Chapter Text
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. This is my first confession.”
The shift behind the lattice was audible. He recognized you. He had to have recognized you.
“May the merciful God guide you into an honest and complete confession.”
You smirked. You’d spent the last three months in Father Ren’s head, flipping through his brain like it was a stack of cards. He’d been tough to crack, at first--he’d built the barriers around his brain so thick you’d had to employ measures you hadn’t used in years. The innocuous, pointless questions, naive and endearing. The skirts--always white, always short enough that they exposed the backs of your naked thighs. The tiny touches to his arm, the bright, unassuming smiles. Layer after layer, until you caught it, like a snap of light in his pulse:
I need her.
The voice of his thoughts had been dark and voracious, full of black, liquid need. And now that same voice was hiding in the corner of his mind, whispering to him, tendrils of temptation leaking down into his veins.
Tell me. Everything.
You considered your next words carefully. He was so close, and you'd worked so hard already.
“I-I'm not quite sure where to begin.”
You could feel him lap at the honey of your words, your tone.
“Wherever you are comfortable. Take your time.”
His heartbeat thudded in his ears and your own, senses razored to a point to pick up all of his subconscious cues. You felt an undercurrent of desire ripple through his mind before he silenced it with a cough. Good--he was already having trouble suppressing himself.
“Well, I told a few lies. Nothing too bad… just to spare some feelings.”
He was silent, unaffected. Okay, maybe it was time to step it up.
“That's not all, of course. I may have fallen asleep during Mass once.”
You paused, shuffled through his thoughts. Boredom and something akin to disappointment were all you could gather.
“I also cursed at another driver when he cut me off, Father. I’m sorry.”
An iridescent flicker of relief washed over him--you heard the shuffle of his cassock as he released a stifled sigh. Thrilled, you tugged the reins on your deviance, wanting to savor this moment like you’d savor every single part of him.
The wooden structure creaked when he moved to rest his chin on clasped hands. “Is that all, child?”
“No.”
Your brevity intrigued him. Straightening up, he directed curious, almost hopeful attention toward you.
Wetting your lips, you continued. “I've been having what some might consider inappropriate fantasies.”
He sucked in a deep breath between lightly clenched teeth, trying to stem the lush, salacious flood of thoughts that threatened his composure. Delighting in his internal struggle, you let him think there was a chance of successfully resisting temptation for a few brief seconds before pushing him to the point of no return. Inside of the confessional, he was a lamb. And you were the slaughter.
“These lewd thoughts,” you said, “I know they’re wrong. I know they are. But I can’t stop them.” A pause--the air stiller than a grave. “I… I think about… touching myself. Sometimes.”
Ren swallowed. “How frequently are you having these thoughts?” His demeanor was still one of professionalism. You could hear his delusional insistence that such a question was necessary to counsel you.
“Oh, every day, Father,” you replied. “They’re--they’re almost constant.”
A pause--and you felt it, then. That lurch inside of his soul, straining at the chains of his discipline. The line was in front of him, and his toes were tracing it. But he resisted--again. “What causes these thoughts?”
“Um.” All you needed to do was yank him over. You sniffled, voice cracking in faux-shame. “Father, I… I don’t know if I can say it.”
“You can,” he said. “I cannot pass judgement on you. Only God.”
You shook your head. “But, it’s so shameful…”
The voice--the one he’d been fighting--shook him with its raven claws, a reluctant streak of lust running like fire over his flesh. “Tell me, child.”
A shiver darted up your spine. Oh. This was getting good. “I know this is blasphemy,” you murmured, and paused, again, letting the anxiety build in his chest. “But, Father--my lewd thoughts are caused by you.”
First, it was a stuttered breath. Then, it was a single skipped heartbeat. And what followed that was the stampede of blood through his arteries, racing to his thighs against his will, flooding him with an ache and a warmth and a need he’d long thought he’d muzzled. His facade was fracturing, his hunger oozing through the gaps. But despite it all, he was adamant that he was only helping you--nothing more. Even when the next question tumbled from his lips, cloaked in concern.
“Do not feel ashamed,” he said. “Perhaps you could... discuss the content of these… fantasies.”
“Oh, I don't know, they're just so filthy...” You could feel the breath catch in his throat while he waited for you to continue. “But, of course, you know best.”
He exhaled and shifted, increasingly conscious of the stifling black cloth that both hid his desire and reminded him of his original purpose. In any other circumstance, he would have deferred to the Lord, insisted that only God knows best, that he was merely a conduit. But that didn't really matter to him right now, not as he waited with bated breath for you to continue. He wasn't even aware of the absence of piety, so insidious and all-consuming was his need.
