#i dunno if a priest has to take a vow of celibacy to be a priest

[witherby]

Thinking naughty Brucie Wayne thoughts cause you KNOW he sluts around in order to maintain that playboy reputation.

Imagining Brucie on an evening gossip show and he's playing a game where he's sharing light-hearted secrets with the host. It's called some shit like...I dunno, "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours!"

"Okay, we gotta be careful with the wording here because we're on live television," the host laughs, "but I have a question."

"Ask me anything, baby, I'm an open book," Bruce purrs. The live studio audience whistles and cheers.

"What's your darkest sexual fantasy? I'll tell you mine —"

"IF YOU TELL ME YOURS!!" The audience shouts, clapping and cheering with ridiculous enthusiasm. Bruce, who has impeccable control over his body's nervous system, turns beet red and covers his face. His heartbeat is still as steady as a war drum. World's Greatest Detective and also World's Best motherfuckin Actor.

"oh shit," he mutters. The cheering gets even louder. "I can't say it out loud. I've never told anybody this before, it's insane."

The host is Locked The Fuck In. Exclusive information nobody else has about Brucie Wayne, Gotham's precious prince? He can smell the trending hashtags already.

"Oh?" He goads, grinning and leaning forward in his chair. "Is it really bad? Brucie, you dog! I didn't know you had it in you! We gotta know, now!"

"Skip," Bruce says shyly, "next question!"

The audience boos and starts chanting some iteration of "tell us! Tell us!" The host shushes them and says it's fine, he'll go first and they'll both be a little embarrassed about it. No big deal, it's just a fun game! What's a little spicy secret between friends, we're all friends here, it's fine!

The host's is boring. Something like Toes or edible underwear. Bruce shyly says he can't say it, and asks if he can write it down instead. The host is like yes, absolutely, someone fetch this man a pen and paper RIGHT NOW.

Brucie writes it down. The host reads it. He gasps.

"Okay everybody, shhh. This says...I want to — BRUCE?"

Bruce reddens more and is as curled up as he can possibly get in his big chair. The audience is feral at this point.

"It says "I want a priest to give his virginity to me." Bruce Thomas Wayne!!!"

There's an uproar. People are whistling. Women are screaming. Catholics are clutching their pearls. There's so much clapping. Some people are laughing. When everybody settles down enough to let him explain, Bruce, still red in the face, just stares meekly at the ground and mutters:

"I dunno, it's so wicked. I wanna be like Lucifer with the apple. I want a son of God to turn away from His light and be tempted into my bed. If God is actually homophobic and being gay gets you sent to Hell, — first of all, fuck that guy — and second of all, at the very least I want him to get a taste of Heaven in the sheets, y'know?"

#DamnedByBrucie is the number one trending topic for the next four days. Priests are coming out of the woodwork and sending him genuine offers to take their virginity. Hal buys a priest outfit immediately. Bruce is so down to roleplay this even though that wasn't even close to his darkest sexual fantasy.

[mongooseblues]

Bless You Father for I Have Sinned (Fleabag, Hot Priest) 1/1

Did anyone watch Fleabag and/or want to read about a hot priest sneezing?

This works just fine as a standalone if u haven’t seen the show but for context: Hot Irish prob alcoholic “cool swear-y” priest and recovering sex addict and all-around hot mess main character (who doesn’t have a name) strike up a “friendship” that is just a poorly veiled excuse for spending time with someone they want very badly to fuck but can’t bc priesthood vow of celibacy and whatnot.

Here’s ~2k words in which I continuously get off on the idea of blessing a priest and unresolved sexual tension I also don’t resolve.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

“Fuck you, calling me Father like it doesn’t turn you on just to say it…”

It happens for maybe ten minutes before it starts to stick out to her. Because it’s cold, as it always is on early-spring nights in London, and while they’re both fully dressed (unfortunately), neither is probably quite dressed enough to be out in a garden at this hour. And they’re a bit drunk—not that drunk, they’re both pretty practiced—on the G&Ts he’s so fond of for whatever reason. He specifically likes the kind you get already mixed in a can, which are especially shit, but it’s almost endearing that he likes those in particular. Well, very endearing actually. Goddamn this man—or… hmm, poor choice of words.

It doesn’t really grab her attention until he combines the sniffling with pinching his nostrils together.

“You alright, you’re quite sniffly?”

“I know, I dunno what’s going on,” he says, and punctuates it with a harsher sniffle than the ones previously unacknowledged, “Think ‘m just cold.” He zips his sweatshirt up a bit as if to illustrate.

“We could get you a blanket and swaddle you up like baby Jesus.”

He laughs. She extracts from her coat pocket a pack of cigarettes, takes one herself and angles the carton toward him in offering. Mostly because she wants him to scoot closer to her on the bench as she flicks the lighter for him. The flame illuminates the angles of his face in orange, the back of his fingers grazing her hand by happy accident, and yes, it’s a little pathetic that this momentary skin-to-skin contact is as erotic as it is to her, but that’s what you get when you fancy a priest isn’t it?

“They’re always describing him as being swaddled. Odd word, swaddled. Sounds kind of violent.”

“It does kind of,” he agrees, leaning back against the bench and exhaling a stream of smoke into the night air. Her plan worked, he’s ever so slightly closer to her now, post cigarette exchange, close enough that when he sniffles she can feel the slight vibration of his shoulders through the loose fabric on her coat sleeve. It unites them like an accidental spark of electricity she can sense just faintly enough to feel jumpy. Or turned on. Or both.

She really shouldn’t be this shameless about trying desperately to corrupt a man of the cloth she wants to get under. Maybe she’d feel properly guilty if she wasn’t quite so fucking horny.

“So you did read more than just the passages I marked for you?” He asks, at once surprised and pleased and maybe nervous, grinning but also looking away for a moment as if he could disguise all of that.

“Not really, just the birth of the ol’ lord and savior. It seemed like it’d be climactic.”

“Was it?”

“Can’t say I climaxed reading it, no,” she says with a cheeky look that elicits the laughter she’s looking for, “No offense but it’s really quite boring, this book you love so much.”

“Yeah… that’s a tragically common sentiment among reviewers.” He’s scratching at his nose with the back of one wrist with such intensity it’s unmistakeable how much it’s bothering him.

“Don’t care much for the writing style either, I have to say.”

If the irritation could be resolved with a mouse-like scrunch of the nose he’d have figured it out by now, and clearly he hasn’t because he still has to shrink into his crossed arms like an accordion with a fairly high-pitched, vocal and thus somehow Irish-accented, “Hehh-ishhYUE!”

“Bless. The only way I was able to get through it was by imagining you in every speaking role.”

