Samyu

You wake up to Flo poking your shoulder.

“How’s the ankle?” she asked, already dressed in her camp shirt and shorts. 

“Better,” you said, testing it gingerly. Still swollen and tender, but the sharp pain had dulled to a persistent ache. “I can probably walk on it today.”

“The nurse said to take it easy.”

“I know what the nurse said.” You sat up, wincing. “But I can’t just sit around all day. The kids-”

“The kids are fine. Hill and George covered your activities yesterday afternoon, and Bach has your cabin this morning.” Flo sat on the edge of your bed, her expression too knowing. “You know who checked in on you three times yesterday after you went to rest?”

Your stomach flipped. “Flo-”

“Arthur. Three times. One with ice cream from the mess hall. Once with a book he thought you’d like. Once just to ‘make sure you were okay.’” She raised an eyebrow. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on.”

“Right. And I’m the queen of England.” She stood, heading for the door. “if you’re so determined to ignore the nurse’s orders then you might wanna get dressed. Breakfast is in twenty minutes, and someone’s already saved you a seat.”

“Wait, what?”

But she was already gone, laughter trailing behind her. 

You made it to breakfast on your own, limping only slightly. The mess hall was already full of campers and counsellors, the usua morning noise of clattering trays and overlapping conversations. You grabbed a plate of eggs and toast and scanned the room for a seat.

Your eyes found Arthur before you meant to. 

He was sitting with his campers, listening to one of them tell some animated story, but the moment you walked in, his gaze shifted to you. There was an open seat next to him, saved for you.

Something in your chest tightened. 

You looked away first, heading for the table where Flo and Liv were sitting, not ready to sit with him. But you could feel him watching you as you walked, could feel the weight of his gaze.

“Morning,” Liv said too brightly. “How’s the ankle?”

“Fine.” You sat down carefully, propping your foot on the bench beside you. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you know something.”

Liv and Flo exchanged a glance that made you want to throw your toast at them.

“We don’t know anything,” Flo said innocently. “Except that Arthur brought you ice cream yesterday. And a book. And checked on you multiple times. And saved a seat for you this morning, which you ignored.”

“He was being nice. I was injured. And I wanted to sit with you guys.”

“Uh-huh.” Liv leaned forward, her voice dropping. “And the way he carries you down the trail? The way he wrapped your ankle? The way he sat with you for like an hour after and looked at you like-”

“Like what?” you demanded.

“Like you’re the only person in the world,” Liv said simply.

Your throat went tight. You looked down at your plate, suddenly not hungry.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said quietly. “There are rules.”

“Rules can be bent,” Flo said.

“Not these ones. You know what happens if counsellors get caught fraternising. We’d both lose our jobs. The camp owners don’t mess around with that stuff. You and Bach only get away with it because you were dating way before you started working here, and they liked you too much as counsellors to let you go.”

“So you’re just going to ignore it?” Liv asked. “Pretend you don’t feel anything?”

“I don’t-” You stopped. Looked at them. “I don’t know what I feel.”

“Well,” Flo said, sitting back. “You’d better figure it out. Because he’s walking over here right now.”

Your head snapped up. Arthur was indeed walking toward your table, weaving between campers with a careful, deliberate stride. He had a mug of coffee in one hand, and something wrapped in a napkin in the other.

“Morning,” he said when he reached you. His voice was casual, but his eyes were anything but. “How’s the ankle?”

“Better,” you managed. “I can walk on it.”

“That’s good.” He held out the napkin. “I grabbed you a muffin before they were all gone. Blueberry. I remembered you said they were your favourite.”

You stared at the muffin. At his hand. The way he was looking at you like he’d been thinking about his, about you, about what you liked.

“Thanks,” you said, taking it. Your fingers brushed his, and the contact sent a jolt up your arm.

Arthur’s breath hitched. Just slightly, but enough that you noticed. 

“I should-” He gestured vaguely toward his table. “The kids. But if you need anything today, just let me know. Okay?”

“Okay,” you said.

He nodded, then walked away. You watched him go, watched the way his shoulders were tense, and that he didn’t look back even though you could tell he wanted to.

“Oh, you’re in so much trouble,” Flo said.

You couldn’t even argue. 

By lunchtime, it was obvious that something had changed.

