Page 28 of Unholy

“Wanna see you,” Killian murmurs against my lips. He gently lays me atop the altar. He leans over me, his hard body pressing against mine, capturing my lips once more. He braces an arm above my head, fingers laced in my hair. His other hand is on my hip, trailing long fingers down my torso, dipping into the waist of my slacks. His nimble fingers unbutton my pants. His hand dips into the waistline of my pants and underwear. I lift my hips, helping him slide them down my legs.

“Killian,” I moan, my slightly hard cock exposed to the cool morning air. Killian stands up, looming over me with dark eyes. His big hands are resting on my hip bones. I arch my hips up, trying to get him to touch me, but he doesn’t. He just looks at me, as if he can’t believe his eyes.

“You are the only angel this church will ever see,” Killian says, and I’m not sure I was even supposed to hear him. His flat palms rub up my torso, but he makes no move to remove the rest of my robes.

“Killian. Please,” I beg, unsure I can take the anticipation much longer. Killian cups my face with the palm of his hand, touching my lip withhis thumb. The gesture is so gentle, I’m not even sure I felt it. Where was the harsh demon I was so used to?

“Be still before me and wait patiently for me.” The twisted Bible verse on Killian’s lips comes out so deep, I wonder if it made its way from the depths of Hell. I stop moving, trying to be patient as he commanded. It’s difficult. I want to be touched. I want my body to be explored like it’s the Promised Land.

Before I can register what’s happening, Killian lifts my hips with little effort and flips me over. The hard surface of the altar is beneath my stomach. I hiss when my cock presses against the rough tablecloth, arching my back so that my ass pops up in the air. Killian’s firm hand pushes onto my lower back, forcing my hips back on the table. He grips my thighs, pulling my legs a part. Killian splays out my body, spreading me on the altar like a sacrifice.

“What are you doing?” I ask, not even bothering to remove whatever is now lodged beneath my collarbone.

“It’s the Last Supper, Father, so I shall feast,” Killian responds, big hands messagingmy ass cheeks. Those gravelly sounding words move over my body, making every area they touch tingle in anticpation. I shiver, cock twitching against the altar. I look back at Killian whose eyes are trained on my body. I face forward again, looking directly between the rows of pews lined on either side of the shiny wood floor.

I close my eyes, waiting for something, anything to happen. My skin prickles in eagerness, nerve endings assessing every inch, trying to determine if there’s a touch. When I’ve almost given up waiting, I feel the lightest touch on my lower back, tracing from hip to hip. It’s too soft to be Killian’s fingers. It almost feels like a…

“Flower?” I finish the thought out loud, looking back to find Killian holding a white Easter Lily that he clearly commandeered from the arrangement next to the altar. He traces it down my ass crack, circling my hole with the soft point of the pedal.

“I missed you,” Killian murmurs almost more to himself than to me. When he traces my hole again with the lily, I moan, pressing back into the flower.

“Killian,please.”

“What do you want, Father?” Killian asks, voice so deep, I could very easily drown in it and be born again. Like I did last time I was around water with Killian. I am so caught up in drowning, I barely pay attention to the question. He traces the flower up my inner thigh effectively bringing me back to the surface.

“I-I don’t know,” I respond, biting my lip on a moan. Killian isn't even really doing anything, but that damn flower is making my entire body quiver with anticipation.

“Come on, Father. Tell me what you want.” Killian bends over my body, and I can feel the outline of his hard cock pressing against my crack. His lips graze my ear, but instead of biting the tip like I had expected, he whispers a single phrase. “Pray to me.”

“Oh myGod,” I moan at the word, something deliciously sinful about the very idea.

“That’s the start of it, Father,” Killian responds, grinding his hips against me, and by some miracle, my cock gets hard again.

“I-I don’t know…” I am so turned on, but I don't know how to ask for what I want. They didn’t teach me this shit in seminary school. I don't even know the words to use. I had intentionally kept my body and mind away from such entertainment, fearing the pull would be too much.

“Yes, you do, Father. Describe it to me.” Killian pulls his hips away from my ass. He replaces his body with the flower. It lightly strokes my skin again, continuing its lazy exploration.

“Your mouth. I want it on me,” I say, voice barely above a whisper. I can feel my cheeks getting hot, embarrassed by saying the words out loud.

“Where on you?” Killian asks, the flower circling my hole again because he knows exactly where. I bite my lip, not wanting to say it out loud. “Come on, Father. We’re in a church. This is where you pray.”

“On my…” The words trail off. I take a deep breath in an attempt to muster my courage. I hiss out the breath when the petal is replaced by Killian’s dry finger. “Your mouth,” I blurt out, unable to hold it in any longer.

“My mouth? Where do you want my mouth, Father?”

I look back at Killian. He isn’t smirking like I thought he would be. He just looks at me, a softness in his eyes. His chest isn’t rising and falling,as if he’s holding his breath awaiting my answer. I close my eyes, pushing my request from the most depraved part of my soul, through my lips and into the air of the church. “God, I want your hot mouth on my hole.”

“Hear me when I say this, Father, I plan to answer every single prayer that comes out of that divine mouth of yours.” Killian falls to his knees behind me. I am praying, but Killian is the one that’s on his knees.

I face forward again. The very image of Killian moving to lick my hole would be my undoing, so I won’t watch. I can’t. Instead, I focus on the large, heavy doors of the church. This place used to be my sanctuary, but now it feels like my prison. When I open those doors to leave today, it will be for the last time. I’m not playing God’s game anymore.

I am forcefully pulled out of my thoughts by Killian’s lips, kissing the top of my tailbone. Killian spreads apart my ass cheeks, trailing kisses lower and lower, circling my hole before kitten-licking it. I get up on my tip-toes, trying to offer more of my body toKillian.

“Your tongue. God, I need your tongue,” I beg, and Killian answers the prayer by circling his tongue around my hole. I moan. I ignore the pain in my injured hand as I grip the other side of the altar so hard, I fear it will splinter like the lattice.

“Deeper.” My hips grind against Killian’s face. His moans caress my skin before he shoves his tongue deeper. My hard cock is stuck between my body and the unforgiving altar, and heaven help me, I think I could come like this. But I don't want to.

“Fuck, God, just like that. Yes. Yes. Yes,” I chant like a mantra, as if I have sinned and am saying the word as penance. But this isn’t about penance. This isn’t punishment. This is celebration. This is rebirth. This is resurrection.

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