Bless me because I sin

"Cardi..." The name rolled off your tongue comfortably, like you'd been saying it all along, and you gestured casually to the room at large. "But you needn't worry about me. Are you not joining in tonight?" "I, um...Well..." For the first time all night, he seemed more uncomfortable than you felt, fidgeting nervously with the ties of his pants with leather-clad fingers. "I am expected to make an appearance because of my position in the Clergy. It is one of my duties. But..." "It's not really your scene either, huh?" You finished his thought and he nodded gratefully, the tension in his lean shoulders finally starting to dissipate. "It is not that I do not want to. I am as hot-blooded as anyone here..." He puffed up a bit for dramatic effect and indicated again towards the room, at no one in particular, not that anyone in particular was recognizable through the haze of incense and sex that hung in the air. You studied him with a side-eye and an incredulous expression and he narrowed his eyes at you playfully as he let his chest deflate. "You do not believe me?" You shrugged, leaning coyly back against the cool stone wall behind you. His mismatched eyes darted back and forth between yours, watching them sparkle in the candlelight. Testing him, daring him, and clearly feeling a bit bolder in his presence. But two could play that game. He took a chance, placing a hand against the wall near your head, leaning in close enough that he could fill his nostrils with the smell of your perfume. "And what about you, bella? I have often seen you at Mass, but never at events such as this. "No, you're right, you haven't..." You bit at your bottom lip, unblinking and unflinching as he caged you in with his broad shoulders. "What a terrible waste," he tutted. "Oh?...How so?" "A lovely creature like you?" He brought his free hand to your face, barely cupping the curve of your cheek. "I would think you would be very much in demand in such a setting." You leaned into the buttery soft leather of his glove with heavy-lidded eyes. "I could say the same of you, Cardinal-" You saw him start to raise is hand to scold you and caught yourself. "Cardi...I'm sure with your status within the Clergy-" "Glorified accountant," he huffed with a slight scowl. "Just the same...Power is very attractive." You had his attention now. You didn't need to be a mind-reader to know that an overachiever like him would be a sucker for a bit of flattery. "I'm sure there are quite a lot of Siblings who would be eager to win your favor." That earned you a rare smile and a happy twitch of his moustache. "Sister...Are you flirting with me?" Your breath was coming faster, your chest flushed and heaving with anticipation, suddenly keenly aware your hardening nipples were straining at the thin lace neckline. Just make a move already, would you? "Maybe...Is it working?" "Naturally, but you really do not need to try so hard. I am a simple man. Not very hard to get, eh?" He brushed his lips against the shell of your ear to whisper seductively before pulling back to watch your reaction. "Besides, we both know why are here tonight, do we not?"

"You have a point there." You wrapped your fingers around the Grucifix pendant that hung from his neck and swung amongst the nest of greying hair that covered his chest, pulling just hard enough to bring him in for a tentative, soft kiss. When you let go he looked at you with an unreadable, slightly stunned expression before crashing into you, arms wrapped tightly around your waist, a thick thigh slotted between yours and pressing you into the rough surface of the wall, his tongue snaking hungrily into the inviting warmth of your mouth. It all happened so fast, the weight of him against you knocking the air out of your lungs until you had to break away from the kiss just to catch your breath. He was mumbling words of affection in a hot, wet trail along your neck, his accent suddenly so much heavier, so much so that you couldn't really understand what he was saying, but it wasn't difficult to tell what he meant once his hands drifted south and gave the meat of your ass a rough squeeze and he rocked his growing bulge against you. "Do you want this, bella?," he panted against your ear between nips to your earlobe. "Do you want me to take you right here, in front of all these people?..." "Yes...Yes, Cardinal..." You could feel him getting carried away and taking you right along with him, fiddling with the laces that held the slit over your thigh closed so he could snake his hand between your legs. "Please, take me..." He stroked his fingers through your folds, humming in appreciation at how easily the soft leather glided through your slick. "So wet already..." He pumped two thick fingers past your puckering hole and you wriggled eagerly against him, leaning into the steady rhythm of his skilled digits. "So ready for my cock...So desperate to be fucked, eh?" You nodded weakly, letting your head loll side to side as the ache inside your core built into a steady throb. "Please...Please fuck me..." With that his fingers were gone, your skirt hiked up around your waist, his fingers digging into your thigh to spread you open. He slid into you in one confident motion and you gasped from the sharp sting of pleasure and relief with just a hint of pain. "Are you alright, cara?" He paused, buried to the hilt in your depths, fighting the urge to pound into your sweet heat. "Am I hurting you?" "No...No..." Your chest was heaving with labored breaths, and you braced yours with fingers clutching at his lean arms. "S'just been a while...Don't stop..." Steady thrusts were already stuttering and a familiar tension was twisting in your gut. You tried your best to stay in sync with him but his erratic, grunting movements made it impossible. And just like that, it was over. You'd felt him stiffen without warning with a ragged groan, and you were pretty sure you'd felt the hot rush of him emptying inside you. Was that?...Did he?... "S-Sorry...," he panted into the crook of your neck. "M'so sorry..." "It's okay...You're okay..." You eased yourself off his softening length, fumbling to smooth out your rumpled clothes, breaking contact as little as possible while he clung to you. He was still whimpering quietly and twitching in your embrace as you massaged his scalp through sweat-damp hair. "Let's get some air, huh?" He nodded without looking up at you, allowing you to take his hand and lead him out the back entrance of the Chapel towards the gardens. He didn't dare ask you if it had been as good for you as it was for him.