You were helping serve food in the mess hall – your ankle was good enough for light duty – when Maya appeared at your elbow.

“Are you and Arthur dating?” She asked, loud enough that several nearby campers turned to look. 

You nearly dropped the serving spoon. “What? No. Why would you-”

“Because he keeps looking at you,” Maya said matter-of-factly. “Like, all the time. And you keep looking at him. And yesterday on the hike, you guys were like…” She made a vague gesture. “I don’t know. Different.”

“We’re not dating,” you said firmly. “We’re just… we’re friends now. That’s all.”

“Friends who stare at each other?”

“Maya-”

“It’s okay if you are,” she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “We think it’s cute. Tyler said Arthur’s been in a good mood all morning, and he’s never in a good mood on Mondays.”

“That’s not-” You stopped and took a deep breath. “We’re not dating. There are rules about that. Counsellors can’t… we can’t do that.”

Maya’s face fell. “Oh. That’s a stupid rule.”

“Maybe. But it’s still a rule.”

She wandered off, looking disappointed, and you tried to focus on serving lunch. But you could feel, eyes on you – whispering, glances between you and Arthur’s table, clearly speculating. 

This was getting out of hand. 

You were in your cabin after dinner, reorganising the supplies – a task you could do sitting down – when the door opened and your entire friend group filed in. 

Bach. Liv. Flo. Hill. George.

They stood in a semicircle around you, arms crossed, expressions serious.

“Uh,” you said. “Hi?”

“We need to talk,” Bach said.

“Is this an intervention?”

“Yes! You and Arthur are driving everyone insane,” Liv said bluntly. “Including yourselves.”

You set down the box of craft supplies you’d been sorting. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do,” Flo said. “You’ve been making eyes at each other all day. The campers are starting a betting pool on when you’ll get together. And you both look miserable.”

“We’re not-”

“Stop,” Arthur Hill said, his voice gentle but firm. “Just stop. We’ve been watching you two all week. We’ve been pushing you together because we could see what you couldn’t – that you’re good together. That you care about each other. And after yesterday, it’s not even a question anymore.”

Your chest felt tight. “There are rules.”

“We know about the rules,” George said. “But you can’t keep pretending this isn’t happening. It’s not fair to either of you.”

“So what are we supposed to do?” you asked, and your voice came out smaller than you meant it to. “Just… ignore the rules? Risk our jobs? Risk everything we’ve built here?”

“No,” Bach said. “You’re supposed to talk to him. Actually talk to him. Figure out what you both want. And then decide if it’s worth the risk.”

“And if it’s not?”

“Then at least you’ll know,” Liv said softly. “But right now, you’re both just… stuck. And it’s painful to watch.”

You looked at your friends, who’d been scheming and meddling and pushing you toward this moment all week. Who’d seen something in you and Arthur before you’d seen it yourselves.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you admitted, shakily.

“Yes, you can,” Flo said. She sat down beside you, taking your hand. “You’re one of the bravest people I know. You just need to be brave about this too.”

“What if he doesn’t-”

“He does,” all five of them said in unison.

Despite everything, you laughed. “You’re all terrible.”

“We’re all right,” Bach corrected. “Now come on. Arthur’s in the equipment shed doing inventory. Alone. We’re taking the campers to the fire circle for s’mores and ghost stories. You’ve got at least an hour till someone comes looking for you.”

Your heart started racing. “You planned this?”

“Obviously,” George said, rolling his eyes. “We’ve been planning this all week. Now go! Go get your man!”

The equipment shed was at the edge of camp, a large wooden building that smelled like canvas and bug spray. The door was propped open, and you could see Arthur inside, clipboard in hand, counting life jackets. 

You stood in the doorway for a moment, just watching him. He moved with careful precision, making notes on his clipboard, as the late-afternoon sun slanted through the windows and caught in his hair.

He looked up and saw you. Froze. 

“Hi,” you said. 

“Hi.” He set down the clipboard. “How’s your ankle?"

“Better. I can walk on it now.”

“That’s good.” He didn’t move. Just stood there, ten feet away, looking at you like he was afraid you might disappear. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to help with inventory.”

“You don’t need to-”

“I know.” You stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind you. “But I wanted to.”

