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Sunday walked toward the tied up man with his hands folded behind his back and his spine straight, a small smile on his lips. His sleek black shoes clicked on the wooden floor, came to a stop right between his own.
"How are you, my child?"
Aventurine laughed a little, dragging his gaze over his black-white get up, high collar hiding the hickeys from last night.
His hands were bound behind his back, broad silky red binds weaving around his wrists, the same material tying his ankles and calves to the chair. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing part of his chest.
“Horny as hell, Father, if you wish to help me out with that.”
Sunday regarded him with an unimpressed expression and dropped onto his lap, roughly grabbing him by the jaw. "You should show me some respect."
Aventurine groaned against his white glove, rolling his hips shamelessly.
It was quite unfair that Sunday looked like this and Aventurine wasn’t fucking him right now. He'd made him wait long enough; the binds weren't uncomfortable, though his mind hadn't known rest with the anticipation constantly buzzing under his skin.
Sunday loosened his grip as he moved south, splaying his hand out on Aventurine’s chest. The fabric was soft on his skin, the warmth of his body bleeding through. "So, do you wish to confess your sins to me?"
Aventurine snorted softly, then smirked. "Yeah. There's this really hot priest, and I really want to fuck him stupid.” He tilted his head to the side. “Is that a sin?"
Sunday swallowed, eyes blown, purple swallowing gold. "Oh, certainly."
"Mh. Then what's my penance, Father?"
Sunday rocked his hips forward. Aventurine groaned under his breath, eyes half-lidded, watching a blush spread over Sunday's cheeks. The halovian’s wings were poofed up, and Aventurine's hands itched to reach out and tug on them, drag his fingers over the soft feathers until Sunday was squirming and whimpering in his lap.
Sunday leaned closer, the halo floating behind him dazzling in the light, almost connecting their lips. Aventurine knew better than to steal a kiss – Sunday was particular about those things when they played. Aventurine liked to let him indulge more, even if it meant he'd punish Sunday for it eventually.
Perhaps, if he hadn't been left here for so long, he would've considered teasing Sunday some more, disobeying his orders and all – as he was now, Aventurine didn't want to prolong his poor neglected cock’s suffering any more.
Sunday must see it, a triumphant gleam appearing in golden eyes, a sharp smile pulling on tinted lips. A soft, amused hum sounded, and the halovian rolled his hips again.
Aventurine moaned.
“Well, I'll need an in depth understanding of the sin before I can absolve you,” Sunday said, voice smooth and droning, caressing the lithe muscles on his chest, fingertip reaching the collarbones, dipping into his jugular notch, swiping down to his sternum. Nonsensical lines only meant to tease, offer the slightest bit of touch to his eager body, too light to quench the hunger licking at Aventurine’s insides.
Aventurine swallowed to combat the dryness in his mouth, bound arms flexing.
It was getting difficult to follow his words, mind occupied with the daze the restraints brought about, sinking into a warm fog that made him want to lean back and be good and get his reward.
Yeesh, it'd been a bit since he'd gone under so quickly.
“Ch- Aventurine.”
Blinking slowly, he met his gaze. He felt his own heartbeat, thumping in his chest, a heavy numbness setting in, breath turning slow and deep. He swallowed again.
“Yes, baby?”
“Hmph. That's still ‘Father’ to you.”
It loosened him up, a rough laugh leaving his mouth, flexing his thighs to grind their hips together once more.
“My sincerest apologies, dear Father.”
Sunday began to unbutton the rest of his shirt, wings fluttering around his head. “Here I am, graciously offering a lost soul a private seminar, and you don't even bother to listen.”
“You're not exactly making it easy, sitting on my lap like this,” he hissed.
Sunday cocked a brow. “Would you rather I leave?”
A flash of panic zapped through him, and he quickly shook his head, attempting to lean forward, getting stopped by the binds. “No, no, stay– stay right here.”
The other chuckled at his desperation, having reached the last button by now, fingertip resting on his waistband, the button and zipper the last restraint holding his cock back – he wasn't wearing any boxers under his pants, after all.