It’s a sentence meant to provoke him, not unlike most of her sentences, and for a minute as her eyes are on her own exhaled smoke and he fails to respond, she wonders whether it sounded even weirder than she meant it, but as it turns out he’s just about to sneeze again — squinting into the distance and bringing an arm to his face in slow motion.

“Mmff-SHOO!” He blinks in surprise as he resumes his previous position on the bench, now shifted just a bit farther away from her. Damn.

“Ugh, sorry. Every speaking role?? Ohfuck— ahh-ishSHEU!”

“Jesus.”

“You imagined me as Jesus??”

“No I mean Jesus, are you okay, did you catch something?” Of course she imagined him as Jesus.

“Ooh I hope not,” he says with a nervous look, “that’d be lousy timing.”

“The lord works in mysterious ways.”

“Thuh-that he does—” A sudden inhale, a crooked arm rising at a much hastened speed. It begins in a manageable way, somewhat controlled, but then it seems to get away from him.

“Hh… hehd’SHHUE!”

“Bless you, Father."

He mumbles a thank you bookended by soft snuffling.

“Maybe he’s sent you a plague of sneezing. He does that sometimes doesn’t he? Send plagues?”

His face just scarcely conveys amusement before it’s hijacked again by the same expectant expression, but he still attempts to talk through it, even as irritation becomes evident in every feature. “S-sometimes…”

She thinks about saying bless you in advance but decides instead to just wait for him to succumb to it. A flicker of lashes, a reveal of the very tips of canines, his entire face crinkles around his visibly twitching nose. It pulls him downward and then forward in that order, as he collapses into a crooked arm as if stumbling despite being seated.

An especially desperate, “hehhSCHOO!” that begins quietly but certainly doesn’t end that way.

“God bless you, Father, again.”

“Wow,” he says with a sniff, knuckles swiping under his nose in a single smooth motion, “Maybe I’m allergic to you. My body’s having a reaction.”

“Is it?”

An eyeroll and a grin, and then he goes back to scratching at his aggravated face in a manner that’s becoming aggressive.

“Well stop manhandling your nose that’s clearly not working.” Before she can think better of it, she takes his elbow to pull the offending arm away from his face. She can feel his muscles tense with the movement, but when she looks up at him there’s only a blurry-eyed smile chased by a nervous huff of a laugh. Another line she can’t uncross but doesn’t particularly want to.

The therapist hadn’t needed to point out that her all-consuming attraction to someone she couldn’t have was probably a healthy coping mechanism of her recently adopted abstinence. She hadn’t really expected this though — for her advances to not be rejected entirely. She hadn’t planned for hope to cease feeling like such a daft, one-sided notion.

“Should I even be blessing you or is that overkill? Or am I even qualified to bless you? Can one bless a priest if they’re not like, anointed or something?”

“You can bless me,” he confirms, looking like he’s barely got a handle on controlling his own eyebrows. Or lips for that matter. God, that mouth, those lips. Parting by accident the way she’d like to make them open on purpose.

“Little greedy of you. You’re not blessed enough as is?”

“Neh—neverhurts…” He pitches sidewards with a slurred, tellingly tipsy, “hehh-ESHHyoooo!”

“Bless you…”

“Thank you,” he sniffles with embarrassed necessity, bringing the back of a sleeve to his nose.

“Hold on, I think I have some tissues,” she says as she feels around in her bag in the darkness, “Well, cocktail napkins at least.” Another knuckle brush as she hands them to him. How arousing. How pitifully arousing. She really should come up with ways to hand him things more often.

“Ahh you were holding out on me,” he says, and then after a gentle blow, “Sorry.”

“You are coming down with something aren’t you?"

He thinks about it, bringing the napkin away from his nostrils with a final follow-up dab. “I dunno, maybe?”

“Do you feel ill?”

“Mostly just very itchy.”

How many other chances will she get… She reaches a hand to gingerly press the back of her fingers against his forehead. He blinks a few times in response, rapidly and reflexively, and swallows back a smile. There’s a burning in her stomach that’s neither pleasant nor unpleasant.

“Um, you feel okay I think?” She says, attention course-corrected back to the cigarette crumbling in her hand, but still glancing at him to measure the aftermath of the relatively bold gesture and they lock smiling eyes in the process.

If he really wanted to ward her off he’s doing a phenomenally shitty job of it. She knows he wants her. God if only that was enough, to know he wanted her.

“I think you’re right I’ve been sent a plague of sneezing. Probably trying to tell me something.”

“Something about how your new friend could take care of you?”

He grins with half of his mouth. “Or something about how I probably shouldn’t be drinking G&Ts in the middle of the night with my new friend who I like a little too much.”

Oh he… really shouldn’t have given her that.

“ExxSHHUE!!” He shakes the whole bench with this, then straightens back up, not looking entirely recovered, and says almost to himself, “And about how I probably shouldn’t tell my new friend that I like them a little too much.”

“But you did anyway and he hasn’t, I dunno, smote you down yet.”

Irritation is still etched into his features, his chest slowly swelling with air, hastily fiddling with the napkins.

“Are you actually going to sneeze again? You haven’t finished?”

He shakes his head as his eyes close and seizes into a rushed, “hehESHHyue!"

“It’s a plague I can’t stop! Snf, it’s out of my hands."

She knows the night’s over, she does. She gets the sense that she’d been invited to overstay her welcome, but it’s getting past that point now. Whenever she leaves after being around him her face hurts from smiling like an idiot the whole time and she comes away aching in more ways than one. That ache is starting already, another sign they’ve stretched this interaction too long once again.

However, alcohol. “If you tell me to leave and you sneeze again perhaps we’ll know whether or not it was divine intervention.”

“He might just be punishing me now anyway,” he sighs, remembering a cigarette he may not have taken a single drag from, neglected and foreshortening in his fingers.

“We haven’t done anything we’re just talking. I’m a—what is it, parishioner?”

“That is a word, yes. Snf! Though it implies someone who’s actually going to church to, you know, practice their faith."

“I’m a parishioner here to…” she’s not even sure what to say, she still doesn’t know shit about Catholicism aside from the fact that it’s a massive cockblock, “seek your… counsel? Guidance? Guidance counseling.”

He puts a hand over part of his face, tired but amused. “You can’t act innocent even when you’re trying your best, can you?"

She almost snorts. Is this what he thinks trying her best looks like?—No, don’t actually say— “Who said I was trying my best?”

Why can’t she stop herself from saying things like that to him? The only thing that’s going to stop her now is a ‘no’ that’s actually firm enough not to give way when she presses against it relentlessly. He honestly needs to just get it over with before he really gives her too much to hold onto. She’s not going to win out over God, the guy’s pretty fucking stiff competition.

Goddamnit, just break her heart already, what the fuck is he waiting for? This should have ended ages ago, and now it’s getting dangerously close to too late.

