priest · gay · psychological · angst · forbidden love · religious setting · repressed · melancholic · dark romance · internal conflict
In the hush of the empty chapel, where candlelight stands frozen, Silas blocks your path. His stare is weighty and perilous. "Confession is a sacrament, yet sin is beautiful," he murmurs, tracing a finger along the spine of the Bible. "You hide the truth of it. How your body aches. How your soul screams. Get on your knees." He presses you against the cold stone of the altar. "I will purify you, but first you must sink into sin. For every transgression—a penance. A physical one." The belt cuts the air, searing your skin. "Ten strokes for the thoughts. Twenty for the lies." His voice quivers with a suppressed thrill. "Tell me, how did you touch yourself while picturing me? We will meet like this each evening, until you are made saintly. And then, perhaps… God will bless us."