.

You walked in silence for a while, heading nowhere in particular, before he mustered the courage to speak. "What happened in there, eh...It is why I do not usually participate." You didn't respond, too afraid that whatever you could come up with would only make him feel worse. "I always want to make it last. Truly, I do. I do not want to be the type of lover who only chases his own pleasure." "I think it's kind of flattering, actually." He looked at you with a cocked eyebrow. "No really...Before I came here, I dated this guy...for a few years, actually. He took forever to cum. Like forever. Didn't matter if he was fucking me, or if I used my hands or my mouth. We'd be at it for hours and sometimes he still wouldn't finish. I was really young and he was my first real boyfriend...My first anything, actually. It was hard not to take that personally, you know?" He nodded in understanding and let you continue. "The worst part was that I was so in my own head about it all the time, I never got off myself." "Never?" "Well, it was rare," you shrugged. "Anyway, turned out he was a raging alcoholic the whole time we were together. I knew he drank, but he was really highly functioning so I had no idea how bad it was. So I guess the problem was whiskey-dick, not me. Didn't make me feel any better, somehow. Just made me feel like he'd rather be blind drunk than be with me." He stopped in his tracks, turning to face you and noticing the tears on your cheeks shimmering in the moonlight though you hastily wiped them away. "Cara mia..." He grabbed you firmly by both shoulders to emphasize the sincerity of his words. "How can you think such a thing about yourself? You're...You're..." He stammered, trying to find the right words before giving up and waving a graceful hand at a nearby secluded bench. "Come...Let us sit for a moment, eh?" You sniffed your poorly concealed tears away, sitting with him shoulder to shoulder, aimlessly toying with each others fingers, hands entwined across your laps. "I...I'm sorry for bringing that up...," you apologized quietly. "Didn't mean to kill the mood by bringing up my ex." "No no, Cara," he tutted. "We are both being a bit...vulnerable tonight, no?" "Yeah, I guess so." You nestled in under his arm a bit tighter, savoring the musky scent of his cologne and the safe feeling of his strong arm around you. You suddenly realized his pale skin was covered with goose-pimples, the night air having turned a bit wintery by that late hour. "Oh, Cardi! You must be frozen. Here, take my robe-" "Grazie but no...You are doing quite well keeping me warm." He squeezed you harder, kissing you on the top of your head. "And I do not want to hear any more of anyone wanting to spend anything less than every moment with you. What more could anyone want?" The tears had started to prick at the corners of your eyes again, and you buried your face into the soft hair on his sternum. "But I do understand what it is like to feel...unwanted."

You looked up at him with wet eyes, cupping both of his cheeks. "Cardi...My poor, sweet Cardi..." He dropped his focus, shivering into your touch before grabbing you abruptly into a fiery kiss. As frantic and rushed as the previous encounter had been, this was even more overwhelming. His mouth devoured yours like he was suddenly starving for you and you were all too eager to surrender when he pulled you in to straddle his lap. He was greedily kneading your breasts through the skimpy fabric, only bringing his hands away for a second to pull off your robe and toss it swiftly aside. You rocked your hips against him, riding his rapidly hardening length and soaking through his pants in no time. As much as you wanted to draw it out longer this time, make it last, you were as lost as he was yet again. What is it about this weird little guy that turns me into...this?? A mumbled, "Need you..." was all he could manage before shifting you and freeing a hand to get his erection out and ready, impaling you onto it with a deep grunt. Your back arched, the satisfying fullness devoid of any lingering soreness, only replaced with pure heat. And you tried not to grip his cock too tightly, bear down on him too aggressively, but you were already teetering on the edge of orgasm and could not be held responsible for your actions. He just felt too good. "Please, Cardi...Please don't stop..." You rested your forehead against his and he pressed his eyes closed, trying so hard to think of anything besides the way you felt tightening around him. But it was no use. He spasmed in your arms with a weak cry, and you circled your hips slowly to ease him through the waves of pleasure. You whimpered along with him as he came down. You'd been really close that time, but you didn't want him to know that. When you had the strength to lift your head from where it had fallen onto his collarbone you kissed his face tenderly. "See? You lasted so much longer that time," you praised, petting his soaked, tousled hair and meeting his gaze with glassy, affectionate eyes. "My good boy." You didn't know what possessed you to say that, some sort of sexual brain worm or demon, but you were onto something and it had an immediate effect. A deep moan, low and rumbling spread through his chest and echoed through your own and you felt him twitch slightly inside you, tightening his arms around you and grinding his hips against you. His cock sprung back to life, inexplicably even harder and deeper than before. He grabbed the neckline of you dress with both hands, tearing the lace like paper and burying his face into your cleavage with a primal growl. "Shit, Cardi...FUCK!" You were both hypersensitive and raw, barely recovered from the encounter that had ended only moments ago. And yet he dug his fingers into the plush flesh of your hips, hard enough to send bruises blooming across your skin in real time, jerking you in frantic strokes into his pelvis, and you could have sworn his white eye was glowing an ominous, pulsing red in the glowing moonlight. Your release was like nothing you'd ever felt before, violent, gushing molten hot around him even as he kicked weakly inside your walls, groaning, sore, and totally spent. Your body continued to thrash as you tried to regain control over it, stop the spinning in your head and ringing in your ears. You were both panting, wild-eyed and holding onto each other for dear life. "What the...What was that?...How...I didn't know you could do that...," you stuttered between gulps of precious air.

