Page 24 of The Reaper

The cavernous church was quiet. There was a stillness. Perhaps the calm before the storm. Jessica had long ago gone home and there wasn’t the usual contingent of people needing my attention. We were truly alone in this small box, an island in a vast sea of religion.

As a man of the cloth and a vessel for God, I had already breached several layers of protocol, but I’d lost all sense of right or wrong. My oath of celibacy had already been tarnished, and here I sat, a small barrier between me and a man I secretly craved. I wanted him to use my pious body. To take control.

Archer stood. “What brought me here?” he parroted. “That’s almost humorous, Father.”

He removed his leather jacket, revealing another layer of black; a garment in the guise of a T-shirt that was stretched to bursting by muscle. His chest was tight and defined, sexy nipples poking through the thin cloth. After laying his jacket in the corner of his tiny space, he slowly removed the shirt.

I considered myself to be a steady person. Patience and a calm demeanor were my trademarks. Archer, however, had me stiffening with anticipation of what he might do next. Faint scars peppered his chest and arm; a larger one with stitch placement still visible ran along his left oblique. Defined abdominals lined his midsection like a roadmap to my new hell. Everything pointed down to his low-riding black denim.

“Stop,” I whispered.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, playing with the metal button above the zipper of his jeans.

“I … don’t,” I panted.

“You don’t what, Father?”

My pulse thumped in my ears. “I don’t want you to stop.”

Archer grinned, looking down at his bulging crotch. He undid the button of his pants, then unzipped them. With a gentle tug, the jeans fell from his hips to his ankles. He wasn’t wearing underwear.

“What do we have here, Father?” he teased, cupping his balls and lifting them up.

“This is a mistake,” I said, panic coursing through my body. One problem: My excitement was beginning to overpower any common sense I had left. Archer stood naked, stroking his cock, while I remained seated on my side of the booth. His biceps seemed flexed even when they were relaxed, particularly the one attached to the hand jerking his dick. I studied him with adulation. He was an amazing specimen of man; a vision. His wide chest and broad shoulders tapered down to a slim waist. His thighs were thick and cut, supporting the splendor above them. As blasphemous as it was, he was a god.

“Why don’t you spend less time worrying about your holier-than-thou crap and get over here and suck my cock?” he ordered.

“I can’t.”

“The fuck you can’t,” he hissed. “Now, do as I say, Father, and strip that pretty little dress of yours off.”

“It’s a cassock, not a dress.”

“I don’t care if it’s Cinderella’s ball gown. Dump it on the floor and get your sweet ass over here.”

The way Archer spoke was hypnotizing. On one hand, he was crude and offensive. On the other hand, it drove me mad with desire. I’d always wondered about being dominated and I now wanted to be owned by him. I was always in control of every facet of my life, it’d be nice to be told what to do for once.

I knew walking away was the right thing to do, but deep down inside, where I kept my demons suppressed, was a passion burning so strong I was willing to cast aside all decorum and sensibilities for a taste of what he offered. Oh, I wanted him.

I unbuttoned the cassock, starting from the top, letting it fall behind me, and then stood in a white shirt and boxers.

“All of it,” he insisted. His voice was firm as he commanded my every move.

I lacked the power to say no at this point, so I did as I was told. Once naked, we both were motionless and I waited for further instructions. None came, making me shiver from anticipation and the chilliness of the air.

“Well?” I asked.

“Stand still, Father. I’ll tell you what’s next.” He raked my body with lust, grinning as his eyes fixated on my erection. “And you act like you don’t want this.” A humorless laugh escaped his mouth. “Your cock speaks otherwise.”

Archer sat down on the bench and spread his legs wider. His balls were exposed under his stiff erection, which was leaning slightly as it tried to hold its girth upright. He brought his hands to his ripped stomach and dragged them over it, occasionally brushing across the tip of his dick.

“I can’t do this,” I said. “Not here.”

“Come to me, Father. Now.”

He was steel and I was a magnet. There was no ignoring his command.

I stepped from the booth and into the vast darkness of my church, glancing toward the crucifix. Forgive me.

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