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imagines-by-cleo · 3 months ago

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The Whisper of the Serpent

Part 3 of the Absolution series - Part 1, Part 2

John Ward x Fem!Reader

Sorry this one took so long! I've been so busy with holidays and work that I didn't have a lot of writing time, and I took my sweet time writing this one because I wasn't ready to let it go yet (if that makes any sense). I did so much research while writing this series that I almost converted; jk but it's definitely accurately sacrilegious.

Anyway, happy Easter!

CW: SMUT, hierophillia, premeture ejaculation, oral sex (m receiving), masturbation, fingering, dirty talk, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, mild degradation

"Just one more." He sweetly lies against your lips so you'll kiss him again, making you giggle as he leans in just after you pull away.

With his heart beating like a drum, practically ready to burst out from underneath his cassock, John pauses to listen for anyone that could be outside. The little chapel had once again become a sanctuary for sin, a place where he could hide his transgressions from the church and the world over and over for as long as he could get away with.

"Don't you have somewhere you need to be?" You tease as the organ begins to play.

John doesn't respond right away, he only stares at that all too innocent smile in a desperate attempt to commit it to memory. His feet seem to be stuck to the stone floor and his legs heavy as lead with the unwillingness to step away even to perfom the rituals he had sacrificed his entire life to dutifully perform.

"What's wrong?" You ask, no doubt noticing him drifing away.

"Nothing. Just..." He trails off, he wouldn't spoil this for you, not if he didn't have to "Just one more."

While he presses his lips to yours a final time he wraps his arm tightly around your waist, wishing in the most shameful recesses of his soul that he could carry you out of here and forget every holy thing that acts as a barrier between the him and you.

"John, you better go." You whisper the words that he hates to hear against his lips.

"Father." He corrects you with a gentle squeeze around your waist that makes you smile again.

Only after he silently prays for the strength to walk away can he untangle himself from you and leave the defiled little chapel. Even his prayers have now become reckless and casual, he can hardly grip the rosary or kneel at the alter anymore.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I'll repent; eventually, I promise." He mutters a butchered summary of contrition before donning his vestments and readying for the procession.

It's hard to tell if the temptations that normally plague him night and day are becoming less frequent or that they're so frequent he no longer notices or fears them. The cold righteous finality of divine judgment was now distant and far away and would be a relief compared to the silent secretive earthly judgement of his parishioners that he is now wary of. As he strides up to the altar John is uncomfortably aware of the eyes on his back, practically poking into his skin like needles. A constant anxiety that he will ignore until he simply can't.

Even standing at the podium with an unfelt homliy passing his smiling lips, he knows that he has no right to stand in that most high place. All the eyes of heaven look down and already see his sins yet there is only witness on earth to his trespasses that he is glad to not find in the pews this morning. Though he would hardly notice even if they are with his gaze fixed conspicuously on you, smiling like a schoolboy at his sweetheart when you return the glances.

Until the service is done he watches you with a passion he could hardly remember why he vowed to forsake, waiting patiently to get you alone just one more time. Though with the image in front of him, it was not difficult to find patience, he would gladly watch you smiling and laughing in small talk for hours, and for a moment he believes he will; until someone catches your arm and whisperes something to you. The warm smile he loves fades away like a whisp of smoke before his eyes and is replaced by an expression much colder.

The look in the older womans eyes is worse than his deepest anxieties could have conjured, there's no shock, no confusion, only a righteous fury spoken in whispers. John knows he should step up, that he should sheild you and take the blame on himself, he hates to find relief hiding in the most shameful parts of his soul that it's not him being confronted now. The urge to defend you fights with the instinct to hide and he stands frozen while he loses the opportunity to do either.

When you are finally left alone he sees your bottom lip quiver slightly before you dart out of the sanctuary with your face covered in your hands. Before he can follow the same older woman comes to him, silent, disgusted, she knows what he saw and he's lucky enough to only earn a simple shake of her head as she passes.

After a moment of icey silence in his mind and soul John walks out of the church as fast as his feet will take him, not caring about the attention he can attract or the pain in his leg from a childhood injury that he never remembered but cannot forget. The distance is less than a mile but it feels like a thousand as he drags his body across the sidewalk huffing and panting by the time he arrives at your door, using the last of his breath to call your name.

"Let me in, it's me." He is audibly winded while pounding on the door.

"Go away." You answer coldly on the other side, so close and yet so separate.

"I know what happened, just... just let me in so we can talk about it." He implores you, leaning against the door while he continues to softly beat his fist against the wood.

"Go away!" You repeat, now unable to hide the wavering of your voice that threatens to become a sob.

John stares at the closed door, he almost considers following your order but where would he go if not to you? You who had consumed his thoughts, his life, his very soul. Any repentance from you would be a lie.

Muffled sniffing on the other side beckons to him, and he steels himself preparing for what he needs to do. First he tries the doorknob, jiggling it slightly and finding it locked. A slightly open window catches his attention from the corner of his eye, he limps over and slowly slides it all the way up, stealthily swings his leg over; then catches his cassock on a splinter in the frame. John tumbles to the floor, cursing as he lands on his bad leg making you gasp and run over to him from where you had been sitting.

"John!" You gasp with a variety of emotions from surprise and annoyance. "You fucking idiot what are you doing?"

At first he's shocked at your words, the only unkind thing he had heard you say to him, or even heard you say at all, yet even as the curses leave your mouth you're kneeling down to check on him sighing as you discover he hasn't seriously hurt himself. Minutes later you gasp again ready to break out into what he thinks is a sob but is relived to hear is only laughter.

"I just wanted to check on you, but..." John smiles and begins to laugh along., glad to hear that you're no longer crying.

"I just can't get rid of you can I?" You giggle as he brushes the drying tears off your cheek.

"No, you certainly cannot." He replies with a smile as you nuzzle into the palm of his soft hand and he pulls you into a warm embrace.

For a moment the two of you sit in heavy silence as the weight of what had driven you from the church and John to your side lingers in the air. He almost wishes you won't tell him and that by some miracle it could all be forgotten and that nothing would change and no secrets would be revealed.

"Someone called me a whore today." Your somber confession is mumbled into his shoulder. "I don't know how anyone found out, I mean, we weren't careful but..."

Just like that, harsh reality makes itself known and there are no more lies to hide this sin behind. The eyes of more than just heaven were on the two of you, pretending that this could continue now was futile, no matter how uncomfortable the truth may be.

"I know how." John answers with a heavy heart. "I'm sorry, I should have told you. That night when I was here and we ordered pizza, the delivery driver recognized me. I'm so sorry."

Recounting the event replays it in detail in his mind, the casual greeting on the drivers face slowly melting into shocked confusion and disbelief, John raised his fingers to his lips as he handed over the money with a silent plea in his eyes. Quickly closing the door and making the decision to lie and let you believe this secret was safe for another night.

You lift your head off his shoulder and look at him, he expects anger, sorrow, anything but the understanding that floods your expression. It almost stings more to know that the both of you are so deep in lust and lies that this is no longer a transgression.