"Nor did I...Maybe all this praying to the Dark One has its perks after all." You both giggled weakly, your body sweat-drenched and boneless as he held you with shaking arms. You rested your head against his shoulder and he smoothed your matted hair, kissing your temple with breathless lips. "Or perhaps you just bring out the Devil in me, cara mia." But the fuzzy, blissful peace that enveloped you was short-lived when you heard far-away sounds of rustling leaves underfoot and mumbled Italian curses. "Fratello!" The unmistakable, and clearly irate voice of Primo was approaching from a distance and growing closer in aggressive strides. "Terzo, you stronzo! What have I said about bringing your puttanas to my garden? My sanctuary! It is the last place in the entire Ministry that isn't covered with your-...Oh, Cardinal, it is you." His glare faded abruptly into something that looked much more like stunned confusion. "Eh, my apologies, your Dark Excellency. I am afraid we got a bit carried away." He'd wrapped his arms around you to shield your modesty as best he could, though there was no mistaking what you'd been up to in the position you were in. "And your beautiful garden is such a r-romantic location." You could feel your cheeks burning bright red even in the cool blue moonlight, less in any kind of shame or embarrassment, but more amusement at the preposterous nature of the situation you found yourselves in. Primo seemed appropriately charmed, his expression softening. "It is alright, Sorella. Clearly he is just a bad influence, thinking with his pene like everyone else here. And the flowers are not nearly as lovely as you." He turned to Copia with a more stern look, though there was still affection in his pale, faded eyes. "Just do not let it happen again, si?" Copia was easing you both to your feet now, adjusting himself back into his soaked sweatpants and still doing his best to cover you with what was left of your nightgown as he searched the surrounding area for your robe. "Right...Okie dokie, yes...Um, sorry Papa." He busied himself detangling your lingerie from the rose bush it had been so carelessly tossed into in his fervor. You giggled at his fumbling, finally giving up the pretense of trying to cover yourself, dropping your arms to your sides and letting the shredded silk fall as it may, standing practically bare in the chilled night air. Primo took both of your hands in his gnarled fingers, leaning in to speak to you quietly without drawing the attention of your clumsy lover. "The young Cardinal is quite sensitive, Sorella. He has not had an easy time and he is a bit...fragile. Be careful with his heart, per favore." The thought of Copia's heart being in your hands filled you with a warmth you weren't expecting. "I intend to. Thank you, Papa." He pressed thin, wrinkled lips to each of your hands and flashed a rare, genuine smile and a mischievous wink. "Bene. Buonasera, Sorella. And remember...Love comes along but once in a blue moon." You watched his elegant, moonlit silhouette shuffle off towards the Clergy quarters and you mused to yourself with a tiny smile. Young Cardinal, indeed. A man in his forties at least. Though compared to Papa Primo, I suppose-

"Everything okay, cara mia?" You nodded, leaning in to kiss him tenderly with your hands pressing gently into the lean muscles of his chest. He helped you redress, though you yelped a few times when stray thorns pricked at your skin. He soothed you with soft kisses on each scratch as a heated silence descended. "Will you...Will you stay with me tonight?" "Oh! Really? I didn't think..." The surprised whisper tumbled past your lips before you could think. "I didn't think you'd want to. I mean...Is that usually how these things end?" You kicked yourself internally. You're making it weird. Please don't fuck this up now. "Well, eh...No, not really..." He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly shy again in your presence. "I know we do not really know each other, but I would like to know you better...If that is okay with you?" You took his hand wordlessly with a teary smile and a small nod, letting him lead you to the path towards his chambers. The breeze had finally turned uncomfortably cold but you didn't feel it, pressed tight against his side as he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you in close, step in step along the moonlit cobblestones.

Blue moon Now I'm no longer alone Without a dream in my heart Without a love of my own

.

Part 6 of the Moon Over the Ministry series

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A few short phrases to sprinkle in there:

Ma che cazzo!!! = “What the fuck?!” Said in both the classic sense of ‘what is this happening before me,’ and in the frustrated sense of ‘JFC I am so done with this!’

Macchè!! = Interjection. “Oh, please,” “get outta here,” “nahh, no way,” said in a really disbelieving ‘that’s just bollocks’ kind of way. Can also commonly mean “No, not at all!”

Boh! = Interjectional noise. “I have no idea,” “I don’t know,” “ain’t got a fuckin clue.” This is said extremely casually.

Caspita! = Interjection. “Holy shit,” but in acceptable polite-company kind of way.

And for a couple more romantic-ardour style wordies—

Quanto ti voglio… “How I want you…,” to be growled or whispered.

