Father Nicolo Di Pietro relishes his role as a small parish priest ... until the stranger comes, making him question everything he believes and igniting in him a hunger he can't deny. This 3000-word story includes graphic descriptions of hot m/m oral and anal sex. More
Father Nicolo Di Pietro relishes his role as a small parish priest ... until the stranger comes, making him question everything he believes and igniting in him a hunger he can't deny. This 3000-word story includes graphic descriptions of hot m/m oral and anal sex.
After the mass ended, the stranger waited until everyone else had left before approaching Father Di Pietro where he stood at the church doors. The winter moon shone coldly on the steps, casting the building in a ghostly light. The visitor looked at him with a smile flitting about his lips and spoke with a slight accent that the priest couldn’t identify.
“The body,” he said softly. “And the blood. So powerful they are.”
Father Nico felt the same unease that had struck him during the mass. His instincts told him that the stranger was not talking about the divine mystery of the faith; that he referred to something deeper, and darker, something that comported with the ancient agelessness that emanated from the man. Struggling to maintain his equilibrium, he fell back on stiff formality. “Welcome to St. Sebastian’s. I am Father Di Pietro.”
The man smiled again. The twist of his lips was strangely sensual, and quite against his will, the cleric’s heart beat faster. “I know who you are, priest. We must talk, you and I.”
Father Nico pretended not to understand him. “I hear confessions before mass,” he said, trying to ignore his racing pulse. “The Sacrament of Reconciliation is intended to cleanse the soul and prepare it for the Holy Eucharist. Receiving communion unworthily is a very grave sin.”
The stranger took a step closer. “I am a sinner, Nicolo.” His voice caressed the words in a way that was both confession and celebration, admission and invitation. The priest’s [staff] twitched and began to harden, and he felt faintly dizzy.
“Who *are* you?”
“I am called Sergei.” He laid a hand on Father Nico’s arm, and even though the touch was light and his vestments were heavy, the priest felt electricity jolt through his system at the contact. “Come, let us go somewhere … warmer.”
Father Nico’s [staff] was fully erect now, the other man’s presence burning in his veins. Sergei’s eyes, so dark and compelling, locked on his, and he heard himself say, “We can—talk—in the rectory.”
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