"Oh, John, I'm not sure I would have said anything either." You mournfully admit as you sit up and hug your knees to your chest.

"Are we both just selfish?" He asks with a soft defeated chuckle.

"I guess so." You reply with a weak laugh, putting your head on his shoulder again. "Can we try and be honest with each other at least?"

"Of course we can." John replies and wraps his arm around your shoulder. "No more secrets."

There's a brief pause, and a few subtle changes in your expression as he watches you go through the same dilemma he had. The urge to hide and retreat from the world that threatened to take this forbidden comfort away and the acceptance of defeat.

"She told me that if you don't go to bishop by next week then she will." You warn him, with the faintest trace of panic in your voice. "They can't prove we were together can they? I mean it's just a rumor and we didn't even do anything."

"No, they can't prove it, but if the bishop asks I can't lie about what happened either." John explains, trying to comfort you but not withhold the truth again. "It'll be alright, we knew we couldn't keep this up forever, but I'm glad we had this much time together."

You look up at him with a grief in your eyes that he regretted to ever put there, your lips linger inches away with the promise of rekindling the sin that brought you here. His heart races as you sit up straighter and put your hands together with his over his lap.

"If it's really over, I don't care what anyone thinks anymore." Your words make his heart race, he knows what you're about to propose, he knows he doesn't have the strength to resist. "They won't believe that we didn't do it anyway and since it doesn't matter anymore, I don't want to hold back now."

"You know I won't say no if you ask me that." He couldn't deny his weakness, even now the struggle inside him raged.

"John..." Your voice is lower, sweeter, the heat of your breath gently warming his lips. "Just one time?"

With the release of a long held sigh whatever was in him that begged to refuse moments ago fell silent and with a kiss he sealed his fate. His arms wrapped around your waist, slowly at first, then like they were moving on their own pulled your figure tight against his own like a spring loaded trap going off at a fraction speed. The breath left your body with a short gasp before you reached out and held him just as tight.

It was hard to tell if he was just stalling because of his lingering fears, the image of a passersby looking through the window and shouting to stop this degeneracy before it went too far lingered in his mind. The moment he felt your lips hum against his with a muffled moan, he knew he wanted no intervention, not to save his soul; not even to save yours.

"Come to my bedroom." You whisper when you pull away from him, the brazen request making him shiver though he expected it.

"Take me there." He replies without thinking, prompting you to pull him off the ground and lead him down the hall.

If you weren't taking his hand and dragging him along John is sure he wouldn't have be able to move, his legs feel heavy, his head is spinning and he isn't quite sure where he's putting his feet. Before he knows it he's falling on the plush comforter atop your bed and pushing stuffed animals on the floor.

He can hear his heart beating through his entire body, this room that he had been in before was turning like it was trying to throw him out, he fought the sense that he shouldn't be here like he hadn't battled it a thousand times before.

"John?" You call out to him with sweet concern on your face as you no doubt noticed his distress. "Are you okay?"

"Yes." He answered, perhaps too quickly, only to take notice of the feel of your body against his that anchored him in his tempest of emotions. "I am now."

"You know, I thought about having you here like this so many times..." John listened to you whisper almost exactly like you had in his dreams. "I'm not so sure it's real this time."

The implications behind your words, the reminder of how much you had been thinking of him instantly flooded his body with warmth and a need to prove himself, to live up to those fantasies. Just hearing one dirty little thought that ran through your mind was enough to make him hard, to be reminded he was the star of these thoughts nearly made him cum in his pants.

"I'm here, I'm real." He assured you, his voice low and soft as he pulled you down for a heated kiss.

"You feel like a dream." You whisper against his mouth, your hands running down his chest, thumb running over the buttons of his shirt.

"You feel like..." John can't even think of the words, or control his body, his hips twitching and jerking up against yours. "Heaven..."

When you climb up to straddle him his knees are shaking, his whole body aches with the need to touch you, to pull you impossibly closer. His awkward hands fumble with your clothes, trying to remove them but only tugging and pulling blindly. His pants are becoming so tight that he's afraid he'll burst right out of them, every touch and warm breath on his skin makes his cock throb under the stressed fabric more than ever.

"I just can't wait anymore." You tug on his belt and he lets out a moan he just can't hold back, whispering words that drive him insane. "You make me so wet just thinking about it..."

The feeling of your feather light touch so close yet so far is simply too much for him to bear, his hips jerk upaward and they just don't stop. A warmth passes over his body then sticks and spreads though the fabric of his pants followed by a blood freezing chill when he realizes what happened.

"Oh... God! I'm sorry I- I didn't mean to..." He tries to explain while his body is still buzzing and the dark patch on his pants is growing. "I didn't think it... I'm so sorry."

His cheeks are hot and he's trembling in fear of your judgement, the shame and disappointment in himself make it hard for him to meet your gaze until you cup his cheek gently and turn him to face you.

"Hey, it's alright. it happens." You assure him between soft kisses along his face and jaw. "It's okay, really."

"I- It is?" He stammers in disbelief, putting his trembling hands on your waist.

"Of course it is." You repeat the kisses getting gradually more heated as they make a path down his neck. "You know, I think it's kind of hot..."

"You do?" He asks surprised though he really shouldn't be, he let out a sigh of relief remembering how much you constantly want him. "Could you... tell me why?"

He feels your lips curve into a smile against his neck, right above his collar and your warm breath as you whisper. "Well... I like seeing you all flustered, you get so worked up. I know it's bad, but I like knowing I do that to you."

John lets out a low groan, his body responding to your touch like he hadn't just cum in his pants. He pulls his stiff white collar off and hears your soft gasp as you watch him do it, then he slides his hand up the back of your neck and tangles his fingers in your hair as he pulls you back down to latch your mouth to his skin again.

With the first button on his shirt you struggle but the second and third come undone easier, soon your thumb is making quick work of undressing him and your mouth follows the path of newly unveiled flesh. Lips meeting his chest and abdomen like the dawn touches the sky, so natural and confident, subtle at first and then overwhelming.

Eventually you reach his half undone belt, and your mouth lingers over the damp spot on his pants. You look up at him before smiling and running your tongue through the middle of the stain, warming the cooling fluid against his skin and making his cock come to life again.

He feels ashamed again with you so being intimate with his mistake. "You don't have to..."

"I'm just helping you clean up." You reply in that sweet tone that he can never tell if it's genuine or an act. "Just relax, I got you."

He does exactly as you say, though with great reluctance, leaning back a little to ease himself but still keep his eye on you. When you open his belt and slowly pull the zipper on his pants down John is nervous, somehow feeling like this is the very first time you had seen him. He grips the sheets to keep his hands from shaking as you pull his messy and half soft cock out and gently stroke it before touching the dripping tip to your lips.

He notices a brief hesitation when it touches your tongue, not disgust, but he can imagine the taste isn't quite what you expected. The surprise doesn't stop you, and you lick up the length of his cock again and again, feeling it get harder each time. Soon the whole tip is past your sweet lips and then another inch and another.