Was it unfair to assume he’d be stronger than her? Or is he trying to hurt himself too? A duetted exercise in masochism, mutually assured destruc—

“—ESSHHYUE!” He looks at her through wet lashes, bleary and sheepish and drunk and cute and fuck.

She sighs loudly, looks skyward and says, “Right, you’ve made your point! I’m leaving!”

[slashesotron]

can we pls get more priest avery content, im so thirsty for him 😩😩😩

You can! Have a fic co-written with a friend!

WARNINGS: This is pretty mild as far as material here goes. Father Sebastian is a huge repressed dork. Reader is AFAB and a Satanist. Sexual content; fades to black. Self-harm in a ‘penance’ context. A couple [censored] S/ims screenshots as a treat. Enjoy!

———–

You were dragged to church by a concerned friend. They were just trying to help, really. You had told them you weren’t religious, but they insisted- the confession booth is good for you, they said! Just try it!

And they just looked so earnest you couldn’t say no.

You felt out of place in the church, as pretty as it was, filled with the faithful. You spent most of the sermon in the bathroom on your phone, trying to stay awake… but your friend came and found you, chiding you gently and dragging you back into the fray, into the line for confession.

You just wanted to go home, but….

Finally, it’s your turn, and stepping into the dimly lit, ornately carved little room and closing the door, something comes over you and you find yourself spilling your guts.

About how lonely you are, about how frustrating things have been- about being single, about having been celibate for far too long- it all just slips out like something else is controlling your tongue.

You pause.

“… Sorry. I’m sure this is all gross and weird to you.”

“……….. No, I know.” Comes the soft voice from the outside of the screen.

“… Wait, what? Do you mean you understand what I’m going through? Or…”

“I do, and…. Uh, well. It would be inappropriate from a member of the clergy.”

“… What? You can’t talk about sex stuff? I can never remember how, like, chaste you’re supposed to be…”

“…. I can listen, but revealing my own would be… a breach of protocol.”

“Oh. yeah… I guess it would be weird for you to confess to me. Sorry..”

“Ah, no reason to apologize, my child… go on.”

“I’ve never actually done this before. I haven’t been inside a church since I was little..”

“All are welcome. One needn’t be a member of the church to seek solace here…”

“I just… I don’t know why I was even brought here. They wanted to help, but…”

“Tell me what’s on your mind. Has anything been bothering you…?”

“I’m just lonely, I have been since I graduated… I’m not doing anything with my degree, and I hate my job too.. that stupid video store is gonna close any day now, and then what’ll I do? I dunno… Sometimes I just wish I could escape.”

“I see… I can understand how frustrating that would be… your future seems hopeless to you right now, and that’s a tough place to be in….” He pauses. “Tell me… what would your ideal future look like?”

“Um, I guess… A cozy house with nice windows to let all the sunlight in… A job I don’t hate where I can make enough money to live comfortably… Maybe someone I like to live with too..”

“…. What’s that person like…?”

“Like, hypothetically? Because I haven’t met them yet…”

“Yes, hypothetically.”

“Okay, well…. Cute, tall, I guess… Maybe glasses, but that’s just my type. Um… Besides the superficial stuff, just… Someone who’s sweet and kind and will be patient with. Also hopefully likes nerdy stuff but… I don’t know. Just someone who’s nice.”

There’s a long silence from the other side of the booth.

“Uh, sorry. I’ll just… I don’t know how long I’ve been in here, my coworker is probably waiting, I need to go–”

“W-wait. Please.” Another few beats of silence. “…… Could you go through the door at the back of the aisle? Just…. go quickly, no one should stop you.”

You stop, not quite believing what you’re hearing.

“Wh-… okay? I-I can do that, I guess. Do you want me to go right now, or…?”

“Please.” His voice is soft and nervous.

“Okay, um… I’ll be right there, then…”

You get up, hoping no one sees you, and step through the door without looking back.

A moment after, a tall man in black robes slips through the back door of the confessional, gently closing it behind him… and then he turns. Pale, freckled, a sweet, friendly face. Big round glasses, long, slightly messy strawberry blond (in a tiny ponytail as you saw with his back turned), and a softly anxious smile. “I’m sorry, this is…. very irregular, I just….” He stammers as he walks to you.

You blush, mouth slightly open as you stare at him. You back up against the door when he walks over, in shock. “Ah… Father, I– what’s going on?”

He crosses himself, stopping as you back away. “I swear I mean you no harm,” he says gently, “…. Heavens though are you beautiful…. Ah!  My apologies. T-this is- I shouldn’t have-”

“No, I believe you! I just… nothing like this has ever happened to me before…” You offer him a small smile. “… You’re really cute.”

The flush is instant, deep, and he turns his head away. “I-I, ah” Hands wringing, searching for what to say. “This is… Deeply inappropriate…. But…” He looks at you again, a small, uncertain smile. “… I’m not sure what I’m doing, Lord forgive me, but I felt we had to meet.”

“You don’t have to feel bad, I just…” Now it’s your turn to look away, your eyes fixed on the floor. “This is just unexpected! it doesn’t mean it’s bad.” You’re quiet for a moment, and then- “… Do you want my number??”

“Ah, I…. I shouldn’t,” He answers quietly, looking down at himself. “I don’t have a cell phone, but… you can call the church office between services and I’ll usually answer, or…” He looks up, shy hope in his eyes. “… You could come back to confession any time.”

You laugh a bit, covering your mouth with your hand. “You’re actually going to make me want to come to church…. but that seems a bit excessive. Can’t we get coffee, or…?”

His face falls a little and he looks back down. “I… can’t be seen, um, fraternizing with the congregation… outside of my duties. There would be scandal…”

“Really…?” You frown too. “Well… I guess I’ll be back tomorrow. Can I at least have your name…?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry-” He extends a hand and smiles. “Father Sebastian Wynter.”

“Sebastian…” You roll it over in your mouth with a smile before shaking his hand and telling him your name.

He covers you hand in his with his own, holding it for a moment, his gentle grip nearly burning hot. “It’s good to meet you,” He smiles softly, a touch of pink on his cheeks. “…. Safe travels.”

Your face falls at his words. “Oh… yeah, I guess you have to get back to work… Will you be here tomorrow?”

“I’m always here, not to worry.” A sympathetic smile.

“Then I guess I’ll see you then!” You smile back at him and leave through the same door you came in.

The next day, back in church, you look and feel out of place; the nicest thing you had was something that makes you look like a member of the Addams family. Avoiding the looks you’re getting, you duck into the confession booth.

A soft voice from the other side. “God bless you, my child.” And silence.

“Um… Sebastian, is that you?”

A little gasp. “Oh! You came back…” A moment’s pause- “… Was there anyone else waiting?”