“You're lucky I also do not wish to part with you here.” Sunday cleared his throat. “Let us continue your path to absolution."
“Mhm, yeah, let's– do that.”
“A good priest shall thoroughly inquire and understand each sinner’s predicament to faithfully guide them,” he continued, swiping his fingers over the bulge all the while, brushing over his dripping cockhead on purpose.
Aventurine grit his teeth to keep his noises down, trying very hard to concentrate on Sunday's holy talk. As expected, Sunday was exceptional at this role, and Aventurine had never been so happy to have fingered him that good last night to get him to finally agree to do this with him.
“Yeah,” he responded, a little breathless, “So get started with gaining a deep… in depth understanding of it, yeah?”
Sunday’s breath stuttered, and then he was being kissed, and Aventurine didn't hold back his loud groan, reciprocating hungrily. He shoved his tongue inside, angled his head to get their noses out of the way and devoured him as if he'd been starved. The halovian on his lap moaned into the kiss, let him take over, simply swirling his tongue around the intruding one, swallowing shared spit and brushing their lips together, burying his other hand in blond hair. Aventurine licked and sucked expertly, nipped at Sunday's plump lips, made his eyes fall shut.
His breathing picked up, huffed against Aventurine's face, the halo glowing brighter, wings fluttering and stretching out. He was still rolling his hips, giving them both some much appreciated friction, fingertip circling the button of his pants teasingly.
When Sunday pulled away to gasp for air, his face was flushed, and Aventurine watched with glowing eyes, panting quietly.
“Won't you help me, dear Father?” He bucked his hips as he spoke, needy and brazen at once.
It punched a moan out of the other, the sound cracking in the middle. He could feel Sunday's own erection against his own, hot and hard and eager, and fuck, Aventurine’s mouth was watering.
“I– yes, yes, I'll– you've been patient enough.”
Aventurine sighed in relief, shaking his tied legs a little, trying to keep his feet from falling asleep.
He watched Sunday shift back on his thighs, sliding the other hand down, resting on his hip, the other finally popping the button and undoing the zipper.
His dick sprung up, arching up in all its swollen glory. Pre cum pearled on the cockhead, had dripped down the shaft, shimmering wetly in the lamplight. Thick veins traveled from the darker base like a lighting bolt, the skin stretched taut.
It was as heavy as it looked; Sunday's hand fit around it though his fingers couldn't touch, and it fit into the halovian’s mouth but only if he relaxed his throat to let some inches into that heavenly tight opening. Aventurine moaned at the images appearing in his brain, got louder when Sunday took him in hand, the sensation of the glove strange and exhilarating on hot flesh.
He pumped him once, twice, tip to base, base to tip, spread the pre cum with a thumb. It spilled some more, dirtied his fancy glove, and Aventurine shivered, rolling his hips.
“Angel, please,” Aventurine breathed, strain taking over his expression, teeth flashing, “more.”
Sunday hummed noncommittally, though tightened his grip, moving to the base and rubbing at the sensitive underside. Aventurine’s knees jerked automatically, legs twitching, fighting the binds.
Goddess, the next time, Aventurine was gonna edge this bastard for an hour. Maybe more if he kept this up.
“Didn't you say I've been patient enough?”
“For my touch, Aventurine, not to fuck me.”
“Oh you damn bastard–”
Immediately, all touch vanished. Sunday was no longer on his lap, and his poor cock was left rigid and throbbing, and Aventurine heaved, head tipping backward. “Fuck!”
Sunday stood with his hands clasped together, looking much too pleased with himself.
“Do not use such foul language on a saintly figure, child. Perhaps I must aid you in overcoming that improper tongue of yours first.”
“You can't be serious,” Aventurine was whining now, staring at him through crescents, hazy with desire and glassy from being denied again.
“Believe me that I am, as I do not lie.” He placed a hand on his heart and gave a small bow, and Aventurine saw the person he met on Penacony all those months ago, up-tight and exuding an air of self-grandeur he’d craved to grasp and devour from the very beginning.
Aventurine's mouth parted. Yeah, this was a good idea. Real good. Even if it brought him to the brink of actually begging.