Now John's thankful for his earlier mishap, if he hadn't cum all over himself before then he certainly would have the moment he felt the slightest touch of your lips, and he wouldn't get to feel the inside of your mouth like never before. He pets your hair and cradles the back of your head tenderly, like he's holding some holy relic.

"You're amazing." He breathes out praises that make your lips squeeze him tighter as you fight a smile. "I mean it, truly, truly, amazing..."

It continues like that for a while, slow steady heaven. John can hardly hear the subtle wet sounds of you touching yourself over his own panting or of your mouth on him, he had hardly notices your hand had left his thigh and drifted under your skirt until you moan around his cock.

"Are you..? Fuck, I can hear how wet you are." He comments, making you hum in agreement and move a little faster.

The rhythm with which you move your head and your hands makes him feel so connected to you, the almost perfect balance where you take your pleasure at the same time; yet not balanced enough as you move faster. The more you moan and take him deeper, the faster your short hot breaths get against his skin, all of it just makes him want to pull you up and slap your hand away so he can touch you.

With a gentle tug on your hair and then a second firmer tug to get your attention and make you open your mouth you pause and release him, wiping your lips as you lift your head.

"What is it? Was it my teeth?" You ask him with wide eyes as you wipe the corners of your mouth.

"No no no, you're perfect- I mean, I..." John can hardly find the words as he pulls you up, his hands want to speak for him so badly. "This, I need to touch you..."

His fingers find the dripping heat between your thighs and slide across your soaked slit, making your knees shake and your hands dig into his shoulders as you stuggle to stay seated in his lap.

The sweat glistening on both your faces makes your foreheads stick as you press them together, warm breath mingling as your lips linger a hairs breadth apart. He tastes every uncontrolled sigh that blends into a moan as he slips one then two fingers inside of you, prompting you to whisper in his ear soflty like you still had to tempt him.

"Your fingers are so big." You tell him with a satisfied grin.

"Tell me how big." He croons in your ear and feels you clench a little tighter.

"They're so much bigger than mine, they fill me up so good..." John smiles at the picture your soft panting paints in his head once again.

Sweet wetness drips down his fingers to his wrist pulling them out quickly only to taste them like an addict before instanly replacing them again. You watch him, groaning like he does as if you could taste what he could, you touch your own wet fingers to his lips and he gladly cleans them off with his tongue.

The swirl of tongues and fingers and wet bodies is so degenerate in his mind and yet his flesh does these depraved acts so naturally, so quickly without even thinking of anything but the next sensation he needs to chase, the next secret place he needs to explore or line he must cross.

"I need you, I need you so bad..." You whisper in a gentle wavering tone, that makes him recognize the shame that fills him is also in you.

There's a hint of trepidation in your eyes as he looks down at you, not for what you're going to do but for a desperation that may not be fulfilled if he walks away. It was a lie when you said you didn't care what anyone thought. The need eating away at your soul and wearing down your conscience made it impossible to pass the opportunity to take him while you had him.

"Tell me one more time." He whispers as he turns to gently lay you down, so eager to give you what you want his hands fumble pulling off your remaining clothes.

"I need you, John." You answer with a heated kiss and help him kick off his pants.

Your legs tangle and your bare bodies become dangerously close as he struggles to position himself in just the right way, guided by your legs wrapping gently around his waist.

"Have you ever..?" You ask him with a minor hesitation blended in desperation, no doubt from the sense of duty to reflect on this grave trespass before it's committed.

"No... Have you?" John has the urge to lie and to maybe appear more masculine but your eyes compel him to answer honestly, then he only asks out of strange habit; your answer would make no difference.

"Never." You tell him with a hint of a smile and a ghost of a laugh that he mimics.

The two of you let out a sigh of relief together, glad to share this first, to give one completely to the other. John touches his forehead to yours and you take his hand and squeeze it firmly in your own, the act seeming to anchor your souls together like a gentle unspoken vow.

A chill runs through his body as he realizes how close he is to crossing that final line, his cock brushes against your warm wet heat, the very point of no return itself. How could he even think of turning away now? How could this be a test when the only answer is yes?

The sweetest sound leaves your lips when he pushes in, low and drawn out, like a fallen angel singing, in sync with the movement of his hips that slowly brings him completely inside of you. So warm, to tight, so unlike anything he had ever felt and yet his body moves, gripping, rocking, slow at first then gaining momentum, like it had always known how.

"It doesn't hurt?" John asks softly, unsure if he could stop himself if the answer was yes.

"No, no, I just feel... full..." Your answer makes his eyes roll back, what he wouldn't give to hear you say that over and over.

John exected something in him to snap, for his chastity to break like a woman's only in his soul, but nothing is broken. In fact anything that was broken in him felt whole.

Any small action from you causes a reaction in his body, likewise your responses to his lightest touches resonate so deeply as if they were his very own. John understood so profoundly now why this act is called becoming one flesh, why it was not good for man to be alone, everything, all of it made so much sense. Nothing this sacred, this designed could ever be a sin, not this, the very first mission of creation.

"Ugnh... John... I'm gonna..." You whimper as you hide your face in his shoulder, letting him feel your warning on his skin.

"I know, I know." He replies in heated kisses behind your ear.

Of course he knew, he knew your body so well, from constantly mapping it in his waking dreams to reliving those stolen moments together every time he was alone. All those telling signs your body, the tensing the twitching, he had known so intimately and now knows from the inside.

"It feels so different... I can't..." You gasp, chest heaving, hands grasping.

"It's okay, I'm here, just let it happen." He coos gently through his own heavy breaths as he shepards you though this.

Every faint signal has become a thousand times more intense, your fingers dig into his skin and your teeth sink into his shoulder, even the pain of these things fade into the glory of sharing your glorious rapture. With the way youre practically squeezing his very soul out he has to fight with strength he never knew he had just to not lose himself a second time.

"Ungh- John! John!" You call for him as the sensation overwhelms you.

"Yes! Oh, that's it, you feel so good." He hardly recognizes his voice as he answers softly coaxing you down from your peak as his hips roll in slower fluid motions.

The warmth, the wetness, the tightness, the hundreds of little feelings you gave him constantly, every one of them mounted into the most spectacular peak. The tight grip you have on him loosens slowly as your moans become continuously softer and lower.

He props himself up just to get a better look at you, at how your hair stuck to your sweaty skin and your eyes squeezed shut then opened with a glazed expression of divine bliss. Your body glistening in the low light and soft curves molding around his body, legs spread open so wide and givinf him the perfect view of his cock disappearing inside you.

"God, you're amazing." He swears, though you hardly seem to hear him.

"John?" You moan softly and look up at him with the sweetness he can't help falling in love with over and over.

"What is it?" He asks with a hint of concern, slowing down. "Is it too much?"

"Yeah, but... I want more..." You whisper breathlessly, your grip tightens again.