“Well, I just, I think you're so kind and wonderful… I would love to make you happy. So I found my thoughts drifting to ways I could… serve you. Carnally. Ways I could touch you, that would make you feel so, so good. And I knew it was wrong, but then all I could think about was your strong hands grasping me and punishing my disobedient flesh… how it would feel to have you run your fingers over me as you make me submit.”
Glancing sideways, you caught sight of his outline, chest heaving and Adam’s apple bobbing as he tried in vain to steady himself. His cassock rustled, and he leaned against the wall, head tilted back and lids shut.
“C-could you be more... specific, child?” Any semblance of righteous respectability was crumbling to dust, and it wouldn't be long before he'd have to face the reality of his physical being. He clung to the ledge of his teachings, grasping for an anchor to purity.
Stop. Control yourself, Ren. She is not to be coveted.
Grinning, you kept your voice soft. Innocent. “Um, how specific would you like me to be, Father?”
Hunger radiated through him in red waves, beating at his loins, beading sweat at his forehead. The deeper you tapped into his psyche, the more you felt--the itching of his fingers, the hammering of his heart, the shallow pools of his breath. And then--what you’d been waiting for--the urgent, needy throbbing between his legs, heavy and hot on his thigh.
Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Let me hear those filthy words from your perfect little lips.
“A-as specific as you need to be.” His vocal cords were pulled tight, his nails pinching his legs in anticipation.
Heat coursed through you, cunt clenching when you pictured how his cock would feel in your hands. So close. You leaned forward, voice dipping into your chest.
“I know it’s so bad, Father… But I think about maybe, um, how it would feel to kiss you between your legs. To touch you there. And how… how it might make you feel. I always think it would feel so good for you.”
The levee in his brain burst, and depraved images of you on your knees, throat bulging from his erection overtook him. He tried to find relief, palming his bulge, but the heavy attire of a priest prevented much in the way of gratification. Muscles tensed, his thoughts were focused and furious.
I need you, please...
You could feel his ache, your own body extra-sensitive in response to your knowledge of his arousal.
"Should I continue?" You raised a brow, pleased with yourself.
He didn't respond, well-aware that any attempt would likely release the moan swelling in his chest.
You leaned closer to the partition and whispered, “There's so much more, Ren.”
A sharp intake of breath stuck in his throat, and he unleashed the building noise in a gentle, permissive sigh. He didn’t want you to know--didn’t want you to discover the remnants of his pride, didn’t want you to hear the soft scratch of cloth while he rubbed his cock through his pants.
Yes, more, that’s all I need, just a little more. Then I’ll stop.
“I think a... full confession would be best,” he muttered.
“Yes, Father.” You hid a giggle when he throbbed at his title. “This part is more difficult to say. But sometimes, when I think about it--I start to want you inside of me. You know. Taking me. I think about how it might feel so good for you to...”
He gripped his dick through his clothes. Say it.
“To, well, you know…”
Say it. He squeezed the shaft, ears yearning to hear it from your mouth.
You swallowed. He was ready. “How good it might feel for you to put your cock inside of my pussy. How good it might feel for you to fuck me.”
Ren splintered like a vase--a throttled groan left his mouth stuffed back down into his chest, covered with another cough. And the coughing fit continued as he fussed with his pants, fighting with his cassock--and you felt a torrent of satisfaction and shame rip through him when his fingers wrapped around the burning length of his dick.
It’d been a while, you figured--it must have been, from the sloppy way he started pumping his shaft, sending sounds of slapping skin ricocheting through the confessional. You peered through the lattice--his eyes were screwed shut, pink lips parted in ecstasy, a shell of sweat at his brow.
Reveling in the heady mixture of emotions sliding off of him, you considered your next move. A not insignificant part of you wanted to burst in on him, throw him to the ground and make him beg. The game was proving to be too much fun to stop quite yet, however, so you continued wearing your mask of virtue.
“W-what’s that… are you okay?” Feigning naive concern, you exited your compartment in a rush and threw open the door concealing him.
Startled, he dropped his cock and yelped, face flushing a deep crimson.
“I-it’s not…!” he choked, unable to finish in his humiliation.