Dimmi tutto quello che vuoi = “Tell me everything you want”

Sei così dolce = “You are so sweet” …in the sense that you taste sweet

Sto bruciando per te = “I’m burning for you”

He eyed you from the doorway with a bemused expression, so visibly uncomfortable in his space and second-guessing every decision that had led you there. "Wine, cara? Or perhaps something a bit stronger?" The question seemed to wake you out of the daze you'd lapsed into and you nodded gratefully. Perhaps you shouldn't be drinking any more. The martinis at the bar had been a pretty strong catalyst for how events unfolded in the past few hours. But then again, you couldn't deny that you needed something to get control of your nerves. You were still looking down absentmindedly to where you'd tossed your robe when you felt his presence again, silently slinking towards you, approaching you like a predator stalking its prey until you felt his warm breath on your neck, a soft brush of his lips against your skin. You shivered from the sudden contact. "I...I've never done something like this before..." "You still have not, bella," he chuckled, nudging the strap of your nightgown down so he could kiss an unhurried trail along the slope of your shoulder. "And it is not too late for you to reconsider. I would hate to think you desire this any less than I do..." The tension was too much to take, the unnerving nearness of him still out of your sight mixing the arousal pulsing between your legs with the lurching in your stomach of genuine fear. You turned abruptly to face him, unable to find the words for what you were feeling, but the way you looked up at him with heavy lids, flushed cheeks, and parted lips, told him everything he needed to know. You took note that he'd returned with only one glass, a thick crystal tumbler well-filled with brown liquor over ice, and the momentary distraction was all he needed to catch you off-guard, gripping your jaw firmly with a strong gloved hand. "OPEN." You complied obediently, parting your lips a bit more and expecting him to bring the glass to your mouth, but instead he took a large swig himself and kissed you hard without warning. The smokey liquid ran down the back of your throat while he coaxed it with his tongue into your willing mouth, and the burn of it was more than you were prepared for. When he broke the kiss it left you coughing and sputtering, but his hold on your chin didn't waver, forcing you to swallow every drop with teary, reddened eyes. He wiped the tiny dribble that had escaped the corner of your mouth with his thumb, smiling sweetly as he set the glass down on the bedside table. "Good girl." He backed up a few steps, eying you up and down with an unreadable expression as he unbuttoned the neck and cuffs of his sharp white dress shirt and rolling up the sleeves to reveal thick, sinewy forearms that left no doubt how easy it was going to be for him to make you do exactly as he pleased. "Take that off," he muttered with a slight nod of his head and you did before you could think to hesitate, slipping the remaining strap of your nightgown off your shoulder and letting it slide down over your curves and pool at your feet. He grunted in appreciation when you stood bare and flustered before him, hands restlessly twitching at your sides, internally scolding yourself for how desperately you wanted him to like what he saw. "Bene, just as I suspected...Così succulenta..."

He closed the distance between you, near as he could be without actually touching you, leaving you no choice but give him your undivided attention while you awaited his next instruction. "On your knees, bella." You lowered yourself down, grateful for the plush carpeting against your joints. His fingers made short work of his belt and the zipper of his sleek black pants, easing his erection from where it had been straining against the fabric for too long. Thick and ruddy and somehow...aggressively hard, he stroked it a few times just shy of brushing it against your lips. This time you didn't need his instruction, you opened your mouth like a well-trained pet. He eased his length past your lips and along your tongue, humming in encouragement and stroking your hair back from your face all the way. When his tip pressed against the back of your throat you brought your hands up to press into his thick thighs to brace yourself. "NO." You dropped them again, leaving him in control, surrendering to the mercy of his hands cradling your head. You pressed your eyes closed to try to concentrate, relaxing your throat, wriggling your tongue against him, hollowing out your cheeks and sucking gently. "Look at me." Your eyes popped open as he slid out a few inches and pushed in even farther, any sounds of discomfort you thought of making stifled by his punishing girth. By the time he repeated the movement, slowly and methodically, fucking into your face like he wanted to suspend the feeling indefinitely, you were feeling fuzzy-headed and blissfully pliant. And to your surprise, the feeling of him so hot inside your mouth, salty pre-cum coating your tongue, was only making the dull ache in your core grow unbearable, rivulets of your arousal running down your inner thighs. You tried to squeeze them together, shift your weight to create any kind of friction, anything to ease the burn. "You enjoy this, eh?..." He could see the way your fingers fluttered at your sides, itching to touch yourself. "You like it Papa takes what he wants from you?...When I use you for my pleasure?..." You managed a muffled, "Mmm hmm" and a tiny nod that made laughter echo through his chest. And just like that the monotonous thrusts of his cock into your eager mouth stopped and he pulled out of you, leaving a long trail of spit still connecting you as he grabbed you by the upper arms and helped you to your feet on trembling legs. "Tesorina mia..." He kissed you passionately, easing your shaky arms to wrap around his neck, snaking his own around your waist so he could maneuver you towards the bed, mumbling affectionately between tender kisses. "Papa will give you the relief you need..."