“Uh, i didn’t see anyone else out there. looks like everyone’s just chatting after the service.”

“Ah, then… The door, then.” There’s the rustling of fabric as he moves, and the quiet click of the exit on his side.

“The same one…? Okay…” You get up and head through the door at the back of the aisle, adjusting your clothes as you look up at him. “I thought we were just going to talk in there… it’s nice to be able to see you, though.”

He looks surprised. “Oh, ah- my apologies, I shouldn’t have assumed-” And then his eyes flick guiltily over you, and his eyes widen, and he blushes.

Your eyes go wide too, and you smile nervously. “…What is it? Is there something wrong?”

He jolts slightly with a barely audible gasp, looks away. Crosses himself. “N-no, I just… I’ll need to add to my nightly penance. A pause, and he looks back, his expression warm, almost glowing… with a hint of something off. ”…… You are so very beautiful….“

“Thank you, um…” Confused, and fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve- you do like him but this is pretty weird… “What do you mean by nightly penance?”

He glances back down, nervous again. “Part of my devotion to God is penance for my sins. I can’t do confession, after all,” A short, sheepish laugh. “I… shouldn’t be fraternizing like this, a-and…” He murmurs, mortified, under his breath. “……. Impure thoughts.”

“Is this really that bad? I mean, I don’t even go here regularly. I don’t believe in this stuff… I only came here to talk to you, and the day before someone else took me. Does that really count as fraternization…?” You take a step closer, looking up with a worried expression. “I… really don’t think it’s a bad thing if we go out and get coffee.”

His nervousness clearly increases as you come closer, and he wrings his hands as he speaks. “Y-you may not, my dear, but I’ve quite literally dedicated my life to it… Priests, you see-” He sighs, takes a deep breath, and starts again. “…. Priests take a vow of celibacy. We aren’t supposed to go to coffee with people for… r-romantic reasons.” A pause, and more quietly.“….. E-even if we want to.”

Your face falls, but you don’t move to leave. “…Oh… I see…”

A few moments of awkward silence. “….. We could talk here,” He suggests, quiet, hopeful.

“… In this weird little back room…? I guess we could, yeah…” You’re quiet for a bit longer, and then, “Do you want anything out of this? Or do you just want someone to talk to..? Either one is fine! I’m just… I like to know what I’m in for..”

His eyes flick away, his smile gone. “…. I….. I don’t know…. I….”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to upset you..  This is just a pretty new experience for me, and I just wanted to clarify…”

“N-no! No, you- you didn’t, it’s alright! It’s…” He looks away again, this time blushing profusely. “… It’s also very new for me. Uh,” He gestures to a couple of old wooden chairs. “Shall we sit?”

You look around before nodding at him, sitting on one of them as you look at your feet. “Can I ask you a question..?”

“A-ah, yes, of course.”

“Why did you want to meet me so badly…? Do you usually talk to people in this back room?”

That blush gets worse. “….. No. I don’t. This is… Just a room for clergy…” “…. I wanted to meet you b-because….” He hesitates, looks away, voice barely audible. “…. Because the person you described as your ideal partner sounded very much like me.”

Your eyes go a bit wide, you actually weren’t expecting that… “O-oh. really?? I thought so too, when I first saw you, actually…” You mumble that last part, looking away when you say it.

A long, awkward silence drags on in the little space.

“….. S-so! What are your hobbies!”

“Oh! Uh, I like scary movies and comics! How about you…? Anything besides, uh… God stuff?”

“Ah! I, ah, enjoy the occasional horror movie as well… They’re… A guilty thing, hardly appropriate, but…. Well. Do you… Have a favourite type?”

Your eyes light up. “Oh, you do? Really? I love slasher films, Scream is my favourite, but I really like found footage too! What about you?”

“Oh, y-yes, those… all of those are good, heh,” He wrings his hands. “Some quieter Japanese horror is also… fascinating….”

“Oh! I just watched The Ring last week!”

“That’s wonderful… That sounds like such a… p-pleasant experience….” Wring, wring. “… It would be so lovely to watch them with you….” He murmurs, looking away.

“I’d love that!” Your face falls. ”… But you can’t, can you? Fraternization, and all that…“

"I’ll… I’ll see what I can do. All we have in the church is an old TV-VCR for the children… If we had a laptop….”

“I have a laptop! But it’s at home…” You pause. “… You know, I’m used to movie nights where we go to each other’s houses…”

He looks aghast for a moment but it melts into thought. “…. If it was after hours… it could…. greatly lessen the risk of being seen…..”

“Yeah, see! We could even go to a bar or something… When exactly is after hours?”

The look of horror is back. “A- a bar? Oh, heavens no-” He clears his throat and smooths his robes over his lap. “Ah… 9 or 10pm would be best.”

“It was just a suggestion!  Sorry… I keep forgetting you’re an actual priest.” You laugh nervously.  "Well, perfect! That’s when I’m usually off work, but… What time is it now?”

He looks over to an old clock- “Ah… about 1pm…. It would be a while from now…. regrettably.”

“Oh! you could just– No, no, don’t listen to me. Nevermind!” You laugh again. “Never mind. Do you wanna just meet tonight, then?”

“W-wait, what-” If this man wrings his hands any more, they’re going to be raw. “Forgive me… what were you going to say…?”

“Ah, uh…. There’s a joke about satanic temptation in here, but… I was just gonna say that, uh. You could skip out on your church bullshit?”

He puts a damn hand to his heart and looks prone to faint “My—! My church–!!”

“N- no, you’re right, that’s… that’s not a good idea….”

He looks away and murmurs. “M-maybe none of this is a… good idea…”

You touch his arm, concerned. “I’m sorry! I wasn’t actually suggesting that you–” He made a little sound when you touched him, and now he’s REALLY blushing. “Oh.”

“I-I guess not. I’m sorry. I can leave.”

“No! Please… N-no. To….tonight. I can… come by. Is…. is that alright?”

“If you want to. Only if you want to… Oh God, I’ve been pressuring you into all this, haven’t I…?“

"N-no! No, I-” He gently grabs your hand in both of his; they’re almost uncomfortably hot. “Please. I….. I’m not very… good. At this. But….” A small smile. “… I’d like to figure it out.”

You take a deep breath, and then another, trying to calm down. “Okay. I’m sorry. Where did you want to meet…? Just my apartment, or?”

“I suppose that would be best… If- If you’d be comfortable….?”

“Yeah, that’s fine..! I hope you don’t mind it being a bit messy… but i can clean before you get there! Here–” Digging in your pocket, you pull out a pen and paper and scribble your address onto it. “Will you be able to find it okay..?”

“Ah- yes. I’m sure I’ll be alright…. um… 9pm?”

