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"Fuck You calling me father like it doesn't turn you on just to say it."

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You stepped forward, frowing slightly at the frustrated man in front of you, exhaling a nervous laugh, "You okay, father?"

 

"Oh fuck you calling me father like it doesn't turn you on just to say it." He snaps back, exasperated.

 

"I'm sorry" You let out, feeling a pang of shame at how he sees straight through you. Slowly his tired face becomes serious. His jaw tightens as he steps towards you.

 

"Try that again."

 

"What?" You ask, being suddenly brought out of your flustered thoughts as he slowly repeats himself.

 

"I said, try that again." The roughness of his voice makes you lose control, quietly uttering your response:

 

"Forgive me Father for I have sinned." He steps closer, closing the space between you both. He slots his hand perfectly to cradle the side of your face. His hands, God .

 

 His touch fits perfectly and he subtly leans in, whispering, " Good Girl ." before kissing you. It's hot and fervent. Like he's afraid you'll pull away, like he only has one chance to kiss you. But you know you would let him kiss you a thousand times if he wanted to, or better yet, you would let him kiss you forever.

 

He pulls away for a second and searches your eyes, looking for your reaction, still somehow unsure of your feelings. You smile at him and lean back towrds his swollen lips. But he pauses, still considering, before shutting down his mind and whispering a harsh "Fuck." and devouring your mouth with his own. He subtly shifts to kiss across your jaw, making his way down to your neck. His five o' clock shadow grazes your skin, undoubtedly making your skin even redder than it already is with heat.

 

He licks a long, burning stripe from your collarbone to your pulse point, hands moving from cradling your face down to your waist. He holds on like he needs this, like he's trying to make sure it's really happening. You snake your arms up behind his head and grip his hair, slightly pulling on the short strands with want. He moans into your mouth brokenly. Though somehow this celibate man kisses you like you've always known each other, when you finally touch him back, he becomes overwhelmed.

 

You decide to show him just how much you reciprocate his affections by letting your hands drift down over his chest and down to his pants, gently cupping the outline of his hard cock. He bucks into your hand desperately, moaning lowly again.

 

You smirk at the effect you have on him and he pulls away to look down at you slowly palming him, and then back up at you. He says "God, you're good at that." with a little chuckle that you return with a smile as you both remember his lack of experience with all of this.

 

"Um, I've, you know, never, um . . ." He begins to ramble

 

"I know." you softly reply.

 

"You know? Oh-that's good, I guess, I-"

 

"I want you." You state, moving your hand faster.

 

"Fuck, please" He whines back, closing his eyes at the overwhelming sensation.

 

You pull your hand away, hesitating. "Do you have a bed-I mean, a bedroom, cause we can't do this in here, right? Wouldn't God be, like super mad-or grossed out at the very least?"

 

He laughs hard. The tension melts as you do when you catch his beautiful eyes, pupils blown out. His eyes, please God .

 

"I do have a bed." He grabs your hand tenderly and leads you to his room, across the pulpit and down a narrow, dim hallway. The little bit of afternoon light that makes its way into the space makes him look angelic. Heavenly. When you reach a plain door, he stops and has to kiss you again. He needs it and you can feel it in the way he tightly holds your face in his palms.

 

When he opens the door, the room is plain. But you don't notice any of that. You just pull him in again before he can muster another nervous look. You lead him to the bed. It's small. He lays down over you and you're emboldened by the rightness, the familiarity that quickly washes over you as a result of this increasing intimacy. You suck bruises into his skin, confident but slightly dissapointed that they will lie hidden under his high collar. He groans at the feeling and the sinful nature of the demarcation.

 

 He pulls up your thin skirt and begins to grind his clothed hardness against your center. You moan wantonly, finally finding some kind of relief towards the heat pooling in your stomach, pulsing through your cunt.

 

He lifts his head up and looks at you, "Do you want this?" he almost growls.

 

"Yes, Father, please! Fuck me!" He quickly takes his cock out of his pants and grabs your panties, 

strong hands ripping them down your legs.

 

"Good fuckin girl-Fuck" He spits out as he lines himself up with your entrance. He feels you practically dripping onto him.

 

"So wet for me baby, so fucking perf-ECT" He punctuates the end of his rambling with a groan as he finally feels your tight cunt squeeze him, practically sucking him in. He slowly pushes all the way in as you feel every single vein and inch of him. He stills for a while, even as you start to squirm under him.

 

"Please." You whine.

 

"Say it." He shoots back, gaining more composure.

 

"Fuck-Please Father!" You beg. 

 

He smiles, replying  with a satisfied, "Good girl." as he begins to thrust in and out of you roughly. You moan as your pleasure multiplies and you feel an orgasm quickly building in your core. He lifts himself up to look at you. First adoringly at your face, in disbelief that this is really happening, but then in discontent at your still being fully clothed. He grabs at your top in an attempt to get it off and then stills to allow you to pull it over your head. You hastily remove your bra and let it fall onto the floor while he removes his own shirt, ripping out his white collar. His adoration turns to animalistic desire as he begins to suck harshly at your chest, swirling his tongue around your nipples. You squeeze around him in pleasure and he groans.

 

"So fuckin' beautiful. Perfect, beautiful, God ." He punctuates his complement as you suddenly move your hips, attempting to restart his movements. He wastes no time in returning to his brutal rhythymn. You hold on for dear life, scratching your nails down his back. You were marking him with lust and desire, but also with love. You deny it, but deep down you feel so good right now because you love him. And he loves you.

 

Your orgasm was getting closer, and you could feel his thrusts getting less calculated.

 

"Touch me, Father." You breathe out desperately.

 

"What, Darling? I am." He replies, confused and searching your eyes.

 

"No, touch my clit. Please, I want to cum all over your cock." And with that he was furiously rubbing at your sensitive bundle of nerves, almost cumming himself at your words.

 

You cum around him, your cunt squeezing and your vision blurring as pleasure pulses throughout your body. 

 

He follows, groaning, "Fuck Darling, so good, so good, so-" before kissing you and collapsing on top of you.

 

He quickly rolls off of you and lays close beside you on the small bed. You turn and tuck yourself beside him, finding your hand intertwined with his. You must have been holding hands before, though you hadn't noticed. He pulls up your hand and gently kisses it, turning to look at you. His eyes tell you he loves you, his smile affirms it. You smile back and laugh at the absurdity of this situation. How quickly your platonic relationship was consumated.

 

"What? What's so funny?" He asks, amused.

 

"Nothing, it's just, you are really good for a priest. I mean, it brings a whole new meaning to the word missionary." You quip, making his eyes light up as he cackles, trying to distract him from the confession that threatens to spill out of your mouth at any second.

 

Then he realizes that you both need to get cleaned up, so he goes to the bathroom and a minute later comes back, in only his boxers, with a washcloth. He dotingly pays attention to your thighs as well, peppering them with small kisses as well as your chest and then your neck and then your face.

 

At that point you start giggling at the tickling feeling, at the domesticity of it. He climbs back into the bed and holds you, breathing deeply along with you. You look up from his chest and kiss him. It's sweet but needy. You hope he gets the message: that you love him but can't say it. But that you love him nonetheless. You snuggle back into his chest, dozing off into a peaceful sleep wrapped in the arms of the man you love.