John can hardly believe what he's hearing, his whole body aches with the need to drive into you again, harder this time, and harder and harder until you're satisfied. His heart pounds as he firmly grasps your hips, pulling out momentarily only to flip you over.

Your whine for him nearly breaks his heart, loathe to be empty even for a second as he turns you around. Thankfully soon to follow is a deep groan of gratification as he pushes in from behind, filling you up from a new angle that makes you twist your fists into the sheets.

"I'll give it to you, I'll give you everything." He vows as he sucks in a deep breath and leans over your back until the damp skin of his chest is sticking to it.

He watches with a grin as you claw at the covers and thrash about like a woman possessed, languishing in pride at the way he, and only he, could make you act with just the slightest change of position.

"You know, I could never tell, if I corrupted you... ugh... or if you you we're always like this..." He begins to think aloud, the only sign that you notice him is the slopping wet sounds in the room getting more pronounced.

"John! Oh, fuck... John..." You pant as he begins to move, every word you try to reply with getting swallowed up my a moan.

"You were always like this, weren't you?" He breaths the accusation into your ear as he thrusts faster and faster. "I didn't have to do anything, you just thought about this all the time didn't you?"

"Yes! God, yes!" Your admission is muffled into the sheets as you bury your red face in shame and overwhelming pleasure. "I want it so bad!"

"You know just what you do to me, oh you're such a wicked, wicked girl." He purrs in a voice that hardly seems like his own. "You're sending me straight to hell and I love you for it."

Your eyes widen for an instant at that single phrase, your self control coming back for a moment even though John can feel the pleasure taking over your body again. You push up onto your elbows, reaching around your back to guide his head closer so your lips can touch his ear.

"I love you." You whisper low and honest, so unlike the heated filth he had said to you.

Before he can even decide to let go, John is sent helplessly tumbling over the edge, his orgasm takes him so suddenly that he barely has time to warn you.

"I can't... I can't hold on much longer..." He groans into your shoulder before sinking his teeth into your skin in the habit of muffling his moans.

"Do it, fill me up, John." As soon as you give the command he follows it.

He can feel every hot spurt of cum releasing deep inside you, hot, hard, fast, and how every thrust drove it deeper and deeper. Your core squeezing around him in quick tight pulses that made his eyes roll back into his head and low bass toned noises leave his mouth that he never kmew he could make.

A surge of adrenaline ran through him, something like panic mixed with every other emotion overwhelms his senses and he clings to you like a lifeline until it washes over him. Cumming inside you is so different, even after he's spent his hips are still moving on there mission and you're still moaning and taking it, he doesn't know when he'll stop, if ever. His lips keep mouthing your name like a prayer as he holds you tighter and tighter, unable to worry about squeezing you too hard.

The tension finally snaps and he collapses over you, his weight forcing a small groan of protest out of you until he rolls off onto his side, slipping out of you as he falls onto the bed. He can't make sense of where he is. God help him, he doesn't want to. He is lost, so blissfully lost and his only anchor is found when he reaches out to pull your body closer to his.

Instinctively your lips find his again in the haze, the taste and the smell and the feel of you wash over him like waves on the shore. He moves to kiss over the wounds his teeth had left on your skin and brush over the bruises while you whisper words of devotion too slurred to make sense of but too deeply felt not to immediately understand until you both fall apart in exhaustion, just waiting for the clarity to return.

As he laid in the great stillness he finally feels like something in him had changed, while it was a much different action that he had no experience with John couldn't help but think this is what it felt like to kill a man. Maybe he had killed the man he had once been.

He turns his head to the side meeting your gaze as you watched him, and he smiled at the unwavering focus fixed on him.

"What?" He asked with a soft nervous chuckle.

"Nothing." You reply, returning the smile. "Just wondering what you're thinking about."

He laughs a little louder, knowing there would be no way to explain this derailed train of thought; but there was no need. Every thought and feeling was connected to you now, nothing was separate anymore, nothing was alone.

He answers truthfully. "I was just thinking of how I never want to leave."

#faith the unholy trinity #john ward #faith the game #faith tut #john ward faith #john ward x reader #hierophilia

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imagines-by-cleo · 9 months ago

Text

The Image Of Eve

John Ward x Fem!Reader

Part 2 of the Absolution series - part 1 part 3

Masturbation, more catholic guilt, hierophilia, dirty talk, semi public, fingering, thigh fucking, religious themes (obvi), handjobs

Happy Halloween friends! I hope you're out trick or treating, or partying, or something besides reading fanfiction, but if that's all you're doing don't worry because this is the longest fic I have ever written and you'll have plenty of John smut to keep you busy.

Anyway, hope you enjoy! ♡♡♡

A sharp gasp echos through the small tiled bathroom, John clamps his hand over his mouth and prays that no one outside had heard. He listens to the other side of the door for a minute, trying to keep quiet as the sound of the pipe organ reverberates through the halls from the sanctuary. The noises he tries to hide are not nearly as holy as the music playing.

He learned the hard way that it was better to do this before he had to put on his robes, the knowledge another source of shame in the sinful act that was slowly becoming routine. His hand moves with purpose, it's hardly for his own pleasure and more to clear his mind before mass. Though it is impossible to deny the pleasure he's getting out of it as he moans helplessly into his palm.

He can feel how hot his face is against his hand, he shuts his eyes so he doesn't have to see this shameful act reflected in the mirror. Stealing away to the bathroom to touch himself like some teenage boy who could hardly help it, and on a Sunday too. Unable to put away the thoughts that plagued him for even a few hours, John grits his teeth as he tries to hurry this shameful process along.

Of course in a few minutes you would be there sitting in the pews, he would try to look away and not lock eyes from the altar but then the memories would chase him down. The sound of your voice, echos of you calling out to him ringing in his head like you were still moaning in his ear.

A knock comes from the other side of the door that makes John's heart stop.

"Just a minute!" He answers, his voice slightly cracking.

John groans in frustration as he grips his cock tighter and moves his hand faster, trying to get this sin over with only so his temptation wouldn't show through his robes. A terrible chill runs through his body, as he tries to justify his actions. There is no reason other than his weakness and his attempts to hide it.

He bites down on his fingers as his indulgence reaches it's peak, nearly drawing blood trying to muffle the pathetic whimpers and gasps of a man defeated by his own lust. Every breath that leaves his chest is labored, his body forgets everything and for a fleeting moment so does he.

The silence in his mind that follows is almost as blissful as the release.

When he has to wash the evidence off his hands and down the sink John doesn't even look, cleaning every trace like a well experienced blind man in his refusal to address how he just defiled himself. The only acknowledgement is a soft groan he lets out unintentionally as he stuffs his cock back into his pants while he's still sensitive and slightly hard, quickly pulling up his zipper and buttoning his cassock over his shame.

In the brief glimpse of himself that he accidentally catches in the mirror he sees the dark circles that have formed under his eyes for over the past week, he says a silent prayer that no one else will notice them before he steps out. John does his best to keep up appearances, he smiles, greets people, has conversations, beneath the surface however something has been drained from him and he can feel that weakness in his spirit as mass begins.