To his dismay and your delight, the obscenity of the situation sent goosebumps over his skin, his erection twitching under your stare. He looked more perfect than you had even imagined--his pants tugged down to the middle of his strong thighs, his long, thick cock leaning in a gentle arc toward his stomach, his flesh red and angry against the black backdrop of his robes. A cloudy drop of precum had beaded at the tip of his dick.
“Shhh.” You knelt in front of him, unbuttoning your shirt, revealing your distinct lack of a bra. He gasped and licked his lips, unable to look away from your pretty breasts, your nipples already stiff. Spreading his knees, you sat on your heels between his legs, gazing up at him with round, eager eyes. “I can show you, if you like.”
Too far gone to consider anything but you, he nodded, pupils big and dark. Your mouth pulled into a vaguely wicked grin and you started brushing tentative kisses on his thigh. His muscles tightened under your touch, and his hand moved to stroke himself again, but you snatched it from the air, lacing your fingers together and pinning it to his hip. Without a word, your lips moved inward, growing closer to the fire between his legs. His hand shook in yours as you neared the base of his shaft, his head daring to fall back onto his shoulders for the briefest of moments.
The sight of you, so close to his sex, closer than anyone had ever been was making him delirious, blurring his vision with bliss. He was convinced--tinged with worry--that the second any part of you came in contact with his dick, he’d shoot his seed onto his robes, stain himself with the evidence of his weakness. And even still, his personified darkness--having grown fat and greedy--hissed into his mind.
That’s right. Put that sweet little mouth of yours on my cock. Wretched, pathetic whore.
“Are you sure this is what you want, Father?” you said, circling the root of his dick with a single digit. “Because I just haven’t been able to stop thinking about what you’d taste like…”
Ren moaned, shuddering with want, large hand crushing yours. His mind was a flurry of excitement and fear. What would it feel like--your mouth, or even just your hand? Would it feel different than his own? Would it feel better? And what if--he dared to think--he could sink himself into your cunt? How could he possibly stand anything that promised to be so warm and tight and wet--he whimpered, overcome just from his own thoughts.
Give it to me. Give me everything. I need it. I need you.
“Is that a yes?” Your wide eyes belied any knowledge of his demands. It was just too much fun to tease and watch him give in.
His voice was hoarse with need. “I-It is.”
Such desperation urged you on, and you flattened your tongue along the pulsing underside of his cock, dragging it up from the base for what felt like an eternity to Ren. You kissed the head and lightly scraped your teeth over it while you wrapped your mouth around him. A low groan escaped his chest while he basked in your luscious warmth, unsure how he hadn’t already succumbed.
You drew your head back, feeling him stare as his considerable length emerged from your throat, bit by bit. His digits clenched yours, bending and digging into your knuckles in a way that would have broken them had you not been… well, you. He couldn't possibly take notice of such oddities, though, while his attention was fully focused on your tongue swirling around his leaking tip. Eager for more, he thrust his hips upward, hoping to slide back in between your lips.
Giggling, you pulled away and stood up. “Patience is a virtue, Father!”
Embarrassment reddened his face, even as his eyes fell to your breasts. He gulped, gaze lingering, his mind running a reel of how he might pull one of your perky nipples into his mouth, how he might lap at them with his tongue--how would you taste, how would you feel in his hands? His body was in flames, just for you. Only for you. Lost in his fantasies, he wet his lips and wiped his palms on his cassock.
“Please,” he whispered, voice thick with desire, “I want more. I need… more.”
You cocked your head. “More?” Smirking, you snaked a hand up your stomach, kneading your own breast, rolling your nipple in your fingers, covering yourself in anxious gooseflesh. “More of what?”
You. All of you.
“I want to touch you.” His chin quivered. “T-taste you.”
“Oh.”
Nodding, you leaned forward, reaching under your skirt and shimmying your panties down the curve of your hips. All Ren could do was watch, mesmerized, his mind screaming for a flash of your cunt. He’d never seen one, not in the flesh--he was desperate to know how perfect and tantalizing yours looked. But you wouldn’t give it to him--not yet.
Instead, you stepped out of your underwear, sauntering over to him, wedging yourself back in between his legs. He stared at you, both reverent and terrified, as you dragged a hand down his chest, heightened senses picking up the stammering breath and rapid pulse through his robes. How precious he looked, really--his cheeks flushed pink, his thick hair frizzing with sweat--you couldn’t resist. You purred, leaning in, and pressed your lips to his, marvelling at their plush fullness.
