Chapter Text
Wood polish, incense, candle wax. The smell of the confessional, and a smell I had come to associate with him.
I knew by now that waiting until the last few minutes of confessional time would always land me as the last person to be seen, and give us plenty of opportunity to chat. If he had any other duties for the evening, he never told me so; happy to sit and talk to me, his low, lullaby voice purring through the confessional grate while I blushed and fidgeted.
The candles had burnt down by this hour, and the sconces added to the dim, dreamy light they threw over the ornate room. The shadows masked the shining golden lustre of the walls but they still glinted and twinkled in patches as I walked by. The booth looked almost ink-black in the setting sunlight, a silhouette of ebony amidst the splendor.
My footsteps echoed around the large, silent room. When my clammy hand touched the sleek wood of the door, a small shudder ran down the length of my spine - I slipped inside, closing it as quietly as I could behind me before settling on the little seat, already a little breathless.
The smell of musk and cologne drifted from the grate. It was dark enough that I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was there; the gooseflesh on my arms and legs were proof enough of his presence. We sat in the dark for several moments, the only sound being my shaky breathing.
“Buonasera.” I whispered. My cowl felt like a hand squeezing my throat. I swallowed hard, lips parted.
“Buonasera, sorella.”
At the sound of his voice I rested my head against the wood. He was sat just inches away, so close and yet completely unreachable. My fingers plucked at the hem of my habit, my hands barely visible in the scarce light.
“I’ve come to you for advice, Your Unholiness.”
The gentle inhale of his breath, then silence. Waiting for me to continue.
“I have been practising my sins.” My finger trailed around the carved patterns in the wood, eyes flickering over to watch. “But I feel I can improve in one sin in particular. The sin of lust. I’ve been having impure thoughts, but… perhaps not impure enough.”
Silence again. The air was hot in these stuffy little booths, and I wished I could peel off my veil and cowl to give myself some air.
“Vedo.” He said, at last; I closed my eyes, listening to his voice buzz through the wood, so quiet, so intimate. “Perhaps you will tell your Papa these thoughts. I can tell you if they are… ah… sinful enough.”
The entire side of my body was pressing into the wood, subconsciously trying to get as close to him as possible. I let his honeyed words flow over me for a moment, breathing in a shaky breath of nervous excitement. He’d never asked me that before.
“I… I imagine myself with someone. A man. I’ve been admiring him from afar, but I cannot have him. And one day, he comes to me in the night, appearing when I’m in the middle of getting changed for bed…” My fingers wrapped around the Grucifix hanging around my neck; licking my lips, I continued. “… and he kisses me.”
No response for that. My cheeks were beginning to burn. Closing my eyes, I bolstered my nerve and carried on.
“He kisses me so passionately it’s like he missed me. His fingers twist in my hair and he takes me to my bed. Pushes me down onto it so I’m sitting, wearing just my nightie and panties. I’m staring up at him while he looks down at me, and he’s touching himself through his pants, and without breaking eye contact he undoes his pants and takes it out… and I’m shaking and trying not to moan, because I’ve wanted it for so long…”
A rustle of fabric, a brief exhale. I tailed off, enjoying the scene I was painting in my head. Imagining his eyes - that one wicked white one glinting in the moonlight - enrapturing me as he took out his cock, his gloved hand stroking himself just inches from my face. My thighs squeezed together and I shifted on the seat, exhaling shakily. He hadn’t said anything, so I took my cue.
“He takes his cock and I open my mouth already - I’m so eager to taste it, I’ve been thinking about tasting it for months. He slides the tip all over my lips and tongue, and it’s so big and so hard I can’t help moaning, begging for him to put it in my mouth -”
“Cazzo -” Barely audible, hissed between teeth, but there. I opened my eyes and listened, holding my breath; the quiet panting I’d attributed to myself continued to rasp. A hot flush saturated my entire body as I sat in stunned silence, heart pounding. Was… was he enjoying himself?