Not knowing the worst had yet to come until he takes the eucharist, his heart raced as he expected it to burn in his hands, his fingers tremble holding the thin wafer as he waited for some divine retribution. He waits for it, shaking with guilt from his knees to his shoulders then he considers this might simply be the punishment, the damnable waiting that makes him see the masochistic logic of flagellants who would simply get it over with.

It's difficult to swallow communion, his jaw clenches he considers spitting it out until he looks out at the rows of people in the pews he would have to explain that action to.

Every word from his mouth is nothing short of unconvincing this morning, though the stares of bordem from his pulpit broken by the occasional glace at a watch told him there would be no consequence to a stilted and awkward sermon. Only one pair of eyes stays focused intently on him hanging on to every word, though he deliberately avoids them from the altar he knew all to well how those wide eyes study him. At the end of mass he quickly finds something other to do than socialize with the congregation, all so he doesn't have to meet those eyes again.

When the sanctuary is finally emptied and he is finished lingering around the church evading the consequences of his decisions he takes advantage of this solitude and kneels at the altar, seeking forgiveness he does not deserve and strength he cannot find in his own spirit along with peace he desperately needs. The now familiar wirlwind of guilt chasing temptation spins faster and faster until John is sure it will blow him away, only now frustration is added to the mix. He wonders if this was how it started for you, he thinks of you, he prays, he inhales deeply, he smells your perfume.

Once again the scent of your perfume wafts through the melting wax and burning incense, curling through every other aroma like a viper poised to choke the life out of him and if he did not stomp that serpent out it surely would. When John is sure the source of the smell isn't from his memories he holds his breath trying not to inhale it again. His eyes are squeezed shut, his lips are still and not even uttering prayers anymore, every muscle in his body is stiff as he remains knelt at the altar trying to avoid what is coming for a moment longer.

It's the sound of footsteps gently approaching behind him, taking great care not to disturb him with no idea of how they already had. He rises, turns and walks toward you. While he is not surprised to see that it's you, you're startled by how quickly he's closing the distance between the both of you and even more so when he takes you firmly by the arm and drags you out of the sanctuary.

"Father, what are you doing?" You ask all too innocently, simply allowing yourself to be lead astray.

"Shut up! Just shut up!" He growls low enough to threaten and quiet enough to be inconspicuous.

At first John isn't sure where exactly to take you, his feet practically lead him stomping into the chapel where this debauchery began all on their own. As he slams you against the cold stone wall you look up at him wide eyed, spooked but perfectly and deceptively trusting in a way that made his frustration boil over.

"You think I don't know what you're doing?" The accusation comes out of his mouth before he can even think, his harsh tone makes you tense in his grasp.

"What are you talking about?" You gasp with corncern for him as if he was the one in the wrong.

"The confessions, the phone calls, the notes, everything, it all ends now." There's venom in every word he spits out, his anger only reigned by his hushed tone. "If you don't stop this little game you're playing you'll damn us both straight to hell."

"Father, you're scaring me." You reply all too ignorant of what he's been grappling with.

"You should be scared! Do you even realize what you've done? To me? To yourself?" His grip on your shoulders tightens as he lists his accusations, shaking you with every charge to force you to realize the severity of these sins. "First you desecrate this house of God with your sinful thoughts, then you defile the rite of confession and use it for your own pleasure, now you've set out to corrupt me."

It's a strangers voice ringing through the cold air of the chapel, a totally different person trying to put the fear of the divine into you.

You look up at him with wide wet eyes, your bottom lip quivering slightly so that he can hardly stop staring at your mouth. "I didn't mean-"

"Oh, you didn't mean to? I suppose you accidentally touched yourself while talking to me and you accidentally moaned and begged over the phone, oh have mercy." John rolls his eyes, completely indignant as he taunts you.

The tears start to flow down your cheeks, even that seems so graceful and pure that there's no denying the sincerity of your words as you sob. "I'm sorry, Father..."

"Don't... don't say that..." His breath is heavy as he watches you begin to cry, trying to hold to the belief that this was all some grand scheme.

"I really did mean to confess at first, I just got carried away, I should have controlled myself and-" You ramble on a list of uncontested sins, each one of them John is also guilty of but not so willing to bear the burden of.

These words make his stomach turn as his hastily constructed plan to shift all of the blame onto you comes crumbling down in the face of your willingness to accept his sentencing. It was his weakness that lead you both here, not yours, and it's his weakness that will drag you both deeper into this sin again and again.

John cups your cheek and brushes a tear away, looking at it with guilt before he whispers a short prayer for forgiveness and presses his lips to yours.

At first you're stunned at the action, frozen for a moment until you gingerly place a hand on his chest ready to push him away; but you never do. You relax more as he runs his fingers through your hair and moves his kisses to your tear stained cheeks, the bitter taste of salt on his lips serving as an insufficient act of penance for ever making you cry.

"Mmm Father..." You mumble urgently against his lips.

"I know, I know." John whispers softly against your lips, soothing until your breath stops rattling. "I'm scared too."

Both your hearts beat loud enough he can practically feel yours in his own chest as your bodies press together, the feeling of being so close and drinking in the same fears and the same desires intoxicates him. The taste of you is so new and yet it feels like home, his hands had never roamed another persons body like this and yet every curve was so familiar. He pulls you tighter against his chest, remembering how Eve came from Adams rib, and trying to force your two bodies back to the one they used to be.

"Tell me to stop." He demands between kisses. "If I won't listen to God, maybe I'll listen to you."

"We shouldn't..." You tell him. "This is wrong. We'll get caught."

Never the word "stop".

With a soft squeeze of tender flesh he hears your breath hitch, a small barely noticeable sound that instills a need to prompt another reaction. When you graciously tilt your head to make way he moves his kisses from your lips, across your jaw, behind your ear then down your neck until he finds a spot that makes you twitch. Before he can stop himself, his hands begin their own wandering and explore under your skirt to find what had become so well acquainted with in this imagination that he didn't think about the gravity of crossing that line for the first time in reality.

Discovering a warm wet spot on the front of your panties John lets out a shuddering breath, adding the sin of pride to his vices as he relishes the fact that you got so wet for him in so little time, or maybe you had been thinking of him all day. Before he can control it his lips curl into a wide smile when his fingertips slide across the soaked patch, eliciting the perfect response of a soft gasp passing your lips.

"This is what you were thinking of? What started all of this?" He questions in a slightly accusatory tone, his frustration with himself searching for an outlet in you. "Am I touching you just like you wanted me to?"

With no immediate response he pulls back and looks into your eyes that can't quite meet his, with a blush on your cheeks you try to avoid his question.

"Don't make me say it." You resist with your gaze darting around the room like every brick in the walls could be listening, judging. "Not here."

"Make it a matter of confession then." John implores as he puts his other hand on your face, running his thumb over your bottom lip. "Tell me all those sweet sins."