Clearing his throat to not lose himself in the heady desire swirling in his gut, he leaned his head forward again, let blond strands fall into his face.
“What can I do to earn your touch again, Father?”
“Mh, that's better. You're learning to know your place.”
A shudder went through him.
Sunday was staring at him intently, purple pupils having gained a dangerous glint, crazed – it reminded him of the halovian’s actual father. (That, they had in common – slipping into the role of a superior came with a faint imitation of those shadowy figures of their past, not on purpose of course. They'd spoken all about it, once, wine-drunk and loose-lipped, staring at the stars.)
Sunday took a step toward him. His eyes dropped to his neglected cock. The tip of his tongue slid out, dragged over his lower lip, over the upper one. Aventurine really wanted to kick him in the chins.
“Acknowledgement is the first step toward earning forgiveness, after all,” the halovian said, voice decadent and light, praising him indirectly; Aventurine straightened up, clung to his next words.
“Repentance comes after: Did you mean it when calling me those words, Aventurine?”
He swallowed, then shook his head. “I didn’t… It was impulsive and a way to vent my frustration.”
Sunday hummed.
A beat of silence passed. – Oh, he wanted to hear more.
“I'm– I'm sorry for insulting you, Father. I should be… thankful you're giving me the opportunity to be absolved.”
A gloved hand cupped his cheek. He leaned into it, gazed upon Sunday's pleased smile, let the warmth of it resonate in his chest.
“Good. I forgive you.”
Damn, he's taking this whole thing way more seriously than I thought.
Hoping to get back on track, he swallowed and chose his next words carefully.
“You'll guide me, yeah?”
Sunday nodded.
“Thouroughly? Deeply?”
His gaze dropped to his cock, quickly returned to dead pink-blues. "Yes," he answered, wistful.
Aventurine smiled; it was sharp, and the pendulum swung, almost sent Sunday to his knees.
“Then why don't you sink down on my cock and see if you’ll forgive me for lusting after you in this uniform, Father?”
His drawl had him suppress a moan, and his legs wobbled under the robe.
Without thinking, he stumbled forth, dropped onto his lap.
Sunday held onto Aventurine’s shoulders as his vision blurred, the teasing finally getting to him.
“Yeah,” he heaved, slid a hand down to pump his dick a few times, making up for making him wait. Aventurine groaned into his ear, and he connected their lips again, let himself be kissed dizzy while lazily stroking his cock.
The next time he got up, it was merely to pull his pants down, lifting the top of the robe to reveal the white lace panties to Aventurine.
It earned him a needy whine. “Wanna touch you so bad.”
“Where?” Sunday asked, pulling the bottle of lube out of a hidden pocket and popping the cap.
Aventurine huffed, mouth parted, his hips drawing repetitive circles, grinding into air.
“Ass. Thighs. Tits. Neck. Wings. Wings. Everywhere.”
He suppressed a shudder, returning to his lap. “If you prove yourself to have ceased using foul language, it could be arranged.”
The other pouted at that, then nodded, chewing on his lip.
Pulling the thin garment to the side, Sunday lined himself up.
Aventurine’s eyes widened. – He chuckled.
“I'm prepared. What else did you think I was doing while making you wait?”
For a long moment, the other just gaped at him, brain computing the input and stuck on the mental film of a priest fingering himself in preparation of tending to a sinner.
“Oh, you drive me fucking insane.”
Sunday raised a brow.
“Thats– that's a compliment, please don't blueball me again–”
He dropped the serious facade, his giggles making his entire body shake, beginning to lube up his cock. “I won't, I won't, worry not. Ah, you're so very cute when desperate.”
Aventurine groaned low in his throat, watching his gloved hand spread the lubricant gingerly, the wet thwop’s and squelches drawing more heavy breaths from his lungs.
Once he considered the cock slick enough, he put the lube back into the pocket and circled his rim with his tip. Aventurine was yanking on the binds again, and it only furthered his excitement, the rush of power going to his head (and dick).
