Page 77 of The Teras Trials

I am not a very good Christian.

So when Leo takes his cock out of his pants, I let out a little moan. Leo’s finger grazes beneath my chin as he raises it, thumb edging against my lips, rubbing over my teeth.

“Open,” Leo whispers. I open dutifully. He’s so hard it must be painful; head red, swollen, dripping pre-come. I open wider. Leo presses the head of his cock on my tongue, and I taste him, tonguing up into the slit. Leo jerks forward, seizing with a groan, and presses into me fully. We moan together; I am suddenly so hard I have to move. I dig the palm of my hand against my breeches, grinding up for the friction, even as the material strains and starts to hurt. My focus is on Leo, on the staccato noises, the heavy grunts he’s making. I stare up at him, at the way his face twists, religious in his ecstasy. And I let him fuck my mouth, every snap of his hips making me choke, each thrust another blasphemy.

I reach up to brace against his thighs, then snake around to the swell of his arse, gripping hard.

He grabs my hair and fists it—fuck, I am completely at his mercy. He whispers something I don’t catch, and then he’s coming suddenly, pumping down my throat and moaning, saying, “Holy God, Holy God, Cass, fuck,” and I swallow and pant as he pulls out of me. But shit, I need it now—need him to put his hands on me. I’m so hard I will probably fall apart from the slightest touch. Leo reaches down and drags me to standing, kissing me hard. He’s crowding against my body, inhaling against my lips like he’s trying to catch his breath by stealing mine. His hand moves down my torso and he palms my erection—God, prayer has never made me feel like this. God’s love has never made me feel like this. I want—

“I want you,” I say, and Leo’s lips quirk up in a grin, and then God intervenes.

Just as Leo crowds me back against the confessional’s seat, spinning me, hands tearing at my pants, we hear it.

Footfalls on the marble outside, and a voice—Father Veer’s, curious as he calls out, “Is someone. . . seeking absolution?”

Leo puts a hand on my mouth. We go quiet, but then the priest's footsteps start up again, and he’s going to open the door and find the two of us tangled up in sin. I feel Leo make the decision. His body tenses and he presses more firmly against me; my erection throbs in his hands.

“Yes,” he says, fumbling me. I try to bite the flesh of his fingers to keep my eager moan locked away; I’m not sure if I managed it.

In any case, the priest says, “Very well.” He walks to the booth, he opens it, and settles in, and all the while Leo’s hands are touching me.

So I am trapped in Hell, or a Heaven so tainted by my filth it has become this—suspended between the back of the confessional booth and Leo’s work-broadened body, with his big hands palming me and his cock growing hard again against my backside.

“In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sanctii, Amen,” Father Veer says. I shiver when he invokes God’s name, fearful that if He wasn’t watching before, He certainly is now.

Leo parrots my earlier line, and manages to sound devout in a way that, if I didn’t know him, I would never question that he was Christian. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” he says. He doesn’t know what comes next, doesn’t know the formula ingrained in me, so he just says, “I have committed the sin of sodomy,” with a low growl.

“I see,” Father Veer says. I can’t parse his tone—my mind is elsewhere, my mind is focused on bucking up towards Leo’s hand. “But God's love is infinite and His mercy is without limits. You are here seeking forgiveness, my son. That is the first step towards repentance.”

“It would be,” Leo says. “But I know I’ll do it again.”

Christ, this is the act that will plant me securely in hell. I want Leo to plunder me, but I will make do with the friction. I try to fuck my cock up into his hand, but he lets go suddenly, putting both hands on my hips to lock me in place. Against my neck he mumbles, “Did you hear me, Father?”

“I heard you,” Father Veer says. He shifts in his seat—discomfort, maybe, making him move. The priest clears his throat just as Leo grazes the sensitive head of my cock, so my moan is slightly muffled.

“Everything alright?” the priest says

“I’m bereft, can’t you tell?” Leo says. Cocky bastard. “Can barely. . . keep it to myself. How upsetting I find it. How incapable I am of stopping myself.”

He’s taking the piss now, and I should be furious, but I’m quivering and bent over. Leo starts working me with an intensity, and I am braced against the back wall, sweating, desperately canting up—but the angle is terrible, and I barely have any power to my thrusts, so it’s up to Leo entirely. He does the job with an almost cruel ease, wrist rapidly stroking, breath hot against my ear, cock straining in his breeches against my backside.

“Son,” Father Veer says. “Whilst I. . . cannot condone or approve of such behaviour, I will still offer you God's love and mercy. God prefers you focus on the teras threat. He will overlook this, if you destroy the beasts of Satan.”

Leo pauses in his movements and I swallow a groan, burying my face into my bracing arm. I need it, I need it. I arch my back for his attention, but his hand doesn’t move.

“It’s this place,” Leo says. There’s a change in his tone that gives me pause, but I’m barely thinking beyond what I want him to do to me. “I don’t want to die without knowing what true pleasure is. I want to have as much of it as I can. I want to fuck as much as I can. Can you blame me?”

A sigh, the kind of noise I expect of a man who truly doesn’t give a shit. Not what I expect from a priest. “I’m not here to pass blame on you. Only forgiveness, if you’re seeking it. But it seems. . . that you’re not.”

Leo touches me with renewed speed and I arch into his touch so far I lose my purchase on the wall. I bend so I’m half collapsed on the confessional’s seat, one hand over my mouth, and—

God.

Nothing ever feels. Like this.

“Oh, my God,” Leo breathes as I come suddenly over his hand. “God. I’m definitely not.”

I want to moan and have to bite down hard on my own arm as I quiver and nearly topple forward. My legs twist inwards, knees buckling, and almost immediately the clarity of what I’ve done hits me. It’s not long before I’m bludgeoned by shame. Leo’s hands disappear. I look over my shoulder—pants around my ankles, cock dripping, an absolute mess of a man—and watch Leo lick my cum from his fingers.

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