The air between you felt charged, electric. Arthur’s gaze dropped to your mouth, then back to your eyes.

“Our friends cornered me earlier,” he said quietly. “Told me I needed to stop being an idiot and talk to you.”

“They did the same thing to me.”

“They’re not subtle.”

“No.” You took another step closer. “But they’re not wrong.”

Arthur’s jaw tightened. “About what?”

“About this.” You gestured between you. “About us. About the fact that something’s changed.”

“Everything’s changed,” he said, and his voice was rough. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop watching you across the room, or noticing when you laugh, or wanting to be near you. And I know I shouldn’t- I know there are rules- but I can’t help it.”

Your breath caught. “Arthur-”

“I’ve been trying to figure out when it happened,” he continued, like now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop the words from falling out of his mouth. “When I stopped hating you and started… this. But I think maybe I never actually hated you. I think I was just scared of how much I liked you, even back then. Even back when we were campers and before everything happened, I think I blamed you for it because it was easier than admitting that I would have followed you anywhere.”

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Could only stare at him as he closed the distance between you, stopping just inches away.

“Tell me I’m not alone in this,” he said softly. “Tell me you feel it too.”

“I feel it,” you whispered. “I’ve been feeling it all week. Maybe longer. I don’t know anymore.”

His hand came up, hesitating just before it touched your face. “Can I-”

“Yes.”

“His palm cupped your cheek, warm and steady, and you leaned into it without thinking. His thumb brushed across your cheekbone, and the tenderness of it made your eyes sting. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you admitted. “I want this. I want you. But the rules-”

“I know.” His forehead dropped to rest against yours, and you could feel his breath on your lips. “I’ve been going over it in my head all day. All the ways we could get caught. All the ways this could go wrong.”

“And?”

“And I still can’t stay away from you.”

Your hands found his chest, fingers curling into his shirt. You could feel his heartbeat, fast and hard, matching your own. 

“Arthur,” you breathe. 

“Tell me to stop,” he said. “Tell me this is a bad idea, and I’ll walk away. I’ll go back to being your friend, your colleague, whatever you need me to be. Just tell me.”

You looked up at him. At how he was looking at you – like you were worth risking everything for. 

“I can’t,” you said. “I can’t tell you to stop.”

He made a sound low in his throat, and then his mouth was suddenly on yours.

The kiss was everything – desperate and gentle and overwhelming all at once. His lips moved against yours like he’d been thinking about this for more than a few weeks, like he’d memorised exactly how he wanted to touch you. Your hands slid up to his neck, pulling him closer, and he responded by wrapping an arm around your waist and lifting you slightly, taking the weight off your injured ankle. 

Even now, even in this, he was taking care of you.

You gasped against his mouth, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your knees weak. Your back hit the wall – you didn’t remember moving – and Arthur pressed against you, one hand still cradling your face, the other splayed across your lower back. 

“God,” he breathed against your lips. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

“How long?” you asked, kissing along his jaw. 

“Since the supply run. Maybe before. Maybe since-” He broke off with a groan as your teeth grazed his neck. “Maybe since we were campers and you smiled at me before everything went wrong.”

You pulled back to look at him. His eyes were dark, his lips swollen from kissing, his hair messed up from your fingers running through the strands. He looked undone in a way you’d never seen before. 

“We were kids,” you said. 

“I know. But I remember thinking you were the most interesting person I’d ever met. And then the incident happened, and you looked at me like I’d betrayed you, and I couldn’t-” He stopped. Swallowed hard. “I couldn’t fix it. So I let you hate me. It was easier than trying to explain.”

“Explain what?”

“That it wasn’t your fault. That it wasn’t my fault either. That we both just… got caught up in all the gossip.”

Your heart clenched. “What actually happened that day?”

Arthur’s hand moved to your waist, his thumb tracing small circles through your shirt. His jaw tightened, like he was bracing himself. 

“You told me something,” he said quietly. “Do you remember? That night by the lake, before everything fell apart. You told me something you’d never told anyone else.”