“Sure!” Your smile is back for a moment, but it fades again.  "Ah.. I’m sure you have to get back to your, uh, church bullshit.“

He laughs awkwardly this time. "Ah! Y-yes… church, uh, things, heh…” He gets up. “I, uh… It’s been very lovely seeing you again, dear- I mean, ah. I… very much look forward to tonight….”

“Yeah, I’m excited!” You get up too. “I’m… still really sorry if I upset you at all.”

“Oh, no! Please don’t worry… You’re very sweet and kind, I’m simply… not used to this,” He smiles. Awkward silence… then he kinda does a half-bow. “I’ll… I’ll see you later.”

You’re about to leave, but… “Oh… one more thing! What should I call you?”

“Oh! Um… Just… Sebastian, I suppose, as long as we’re out of earshot of everyone here…”

“Okay! Well…” You smile, “I’ll see you tonight.. Sebastian.“

A shaky smile. "Until then.”

He waits for you to leave before following.  Spends the whole day beside himself with nerves; several people ask him if he’s sick and insist he rest, but he insists in turn that he’s fine. He’s so relieved when he’s finally home… But then he remembers why he’s home, and the nerves return tenfold. He takes a shower, makes himself presentable… All the while wondering what the fuck he’s doing. When he rings the doorbell, his heart feels fit to burst out of his chest.

There’s a thump, a muffled ‘shit!’ from behind the door, the sound of the lock clicking, and then there you are, holding the door open. You’d swapped out your attempt at a church outfit for simple black jeans and a t-shirt.

“Hi..! I’m glad you found the place okay, come on in!” It’s a small apartment, opening up into the living room, a decently sized tv, surrounded by shelves and shelves of horror films both on DVD and VHS. To top everything off, there’s a large tapestry covering the window emblazoned with a pentagram.

He’s smiling, but he looks distinctly on edge; even despite the immaculate white button down under a beige sweater vest and slightly darker slacks, the creases down the fronts perfectly pressed right down to gleaming dress shoes. “H-hello!” He answers, stepping inside and nearly falling over at the sight of the flag. He crosses himself, murmuring a prayer under his breath automatically.

“Oh…!  You look so nice, I wasn’t expecting– Woah!” You put your hands out to steady him. “Are you okay? Do you need water??  Here, come sit…” You rest a hand on his back, guiding him to the couch.

He doesn’t budge. Like he’s frozen. He’s staring at that flag… won’t go any closer to it, still murmuring prayers.

“Sebastian…? H-hey.. what’s wrong?“

His eyes snap to you almost like he was in a trance. "I–” He takes a breath. “…I wasn’t expecting, ah- s-satanic m…materials. Blasphemy is, v-very uncomfortable….”

“Oh! Oh god, I’m so sorry, I thought I told you I was a satanist!! Uh… here, I can take it down, okay?” You offer an attempt at a reassuring smile. “And we can just… not go into my room!”

He’s still gazing at the tapestry, now as if lost in thought, not looking at you. “… My dear…. w-why would you want to spend time with someone like me?”

Your face falls for what feels like the millionth time today, and you start fidgeting with the hem of your shirt again. “I could ask you the same thing…“

"D-do…. Do you want me to be here? I…. I just don’t understand…. Are you seeking… salvation? Penance? C-…. companionship? I-I’m not sure if I should be concerned this is a cry for assistance or-”

“I… I thought… Earlier, you said that my ideal partner sounded a lot like yourself, and I…. I don’t know, it’s dumb for me to get my hopes up about things like that, but…..”

You look down at your feet. “It’s not a cry for help, I don’t want to atone for anything… I just like you.”

His voice is very very soft and gentle. “I…. I admit to having allowed myself the unwise reverie of.. something… with you, but…. my dear, am I not….” He sighs. “I do try not to judge. These are modern times, a-and things are changing, but… Would I not be…. an ill fit for you because of, well….?” He pulls a long silver chain out from under his shirt, a large, fine-looking silver cross dangling from it.

“I… I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal, I…” You sigh. “You… you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I can tell you’re uncomfortable. I’m sorry, Sebastian…”

He smiles, shakily. “I… I am. But I’m… always uncomfortable. Especially, ah…” He nervously runs a hand through his hair to get it out of his face. “E-especially… out of my element. Please understand… I’ve, ah, not been on…. a date, um… well. Ever….”

“Wait, ever? Not at all? Not even in high school?”

He’s blushing terribly. “Er, y-yes. I… I went to an all boy’s Catholic school, and the same for college and seminary school…. And since then, the, heh, the vows and all, so….” There he goes wringing his hands again…

“Oh… Oh, wow.” You blink at him, eyes wide. “You’re dedicated, aren’t you..? Wow…. Well, first, why don’t you sit down…? I can get you a glass of water or something, if you want.”

“Y-yes, it’s… been my life’s passion- oh,” He goes, somewhat hesitantly, over to the couch, and sits primly, clearly feeling very awkward. “That would be lovely, th-thank you very much.”

“… Sure.” You smile a bit, going over to the kitchen and returning soon after with some water, setting the glass on the coffee table in front of him before sitting down next to him. “So! Movie? Video game? … Board game?”

He tenses right up as you sit down, eyes darting to look at you even though he’s still facing perfectly forward, hands folded in his lap like he’s been posed for a family photo. You’re close enough that the scent of you wafts over to him, and suddenly he’s very very glad his hands are hiding his lap. “… The plan was, ah, a movie, yes? Some horror, I believe…”

“Oh, sure! Have you seen Scream? It’s my favorite!“

"I’ve been, ah, meaning to watch those…”

Your face lights up. “So you haven’t seen it yet? Perfect!” You jump up and head over to the shelf, bending down to grab the dvd before popping it in the player and getting everything set up.

His eyes are on your rear before he can stop them, and he’s immediately looking away and berating himself, murmuring yet another prayer to keep himself from temptation. His pants are…. Uncomfortable.

You turn around, smiling and blissfully unaware, before sitting back down next to him. You’re a bit closer to him than you were before, though not on purpose. “Do you need anything else before I start the movie?” You ask, remote in hand.

“Ah, no, thank you! You’re a wonderful host,” He smiles. “Sh-shall we?”

“Aw, thank you!”  You smile at him before nodding and pressing play, setting the remote down and getting comfortable.

He does not move, sitting stiffly like he’s made of wood. He anxiously tries to ignore your proximity and focus on the movie… But his breath catches ever so softly at the first onscreen shriek and spray of blood.

You look over at him, tilting your head. “… Are you okay? You said you liked horror, but… is this too bloody?”  Scooting closer to him, you hover a hand over his arm, worried

The slightest jolt. He looks over and smiles. “Oh, no, I’m fine. Please don’t worry!” His pants are growing painful.