"I shouldn't want this." You breathe out as your lips tremble under his touch and you roll your hips into the caress of his hand. "I never should have said anything, now I... I can't even say no."

"You do want this." He says it like a guilty verdict before pressing his lips to yours, pulling your skirt up higher and your panties to the side so he can touch you freely.

When his fingers make contact you gasp and tug his hair just a little. "Ah! Father..."

"I want this too." He makes a confession of his own as he grinds his growing bulge against your thigh and feels you shake in his arms. "You see what you do to me? Day after day, you're driving me insane, driving me to sin."

As he glides his fingers through your slick folds he revels in the way your body bends to him, every protest dissolves as you lean back against the wall and give in to the sensation.

"I can't do anything without thinking of you. If I'm not indulging my temptations I'm living in constant fear of this very moment when I can't be stong enough to resist." He sighs into your neck, every word warm and heavy. "I don't want to fight this anymore..."

"Keep going, I want..." The hesitation to admit it openly is present in your voice catching just before you whisper. "I want more."

"Mmm you're as greedy as I am." He teases with as he continues to play with you at his own agonizingly slow pace until your nails are scratching at the stone wall. "Tell me what you really want.

"I- I want you to touch me..." You admit a little more boldly.

"Almost." John replies as he traces circles around your entrance.

"I want your fingers inside me." You answer while rocking your hips against his hand, the words you had told him so boldy before are a challenge to speak aloud now. "Father, please."

The first finger slides easily inside of you, he takes a minute to savor the surrounding tightness that his cock is jealous of, the wetness now dripping down to the floor, then he adds another.

"That's it, that's what you wanted, isn't it?" He breathes out as he takes note of your every reaction to his touch. "You look so beautiful like this, just like I knew you would be."

"If you keep talking like that I'm gonna..." You whimper as your legs tremble while you clench even tighter around his fingers.

"Already?" He questions as he pumps his fingers in deeper.

"Please, don't stop." You gasp as you buck into his touch, practically riding his hand as you chase your pleasure. "Father!"

His eyes are glued to where his fingers disappear inside you, the warm wetness gushing out provocatively and making a mess on the floor is a sight he had only seen in his wet dreams. "We're so filthy, aren't we?"

John can feel his cock twitching under his cassock, aching to be in the griping heat that his fingers are hungrily diving into. With his free hand he fumbles with the buttons that will release him soon enough. He wants to take the whole garment off and throw it away, he would do it just to damn himself like this with you. When the front is open and his arousal is only barely hidden by his pants before he struggles with them too.

"Do you see what you do to me?" He groans while tearing his erection out of his pants, his breath hitching as he takes it in his hand. "This happens every day, every night, you're taking over my life, my mind my soul."

A look of guilt crosses your blushing face as you turn away, your conscience visibly at war with the feelings in your body. "I can't fight it anymore, you know I can't, Father."

John's heart clenches as you admit your temptations, when you turn back to him the look in your eyes causes a shiver to run up his spine. Shaking with the need to act on the desires coursing through his body, held back only by the fear of taking the next step, in an impulse he turns you roughly around.

The sight of your body pressed up against the wall with your skirt lifted and your panties pooling at your ankles is enough to make his cock twitch in his grasp. Seeing you perfectly presented and ready to take him in is both inticing and daunting, the way the slickness covering your plush thighs is practically calling him as it catches the light when he lifts your skirt a little higher.

His blood runs cold under his burning skin, shivering when his cock makes contact with your warm dampened flesh, he grips your hips tightly to desperately try to anchor himself to this reality. The weight of it all nearly makes him faint and he leans closer to you for support while he wrestles with that final decision.

"I cant do it. Not here." John admits defeat in a shuddering breath, unsure if it's his strength or his weakness that sways him. "But I can't stop either."

In a sweet, sweet compromise he pushes his cock between your wet thighs and lets out a strangled groan as he slides into the perfect loophole that he's found.

"What are you..? Oh..." You gasp in surprise as you realize, your body relaxing against his while you come to the same conclusion he has.

"So soft..." He whispers against your neck with a devious smile, believing he's found the perfect way to circumvent his vows "I thought about this before but I never imagined it would feel this good.

John wraps his arms firmly around you, tangling your bodies together in the hope that they would never be seperated. He savors every roll of his hips like every plunge between your thighs would be the last, trying to prolong the feeling that he may never indulge in again. The warmth of your skin consumes him like hellfire, smouldering together until there's nothing left of his restraint.

Another short gasp escapes your lips, calling his attention to where your hand was reaching under your skirt. He watches for a moment while you touch yourself with well practiced precision, witnessing the image that his fantisies had paintned over and over, hardly believing that it was now performed before him.

When he's satisfied with watching he swats your hand away, replacing it with his own. Both of you let out a sigh of pure ecstasy when his fingers once again make contact with your hot wet folds, searching until he finds the little nub that makes you twitch.

With his other hand he covers your mouth, afraid of the noises you'll make if he pushes you too far. Unable to resist the opportunity now presented he slides his fingers past your lips, and lets out a sigh as he explores this undiscovered part of you.

"More, please, rub it just a little faster." You breathlessly mumble with your mouth stuffed, he follows your command until you start to twitch and squeeze him tighter.

"Thats it, let it happen." His soothing whispers make your reaction to his touch more intense, he makes another confession to you, hoping it will provoke you more. "You sound so fucking pretty. Just like you did on the phone. I always think about those noises you made, do you know that?"

His teasing forces another helpless whimper out of you, a sound he could never get tired of hearing. A shame he had to stifle those blissful cries, he could hardly resist removing his fingers and commanding you to make as much noise as you could. On the other hand, the sneaking, the sinning, the silent triumph of making you cum again, all of it sets his whole being on fire and just the idea has him struggling not to finish too soon.

The extra lubrication running down your thighs from your second release signaled the end for him. Even if he wanted to drag this out for just a little longer he couldn't, and now all he wanted was to paint your body with his cum, no matter what happened to his soul after.

"I'm not going to last much longer." He admits his voice shakes as he tries not to whimper.

"I think... I think I can feel it." You comment as his thrusts get more frenzied, his cock noticeably twitching between your thighs

Losing all restraint, he thrusts in even harder, taking comfort in the fact that his passion couldn't hurt you like this. When he feels those first spurts release he doesn't stop, taking advantage of how his cum lubricates your thighs even more. Ignoring the small squeak you make as he wraps his arms around you in a vice grip and sinks his teeth into your neck to muffle his moaning.

John sucks in a deep breath and looks down at the damage he's done, the haze of lust leaving his mind and the first rays of clarity shine in the like the sun through fading storm clouds. Once again, the weight, the guilt, the regret.

Everywhere he looks his sin has left a stain, your skin, his hands, his clothes, even the floor. His heart and his breath race as he gropes around the fabric of your skirt, haphazardly tugging it back down as if that would hide his sins dripping down your thighs. In a daze he puts himself back in his pants in spite of how dirty he was. Leaving you to stand alone and situate yourself as much as possible, he stumbles back into a nearby pew, lulling his head back as he laments.