Your breath caught. You did remember. You remembered sitting on the dock with your feet dangling over the water, the stars reflecting off the surface, and telling Arthur about your parents’ divorce. How your mum had told you last week. How your dad was moving out, how you felt like you’d somehow caused it by not being good enough, by being too much trouble. You’d been terrified and heartbroken and so, so ashamed – like it was something you should have been able to prevent. You’d not told anyone. Not your friends back home, not the other campers. Just Arthur, because in that moment, he’d felt safe. 

“I remember,” you said, your voice small. 

“Sarah Mitchell overheard us.” Arthur’s expression was pained. “She was a camper, the same year as us. I didn’t even know she was there. But she had a crush on me, and I think she saw an opportunity to-” He stopped, shaking his head. |Shje told people. Within a day, it was everywhere.”

You felt your stomach twist at the memory. The whispers in the mess hall. The way conversations would stop when you walked past. Someone had made a joke about your parents not wanting to be around you, and it had spread like wildfire. By the end of that week, you were “the girl whose parents couldn’t stand her,” and every insecurity you’d ever had about being unlovable had felt confirmed. You’d spent the rest of camp trying to be invisible. Eating alone, avoiding activities, convinced that everyone was judging you, pitying you, laughing at you.

“You said you didn’t tell anyone,” you said, your voice tight.

“I didn’t. I swear I didn’t.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustration and old guilt written all over his face. “But you wouldn’t listen to me, and I couldn’t blame you because from your perspective, I was the only one who knew. So I just… let you believe it. Let you hate me. Because at least that way. You had someone to be angry at instead of just feeling betrayed.”

Tears pricked your eyes. “Arthur-”

“I’ve spent four years wondering if I should have fought harder to explain,” he continued, his voice rough. “If should have tried more. But you were so angry, and I wasn’t even sure you’d believe me.”

You stared at him, your mind reeling. All this time. All these years of anger and hurt, and he’d been carrying his own guilt the entire time.

“I’m so sorry, Arthur.”

“Why the hell are you sorry?” Arthur said, “None of this is your fault. You’re the one who had your privacy taken away, your trust broken and had to go through all the stares and gossip. You should not be the one saying sorry.”

“But I should have listened. Should have heard you out, but instead, I just carried on hating you for something you didn’t even do. I should have at least spoken to you about it when I stopped feeling so angry.” You said, hanging your head.

Arthur looked at you for a moment and said quietly. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was too ashamed,” you admitted, your voice breaking slightly. “Too ashamed that I’d blamed you without listening. Too ashamed that I’d let it go on for so long. We’d already spent so much time hating each other that it felt like it was too late to fix. And honestly? Part of me was still angry - not at you, but at myself for being so vulnerable in the first place. For trusting someone with something so personal. For letting one person’s cruelty make me feel like my pain was something to be mocked. So I just… didn’t say anything.”

He pulled you close, burying his face in your hair. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I couldn’t fix it then.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you try.” You wrapped your arms around him, holding tight. “I’m sorry I made you carry that guilt for years.”

“We both carried it,” he said softly. “We both just… carried it alone.”

You stood there in the equipment shed, holding each other, finally understanding the weight you’d both been bearing. It wasn’t betrayal. It was a misunderstanding born from hurt and fear and the terrible luck of being overheard at exactly the wrong moment.

Somehow, that made it worse. Because all those years of anger had been for nothing. 

“Can we discuss blame later? Right know I just want-” He kissed you again, softer this time. “I just want this.”

You melted into him, your hands sliding under his shirt to feel the warm skin beneath. He shuddered at your touch, his fingers tightening on your waist. 

“We should stop,” he murmured against your mouth, even as he kissed you deeper. 

“Probably.”

“Someone could come in.”

“Probably.”

“We could get fired.”

“I know.” You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. “I know all of that. But I don’t want to stop.” 

Arthur’s expression was torn – desire and fear and longing all mixed together. “I don’t either. But if we do this – if we really do this – we have to be careful. We can’t let anyone catch us. We can’t give them any reason to think otherwise.”

“So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying…” He took a shaky breath. “I’m saying I want you. I want this. But I need to know you understand the risk. I need to know you’re willing to be careful, to keep this between us, to-”

“To sneak around?” you finished. “To hide?”

“Yes.” He looked miserable. “I hate the idea of hiding this. Of hiding you. But I don’t see another option. Not if we want to keep our jobs. Not if we want to stay here.”