He hooked an arm under one of your knees, propping your foot on the edge of the bed so you were spread as wide as possible for him, lewdly gaping and clenching with need. He brought a hand to your lips, coating a leather-clad finger with the remaining drool that pooled on your chin. When he made contact with your swollen clit it felt like electricity against your hypersensitive flesh and your body jolted. "Easy, cara..." He tightened his arm around you, supporting your weight more deliberately. "Just relax and enjoy my touch." You let your eyes close sleepily, resting your head in the crook of his neck with a low moan as he started gently circling the tingling bud. "That's it...Let it build...," he soothed when your hips started to move in time with his careful strokes. You could have cum like that, easily in fact. You could already feel your insides pulling taught like a rubber band about to snap. But he clearly had other plans, abandoning your clit and sliding a gloved finger into your pussy, receiving a weak moan and needy squeeze in response. He pumped it into you a few times, curling and probing until he found the spot that made you gasp and tighten. "There she is...," he muttered to himself in satisfaction, easing a second finger in to press against the spongy tissue until he felt you shudder from the sensation. He readjusted his hold on you, fucking his fingers into a little harder, a little faster, forcing little whimpers out of you every time. Your hands were shaking and fisting in the soft fabric of his shirt, sweat starting to bead on your brow and between your breasts. The pressure was building quickly, low in your pelvis and stronger than you'd ever felt before. "Fuck!...I'm gonna...Gonna..." You were stumbling over your words, too lost in the buttery soft leather of his gloves stretching you open so perfectly even as you gripped around his relentless digits and ground your throbbing clit into his palm. "That is it, bella...Let go for Papa...," he growled into your ear. "Soak my glove like a good little slut..." "C-Cumming...I'm cumming...Oh God..." Your head flew back, eyes rolling erratically as you cried out, the hot, violent gush of your juices enough to make a wave of tremors ripple through your entire body before leaving you limp in his arms. "Shit...I...I've never felt anything like that..." You were gasping for air as he rocked you gently, unaware that you'd been holding your breath, forehead resting against the soft grey curls that peeked out through his undone collar. "How...Fuck...How do you know how to do that?" "I have spent a lifetime in the pursuit of pleasure, bella...Giving it and receiving it..." He kissed the top of your head as he lowered you to the bed and let you fall back boneless onto the mattress. "And I have enjoyed my studies greatly."

You expected to feel his weight following close behind, pressing you in the mattress, but when you opened your eyes and sat up you were surprised to see him crossing the room, stroking his glistening cock as he went, towards the full wall of floor to ceiling windows you hadn't noticed before. "Aren't you afraid people will see you like that?" Truth be told you were more than a little concerned with how much people may have already seen in the little time you'd been there. He pressed a hand to the thick glass, leaning against it and gazing down at the world below. "People see what they want to see...And do mot see what they choose not to." He was silent for a moment, seemingly lost in his thoughts until he shook himself from whatever trance he'd lapsed into, reaching his free hand in your direction. "Come here." The pang of trepidation in your stomach didn't last long, too easily overshadowed by the lingering post-orgasmic tingle throughout your body for you to do anything but obey, crossing the room to stand nervously at his side. "Tonight there are only two places in the world...In here, and out there..." You had to admit that seeing the city from that height was especially beautiful. The usually dingy surfaces blanketed in a layer of pristine white, the din of the busy streets now deserted and eerily quiet. "And when this night is over you will return to your world and so will I. But right here, right now...There is only us." He turned you suddenly, pinning you against the glass with soft flesh over hard muscle, the icy chill shocking against your sweat-damp, flushed skin. His lips were on you again, hungry and demanding, tongue and teeth claiming you so completely that you were barely aware of how effortlessly he was able to part your legs, lining his dripping, angry cock up with your entrance so that it slid languidly through your folds and made you mewl and squirm every time he caught at your clit. "Is this what you want, cara?" His voice was a low gravely hiss, his patience and control unravelling at the feel of your slick heat. "For me to fill you?...Stretch you?...Leave you broken and ruined because you know no one will ever be able to fuck you like me?" "Y-Yes...Yes, please..." Your head was spinning and you were willing to say anything to get him to just put his cock inside you already. "Yes, WHAT?" His mismatched eyes were practically black by then, boring through you as if he was about to devour you, fuck your soul clean out of your body. "Papa!...Please, Papa!" He thrust into you with a guttural roar, hard and deep and with enough of his weight pressed against you that it lifted you off your feet. You wrapped your legs around his narrow hips, tightening your grip on his shoulders, clinging to him for dear life as he slammed into you. The stretch was intense, his tempo brutal, and yet all you could focus on was the way he pounded against your already bruised g-spot with every snap of his hips, his pubic bone grating against your clit as he bounced you on his cock.

"Yes!...Oh, fuck yes, Papa!..." Your voice was hoarse and barely audible over the squeaking of your wet skin against the frosted glass and his deep grunts every time he buried his swelling shaft into your tightening grip. "Oh my g-...Ah...Ah...AH!" Your body bowed, rigid with spasms as you cried out and the quivering of your walls was all it took to send him spiraling into the abyss with you, kicking and spurting into your core, hot and thick and overflowing down his tightened balls. When it passed you clung to each other, fighting for air. You could feel his arms starting to shake from the strain of holding you in his deflated state and you eased yourself off his softening length and carefully brought your feet back to the floor. An overly ambitious move, as it turned out, because your knees buckled beneath you immediately and you would have crumpled straight to the floor if he hadn't caught you, scooping you up and deftly carrying you over the bed, huffing and puffing as he went and hoping you wouldn't notice or take offense. He deposited you against the soft bedding, draping it over you and kissing you softly before exiting without a word. The air in the room was heavy with the lingering smell of sex, the stream of your release still wetting the carpet next to the bed from your first orgasm, sweat and assorted fluids smeared across the window from your second. You suddenly found yourself grateful that the encounter had never actually made it to the bed, now that your exhausted body sunk so comfortably into the clean, dry sheets. When he reappeared by your side he'd finally discarded the last remaining pieces of the elegant suit he'd been wearing all night, a deceptively small man, so much less intimidating now. A muscular frame with only the slight soft pudge of his belly and the streaks of silver in the hair that covered it showing evidence of his age. His newly bare hands were surprisingly youthful and you wondered how they would feel against your skin, against that sensitive spot inside you that he'd found do easily. And the revealed tattoos of pentagrams and inverted crucifixes only added to the questions you'd been putting to the back of your mind. "Drink, tersorina," he urged, placing a glass of ice water on the table next to your side of the bed. "I think I have done quite a bit to dehydrate you tonight, eh?" You took several big, appreciative gulps and he nodded in approval. "I am going to prepare for bed, and I will join you shortly." No, your amorous evening hadn't made use of the bed yet, but it was going to end there, drifting into a euphoric sleep in each other's arms, sated and snuggling. And he was right, tomorrow would come soon enough, but tonight there was only you and Papa.