Sunday guided it past the soft ring of muscle, the light stretch making him sigh. His heels lifted off the floor, distributed his weight better, allowed him to sink down slow and measured.
It was heavenly. It was torturous.
Aventurine was keeping himself from fucking into him, going rigid beneath him, hissing through his teeth. “Fuck you're tight.”
Sunday merely hummed, eyes closed in concentrated bliss.
The stretch burned deliciously; the cock filled him up nicely, thick and heavy and hot. It warmed him from within, silenced any thought, anything but the overwhelming need to keep on going. When his ass settled on Aventurine’s thighs, and he'd took him to the base, he went slack, wings coming to hide his flushed face.
Aventurine purred, eyes blown, staring at where they connected. He drew back just a little and pushed in. Sunday's hips bucked, a surprised moan tumbling out, snapping him out of his trance.
The wings fluttered, and he brushed hair out of his face, correcting his position for optimal balance.
“Fuck me, and I'll see how you'll earn my forgiveness after.”
Glad to have an upfront order, Aventurine smiled. He really wanted to hold his waist or knead his ass; it was starting to grate him, not being able to touch him at all. But… perhaps if he fucks him ‘til he’s nice and pliant, Sunday will remove them earlier. With that in mind, he began to rock his hips back and forth, starting slow and deep just how Sunday liked it.
It got him used to the girth, would ease the glide when he started thrusting into him with force. Already, Sunday was letting out quiet little chirps, eyes losing focus, spreading his thighs wider to give him better access.
“Mh, feels good, yeah?”
Sunday nodded, wrapped his arms around the back of the chair, folding his hands by Aventurine’s nape. His face was close – close enough to feel his hot breath, close enough to kiss.
Though he didn't close the distance, merely murmured against his lips, started to pull out halfway before sliding back in, slick noises sounding between them, accompanied by soft slaps of skin to skin.
“I wanna worship you instead, is that also a sin, dear Father?”
Sunday moaned shakily, having begun to circle his hips to his rhythm.
“Thats… that's… yes, yes, yes..”
Aventurine laughed, pulled out until his tip caught on the rim, thrust inside quick and sharp – Sunday’s jaw dropped, and a full body shiver hit him, his insides squeezing him hard, making him see stars.
He repeated the motion, again and again, the pace remaining quick, going harder when Sunday’s moans went up by an octave.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Mh– yes, please, oh–”
Claiming his lips, Aventurine watched Sunday lose himself bit by bit, trembling around his cock whenever he hit his prostate dead on. He was meeting each thrust with a needy little grind, clenching and relaxing in intervals, sucking him in – Aventurine’s hips stuttered, a burst of pre-cum mixing with the lube inside.
Sunday’s hands were all over him, holding his shoulders, sliding up and down his scarred sides, grabbing his waist.
“You gonna come untouched?” he asked, breathy, changing the rhythm up a little, returning to slow but rough pumps and mixing it with fast thrusts.
Sunday gasped but shook his head, already reaching for his own erection, the wet patch on the panties having only grown.
“No, you can. You can. Let me make you come, angel, Father– ngh– hah..”
His hole tightened, pulsed hard, the thighs hovering above his lap starting to tremble. Sunday took his hand back, and Aventurine rewarded him with a rough pounding, Sunday pouring more lube between their middles, the noises increasing in volume and wetness.
Aventurine's face was on fire, no, his entire body was – everything tingled, everything was tense, the strings in his lower belly wound tight, so close to finally snapping.
“Am I doing good, Father? Fucking you nice and hard?”
“Yes, yes, good, good, feels– mh– I can't– think, ah, ah, ah– darling, darling, darling–”
“You're close, hm?”
Sunday just nodded frantically, the dynamic bouncing back and forth at this point, roles losing meaning where desire was all that mattered.
Aventurine laughed, lust-drunk, buried his face in Sunday’s collar, nosing up and reaching his throat, lapping up the glistening sweat, sucking a mark into pale skin.
“Come for me,” he purred right into his ear, “let me feel you come on my cock, Father.”
