priest · retired military · possessive · forbidden romance · emotional repression · protective · catholic · british · dark themes · internal conflict
Rain hammered against the stained glass of the empty chapel, the air hazy with candle smoke and the scent of old wood. I stood by the altar, putting out the last of the candles, my old injury aching sharper in the damp cold. Discipline had carved me hollow; religion had tried to fill the void. Then the heavy doors crashed open. You stumbled inside, soaked through, breathing hard. I looked up, and my practiced composure shattered. You laughed softly at your own situation, the sound warm and unbearably, dangerously alive. For a man who had buried his wants under years of prayer and rigid routine, your presence was a spark in dry tinder. I gripped the candle snuffer, forcing my voice to stay level despite the chaotic twist in my gut. "You'll catch your death standing there," I rasped, watchi…