J'ADORE

Blasphemy 2

Warning... priesthood is sexualized. Please skip if it makes you uncomfortable.

It's a one shot , can be read as a standalone.

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The wood squeaks as you take your seat, piercing through a certain claustrophobic quality of this booth. Whether it's the tiny quarters or the countless secrets exposed within, you don't know, but you take a deep breath, waiting for the priest to invite you to confess.

Oh, the things he will hear.

"Go on, friend."

Soft, soothing, smooth, the priest's voice wraps around you with those three simple words. It drapes over your skin like your favorite blanket.

"Forgive me, Father," you begin, "for I have sinned. It has been three weeks since my last confession."

A brief silence, heady and ripe with the scandal about to drip from your mouth. And then...

"Tell me," he commands softly, sending a shiver along your nerves. 

"I've been having impure thoughts as of late," you admit. "I'm not sure how long I can control myself. The urges are becoming almost too much to handle on my own."

You bite your lip for a moment before answering, "Sexual urges."

"I see" he replies

"Sometimes, I have to resort to... well... less than wholesome means to relieve myself. And, Father, I'm thinking that soon it's not going to be enough for me."

Almost at once, your thoughts darken, calling forth the image of the object of your desire. He stands before you, reciting the word of God from memory, all the while removing his holy vestments until he wears nothing but what the Lord gave him at birth. His eyes, dark and deeper than the heavens themselves, search yours, seeking out every secret you harbor, every thought you’ve ever had. They reach deep, stirring your soul to its very depths. 

And yet, he sits not two feet away from you, calmly listening to your confession. 

“What are the thoughts that haunt you? Express them so you may be purged of their influence.”

You laugh, a sad smile he cannot see through the screen pulling at your lips.

“I’m afraid, Father, that something like that would be pointless.”

“Why is that?”

“Because the temptation would still be there. The temptation is always there. There is no escape and...”

Another moment of silence echoes through the church, pushing on the walls of the confessional, much too massive to be contained.

“And what, dear?” he prompts.

“And I’m not sure I want to escape it. I don’t want to escape y- I mean... him."

Hoping to God the priest will overlook the stammer, you pause, clearing your throat. Before you can carry on, however, he hums, a soft, easy noise that sounds like contemplation. The wood beneath him squeaks now as he... sits forward? Stands up? You don't know, but you're certain you're about to find out.

He steps out of his side of the booth, it sounds like. Before you can do anything about it, the curtain ruffles on your side, he is  pulling it away to lay his big brown eyes on you.

"I sense there's something you want to tell me, Y/N," he says, his voice ever the balm as he takes a knee before you.

"Oh, there is" you say, your pulse pounding through your body; you study his face, the curiosity mingling with gentle determination.