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The church fell silent as the sinners came and went, an average day for a disciple and Advocate of Xipe.
The mundanity of Sunday’s duties to the church was tiring, but he felt the Lost required him.
As he closed his eyes, finding the confessions started to slow, finally a moment's peace for the acting priest.
Until heavy footsteps echoed into the hallways, the clinking of metal… an all too familiar sound, yet never one Sunday had heard in the confessional.
Sunday let out a sigh before leaning closer to the booth’s grid.
Before the ‘stranger’ began his confession he flicked his lighter, taking a long drag from his thin cigarette – “Advocate of Xipe, I’m afraid I’ve been overcome with sinful thoughts.”
Sunday listened intently, recognizing the voice “What may these burdening thoughts entail, confess and may the sin be absorbed from you.”.
Gallagher paused, placing his lighter in his pocket, the gentle rustling of fabric as shuffled in his seat.
Gallagher stared at the confession box dividing him and Sunday, the mesh obscuring each other’s figure from view.
“I cannot stop having fantasies about our interactions, though sinful and impure I thought truly you could be the only one to cleanse me of this dirty sin.”.
Sunday’s eyes furrowed, feeling his chest tighten as he listened to the man next to him, a mere thin wooden wall separating them.
Gallagher went on, before letting Sunday even get a word in– “I’m awfully curious about your body.”
some kind of heat brushed past Sunday… the tension in the air was suffocating, but not in a completely insufferable way.
Sunday’s mind wandered, whilst listening to this man… he felt his mind fathom with wonder,
if he were honest– he started to wonder what Gallagher would look like in different states of undress, undoing buttons on his shirt, and pants-- even the harness he wore gave some food for curiosity.
But no, Sunday should not think these unsavory ideas into this sacred building, he is the holy here to listen, not the sin to be washed.
“I see, well, no actions have been taken inspired by this ideology… your sins are–”
Gallagher interrupted, “Are you curious about me, Advocate?”
Sunday felt chills run up his back… he closed his eyes, thinking– without intending to, about Gallagher.
Sunday’s thoughts were being overrun with promiscuous visualizations… imagining Gallagher’s rough hands pressed against his hips, holding him steady.
Sunday crossed his legs, feeling the dirty mindscape drench him, he was a little more than curious.
“I believe the confessional is not the time for questions,” he uttered toward Gallagher.
Gallagher chuckled, letting out a soft breath “I see, you're thinking about it too.”
Sunday gritted his teeth, god this wretched man… “you should focus on your sin, not speculation.”
Gallagher slid closer to the wall whispering to Sunday directly “Is it really wrong if we both share this?”
Sunday let out a deep breath, he hadn’t… thought of that.
It was true, they both were sharing ideas, not via speech nor writing… but through their minds.
Sunday was deep in thought when he heard– the ruffling of Gallagher’s clothes, the soft sound of metal and cotton colliding against their respective surfaces.
Gallagher huffed "Tell me, what do you see right now when you close your eyes."
Sunday blinked, sputtering slightly "What are you doing?".
"I'm unsure, what do you think I'm doing?" Gallagher replied, the rasp in his voice catching Sunday off guard.
Sunday closed his eyes, listening to the sounds from the other side, his mind struck with lewd portraits drawn of Gallagher, curated by his holy mind-- he could only think of one thing
was he touching himself?
inside our holy structure? right in the confessional?
Sunday's legs tightened up, huffing, frustrated-- "You couldn't have done this in your room?"
Gallagher let out a laugh "Sunday, I wasn't doing what you're thinking at all."
Sunday's eyes widened, realizing what just unfolded, he proved it...
"--you thought of that on your own."
Sunday's legs quivered, his body was heating up so fast, in a flash all he could think about was that graphic scene of Gallagher masturbating.
Sunday huffed "You are trying to rile me up, aren't you? what do you gain from this?"
Gallagher spoke quietly, only intending Sunday to hear these words "Now I know we have similarities.".
"... get in my side." Sunday unlocked his door, huffing with sexual frustration.
Gallagher stood up, obliging "Inside the booth?"-- Sunday snapped back "Get in now or never."
Gallagher stepped in, Sunday leaning over his large frame to lock the door again, the small space kept them right up next to each other.
Gallagher looked down at Sunday, unable to sit whilst Sunday had his legs crossed
swapping perspective, Gallagher kneeled on the floor, he placed his hands on Sunday's knees, separating them.
Sunday held his hand over his mouth looking away from Gallagher in shame, how could this dirty mutt be seducing him? and why was it working?
Gallagher's hands were exactly how Sunday imagined, rough with soft palms and quite warm.
he unbuttoned Sunday's pants, sliding his fingertips up Sunday's shirt, trailing them against his sensitive hips
Sunday gasped lightly, shivers going up his spine.
Gallagher slipped Sunday's pants off with ease. finicking with his panties "I hadn't imagined you not wearing boxers." he leaned down closer to Sunday's crotch, rubbing his finger against the wet fabric "I thought I was the dirty-minded one, but you're soaked."
Sunday moaned, watching Gallagher, slowly slide his undergarments down.
Gallagher slipped his middle finger into Sunday, rubbing gently, his other hand placed on Sunday's inner thigh, keeping his legs open wide.
Sunday gritted his teeth, throwing his head back slowly, as his legs quivered, his dripping pussy coating Gallagher's finger in seconds.
Gallagher smiled, watching Sunday enjoy himself-- taking his ring finger and slipping it in as well.
Sunday panted, choking on his words as he tried to remain quiet "Damn-- you dirty man."
Gallagher huffed, slowly sliding his fingers out as he placed both hands onto Sunday's thighs, spreading him wider as he prodded his tongue into Sunday's pussy, flicking it with care against his sensitive pleasure points.
Sunday gasped, gripping his hand onto Gallagher's head, yanking his hair as he felt his hips sway against Gallagher's mouth.
"Fuck-- you... fuck you!" Sunday groaned out, tossing his head back again
Gallagher swirled his tongue against Sunday's clit, teasingly, looking up at him, before lifting his mouth off "Don't curse in the house of god."
he kissed Sunday's thigh before shoving his tongue back in.
Sunday let out a grunt argumentatively, but slowly it turned to moaning "Right there! god right there." he gripped Gallagher's hair roughly.
Gallagher went back and forth, lovingly fluctuating his tongue with care to make Sunday pleased.
Sunday's legs were shaking as he bit his lower lip, feeling his chest tighten yet again as his mind felt the euphoria.
he felt his pussy ache, as he slowly closed his legs, holding Gallagher's head in between his thighs as Gallagher ate him out.
Gallagher pressed further, placing his hands around Sunday's thighs, letting him squeeze his head.
Sunday's huffs and moans got louder and louder before he spread wide again, orgasming intensely "FUCK!" he screamed out, panting like crazy.
Gallagher lifted his head, the trail of spit and discharge on his tongue stretched as he moved his head back.
Gallagher leaned back into Sunday's thighs, kissing them gently "Mmm." he murmured as he kissed them, looking directly into Sunday's eyes as he did.