He followed your lead, inexperience making him a timid kisser at first. You traced his lips with your tongue before pushing past them and exploring his mouth. He opened for you, pliant and willing, happy to memorize your taste. His hands moved as if of their own will to rest on your waist, gliding down to your hips. You guided one up to to palm your breast, his enthusiasm apparent as he gripped a bit too hard, poking marks into your flesh. Whining, you withdrew from him slightly and bit his bottom lip as a reprimand, clearly lost on him while he moaned in response and pulled you closer.
His longing was making him bolder. Attempting to maintain control, you removed his grip and maneuvered his wrists above his head. Holding them there with one preternaturally strong hand, you tilted your head back to allow him a taste of your neck. Moist, kiss-swollen lips worshipped your throat before you pulled back.
No, no, what are you doing? I need to feel that cunt, you heathenous bitch.
You tilted your head. “What's that?”
“N-nothing.” He was puzzled. “Please, just come closer.”
Sneering, you ran a treacherous nail down the front of his cassock, the sliced cloth billowing away like dark clouds, revealing the firm heat of his ravenous body. Momentary surprise flashed over you as you took in the sight before you. Thick ropes of muscle wound over his shoulders, continuing down to his broad, pale chest and tight stomach--pretty fit for a man of God. He could've easily overtaken you under different circumstances. You realized, then, he hadn't struggled once within your grasp. He loved submitting to you.
That same nail bit into his skin, now, cutting a shallow, thin line down the center of that gorgeous torso. Blood bloomed to the surface in strings of red pearls, and you smirked, going to meet his gaze--but he was captivated by your touch, watching you peel him open, panting from the blend of pleasure and pain resonating through him.
You stopped at the tuft of dark hair near his cock, returning to your knees. His breath stopped again, trapped in his lungs while you led your wet tongue up the trail of blood, unable to stop the moan that escaped you as the taste of copper hit your palate. God, he was delicious. Your pussy was dripping by now--you couldn’t tease him much longer.
“Oh,” he whispered, his dick hitting your chest as it twinged. “Oh, please…”
Leaning into his ear, you mapped the breadth of his chest with your palms. “Tell me what you want, Father…” He groaned, and you grabbed his wrist, guiding him under your skirt and between your legs. “Is it me?”
His brain lit up like a firework, crackling with hysteria, and his unskilled fingers groped at your pussy, feeling the tender wetness of your folds. He had no clue what he was doing--just that he wanted to put himself inside of you, somehow, to test what it would be like, gentle grunts rumbling in his chest as he dug at your cunt, searching for your entrance. Wanting to silence himself, he leaned forward, sucking one of your nipples into his hot mouth.
You bent into him while his tongue flicked at the stiff nub and his teeth grazed your areola. He had paused his frantic search, content instead to stroke you, familiarize himself with the shape of your labia and the perfect slick wetness that adorned it. Pressing his handsome face into your chest, you gently gyrated your hips, urging him towards your swollen clit. Not finding much success and getting desperate yourself, you smacked his hand away and straddled his lap. His palms fell to your thighs, massaging the sensitive skin and indulging in their soft give.
“O-ohh.” A deep, primal sound ripped from his throat, and you almost didn't hear him--
I want to open you up and make you writhe.
Cock twitching at the endlessly enticing sight of you, combined with his ever-growing perversion, he bucked his hips, hoping to catch any touch at all. His hot length awkwardly grazed your abdomen, and you smirked. Something about his insatiable hunger for you turned you on in a way you hadn't expected, and you decided to end his lifelong famine. Gripping his dick, you rubbed the head in slow circles on your clit, sighing as delicious heat swelled between your legs. Sliding it down, you positioned him at your entrance, teasing and pulling away whenever he tried to thrust.
You clutched his jaw, sharp nails pricking through skin, tiny garnets soon ornamenting your digits. “You belong to me, Kylo.”
Before he could respond, or even form a coherent thought, you sank down onto his dick, mouth popping open in pleasure, a low moan leaving your chest. Ren was gasping, frenzied, eyes wide with disbelief as ecstasy surged through his veins, his mind blank, bleached free of guilt or worry. For just that moment, he relished it--the flawless, impossible feeling of his shaft being swallowed by your cunt.
And it wasn’t as if you weren’t enraptured--he was thick, thicker than he’d felt in your mouth or hands, splitting you wide into your belly. You felt him pulsing, blood throbbing in his dick, all the while he clamored for sanity, terrified to cum and end it too soon.