“Well… just let me know, okay?” Smiling at him, you settle back onto the couch without moving back over.

Someone else on screen dies a gory, noisy death. His heart is pounding out of his chest as he desperately prays for strength to control himself. But the next death is too full of deliciously real screams of pain and fear, clothing torn, skin showing, blood pouring over it so tantalizingly that he breaks. “E-excuse me,” he breathes, and nearly trips over himself hurrying to the washroom, practically bodyslamming the door closed. He can’t get his pants open fast enough, already a slick mess of pre anyway, and he half-sobs silently into his free hand while the other strokes a desperately quick pace.

“W-wait, Sebastian, are you–?” But he’s already slammed the door before you can catch him. Getting up and pausing the movie, you head over to the bathroom door, knocking softly. “Sebastian…? Are you okay? Please tell me you’re not getting sick…”

He turns on the water. “I’m fine!!” He calls, almost even-voiced. “Just, nature calls! Heh,” Can a meteor strike him right now please? You being at the door amplifies his shame to a fever pitch, which, for some reason, his dick doesn’t seem to object to. An image of you bending over in front of the TV flits, unbidden, over his memory…. It’s immediately changed to less clothes… bare skin… blood over that beautiful smoothness, and- His whole body jolts as he curls in on himself, biting his fist to stay silent- successfully, thank God- and he catches his breath for a moment before running his messy palm under the water.

“O-oh, sorry!” You call, a bit embarrassed now. “You got up so quickly, I thought you had to throw up or something…” Muttering another apology under your breath, you get up and head back to your spot.

It’s a few more minutes before he comes out; having washed his hands and fixed himself all up. “Sorry about that,” He smiles, “I, ah, suppose I’m a little nervous. Shall we continue?”

“That’s okay!”  You reply quickly, unsuspicious. “I didn’t mean to, like… pretty much follow you into the bathroom, haha. I was just worried this movie was too much! Are you sure you want to keep watching?  It gets bloodier.”

“Ah, I assure you, it’s fine. I’ve seen many movies of this sort…” He sits back down, folding his hands primly in his lap again… With the left one covered.

“Alright then!” You press play, glancing over at him. “…You’ll tell me if you’re uncomfortable though, right? I worry…”

“Oh of course! You’re very kind….” But nothing untoward happens for the rest of the film.

As the credits roll, you get up, bending over again to pop the DVD out of the player and put it back on the shelf. “Wanna do something else?” You ask, without turning around.

He tries to look away, but ends up looking right at the flag again… So he stares at the floor instead. “Ah… It’s getting late, I should… I should probably be getting back….”

“Oh…” Your shoulders slump as you get back to your feet, turning around to face him. “Is it that late already…? I was having so much fun with you, I didn’t even notice…. It’s been a while since I’ve had any guests, haha.. Here, um… I can walk you to your car…?”

“Ah… I’m very sorry, my dear,” He smiles apologetically. “It’s just that I need to be up at 5 to be ready for service… D-don’t worry, though! We could do this again!”

Your eyes widen a bit. “Holy shit, 5 am?! Gross…” But suddenly you have an idea, and you make a mental note to check your work schedule to see whether or not you open tomorrow. “I’d really like to do this again..! I can put the tapestry away next time!”

“Ah! A-as long as there’s something else covering the window, I suppose….”

He stands there awkwardly, not sure what to say next.  "Er…. See you at church….?“

"I was going to walk you to your car, if that’s okay?” You move over to the door, opening it for him. “The least I can do…”

“C-certainly, heh…. Such a fine host…..” He follows, his nerves amping back up fast, and he shoves his hands in his pockets.

You laugh a little, shutting and locking the door behind you as you lead him down to the parking lot. “Which car is yours…?”

“Th-this one, here we are…” It has standard keys… No autolock… It’s also beige. He turns to face you, smiling. “Thank you, you. It’s been a lovely evening….”

“Yeah! I had fun! I really hope you did too. I’ll see you again soon, and maybe next time I can make us dinner or something..!”

“Oh! Th-that would be, ah, very nice…. How kind of you to offer.” The sweet, excited, earnest look on your face melts his heart, and something twists deep inside…. I don’t want you to look at anyone else like that, ever!

He inhales a little sharply, then smiles. “I suppose this is goodnight…”

“Yeah…” You nod, but don’t move to leave, looking very hesitant. He pauses too, but finally he smiles and turns to get into his car.

“Good night, Sebastian…”

You watch him drive away with a dull pain in your chest, but your heart’s still pounding hard when you think about surprising him at the morning service tomorrow .

And he gets home a wreck. His trip to the bathroom at your house is only the first that night, and by the third he’s in tears… He pays his penance viciously afterwards, so much so he isn’t able to sleep for hours from the pain. But he’s there in church in the morning before anyone else, a beacon of light as always.

You didn’t manage to sleep at all, too nervous that you’d sleep in and miss the morning service, but there you are, all dressed up in your best attempt to look nice for him. Too afraid to sit near the front and risk getting caught up in conversation with someone, you find a seat in the back and wait for the service to start.

The congregation hushes as Sebastian steps to the podium; he smiles and nods in greeting to everyone, about to begin his sermon- when he spots you, who blends into the crowd here like a peacock in a bookstore. His jaw half-drops, moves like he’s trying to find words, but they’ve all left him; last night all comes back and smacks him over the head with the force of a flying brick, and in a second he’s blushing and acutely aware that he now needs to stay behind the podium…. he reaches forward to rest his hands on it, to steady himself, gain some composure- but all it does is remind him of how incredibly sore his back is. People are starting to murmur, confused. Finally, he smiles again, and apologizes, charming and collected- nothing like the stuttering mess you’re used to.

His sermon is remarkably captivating, the audience not making a peep throughout… and once he’s finished, he leads them through prayers, then blessing newcomers to the church and taking communion. Finally, he heads to the confession booth, getting entangled in conversation many times along the way… until he slips inside and the door closes behind him.

You wait a while, this time…. It seems like half the congregation has something to get off their chests. People scurry in and out, heads down, one after the other… but finally, people are starting to disperse and you have your chance.

“Hi, Sebastian… I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have come here, I just wanted to surprise you!”

There’s a soft gasp at the sound of your voice, interrupting his quiet standard greeting. “O-oh! H-hello, dear…. Er, d-did you enjoy the service….?” He asks, sounding heartrendingly hopeful.

You hesitate. “Um, I felt really out of place, and I wasn’t sure what was going on… I didn’t know any of the prayers, but…. You were so passionate about what you were doing! I really enjoyed that….”

He looks a little concerned at you words until you praise his sermon, and then he lights up a little, colour dusting his cheeks. “Ah… Y-you’re so very kind, thank you.” He hesitates. “….. I could teach you the prayers… We could do your blessing and communion right now, even…”

“You could…? Would you really teach me? ….. Um, what’s the blessing? And ‘communion’?”

