off, shuddering, as Acatl thrust wildly up into him again; it did something, hearing the words of a sacrament on his lips at a time like this, and he wasn’t going to question or examine it when it made fire race through his veins.

“Keep going.” He barely recognized his own voice so rough with desire. “I want to—Christ, I want to hear you.” Want the entire chapel to hear you. Want God in his heaven to hear you. Want to make you scream.

Teomitl’s breath hitched, fingers scrabbling down Acatl’s spine; it must have been doing something for him too, because he was riding him even harder. And he kept talking, words broken by near-sobs of pleasure each time Acatl slid deep. “For I have—ah—most wickedly and with full knowledge of the—oh fuck—consequences—ah!”

He raised himself up and Acatl let him, breathing hard. He’d grabbed fistfuls of the back of Teomitl’s shirt; it was possibly the only thing enabling him to keep his focus. “What.”

“Tempted a priest to sin.” Teomitl’s smirk could have tempted a saint. It could have tempted an angel of the Lord. Mary would have thrown away her blessed virginity for that smirk.

Acatl grabbed his hips and pulled him back down. I’ll show you sin, he thought, and after that it blurred a bit. He was aware only of Teomitl’s nails raking over his back, the creak of the bench under them as they moved together, the slick impossible heat of being inside him. Each thrust was another bolt of lightning up his spine, another tight coil of pleasure in his gut, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Just a little longer—please, God, I want to feel him—

Teomitl broke hard, suddenly, and all at once. His back arched, hips snapping, and then he was squeezing down around Acatl’s cock and spilling himself all over both their stomachs with a raw gasp of “Christ,” and there was absolutely no chance of Acatl lasting any longer after that. His own release hit him like an oncoming storm, and for what felt like an eternity his mind was entirely blank with the shock of it.

By the time he could think again, Teomitl had let go of the back of his cassock in favor of wrapping strong, solid arms around him, resting his head against his. It was soothing. Grounding. He needed it; he still felt faintly electrified. Christ. Jesus. “...Virgin Mary, Mother of God.” It came out in a long, mumbling rush, and it was nowhere near enough to express whatever was going through his head. He didn’t even know what was going through his head. He was still buried inside Teomitl, and he didn’t want to leave.

Teomitl took a long breath and let it out in a sigh. “God. Yeah. That was...”

“...Amazing.” There probably wasn’t enough penance in the world for this, but that was a problem for future him. In the meantime, he slid his hands slowly over Teomitl’s bare thighs and nestled his forehead into the curve of his shoulder, feeling their heartbeats slow down to normal.

“...I think I ruined your robe. Coat. Thing.”

He sucked in a lungful of too-warm air and forced down the tide of guilt that wanted to choke him. No. God, I love You, but You are not allowed to ruin this moment. “Cassock. It can be washed.”

Teomitl shifted. It was getting uncomfortable to be so joined together; still, when he lifted himself off of Acatl’s cock, he shuddered at the overstimulation of it. “Nnh...oh, fuck, we made a mess.”

They had. He tried not to think about the actual state of his trousers as he reached for the box of tissues he kept by the bench in case of crying parishioners. Postcoital cleanup was one of those things no amount of independent research had prepared him for, but as awkward as it was, at least it meant he didn’t have to talk. Now that the endorphins were fading, he didn’t know what he was supposed to say. He was far too aware of Teomitl slipping back into his own pants, of the flex of muscle and the rustle of fabric so close to him.

Finally, Teomitl did up his belt and broke the silence between them. “So. Same time next week?”

He nearly choked on his own spit, feeling his face catch fire. “I...”

Worse, Teomitl was smirking again. He could hear it in his voice, that wicked curl that sent heat through his veins all over again. “I’m sure I’ll have a lot to confess.”

Before he could think better of it he drew himself up to better meet Teomitl’s eyes, desire shifting to the first stirrings of irritation. You may tease me, but do not mock me. “We haven’t discussed your penance for this one.”

“Oh?” The question came with a curious tilt of his head, but the gleam in his eyes was far from innocent.

“As you said, you tempted a priest to sin—to break the vows I made before God.” He could hardly believe his own daring. Even after what they’d just done, it seemed like too much of a transgression. He was being too greedy, asking too much. But somehow, it felt right. After breaking one vow, what worth are the rest? When he spoke, his voice didn’t shake at all. “Give me your number. Next time you have these...urges...” He swallowed. “Call me?”

Teomitl’s smile was his answer.