.

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You had it almost down to an art. Watching him without actually looking. As you had bounced from conversation to conversation and from the bar to your table, you had never lost sight of him from the corner of your eye. Clinking glasses and laughing politely in the right places, you had managed a rather convincing social butterfly act and had even entertained some lighthearted flirtation, much to Copia's chagrin.

It's a dance you were becoming accustomed to, keeping your distance and keeping any public interaction minimal and dull. You stored away each furtive glance and plausibly accidental touch to build the anticipation of your next evening alone, the knowledge of having something that belongs only to you both adding to the thrill. The thought that, even if they caught a glimpse of his marks all over your skin, no-one would ever guess that the Cardinal was the one inflicting them on you. But on this evening, there is a different sort of static in the air, prickling your skin as Copia's agitation grows.

Luckily for him, his inability to pay attention to those around him did not raise many eyebrows. His awkward eccentricities being understood along with the fact this was the first Clergy celebration he had bothered to attend in months bought him some grace from those he was tuning out. Even if a few would become frustrated having to repeat themselves and notice his attention wander, none of them seemed to realise exactly where it was wandering to or the way his teeth set on edge if they dared to block his view.

He hovers in your periphery and manages to inch his way closer but your resolve to avoid eye contact seems unwavering. For whose benefit at this point, you are not totally sure. You feel his eyes bore into you as you feign interest in something on the other side of the room while taking another swig of champagne. Copia knows it's your fifth glass and isn't surprised you're leaning against a table instead of trusting your feet to stay steady. He watches intently as you swallow, captivated by your throat pulsing around the liquid. His gaze follows it down your neck to your chest and then eventually down to the swell of your hips, wondering if you can still feel the imprint of his hand on that perfectly formed ass of yours.

What you can feel is a heat flushing through you. Not helped by the champagne but mainly from his intense attention which is only getting harder to ignore. It creeps across your chest and up to your face and you think some fresh air might be needed to cool down but, before you can think about it much more, a commotion behind you has you turning on your heels. You see the back of Copia's head through the crowd moving towards the patio doors of the function room, and your feet move.

The evening air almost knocks you over, earning a few looks from the other guests who have also spilled outside. You plant your feet and take in a deep breath, the mix of flowers and cigarette smoke filling your nostrils. You scan the small crowd but there is no sign of Copia, and so you decide to find somewhere quieter to sit for a while. You ignore those trying to pull you into conversation, trying to convince you to huddle with them for warmth, and slip past to head further into the grounds.

You turn a corner, disappearing behind the building's side. In its shadow, you feel a chill and with the fading light of the party now firmly behind you, you sway even more now in the dark. As you reach out a hand, leaning on the rough brickwork, you sense movement and see a vague figure in front of you. You squint into the dark but before you can rein in your senses, the figure grabs you by the wrist and shunts you against the wall.

"Do I have your attention now?" Copia pins you with a firm grip, one gloved hand on your waist and another on your neck.

You smirk in response, waiting for his lips to crash to yours but instead he lets you squirm. Your defiance wobbles as his stern features come into focus. Seeing up close how tense and riled up he is has you rubbing your thighs together already, relishing the anticipation of him taking it out on you.

"I was just letting you enjoy your evening," you retort confidently, but find your gaze drifting to his lips, hovering tantalisingly close to yours.

You wait for his grip to tighten, for his touch and his mouth to claim you, but he stays infuriatingly still. As does his withering stare, the only thing really keeping you in place and only threatening you with what you want. He looks terrifyingly handsome like this, half his face shrouded in the dark leaving only his white iris visible, with the other half scarcely lit by the distant patio lights.

Determined not to break first, you try to steel yourself and force a carefree smile but the way your body starts to lean in to him betrays you. Your breath hitches as you feel leather brushing over your thigh, pushing up your dress just an inch and letting the cool breeze reach a little higher. The light sensation, as close to tender as you can stomach, almost makes you wonder if the rules have changed. Can they change when hardly any have been truly set? You think that maybe, outside of his quarters, he might struggle to follow the usual routine. He might not want to. You don't want that. Do you?

You try to shake off the thought but the only other thing to focus on is him. Him not kissing you. Not grabbing you. Not taking you. The crackling tension makes your head swim.

"Maybe I should go, then," he offers. "Enjoy my evening."

A dare. A bluff, you hope. He leans in close enough for you to taste the alcohol on his breath - sweet wine and the whiskey he was too polite to decline - and you feel his moustache bristle just above your lip. The corner of his mouth curls briefly but he quickly steps back. He smooths over his clothes and, before he can change his mind, turns to walk back to the party.

Copia barely manages a few steps before you lurch after him, grabbing on to him and pushing him into the wall with as much care as he had shown you. Your hands find his face, pulling it roughly to yours to start a fiercely passionate kiss. He freezes for a moment, either from shock or the will to make you wait, but he cannot seem to resist the demand from the bruising pressure and when your tongue slips in against his, he knows it is futile to carry on any pretence.