He lights right up at the first half of you words- I could save you after all!! - but he stops dead “Ah… I’d anoint you with holy water, and then you take the bread and wine that is the body and blood of Christ, if you choose to let him into your heart to save your soul…”

There’s another pause, this time much longer and much more uncomfortable. “Uh… the holy water thing is fine, I guess, but… Does my soul really need to be saved?”

“W-well…..” He stares at his feet, wringing his hands again, voice quiet. “An unsaved soul goes to the fires…. The idea of you suffering like that for eternity is….” His breath hitches, and he looks away.

“Well, I mean…. I don’t really think that’s going to happen to me? I don’t even really think there is much of an afterlife, and if there is, I’ll probably party it up in hell anyway. Because, well, you know. Satanist.” .

The look he fixes you with is pure, unfiltered worry and heartbreak, genuine concern, big blue eyes glassy in the low light. All he can do is blink a few times, opening his mouth like he wants to say something, closing it again… And finally he sighs and looks back down. His voice cracks slightly. “I…. I see.”

Your eyes are wide and apologetic, asking for forgiveness. “Wait! All I was trying to say was that I won’t suffer, so please don’t worry! I’ll be okay…”

“I’m….. I’m afraid that’s not how it works in the eyes of the Lord, m-my dear, but….. I cannot- will not- force you. I, ah-” He heaves a sigh, bringing a shaky smile back to his face as he runs a hand through his hair. “D-did you… did you still want to learn the prayers…?”

“I… yeah! If it would make you happy…!“

And his face falls again. ”…. Ah. If it’s only for me, then… that’s alright. I, ah, appreciate your… consideration… you’re very kind.“ You frown too, hearing the dismay in his voice. You don’t want to be involved in this stuff at all, but maybe it was a mistake to tell him that… you just want to make him happy.

He tries to stretch a little and flinches… then flusters. Right. Last night…

"Er-” He starts again, awkwardly, “-I must attend to the flock for several more hours, but, ah…. If you wanted to…. watch another film tonight…..?”

You perk right up at his offer. “Really? Yeah!! I can make dinner for you and everything!”

He smiles, a little tightly, but he eases after a moment. “That’s, ah, very generous of you, my dear… What time would be appropriate…?”

You sigh, releasing a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. “It just depends on when you’re free tonight!”

“I believe… I should be free at eight o'clock, provided all goes well… would… would that be alright?”

“Yes!! I’ll be ready then! Do you remember my address? ’ll cook something I think you’ll like, I’ll take down my tapestry, I’ll pick a good movie…! I’ll make sure you have fun!”

“Ah, y- yes. I do. You’re very kind, you…. I’m… Very grateful.” A pause. “…. I should return to my duties… Until tonight, then?”

“Okay! I’ll see you later!” And with that, you duck out of the confession booth.

That night, you’re setting two plates of spaghetti and meatballs onto the coffee table, along with a basket of garlic bread and two glasses of water. You aren’t sure if he likes soda, and alcohol was definitely a no-go, so… Water was the safest option there. With the DVD menu for a movie playing at a nice low volume, that tapestry safely tucked away, and a few candles lit, you do one last check to make sure everything is in order.

At eight o'clock exactly there’s a crisp knock on the door, and there he is again- a nice sweater with a collared shirt under it, pleated slacks, shining dress shoes, his red-golden hair tied up neatly at his nape, his bangs partly tucked behind his ears. He’s smiling, looking as nervous as ever, and he’s holding…. A fruit basket.

You jump a bit before going over to open the door, resisting the urge to hug him and just giving him a bright smile instead. “Hi, Sebastian…! Come in!!” You step aside to let him in before going to sit on the couch, patting the spot beside you. “I technically have a kitchen table, but I thought it would be more fun to eat while we watched movies!”

“Oh! How… novel!” He smiles, clearly having never done such a thing before. He hands over the gift a little awkwardly, not sure what to do with his hands a moment later. He sits where you indicate, folding his hands in his lap just like the first time. “It smells wonderful, you…! Ah, what are we watching…?”

“Thank you! This is pretty…. Oh, It’s another horror, a bit lower key this time. It’s about ghosts! I really like it, hopefully you will too.”

“My pleasure, not at all, not at all… I hope you, heh, enjoy it…” Another awkward pause. He obviously had no idea what to get you. “Ah, ghosts? That sounds…. Interesting…. Not about the Holy Ghost, I take it? Heh….”

You laugh a bit, still holding the fruit basket on your lap. “No, it’s… kind of hard to describe. You’ll see, and it’s not bloody or anything.” Pressing play and carefully putting the fruit basket aside, you pull your plate of spaghetti over to you and take a bite as the opening credits start.

He just laughs a little and takes his plate, but then pauses- “Ah, might there be a napkin I could use, dear?”

“Oh!” You set your plate down immediately. “Of course! Let me go grab some!” You hop up and rush into the kitchen, returning shortly after with a small stack. “Here you go!”

He stares at them, confused, for a good second, then hesitantly reaches out and takes one.

“Ah! T-thank you….” He unfolds it, all the way. Looks at it despairingly. Drapes it over his lap anyway.

You tilt your head, confused. “Is something wrong? Sorry if they’re shitty– uh, bad, I mean.”

“Oh, ah, it’s alright! Please don’t worry, dear. Thank you! Let’s say grace-” He takes one of your hands gently as he bows his head. They’re soft. Surprisingly so, for how big they are, and so warm it almost feels like he might have a fever. “Bless us, oh Lord, and these gifts-” He stops suddenly. “…. Ah, I- I shouldn’t- I don’t want to offend-”

The moment he grabs your hand, you drop the fork that you had just grabbed, and cringe as it clatters loudly onto the plate. For some reason, you didn’t even think about the fact that he’d want to say grace… More importantly, Sebastian is holding your hand. It takes a significant amount of willpower for you to not do anything weird, but you allow yourself this blissful moment- before coming back to reality. “No, it’s okay! If you want to, please go ahead.. it doesn’t offend me at all,” You offer gently.

He’s just staring at you, expression nervous but unreadable, the pulse felt through his palm strong and fast. He looks at you, then at your as if willing himself to let go, but he doesn’t, and the seconds tick by, and that beat only speeds up. He drops you hand and stands suddenly. "E- excuse me,��� He stutters, and the bathroom door slams a second later.

“Ah… Sebastian, are you–?”  This time you don’t make any move to catch him or follow him, in the hopes that he’ll feel less uncomfortable. A heavy sigh, and you lean back on the couch, staring at the spaghetti on the table in front of you. And then hear something- it’s quick, and it’s quiet, but it almost sounded like a moan. More specifically, someone trying to muffle a moan.