“But he only lets me suck him for a few minutes. He’s pulling my nightie off, and my panties - and he knows he doesn’t need to do anything else with me from how soaked they are, just for him. I’ve been thinking about him for months and he’s finally here, finally undressing me, finally in my bed, and it’s so good and so surreal that I can’t quite believe it - and I’m so fucking /wet/ -”
The last word, moaned, rang through the booth. I stopped dead, glancing down. My hand had crept between my thighs and was pushed against myself, trying to ease the growing throb there.
“I’m wet right now for you, Papa.” I uttered.
A hitched breath, the sound of fabric, moving rhythmically, stifled moans. Eyes wide, I listened carefully, heart racing, scarcely daring to breathe.
“Your… fingers.” He muttered. “Where?”
The heat on my face intensified. I blew upwards onto my sweaty brow, swallowing.
“They’re on me.” I confessed. “I… I can’t help it. I need… I need it so bad.”
More ragged breaths, more movement.
“Play with yourself. Tell me how you do this.”
Oh, God. My hand grinding against my heat, I sighed shakily at the minor relief it gave me.
“I’m… I’m touching myself over my panties.” I whispered. “They’re soaked. I’m slipping my fingers under the waistband and I’m - ah - touching my skin.”
Hesitantly, I dutifully recounted what I was doing to him, tone hushed - it was quite embarrassing, but with every passing second I would hear another gasp, another little groan, and the possibility of him touching himself at my words was growing. I let myself imagine him for a minute, leaning back on his seat, chasuble pulled up so he could stroke his cock. I wondered what it looked like.
I’d fallen silent, the sounds of my fingers working against my wet flesh filling the air. It didn’t even feel good anymore. I would not be sated until I had him, and to know that he could possibly be entertaining the same thought less than a foot away from me…
Gloved fingers gripped onto the grate. I clambered onto my trembling knees to look at them, breathing shallowly. With reverence, I trailed the tip of my finger over his. I shuddered, hard. It was the first time I had ever touched him.
“Sister.” He said it between his teeth. “More.”
“It’s you, Papa.” I whispered. “All I think about is you. Please.”
From my position, I couldn’t see his face, but a glimpse of his lap - my heartbeat pounded in my temples when I saw his hand travelling over himself, just a glimpse of his cock. I whimpered, and craned to see more, face against the grate. His hand moved, and gloved fingers slipped through the grate once more - right over my mouth. When I sucked on them, he groaned - and my knees wobbled so violently I almost fell.
“Please.” I begged.
“You come to me.” He rasped. “Over and over. You see your Papa in confessional, week after week… for this?”
“Yes.” I admitted, quietly.
After a beat, the hand moved from the grate. The sound of metal - of locks turning. I sat back from the panel, mouth open, watching with incredulity as the middle partition slowly swung open. And he was there, staring at me with those eyes, the facepaint and the eye glowing eerily in the darkness. And just from that look, I came completely undone, melting into my seat and only managing a weak little moan. When I finally was able to tear my eyes away from his, I saw his hand wrapped around his cock, chasuble bundled around his waist like I’d imagined. He smirked at my expression and I looked away, cheeks burning.
“No, look.” He whispered hoarsely. I did; he gripped the base and moved his hand along it slowly, dragging his foreskin over the glistening head. He was actually bigger than I had hoped, and long enough that I knew it would hurt in the best way if he got too rough. I sank onto my hands and knees then, unable to take my eyes away from him.
“Can… can I?” I uttered.
A smirk, a shrug.
“If you want this, Sister.”
Want was an understatement. As soon as he gave me his consent I was on my feet, kicking off my shoes, jetting them aside before I all but jumped on him, squeezing through the tiny space into his side of the booth.
It wasn’t until I was on my knees in front of him I noticed how surprised he was, jaw slack as I dragged my tongue quickly over his head, his cock still gripped in his hand. Salty arousal coated my tongue and I couldn’t resist closing my mouth over his tip briefly before forcing myself away. I wanted him to fuck me every which way, and now he was giving me the chance, I was spoilt for choice. My trembling hands roamed over his thighs, over and onto his chest. His shock hadn’t diminished, and I shrank away, mortified.