"Again. I did it again and I swore I wouldn't." John groans into his hands as he runs them down his face. "What's wrong with me? Why can't I control myself?"

"W- what should we do now?" You turn to him as if he was someone you could ever trust, if he wasn't committed to sulking he would have laughed.

"There's nothing to do." He sighs as he melts into his seat, hoping that damnation would find him soon and get it over with.

"We should leave." You remark as you look around the chapel, pausing to listen for anyone outside.

"Yes, just... leave." John waves his hand as if to dismiss you, he finds that there genuine concern for you in the small part of his heart that hadn't rotted yet, a hope that you could escape this even if he couldn't.

With the patience and of a saint you stay, moving toward him and with the intent of making him somewhat presentable. He was about to turn you away again, but he just didn't have the strength to argue, if he had any strength at all this would have never happened. It was a wonder you were so determined to help him, how you haven't come to loathe him like he's begining to loathe himself.

He sits still as death in the pew while you straighten his clothes and fix your own, the weight of what he's done has immobilized him almost completely. After pulling him up into a barely standing position you calmly set your hands on the sides of his arms and explain to him what your plan is like he's some helpless child.

"Okay, we're going to walk out of here very calmly and we're going to go get you cleaned up. Right? We don't have to talk to anyone, we just walk out of here like we need to be somewhere, no one will ever know." Your gentle words are meant to soothe him but all he can hear is just the noise droning on and on.

Before he knows it he's being lead out into the hall, some people still remain in the church here and there doing menial tasks, none the wiser to how this holy place had recently been defiled. With the last of his strength he turns his gaze away from them, lacking even the will to pray that they don't look over and wonder what happened.

The two of you walk arm in arm out of the church, whatever relief there is in escaping the watchful eyes of divine judgment is replaced by the fear that now these sins could be exposed to the world. The back fabric of his cassock soaks up the midday sun and leaves him looking like a large dark stain on the earth that all eyes turned towards, he holds tightly to you as he resists the urge to shrink into himself.

At the end of the next street you lead him down stands a small home with a well kept garden, painted in charming colors, it wasn't a stretch to assume that you lived here. When he considered the short walk from the church he realized how close you had been this whole time, the confessions over the phone could have practically been made from the window. This knowledge came with the horror of how hard it would be to resist sneaking over on lonely nights when this temptaion would surely take him again.

John looks up from the bottom step as the front door to this little house seems to tower over him, he can't bring himself to walk forward until he feels you tugging his hand; and like always, he follows you.

"I can run you a bath so you can get cleaned up." You sweetly offer while leading him into the house. "And if you just want to soak for a bit I can put your clothes in the wash."

"Yeah, sure." He accepts as you walk him into the bathroom and before he can even question it he's methodically pulling his clothes off, not really caring what happened or where you put him now.

A sweet smell fills the air as he watches you put soap in the bath, he recognizes the scent being similar to your perfume. Fresh apples. How fitting. Now with all his sacred garments laying in a discarded heap on the floor John hunches over the sink and stares at himself, or rather, the man that he used to be in the mirror. The dark circles under his eyes are more apparent now, and he felt that anyone who took the briefest glance at him could tell without a doubt what he had done; perhaps he deserved to wear his sins so blatantly.

When he comes over to the tub he watches you blush and arvert your eyes while you gather up his clothes, the sight almost makes him smile and he feels the need to apologize for how he's acting or at least thank you for the trouble you're going through for his sake. Before you can leave he catches your wrist, but words fail him when your wide eyes meet his.

"Stay." He says plainly, almost coldly. "You need to clean up too."

"Okay." A blush dusts your cheeks as you accept, setting the pile of clothes down and adding your own to it.

When your skin is revealed to him inch by inch John can't help but stare. A new feeling takes over him, nothing like the all consuming desire he had felt before, but a new feeling of simple awe at the beauty before him. He had once felt this awe as a younger man who had first taken the cloth, and he regrets to think on the similarity between these two feelings.

God had first made man in his image, Eve had been made in the same image that was never meant to be hidden. That ancient gracefulness of the first mother is alive in you, every soft curve, every dimple, every freckle, a perfectly orchestrated work of art that to even describe with words would be a diservice to the primordial beauty he is witness to.

As he comes to all these realizations a second feeling of overwhelming shame floods his soul as John finds himself in the place of Adam who was compelled to hide behind fig leaves. He can't take his eyes away from the drying evidence of his sins staining your thighs and defiling this sacred image. Without saying anything he steps into the bath and hugs his knees tightly to his chest.

There in the water you were no longer two forces of nature colliding in destructive passion, naked and ashamed you are simply two lost souls caught up in something you were too weak to resist. John lets out a sigh, giving thanks that at least for now his sins were hidden here with you as the only witness. There was something very childish about the whole thing, sitting across from each other in scared silence thinking about what you had done.

"Father?" You sheepishly call out, the abused title making him wince.

"John." He corrects you plainly, he doesn't want to be reminded of the duties he's failed.

"John..." You say the name with the kind of trepidation someone might have when steping over a rickety bridge, and he wasn't sure if he could hold up as well. "Are you upset with me?"

His eyes widen slightly at the question, he knew he hadn't been as kind to you as he should have, but to see the way his behavior had hurt you is almost too much to bear. He had lived his whole life in need of Gods forgivness but he can't stand needing yours.

"No. I'm just... upset with myself." He struggles to explain.

"I'm sorry I did this to you. I should have just kept my thoughts to myself." You mournfully confess as you turn away, the genuine remorse in your words makes John ashamed that he did anything to make you feel that way.

"No, don't say that. This whole... situation is my fault. You only meant to make a confession and I took advantage of that." He reaches across the water and takes you hand as he asks. "Can you forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive." Your solemn answer lifts part of the burden off his shoulders but so much still remains. "I knew we would end up here, I was hoping we would even though we have no business together."

"You're much kinder to me than I deserve." He remarks at your reply, for once he feels less ashamed and more blessed to have you. "What can I do to repay you?"

For a moment you're silent, a faint blush colors your face while you make your request. "I know you probably have work to do, so I shouldn't even ask this but can you stay here tonight?"

"You just want me to stay here?" John inquires.

"I mean, if it's not any trouble." You begin to explain, your blush growing deeper as you make yourself vulnerable in an entirely new way. "It just gets lonely around here sometimes, I thought it might be nice."

John knows the feeling that plagues you all too personally, he had lost count of the nights he spent alone in the parish wishing there was at least someone to talk to, let alone hold. It broke his heart to think that you had felt even a fraction of that isolation.

"Someone as beautiful as you shouldn't have to be alone." He smiles and squeezes your hand.

"John, stop. You're making me blush." You giggle, he had never heard his name sung so sweetly.

"I mean it." He reiterates, moving closer to put his hands on either side of your face as his tone becomes serious. "You're beautiful inside and out and I'm sorry I've been so selfish."