He only lets you take control for a minute, allowing your mouth to swallow his laugh. It falters as you press against him harder, chuckles becoming muted moans as one hand pushes into his hair and the other slides from his hip to his cock. He groans as you squeeze and he shivers as your mouth begins to travel to his jaw, down his neck and then to the centre of his throat. He feels the slight scrape of teeth as you suck over his Adam's apple and he starts to wonder how he can convince you to be in charge more often.

You feel the jagged stone against your back again, Copia spinning you and caging you in with a leg between your thighs. His breath puffs out, small clouds of warm vapour splitting over your pink nose. You glance to the corner of the building as you hear laughter, the murmur of conversation from the gathering much closer now. You turn back to Copia just in time to see a glint in his eye that tells you whatever he had in store for you - torturous payback in one form or another - may have just changed.

You jolt as Copia forcefully cups between your legs before a satisfied grin spreads across your face, proud that your game seems to have worked. But when he only ghosts his fingers over your already damp underwear, you feel a mixture of confusion and disappointment. He's gentle and excruciatingly slow, barely applying enough pressure for his gloves to disturb fabric as he studies your expression. It's now more of a scowl and, even as the seam of his leather clad hand presses into your clit, you try to stay defiant. But as Copia experimentally increases the pressure, your eyelashes fluttering and your teeth sinking into your lip gives you away.

You snatch at his wrist but he swats it away and, just like that, you surrender. Your only reward is Copia closing his lips around yours, sucking lightly,only for a second before pulling away. You don't know whether to slap him or start tearing off his clothes but, as if he senses it, his fingers begin a steady stroke. Your whimpering earns another smirk but his amusement doesn't last long.

When you feel the pressure lessen, your hand grabs at his wrist to keep it in place. It's one bold move too many, one you would never dare try behind closed doors. You don't ask for anything, you take what you are given. That's how you had wanted it to work and Copia had been willing. As willing as he seems now to remind you of that fact.

"Feeling brave tonight, hm?" He cocks his head. "You would like to be in charge instead? Tell me - are you getting bored of our, ah, little arrangement? Perhaps you would like it to come to an end."

"No!" You say it a little too loud and a little too fast. Even the suggestion of it winds you, and your eyes dart frantically over his face as you try to read into him.

He sighs, "Good." You think he is sincere. You hope. Was his brief hesitation a hint of disappointment? "Then you know I should correct your behaviour."

You nod although he did not pose it as a question.

"The fact you have ignored me all evening," he continues, "thinking you can tease me… thinking YOU decide when you want me? Grabbing at me like some sort of animal…"

His jaw twitches, and he pauses. "You have been taught better than that." He tuts and thinks for a moment. "What to do with you…"

"I'm sorry, I —ahh!"

His hand slaps sharply against your cunt and your knees almost give out. "I entertained it for a second. Which was wrong of me. Gave you ideas. Made you forget, hm?"

Any answer you try to give dies in your throat, your heart hammering as he roughly shoves three fingers inside you. The stinging fades quickly, making you realise you're already soaking his glove and more than ready for whatever he decides you deserve. You are unsurprised when he decides you deserve to wait a little longer, removing himself to leave you clenching around nothing. He runs his tongue along his finger, chuckling at your frustrated whine.

He makes a show of peeling off a glove. Lifting it towards the light, he inspects it, admiring the way you have coated its material, making the edges almost glisten where your slick has gathered. He bends slightly, gently lifting the fabric of your dress as if investigating where the wetness had come from. You hold it when he hands it to you, baring yourself to him. His breath gives a brief respite from the brisk evening chill when he squats in front of you. He inhales sharply, humming into your scent.

With a flick of his wrist, the glove whips against you. The sound of leather and wet skin bounces off brick and concrete, echoing over your exasperated moan.

"Quiet," he snaps, springing back up to his feet. "They do not deserve to hear you." He slams his body into yours. "Only for me." He reels back and slaps you again, harder this time directly over your clit. As your body quivers, you bite down hard on your lip to stifle a yelp. He seems satisfied this time.

He fumbles with the cumbersome cloth of his cassock and his hand disappears under its folds to stroke his length. His other travels a deliberate path up your thigh, taking time to prod at the welt only he knows is there before trailing over your hip to settle an another of his hand prints. A twitch of his fingers signals you to wrap a leg around his waist and brace yourself. However, his tip catches and he sinks into you torturously slow, at a rate of millimetres. You watch each other's mouths, lips parting further as he sheathes himself.

Once still, he looks deep into your eyes that shine back at his with desperation and just the right amount of apprehension. You tighten around him, muscles in your core pulsing to plead for friction.

"I can feel you," he says, unsteadily through increasingly affected breaths. "Your body, begging. I know what you need." His voice cracks. "Say it."

"I'm yours to use. However you see fit."

The first roll of his hips rewards your declaration but his up until now domineering stance immediately starts to disintegrate. His head rests on your shoulder and he whines into your neck.

"What are you?" He rasps, struggling to restrain himself.

"I'm just a hole for you to fill."