You thought about it. About stolen moments in equipment sheds and careful glances across the room. About having to pretend in front of the campers, in front of your friends, in front of everyone. 

About the alternative – walking away from this, from him, from the way he made you feel.

“Okay,” you said, “We’ll be careful.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You kissed him again, slow and deep. “But right now, we have an hour before anyone comes back. So stop talking and kiss me.”

He did. 

His mouth moved to your neck, kissing and biting gently, and you arched into him with a gaso. His hand roamed – your waist, your hips, sliding up your sides to brush the curve of your breasts through your shirt. You tugged at his hair, pulling him back up to kiss you properly, and he groaned into your mouth. 

“You’re going to kill me,” he muttered.

“Good.”

Your hands found the hem of his shirt, and you started to pull it up. Arthur caught your wrists, stopping you.

“Wait,” he said, breathing hard. “Wait. We should- we can’t-”

“Can’t what?”

“Can’t do this here. Not now, not when anyone could walk in.” He rested his forehead against yours again, his chest heaving. “I want to. God, I want to. But not like this. Not rushed, not hiding in a shed where we could get caught any second.”

You knew he was right. Hated that he was right.

“So what do we do?” you asked. 

“We wait. We’re careful. We find time when it’s safe.” He kissed you once more, soft and lingering. “And we don’t do anything stupid that could get us caught.”

“This whole thing is stupid.”

“I know.” He smiled against your lips. “But it’s the good kind of stupid.”

You laughed, and he pulled you into a hug, just holding you. You buried your face in his neck, breathing him in – soap and sunncream and something uniquely Arthur. 

“I don’t want to let go,” you admitted. 

“Then don’t. Not yet.:

So you stood there, wrapped in each other, until you heard voices in the distance – campers returning from the fire circle, your hour of privacy coming to an end.

Arthur pulled back reluctantly, his hands lingering on your waist. “We should probably make it look like were actually doing some inventory.”

“Right. Inventory.” You looked around at the scattered life jackets and paddles. “Very convincing.”

He laughed and handed you the clipboard. “Here. Look official.”

You were both trying to look busy when the door opened, and Bach stuck his head in. 

“Hey, how’s the-” He stopped, looked at you, looked at Arthur and the way you were both slightly dishevelled, your lips swollen, Arthur’s hair sticking up. 

A slow grin spread across his face.

“Inventory going well?” he asked innocently. 

“Fine,” Arthur said, his voice admirably steady. “Just finishing up.”

“Uh-huh.” Bach’s grin widened. “Well, don’t let me interrupt. I’ll just… be outside.

He left, and you and Arthur looked at each other.

“he’s going to tell everyone,” you said.

“Immediately.” Arthur agreed.

“We’re terrible at this.”

“The worst.” He kissed your forehead. “But I don’t care.”

“You will when we get fired.”

“Then we’ll get fired together.” He said it lightly, but there was something serious underneath. Something that made your heart skip.

“Arthur-”

“I mean it,” he said. “Whatever happens, we’re in this together. Okay?”

You looked at him – at this boy who’d been your rival, your enemy, your friend, and now… something more. Something that felt too big and too fragile and too important to name. 

“Okay,” you said. “Together”

He smiled, and it was like the sun coming out. 

Outside, you could hear Bach already talking to someone, his voice carrying through the evening air. You could hear Liv’s delighted laugh and the other’s shouting, 

Your secret had lasted approximately three minutes between your friends, but at least the campers and owners were still in the dark. 

“We’re doomed you said. 

“Completely,” Arthur agreed.

But he was still smiling. And so were you.

it had been a while since you darkened the doors of the catholic church your parents took you to every sunday of your childhood. 

they would be mortified to learn that you had become a ceo (christmas and easter only) if they had lived long enough to see it. 

recently you been feeling, homesick? in some twisted messed up way?

the church had always felt like another home to you, and you thought perhaps you might be able to find some solace, some peace.

even if you didn’t think you believed in god anymore. 

how could god exist with all of the awful things going on in the world? if he did exist, you thought he certainly couldn’t be that good.

but you put your grievances with the religion aside, stepping through the doors for the first time in a while. 

you sat in your family pew, looking up at the alter. it made you feel especially close to your mother. 