You answer his apology with a gentle kiss, perfectly chaste in nature as if it were the first time your lips had ever touched.

"It's okay, John, really. I wanted this too remember?" You reassure him softly. "I wanted this for a long time."

"How long?" He asked, wishing the question was only from genuine curiosity and not the sleeping beast stirring under his skin.

"Ever since I first met you." You answer as you move even closer until you're straddling his hips. "There was this one time you looked over at me and I can't really describe it but you just looked so cute and sweet then I couldn't stop thinking about you."

"You're so beautiful." He was repeating himself but that was really the only word that came to mind watching you climb over him.

"I always wanted us to end up here." You confess with your lips an inch away from his, there was no need to say again how wrong that want was.

"I'm glad it did." The words feel like more of a sin to admit aloud than then the feeling itself, but hardly notices them leaving his mouth while he's aching to taste yours again.

His hands explore the curves of your waist and hesitate before reaching your breasts, you guide him by putting your own hands over his and crossing the line together. "Touch me again, John."

Without another pause he complies, running his thumbs over your nippples and hearing the soft hitch of your breath echo off the tile walls. He grows bolder, squeezing and kneeding with the intention of making you moan, studying every reaction for future reference.

"Have you ever..?" It seemed like a silly question, but given how much liberty he had taken with touching you before there was doubt.

"No, I kept my vows. I'm trying to." John answers but his actions oppose his words. "Trying so hard..."

"We haven't really broken them yet, have we?" You ask nervously, knowing the asnwer is more complicated but needing to test the boundry anyway. "We could just do it like before again."

"We could." The words feel like a lie as he says them, but he can't think of another way to let the both of you continue.

The heat radiates off your body even as the water grows cold around you, the desire burning under your skin and made clear in the rising of your breath. No doubt you can feel his own need growing an now pressing incessantly into your thigh, he rolls his hips upward in search of some friction, prompting you to take his length into your hand.

"Show me how to do it." You request, waiting for him to set his hand over yours and guide your touch.

"Just up and down, like that, hold it a little tighter." He instructs until you're stroking him with confidance.

With his hands now free he moves them between your thighs to reciprocate, sliding his fingers between your folds in a motion that if he wasn't careful would become familiar. Your sweet gasps of pleasure mix with his own shameless panting to echo off the walls until they make an even sweeter harmony. Slipping one finger past your waiting entrance just to study the feeling of being inside you, ignoring how your hips roll insistantly to wordlessly beg for more.

"Just a little slower... not too fast..." He corrects meekly, a wretched attempt to get the most out of this encounter. "I don't want this to end yet."

One thought plagues him even in the midst of indulgence, a shameful knowing that there is no point in savoring this moment. He would have you again, like this or any other way you will allow him, he would lead you farther off the path until you were hopelessly lost together. Though as long as you were together it couldn't be all that bad.

"John, please..." You whimper as his thumb grazes your clit, one more firm touch away from being sent over the edge.

He responds by moving much faster, more than you can handle, making you yelp as he ruthlessly fucks you with his fingers. You try and jerk him to the same brutal rhythm and in seconds he's bucking into your hand and moaning godlessly into the crook of your neck as he forgets himself once again.

You stroke him until he's soft and and he continues to pump his fingers inside of you until you're whimpering again. John wonders how long he can keep you just like this, keep the guilt at bay for a while longer, if he could just stay here in your arms and never have to go back to the melancholy, to the lonliness.

"I'll stay." He swears while he kisses your neck, he could never allow himself to leave you alone again.

"You will?" You ask.

"As long as you want me to." He reiterates.

"John." You reply with a thousand soft kisses spread across his face. "You don't know how happy that makes me."

"Just one night." He clarifies, though he knows there would be more if he can get away with it.

"Of course." You reply, as you take a nearby washcloth and run it over his skin gently. "Why don't we get cleaned up, then we'll have dinner together?"

"That sounds amazing." He punctuates his words with a kiss, feeling as if he's playing house for the evening. "You've done so much, why don't you let me make dinner?"

"Actually, I was thinking we could order pizza and watch a movie." You explain as you start to wash yourself. "Just got a bunch of tapes."

"Even better." He smiles as he steps out of the bath, taking a towel off the shelf and handing another to you.

"I'll call the pizza place, you go pick out a movie." You tell him after drying off and wrapping the towel around your body.

He watches you in the kitchen as you pick up the phone and flip through a nearby phone book, smiling as he observes you in your native habitat. The whole house is warm, and the smell of you is everywhere. For a moment he distracts himself from his task by studying all the little things around your house, the charmingly faded colors, the old furniture, even the dishes left in the sink made him feel like he's finding a whole new side of you that he isn't sure he's worthy of witnessing. For a little while he pretends that this is where he's meant to be, that watching a movie with you, covered in nothing but a towel is the most mundane thing in the world.

John wanders over to the living room and looks at the shelves, every movie he could think of was there but the one tape that caught his eye was a blank sleeve of a most likely pirated copy that had a worn out penciled label too faded to read. He pulls the dark block of plastic out of it's cover and the label makes his blood run cold. "The Exorcist" in perfectly bold font titles the tape.

"What did you pick?" You inquire a little too suddenly, making him jump when you lean in close and look at the tape in his hand.

"Ooooo The Exorcist." You stare amused. "I could never watch that movie on my own."

"It's a good thing I'm here." He replies, coming off a little too confident as he puts his arm around you and gives you a playful squeeze.

"Do you want to watch it?" You ask with a sweetness that he just can't say no to.

"Sure, why not?" Though he could think of a million reasons why not.

"You know... I always thought the priest from this movie was kinda cute." You confess with a cheeky smile, cutting some of the tension.

"Oh, really?." He teases you and leans in to nuzzle into a sensitive spot on your neck, all too pleased to hear this information. "Is this were it all started?"

"Don't make fun of me!" You giggle and squirm in his arms while he continues to tickle you. "I can't help it, maybe I just like cute priests."

"Maybe we should schedule you a an exorcism if it becomes a problem." He continues, hoping if he can keep this up to combat the fear.

"Actually, I was wondering but I was too afraid to ask before." You trail off with a more curious tone. "Do you ever have to do anything like this?"

The question makes him think of things that he would rather not, he had asked it himself once years ago and was relived to hear the answer, though the thought would still keep him up at night.

"No, this sort of thing only happens in movies." He replies with a sigh of relief. "Besides, I'd be in over my head in a real exorcism."

More frightening than any movie is the sound of the doorbell that makes you both jump and then laugh when you realize what it is.

"The money's on the table, you get the pizza and I'll set up the VCR." You tell him while you take the tape from him and take to to the television set.

John is still laughing to himself and smiling as he answers the door, but that smile quickly fades when he sees a familiar face on the other side of the door. He freezes remembering his state of undress and the single woman's house he had made himself comfortable in. Never had he felt so exposed hearing the voice outside the door call out in confusion.

"Father Ward?"

#john ward x reader #john ward #john ward faith #faith the unholy trinity #faith the game #faith tut #hierophilia

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