“That’s right,” you mumbled. “You feel so ,good…”
Clutching his shoulders, you rolled your hips, grinning when he choked from the feeling. You focused, clenching around him, ensuring that he wouldn’t cum, keeping him hard and greedy inside your cunt. When you rose up, you noticed his fingers grappling with your skirt, bunching it around your hips so he could watch you defile him, watch you as you robbed him of his purity.
Yes. Perfect. Perfect. So filthy…
Ren’s hands burrowed into your hips as his pelvis jerked, an amateur attempt at thrusting up into you, but you were quick to punish him, gouging his flesh with your nails until he barked in surrender. Even still, a growl hung in the back of his throat, his virgin cock demanding an immediate and powerful release into your pussy. Just the thought of it made his hips snap again, so helpless was he under the influence of your body.
You nipped his neck and dragged your lips up to his ear. “Patience.”
His stare had become predatory and surly, but he chewed his tongue and said nothing, chest heaving while he allowed you to grind into his pelvis as you pleased. Every rut against him, every clench of your cunt, every moan that left your lips was exquisite in a way he could never have dreamed.
Hypnotized by the sight of your flushed sex absorbing him over and over, he hardly noticed you tug his digits down to rest on your thigh, slipping his thumb between your legs to rub your neglected clit. He experimented, tracing shapes into you, and listened, entranced, for your reaction. Your whimpering mewls informed him where you needed friction the most, and he was relentless, attacking your sensitive nerves with ferocity. Lips parted, he watched in veneration as your orgasm built, and although he scarcely knew what would happen, he found he wanted nothing more than to feel you cum with his cock buried deep inside.
Fuckfuckfuck, cum all over me--
Rolling your hips, you let out the loudest, lewdest moan you could and concentrated on the throbbing heat between you. So close. His other hand gripped your ass so hard you could almost feel the bruises forming, and the thought sent you over the edge, clenching and bucking against him while you dragged your knife-sharp nails down his biceps, bliss buffeting your nerves in ragged waves.
O-oh my fucking God…!
He fucked up into you, slamming your cervix and growling when he realized he couldn't go any deeper. Thighs and stomach tensed, hair damp with sweat and sticking to his temples, dick pulsing inside of you, he no longer cared how you might punish him--he needed to fill you with his seed.
“Oh, p-please, Lord, please!” he groaned--and you saw it, like a beacon in his brain. He was going to cum, he was going to cum inside of you, and it was going to feel so, so, so fucking good.
You snickered, hissing into his ear. “You want to cum for me, Kylo?”
Tears stung his eyes, crystal drops spilling down his ruddy cheeks. “Yes! Christ, yes!”
“Good.”
In one smooth motion, you reared back, brandishing your claws, and plunged your fist straight through his chest, tearing through his flesh, shattering his sternum, warm blood enveloping you as you gripped his heart. Ren’s breath stopped, his gaze struck with shock as he tried to process what you’d just done. His pulse echoed through you, from your palm to your pussy, and you groaned.
“Cum for me, Father.”
He gasped, eyes rolling into the back of his head, lids fluttering while he screamed, your nails piercing his heart, squeezing, halting the steady beat as pleasure gushed through his veins. The sensation was almost enough to drive you into a sympathetic climax, his cock pumping jet after jet of thick, hot cum deep into your cunt. His body convulsed, spasming in the white throes of euphoria and death, mouth hanging open as obscene gurgles spilled from his mouth.
Only when you were certain he had poured himself dry, when you felt his seed dripping out and coating your thighs, did you begin to extract your hand. You felt a satisfying, oozing pop when you pulled each one of your claws from his heart, the muscle beating once more. His eyes regained their depth and sentience, but he was still too much in a daze to truly react.
Taking your time, you eased yourself from his chest, reconnecting muscle, bone,and tendons in your wake. Delicate nerves intertwined and he gasped and jerked as feeling returned to his body. Shit. He threw you off of him in the middle of healing the last layer of skin--raw, pink scar tissue blossomed instead, leaving an angry brand on his chest.
“Shh, shh,” you murmured at his forehead, stroking his hair with blood-soaked digits.
Deciding it was best to make your exit before he regained coherence, you unstuck yourself from his lap, leaving him slumped over with pants down around his knees. Still so delicious. Unable to help yourself, you dropped in front of him and sank your teeth into a thick thigh, breaking skin and capillaries alike. He was perfect, even like this--and you hummed as you slurped up the streams of blood.
Planting one last kiss on his softening cock, you stood back up, redressed, and strode over to the baptismal font to wash yourself. You would have to miss his sermon, this time.