Page 28 of Lake of Sin

Oliviero threw his head back with a cry, and as I thrust again and again in a slow, heavy pace, the chapel filled with a litany of moans echoing in the marble arches. We were watched by an audience of carved angels, by Jesus’ stations of the cross, by God Himself: we were watched and not smote. Nothing could have pulled me away from the wet warmth of Oliviero.

Every gasp that emerged from him was shallow and airy. His eyes rolled to the back of his head. I splayed my hand over his chest, covered in a light down of blond-brown hair, curling over his tall and aroused pink nipples. I folded into him, tongue roaming over them, sucking at them, thrusting slow and controlled until he was sowantingOliviero began to squirm impatiently, urging me for more.

I rocked back off him, hands gripping his pale ankles as if they were the reins of a horse tack, and I pulled his ass closer. Then, I drove forward with every bit of strength and desire I possessed in my body.

Oliviero howled, his loud cry petering out to a reedy whine as I thrust again and again into the warm pocket of his body. He was gulping air, crying out,patheticand beautiful, as his cock bounced between us. Near translucent precum beaded at the tip, dribbling down the sides. It was complete submission; he gave me no resistance nor any help: he was rendered into nothing but a toy for my own desire, a receptacle for my cum. His eyes were heavy-lidded, as if every thrust forced his immortal soul further out of his flesh. I was defiling him. He could never return from this.

“What would they think if they knew?” I whispered, still thrusting hard. I had to shout it over the choral cry of his pleasure. “All the men who entrusted you with their faith? With all their worries and their doubts? What would they do if they knew you were a whore, just like Don Alessandro?”

Oliviero’s whimper was shameful. His teeth slammed together in a desperate attempt to contain his cries. But then his eyes snapped open, and, through tears of shame, I saw his eyes roll back with sudden pleasure.

I didn’t even have to touch him. All at once his cock bucked. His release shot into the air, splattering over my chest, and he clenched so firmly I couldn’t have pulled free from him even if I’d wanted to. Oliviero’s spent cock wobbled between us. Both his stomach and my chest were wet with our shared pleasure. I felt the urge building inside me—that moment where it all changed fromgoodtodon’t stop. My body urged me to keep moving in him, but I took my time, dragging myself out so I felt every inch of his hole, every smooth moment, until the tight, puckered opening squeezed my sensitive glands. This rolling motion was an unbreakable rhythm. Not even God could have interfered in that moment. I buried myself all the way to the hilt and dragged out all the way to the tip, finding a perfect pace that let it all build, build,builduntil my core was tight and pulsing. Sweat drenched me,

“Oliv—”

I couldn’t even form the word.

“Yes!”Oliviero whispered, astonishment curling in his tone.

With all the force of Hell, my body shuddered, and I came in him, the pleasure rolling in waves until the faintest aftershocks left me twitching inside him. He clenched again over my sensitive member—I had to pull free of him with a sharp, overstimulated hiss.

I collapsed against him, and he let me. Oliviero’s hands spun through my hair, the sweat of my brow pressed to the sweat of his heaving chest.

We held each other for minutes until the heat of desire evaporated, and we were left chilly from our cooling sweat. And we cried.

They weren’t tears of shame. They were great, heaving sobs of relief. Something had been taken from my back, a pressure I hadn’t realised had been pressing down on me for a small eternity. Unburdened, I pressed my face into his neck and held him tightly.

“Thank you,” I told him. “Thank you.”

When I uncoupled from Oliviero and looked down at him, his eyes were staring off into the distance. His red-rimmed eyes could not see me.

I cupped his cheek and urged him to look at me. His head rolled limply.

“Do not do this to yourself,” I told him. I could recognise shame clawing back into his body.

He flickered back into himself and blinked rapidly, brows crashing together in a weak frown. “What am I meant to do now?”

He sounded—accusatory. Upset. It was a misplaced anger, but I knew it well.

I leaned forward, and he let me kiss him, slow and languorous. When I pulled away, his cheeks were flushed again.

“You are beautiful,” I told him. “And I have always wanted to do that to you. Maybe I should have, years ago; maybe I wouldn’t have gone to such extremes to ease the suffering of my body if I had. But I will tell you this, Oliviero: do not be like me. Do not give yourself to an institution that won’t repay you. It will take and take until you are a husk. You may still believe in God. You may still love Him—I will never fault you for your faith. Butpeoplecorrupted His love for us. They made laws in His name. You do not have to follow them.”

“How can you say such a thing when you have seen Hell?” he whispered, voice tiny.

“All I have experienced in Hell is my true self,” I murmured. “All I have experienced is pleasure. I know myself better than I ever have.”

He blinked at me, unconvinced, though with his body spent and latent pleasure throbbing behind his belly, I knew he would think on these words.

“Why did you come back?” he whispered. “Just for me? Have I failed a test from God?”

“It was no test for you. It was a test for me,” He didn’t know what to say to this. I kissed him again. “I feared what you thought of me. I know most of our brethren outside will doubt I was ever a good man.”

He was still flushing as he looked at me. “You are a good man.”

“Perhaps. But I am also a man who desires the pleasures of the flesh. In the eyes of the church, I cannot be a wholly good man.”

“Then I. . .” his voice went high. I shushed him.

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