Page 27 of Lake of Sin

I watched as his cock jumped to sudden life.

I worked him slowly, and he worked me, eyes fixated on my cock and the way the foreskin bunched and stretched over the swollen glands. His eyes filled with surprise, with tears, with pleasure.

I reached past him to the anointing oil sitting on the altar. “Watch me,” I commanded him, though he was the most attentive audience I’d ever had. I dipped my forefinger and middle finger inside and drew them out, coated and glistening. My thumb rubbed up and down my fingers, ensuring every inch of skin was slick with it.

“Tell me.”

“I—” Oliviero blushed further. He couldn’t look in my eyes. “I want it.”

With my other hand, I roughly snatched his chin. He hissed, pained, and I shook firmly until I was certain he wasn’t looking away. “Tellme what you want.”

Oliviero’s lip buckled. The oil slick ran down my fingers and over my third knuckle. He panted, opened his mouth, closed it, his skin blistering red with his shame. “I want you.”

“Oliviero!”I bellowed, frustrated.

He squeezed his eyes shut. “I want you inside me! I want you to fuck me! I wish I had never become a novitiate; I wish I had lived as other men do! I am full of regret, and if you could just—show me!Showme what my body is meant to feel like!”

I drew him into a kiss so long and passionate I could feel the tears on his cheeks as they fell. Shame did that to you. Release did much the same.

“I loved you,” he whispered, brows crashing together as he stared up at me.

“I loved you, too,” I said honestly, and I wiped away the tears from his cheek. “Are you ready?”

“I want it,” he nodded, mouth open. “Put your fingers inside me.”

I couldn’t stop myself after that. My body convulsed, and my jaw went slack with submission. I brought my coated fingers to his hole, slotting them in the slightly widened indentation,pushing through any resistance until those two fingers slipped inside.

Oliviero was so aroused my fingers slipped in up to the second knuckle on entry. He moaned, clenching so tightly around them. His mouth hung wide open, jaw slack—completely unguarded. Completely vulnerable. I dropped my grip from his chin and wrapped my hand around his cock, squeezing just once. The motion made him unwind. He slumped against the altar, legs in the air, and I could pulse my fingers in and out of him with ease.

“Relax. Let me take care of you.”

“Yes. Yes.” He somehow flushed another shade darker as he said it, hands flying over his face, covering his eyes and his shame.

“Look at me,” I breathed, pushing another finger inside him.

He convulsed, bucking up, and his hands flew away from his face with the shock of the feeling. I nearly took him then and there—my cock seized at the sight of him and his beauty.

Oliviero met my gaze.

I bucked forward, pressing my erection to the underside of his balls. Something changed in his body and his expression, a shift that moved him away from shame towards desire. I knew it intimately; I’d experienced it myself.

But I wanted to give Oliviero something I hadn’t received that first time. I leaned over him and cupped his beautiful face in my hands. Our bodies pressed against one another. He shivered as if cold. I pressed my lips to his, waiting for his shivering to stop, and then I kissed him deeply, opening my mouth against the warmth of his lips. His legs fell open, and I collapsed on him, drawing myself ever closer as he wrapped his arms around my neck. Between our flush forms, I reached, drawing our cocks together between my fingers until they were pressed from root to tip. I rocked my hips against him, gripping the two of us in myright hand, all the while still kissing him. I pressed my tongue against his teeth, and he opened his lips with a moan. Bit by bit, his body understood what to do, and it wasn’t so much about him relaxing anymore as it was about this bodily instinct; an innate understanding. An intrinsic want. He was like me, so well versed with fantasy and years of longing that, at the moment of reception, heknewwhat to do.

“I want it,” he breathed against my lips.

“Be specific,” I bade him, thumb gliding over his lower lip as if to coax the words from his mouth.

“You,” he whispered, all reverent with his tone. Just as I had been with Asmodeus. “Enter me. Defile me.”Then, louder. “I don’t care anymore. I want?—”

He wanted, and that was what mattered. I wanted. The pair of us, who had been moulded by the church, flogged and scolded and bent into a particular kind of submission to a Lord who never cared— we could submit to a different kind of religion and, in it, find the blissful eternity we had been chasing all our lives. His words disarmed me, the look in his eyes compelling me forward. I ran my hands over his thighs and hauled them up, spreading them wide so he was curled up on the arch of his back, hole exposed for me. I positioned myself against the puckered muscle.

“Let me put the fear of God in you,” I whispered.

Oliviero whimpered, and I pressed inside.

“God!”Oliviero moaned, hand fumbling up to catch my shoulder, the other thrusting out over the mensa to twist in the cloth. His face contorted, rapturous as he took me to the hilt. The pressure on my shoulder twisted to pain as Oliviero’s nails dug in. I stroked his hips, assuring him, “You can take it. You’re a good boy; I know you can take it.”

His body shuddered, hand slipping into the tangle of my dark hair to pull me down. Our foreheads knocked together, both ourskin slick with sweat. His hole flexed around my length, and so for many moments, I didn’t move, though it was agonising waiting for him. When his hips relaxed—the tiniest, near imperceptible roll over my cock—I dragged myself out halfway and then clapped back, thunderous with my thrust.

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