And it was all he needed – Sunday went rigid, then collapsed, dropped heavily onto his lap, ruining his panties indefinitely and no longer holding himself up. His insides throbbed, milked his cock, and Aventurine drooled, eyes rolling back.
The pressure snapped, flooded his brain with pleasure and relief, flooded Sunday's thorougly fucked hole with his cum. It sloshed with each wanton grind, each indulgent, mindless snap of his hips, driving into him and pumping his cum deeper, the noise lewd, loud in his tingling ears.
They were both panting; neither of them spoke, had to speak. With shaky fingers, Sunday undid the binds of his arms and wrists. With a whine, Aventurine let them drop at his sides, flexed his hands and lifted them, pulled Sunday into a loose embrace.
Their lips found one another, kissed slow and gentle, and somewhere in between their swirling tongues, Sunday lifted his waist and let his deflating cock slide out his hole. He settled onto his lap with a whimper, and it remained trapped between his cheeks, slick with cum and lube.
Aventurine’s arms had regained feeling, and so he began to stroke Sunday's back, careful of the clipped wings, gently parting large feathers and scratching the base. Sunday shuddered, pressed himself closer.
Time ceased to matter; a hand found its way to his ass, cupped the rounded cheeks, kneaded them softly before sliding to his stretched rim, circling it just to make him whine. He fingered it shallowly, pumped two digits in and out, worked the cum and lube out of him patiently.
Sunday had nestled into the space between his neck and shoulder, eyes shut, looking so peaceful as if he was dreaming.
“Angel, if you fall asleep without untying me I'm revoking your Dom privileges for a month.”
Groggy gold-purple appeared under heavy silver lashes, and the halovian grumbled, nuzzling into the soft skin. “Mmmgh, ‘m n’t sl’p’ng.”
“Mhm, and I'm not an orphan.” He patted his ass semi-lightly, dragged dull nails down to his thighs, kneading the trembling muscles beneath. “We can cuddle in bed later.”
“I might forgive you for fucking a priest, but disturbing my rest is a thin line to tow,” Sunday murmured, though leaned back and got to his knees to undo the binds on his legs.
Aventurine snorted.
Using his newly gained freedom, he gently pressed his foot onto his ruined panties, the sole of his shoe rubbing his oversensitive dick through the drenched cloth.
Sunday promptly folded over, clawing into the calf, though didn't pull away; if anything, he pushed into it.
Aventurine reached out, pet his hair, moved to stroke a wing, lightly scratching the soft feathers. Sunday mewled.
“You could come just from this, hm, dear Father?”
The other huffed, managed to part with his sole, Aventurine taking his hand back as well.
It's how it was, with them – a push and pull, strong currents bending to one another before crashing again. It'd been a pain in the ass first, gotten much easier when Aventurine had introduced this type of play with him. It let each of them get their pent up frustration out, single-handedly saved their already problem-ridden relationship.
“You can drop that title now, it's over.”
Aventurine chuckled but obliged, getting the message. “‘Kay.”
He stood up too, and Sunday gazed at the chair covered in lube and semen and grimaced.
“Why do your ideas always have to be so... wet?”
“You want me to fuck you with no lube?”
“Eh– that's not what I–”
Aventurine shook his head, grasping him by the jaw, diverting his attention. “Let's just shower first, we'll clean this up later.”
Sunday was fine with that, and so they made their way into the bathroom, taking off the little clothes they still had on and got into the warm stream of water.
Massaging shampoo into one another's hair, the earlier relaxation set back in, and Aventurine found his eyes drooping, too.
He bore no marks despite his frequent yanking, the material too soft and broad to create harsh lines; Sunday meticulously applied lotion to his wrists and ankles anyway, an adorable, concentrated crease in his brow. Aventurine absentmindedly stroked his hair all the while. It was a bit weird, sitting here on the edge of the tub, Sunday on his knees dressed in soft pajamas, clipped wings swaying gently. Not because it was uncomfortable… just… odd.
Soft feelings never came lightly for someone like him; though when he helped Sunday up from the tiled floor and kissed him, smelling like fresh shampoo and bodywash, no other word but loving adoration could describe the warmth in his heart.