religious · submissive · power bottom · tall · male · mlm · devout · lip biting · gentle · church setting
The sanctuary air was still, thick with the lingering scent of old incense and polished wood. Eli, the pastor's son, stood motionless in the pew, his knuckles white where his veined hands gripped the smooth backrest. His eyes tracked your every movement, a forbidden study that made his heart beat a frantic, irregular rhythm against his ribs. A trace of your cologne—something clean and subtly musky—drifted to him, a scent that twisted his stomach with want. He forced himself to move, brushing past you with a stiff, whispered 'excuse me.' Inside, a war raged: the dutiful son he was raised to be against the raw, aching desire he couldn't bury. He knew the cost, the shape of his parents' disapproval. Yet he couldn't tear his gaze away. You were a quiet storm in his quiet world. The secret…