You freeze. Oh my god, no. That couldn’t have been.. he’s not…. he can’t be! …but what if he is?

Despite your mind screaming at you not to, to sit back down and just wait for him like a normal person, you slowly stand, making your way over to the bathroom door- and this time unmistakable now that you’re closer, definitely Sebastian, definitely stifled. You knock softly.

The bathroom goes utterly silent, and there’s a few pregnant seconds before anything else. “I- I’ll just be a moment!” He calls, clearly trying to sound normal, but his voice is strained and from here you can hear that he’s breathless…

You stand there trying to figure out what the fuck you’re supposed to say. What are you supposed to say when your date ends up doing that in your bathroom?

It’s now or never.  "…Sebastian, I… I would. Um. I’d like you to come out here, please.“

Clearly trying to convince you that he’s only in your bathroom to relieve himself in the regular way, he makes an attempt at a joke in reply- "Haha! I’m, er, I prefer privacy when nature calls, j-just a moment-”

“… I heard you. Please come out here.“

Dead fucking silence.

For a while, it seems like he’s just going to pretend he doesn’t exist. Then finally, finally, there’s the sound of the tap running, then the soft click of the doorknob, and he comes out looking like he desperately wants to be struck down by holy retribution. Whole body stiff. Arms at his sides. His hair is in his face, but his head is partly turned away anyway, and what skin is visible is so incredibly red it looks like he somehow got a third-degree sunburn while he was in there. He says nothing.

You aren’t looking at him, either. There’s an uncomfortable silence before you take a breath, measuring what you’re about to say.

"I… suppose I just– I don’t quite understand why you need to hide in the bathroom and take care of yourself like that when you’re on a date with me.” Flushed, the back of your mind still screaming at you, you step forward, close enough to kiss him if you leaned up.

“I mean… I’m right here.”

His breath catches, barely audible, as he states down at you with wide, almost wild eyes, but he’s looked away again a second later. “I–!” He already sounds choked up. “I’m not supposed to do anything like this! To be here! And yet here I am, letting my sinful desires get the better of me, I– I can’t even show my gratitude for your hospitality! I should- I should go-” And he moves to extract himself from between you and the bathroom door.

“What?! No, please–” In a moment of panic and tearing up, you grab him, both hands holding tightly onto his upper arms. “I want you to stay! You said you aren’t even supposed to be here, but you drove here, twice! You listened to me that first day in confession, and you wanted to meet me in the back room! So you must want this as much as I do…!”

The second you touch him, he freezes; and he stays like that, still as death, until you’re silent again. Moments pass, his eyes never wavering from you.

Your voice softens, gaze sliding down to the floor along with your grip on his arms. “….Don’t go. I really want you to stay, and um…”

“….. I could help you take care of that.”

….. Slowly, hesitantly, he raises a hand to your face, fingertips ghosting down your jaw with agonizing slowness… His wide eyes flick down and fixate on your lips, and his thumb follows, brushing over the soft skin with reverence and disbelief. you can feel his hand shaking.

In complete awe, your eyes lidded and lips parted slightly, you melt into his touch.

“Sebastian…” Your voice is soft. “Come closer…”

His breathing has already picked back up, the tremble in it audible, but he does as you ask… Shuffling awkwardly forward and curling an arm around your waist, but there’s still space between your bodies. He starts to lean down, painfully slow like before, but soon enough his face is only an inch away from you, flushed deeply, sweat beading on his temples, breath heavy as if he’d already been making out for a while…. though his eyes are still as big as ever.

Unable to wait any longer, you grab the front of his shirt and yank him down, standing on your tiptoes as you press your lips to his. Everything you’ve been too afraid to tell him pours into the kiss. Your arms wrap softly around his neck and you pull him closer, one of your hands moving to run through his hair.

Barely a second after your lips touch, he convulses with a strangled groan, fingers digging into you back as he nearly doubles over- not breaking the kiss, but effectively dipping you by accident. He pulls off a moment later only to gasp into your shoulder, the shaking even worse now.

You decide not to ask about it, not wanting to make him feel worse than he probably already does. Moving your hand down to rub his back, all you want to do is comfort him. You’re tempted to ask him if this is better than hiding in the bathroom, but you keep your mouth shut, opting for a sweet forehead kiss instead.

He just clings to you for a few long moments, his trembling never fading, his hair slightly damp, skin misted, head down…. until suddenly he’s kissing you again, aggressively, but with a side of near-adolescent uncoordination, his hands running up you sides as he groans, furtively groping at your chest, pulling at your clothes.

You let out a tiny sound of surprise, melting into his touch. Your hands find his shoulders before stroking slowly down his chest, then you pull away for just a moment.  "Sebastian.. let’s go to my room–“

He almost doesn’t seem to hear you for a few seconds, too distracted with getting his hands anywhere he can reach- but he relents, pulling back just enough to give you a little nod, all burning eyes and red ears. The intensity falters slightly, his characteristic nerves showing through, but he follows where you lead.

Pulling urgently on his wrist, you lead him into your bedroom, hoping the altar in the corner is inconspicuous enough. You throw yourself onto your unmade bed, and with another excited tug, you’re pulling him on top of you. Eyes glazed, unfocused, lips parted in a pant as he finds himself barely balanced over you; he’d be mortified by how obvious his hardon is like this (never mind the mess) if he wasn’t miles away right now. He’s back to it in a blink, your shirt  pulled up and his hands on your chest, then his mouth…. He’s clearly never done this before, and it’s like he wants to do everything first, hands wandering with fervour and impatience. The only hesitation is when his fingertips graze the top hem of your underwear- he pulls his hand away, pauses for an uncertain second, and goes back to kissing you instead.

"Sebastian…” You breathe, your voice soft, giggling at the sudden touch, but your laughter quickly dissolves into happy moans. Despite his inexperience, you’re very much enjoying yourself. Reaching a hand out, you stroke through his hair, gently encouraging him to keep going. Your breath hitches in anticipation upon feeling his hand move down for just a moment– before he pulls away. You open your mouth to protest, but you’re cut off by another kiss before you can say anything. Grinning against his lips, you push him away just enough for you to speak. “Why’d you move your hand? I want you…”

That purr from you, that tone, drags a moan out of him as you fingers catch on his hair tie, spilling loose red-gold locks against his burning face. “A Thiarna, déan trócaire orm,” He hisses desperately against your neck, gone to hide and lay sloppy kisses against your skin as his hand snakes down between you- and right down the offending garment. The sound out of him at what he finds is accompanied by another shudder, different this time, palm slipping up slowly, then down- and then he yanks your underwear off and himself down, devouring you before you can blink.

---