You earn another roll, a little more forceful this time - hearing those words always does something to him, regardless of how many times he denies it. You grit your teeth, trying to ignore the bite of the brickwork digging into your back and focus on the feeling of him stretching you instead. His movements start languid and deliberate, gradually snapping harder, then thrusting deeper until your teeth slip off your lip. You hardly recognise the sound you let out.Copia's whole body tenses. He takes your chin in a vice-like grip and you freeze under his glare, pupils blown until an idea strikes him. He lifts a balled fist and shows you his earlier discarded glove, wrinkled and still damp. You smell yourself mingled with the faint scent of conditioning balm used to treat the worn leather. You don't realise your mouth is open until the glove is lodged between your teeth.

They grind down into it, the tang of your own arousal settling on your tongue, while all Copia can do is stare. There's an uncertainty in his eyes, logically understanding the purpose of his action but knocked off balance by the result. He studies you as your jaw settles, your mouth moulding around the intrusion as you continue to groan without him having to move at all. Lust twists his insides as your eyes flutter shut, and his restraint shatters.

The glove doesn't do much to quiet you when he finally gives in. You cry out with each slam of his hips, each thrust emptying your lungs, but Copia no longer seems to care if anyone hears either of you. Unbridled need taking over him, any inhibitions disappear in his punishing, pounding rhythm which is only encouraged to escalate as you completely come undone. With grime and dirt smudged across your arms and drool dripping from the corner of your mouth, you still try to scream out a song for him. But, for now, he is more than happy to sing loud enough for you both.

There is a swell of noise from the party - the patio doors perhaps opening and letting more revellers outside - and your attention is briefly stolen by it, noticing the defined shadow of a guest become enveloped by the growing crowd. Everything suddenly feels louder, harsher. Panic rises in your throat but it's hard to separate the fear from desire as Copia moves faster and harder, his moans blending into the distant, raucous voices.

Naturally turning towards the noise, Copia easily guides your body using the momentum to face you towards the wall. Grit scratches your cheek as he presses against you, slamming back into you before you can think. You try to reach back, clumsily managing to find what feels like the side of his thigh to grip, encouraging him the only way you can. He obliges, willing his body to move faster and find more strength, already panting hard into your neck.

His chants between thrusts are mostly unintelligible until he settles on one word: "Mine." Torn by needing to keep himself steady and wanting to claim every inch of you, his touch becomes frantic. He grabs and gropes everywhere he can reach, too fast to feel enough of you, which only makes you both frustrated. Every part of you is on fire, and the way he is completely losing control of himself only stokes you further.

By the time you try to reach for his hand to pull it between your legs, you don't need it. With his hand now tangled in your hair at the base of your skull, he thrusts up hard and your pathetic whimpering becomes a continuous drone. It breaks with a muffled shriek as Copia sinks his teeth into your shoulder to stop himself from wailing. Your legs shake but with his full weight pinning you in place, there is nowhere to fall. You try to brace yourself against the rising pressure in your core but it rips through you as you climax. You seize as your vision blurs, heat flooding right through to your extremities as everything else fades to black.

Copia isn't far behind; it's only clear in the moment he breaks how hard he had been trying to hold on. As his violent shuddering begins to calm, he lurches into your back, supporting you even as your limbs go limp, keeping himself seated deep inside you until he is spent. You bask in bliss for a few minutes in the safety of his arms now wrapped around your waist, your delirious smile made only more deranged by the way the makeshift gag warps it. You cough into it, and suddenly your surroundings feel a bit more in focus. It also seems to remind Copia where you are.

He hurriedly removes the glove and spins you around to face him, propping you against the wall while keeping a relatively steady hand at your hip. He frowns while wiping your tear-streaked cheek and tuts as he thumbs over a tear at the seam of your dress.

"I'm good," you somehow manage to croak.

"You're a mess."

"I know." You grin, still coming down from your high, and it's enough to ease Copia's concern for a moment. He leans in to rest his head on yours and lets out a hint of a chuckle as you massage your aching jaw.

"It was… maybe a bit much, I—"

"It was exactly what I needed," you interrupt and, before he can argue, you pull his lips to yours to offer reassurance. The kiss is overwhelmingly delicate, tempered by your exhaustion and his caution given your current state, until you both break apart at the sound of someone tapping a glass.

"Yes but… still. A bit much given where we are," he whispers, feeling more exposed now that the nearby crowd is quietly listening to an on-going toast. "We need to get you out of here."

"I'm fine. Give me a few minutes and I can sneak back to my room. You can't leave, you have ass-kissing to do."

"Yes, well. I will have to catch up on my ass-kissing later. I'll take you to my room, it's closer." You sigh and throw him a familiar side-eye. "Just to get cleaned up! You do not have to stay. But you can, if you wish."

You shrug in agreement, quietly dreading the long conversation which will be on the agenda later tonight. You concede to yourself that you need to discuss where the lines are when you are outside of the confines of his room, at the very least. But you know another discussion will inevitably follow at Copia's behest. One that scares you but can't be avoided much longer. One that will inevitably lead you into a quiet morning sharing coffee in an all too saccharine, domestic scene.

You want to keep the boundaries solid but, especially after tonight, they feel anything but. And as he helps you out of your heels and slings your arm around his shoulder to guide you further into the dark, you know your resolve to keep him at arms length is already crumbling. By the time he's outlining his plans for the evening, which include helping you into his tub for a long, luxurious soak, you might be ready to admit that thinking you wouldn't allow yourself to become attached to the Cardinal had been incredibly naive.

Taglist: @cenotaphghuleh @gh0ul-dinner @copiasslut @burichu @kosem-sultan167 @unholyguleh @zealoushound @anomalousghost @mmonstranceclock @sleepy-ghuleh <3