Cantrell turned towards the nave then gestured for Illias to move closer. “That depends.” Cantrell examined Illias’ face, noting the desperate gleam in his eye and bitten-raw lips. “Can you handle another week?”
Illias made a choked noise. “Please, Father, ithurts.”
“Good.”You know what it’s like for me. “That’s the point of your penance.”
He walked towards the confessional booths knowing Illias would follow. Desperation made one eager to submit without a second thought of what they were doing. Cantrell knew from experience just how far a desperate man would be willing to go for release. He also knew how far his own desperation would make him fall if he was not careful.
Cantrell welcomed the safety of the confessional booth, hidden from curious eyes and ears. He placed his hands in his lap as he took a deep breath, letting the smell of myrrh and frankincense calm any lingering nerves. “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”
“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned, it has been one week since my last confession.”
“Your commitment to salvation is honorable, my child.”
“It’s not salvation I’m committed to, Father. It’s you.”
Cantrell’s breath caught in his throat. Despite already knowing, hearing it aloud made his heart drum louder than the trumpets of Heaven. Could Illias hear it? Could God?
“You’re the only one who’s able to make me this desperate without having to touch me. No one's ever been able to do this to me. It makes my head spin with how hard it makes me, being under your control,” Illias continued.
“So, you’ve enjoyed your penance?” Cantrell asked with a hint of amusement.
“Absolutely not.”
Cantrell barely managed to muffle his chuckle at Illias’ rushed answer.
“I’ve been fucking miserable. I haven’t been able to think because of it. Well, that’s not exactly true. I’ve thought of quitea few things, but they only made serving my penance more difficult.”
“Perhaps I do need to lengthen your penance then, since it seems you're still struggling with your lustful thoughts.”
“Please, Father, anything but that. I’ve been so good for you.”
Cantrell nearly caved at how needy Illias sounded even through the lattice screen. “Have you? Because if I recall—”
“I made a mistake, I know, but I was only tempted because he looked like you. All I could think about wasyou. I mean, fuck, I’d get down on my knees and beg you to justtouchme if I thought there was a chance in Hell you’d do it.”
Depravity slithered through Cantrell’s mind, leading him further from salvation, away from his calling but towards the man he once was. “Would you beg to be released from your penance?”
“I think we both know the answer.”
Cantrell’s restraint was nothing more than a decrepit wall that crumbled the second he laid eyes on Illias. Cantrell merely hid behind its remnants, pretending he didn’t want to devolve back into sin. And he was tired of pretending. “Then beg for me.”
Illias let out a small, low groan that worsened the ache between Cantrell’s thigh. “Please, Father, release me from my penance. Let me touch myself for you. I promise I’ll be good for you, do whatever you say.”
White-hot arousal curled through Cantrell. His desires were vicious, hungry beasts nipping at the first sight of food in a decade. He dared to provoke them further. “Is that all?”
Illias whined, the sound high and pitiful, like a wounded pup. “Please, Father, have mercy. I’ll be good for you, only touch myself with your permission, come with your permission. I’ll do anything. Just, please, release me from my penance.”
The temptation ofanythinghung in front of Cantrell like ripe fruit ready to be devoured. Old appetites resurfaced witha vengeance, prepared to be filled with whatever provided. “Anything?”
“Anything.”
Cantrell hummed, thinking of all the possibilities that come with such a promise. Of course, later—if there was a later—he would warn Illias about the dangers of such promises. A scene could turn sour at the blink of an eye when an unknown or undiscovered limit is pushed. Something Cantrell experienced first-hand and never wanted to repeat. Previous experiences muddling down rampant lust, Cantrell composed his thoughts. Reminded himself that he was in control, not his greed. “I release you from your penance.”
“Thank you.”
A sigh of relief, faint and muffled by the wall separating them, met Cantrell’s ears. “Touching yourself already?”
“Can you blame me?” Illias’ voice wavered, breathing already deepened. “I’m so—ah—fucking wound up. I couldn’t hold back anymore.”