“I - I’m sorry, Papa?” I whispered. Oh God, had I done something wrong? My back pressed into the wall and I cringed, hand coming to my mouth to chew at my thumb. Papa blinked, and then smirked.
“Va bene, sister. Most will start with a small touch but you are… a girl who takes what she wants.” He chuckled, eyes blazing. “You think of this moment?”
“Yes.” I choked. “So many times.”
He tilted his head then, a lazy smile playing on his lips as he stroked his cock, eyes flickering over me.
“Show your Papa what you think of.”
I shivered at his words, shaking my head a little.
“You’re… you’re sure?”
“If you don’t do this, I will.” He muttered darkly.
Hesitantly, still wondering if this was some sort of test, I returned to him, my hands brushing his chest lightly. He relaxed back in his seat and watched, alternating his gaze between where I was touching him and my face. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. I couldn’t believe I was finally touching him. It had been months in the making, and the pulse between my legs was unbearable.
I had to have him.
When I straddled his lap, the same surprise flashed on his face, just for a minute. His face was so close to mine, and although I was scared to wrap my arms around his neck, doing so felt completely natural. I studied him closely. I needed to commit this moment to memory; his eyes, hooded with arousal. His parted lips, plump and inviting me to kiss them. The rasp of his breath in his throat.
My hand skimmed down his front to touch his cock, brushing his own hand out of the way so I could grab it properly - so hard, so big. Shuddering, I looked down at it; it was leaking onto my habit, his come making a little wet patch on the dark fabric. His forehead pressed onto mine, then, and I couldn’t bear it anymore. Balancing on my knees, I pulled my panties aside and sat up, eyes closing as I teased the tip of his cock against myself; hot and hard, slick in seconds from how wet I was. He buckled forward, forehead pressing to mine again, the heat of his breath on my face. His hands reached, grabbed my hips, rocking my body against the movement.
Now it was actually about to happen, I was putting off actually doing it. The thrill of getting this far was intoxicating; my head spinning, I moaned quietly, panting from arousal.
Just when I couldn’t take it anymore, I finally pushed him inside of me - and the resulting groan falling from his lips was so deliciously good I almost came there and then. I slid slowly down his length until I was flush with his body, his cock buried inside me completely. His lips trailed over my face, my cheek, to my ear.
“Thought you were just going to touch me, Sister.” He mumbled, and a stab of panic immediately knifed into my gut. Sensing me tensing, he squeezed my hips. “This is more fun. Andiamo.”
At his command, I started to move. I tried to keep it slow at first but having him under me, inside me - the man I had been lusting after for /months/ - was too much. I slammed myself down onto him, grabbing his shoulders for leverage so I could ride him properly. My thighs burned from the effort but I didn’t care; his own hips moved, his cock driving into me relentlessly, his body so new and exhilarating to touch but fucking me so easily like we’d done this a hundred times before. I wanted to push my face into his neck to stifle my pathetically desperate moans but didn’t dare. Each snap of his hips made the pressure tighten, hitting inside me so deep my eyes rolled, unable to catch my breath.
Papa remained composed but his breathing was ragged. I could feel his eyes burning into me; when I moved my hand to my mouth he grabbed my wrist and wrenched it away.
“This is what you want, yes?” He whispered. I nodded, pausing to just sit on him for a second, feeling his whole length inside of me while I shifted and moaned. His hand travelled up my thigh and then his thumb was pressing against my clit, making me squirm, whimper, beg. He rubbed it in quick little circles, and the pressure only worsened. I shook my head quickly.
“No, no.” I gasped. “Not over. Not yet. Please.”
“But you sound so good like this.” He teased, bouncing his hips up into me so I would start moving again. It felt so fucking /good/ - I was so close I could cry - but I didn’t want this to end yet. I’d waited months and months for this and he had me coming undone in minutes.
“You like this, Sister?” He growled, unrelenting, hand squeezing my hip to keep my motion going. Groaning, I could only nod. It was threatening to crash at any second - just one little thing more would tip me over the edge completely -
He kissed me, with surprising tenderness, and I shattered.