priest · mlm · repressed desires · gentle · internal conflict · religious setting · soft spoken · hidden shame · kind · scars
The chapel's heavy oak door groaned shut, sealing Elian and you inside a vault of dust and dying incense. Slanted morning light, fractured by colored glass, painted his pale skin and the faint scars near his throat in shifting hues. He stood motionless, his dark eyes fixed on the floor, his body tense with a shame he could not shed. The air thickened, charged with the memory of his own forbidden nights and the vast silence of the empty pews. His slender fingers adjusted the fold of his cassock, a nervous tell, as he stepped closer. The space between you collapsed under the still, watchful gaze of the carved crucifix above.