memories filled your mind of how she taught you the bible, reading verses with you, teaching you the lord’s prayer.

you started to run over it in your head when you heard a door open. 

in walked the priest. he was quite young, possibly 30, and you’d never seen him before. 

he acknowledged you with a nod of his head before walking into the confessional booth. 

you hadn’t even planned on taking confession, unsure what sins you wanted to admit to. 

you could admit you indulged in alcohol a bit more than you should of, or that you smoked a few cigarettes. 

but there was one thing plaguing your mind. 

you’d made a promise to yourself to wait until marriage. but you’d broken that promise. first with the guy you thought you would end up marrying. and then again and again after.

your body kept chasing that feeling again and again. 

in the end, he cheated on you, and here you were. stuck in your hometown, with nothing more than a broken promise. 

that pushes you over the edge. you rise from the pew with shaky hands, walking over to the confessional booth. 

“forgive me father. for i have sinned.” you say as you sit down, running through the motions. “it has been… a few years, since my last confessional.”

you looked down at your hands crossed in your hands.

“i have indulged in alcohol. and partying, and similar behaviour.” a tear falls down your cheek.

“i haven’t been going to church, or even including god in my life.” 

tears start to spring from your eyes, you felt so emotional, so connected to your parents. 

the last words were caught in your throat. 

“and i.” your lip starts to waver. 

“it’s alright my child, i am here to help you.” he responds, reassuring you from the other side of the curtain.

“i engaged in premarital sex.” you start sobbing, your head in your hands. 

“now, do not be afraid. i’m glad you came i to see me today. that was the first step. there is no doubt in my mind that you can become pious again.” he starts to reassure you. 

“one lapse of judgement does not define you as a person.” he continues. “you are back on the right path my child.” 

he smiles to himself as your sobs start to subside. you take a deep breath, taking a moment to ground yourself.

“and i can help to guide you.”

“thank you father.” your hands still clasped together. 

“would you like to pray together?” he says, handing you a lifeline. 

“yes father. thank you.” you respond, still in the confessional booth.

“dear father.” he starts. “one of your sheep has been lost. please help me to guide her, helping her to take you back into her life. allow me to show her the right path, the path of piety and love. amen.”

“amen.” you say under your breath, another tear rolls down your cheek.

“go in peace my child. i hope that i will see you again, and that i can continue to guide you. the lord as my shepherd.” 

“thank you father. amen.” you stand up, almost fleeing from him. 

you needed some time to process. some time alone. 

you walk around your neighbourhood until your feet hurt. 

you try to clear your mind but it’s a losing battle. 

something about that priest, you were drawn to him. you felt like going to church this sunday for the first time in a long time. 

you felt like you could trust him. it was almost instant the way you felt reassured under his wing. 

perhaps church wouldn’t be that bad.

-

you thought about him off and on until sunday. 

you put on a nice dress, smoothing the fabric under your fingers. 

your face was done up, not to the point of vanity, but enough to cover the dark circles under your eyes. 

when you walked into the church, it was full of people already. you were grateful that no one was in your pew, so you walked towards it taking a seat. 

it was hard for you to ignore all of the waves and smiles from family friends. 

you felt like a minor celebrity.

but there was another pair of eyes that were watching you. ones that you didn’t notice because he was out of your sight line. 

stood in the wings, he was examining you. contemplating what he would say to you later.

something about your parents surely.

although you didn’t know him, he already knew everything about you. 

when the bells start to ring, he steps out, smiling at the congregation. 

“good morning everyone.” he stops at the podium. 

“welcome, peace of christ be with you,” he says.

“and also with you.” you and the congregation respond. 

“thank you everyone for coming, a special welcome to those of you who are worshiping with us for the first time.” his eyes dart over to you. 

he moves to light the christ candle.

“christ be with you.” he says, arms open.

“and also with you.” you respond. 

you squirm as you sit through the service. 

the priest continues to look at you.

of course his sermon is about finding your way back to christ, and repentance. and it doesn’t help that you found yourself extremely attracted to him. 

you glance at the program. scanning for his information. 

reverend arthur frederick it says at the top. 

arthur. it suited him. 

something about the way he spoke, and the way he looked at you. it left you wondering what it would be like to kiss those soft supple lips. 

but those days were supposed to be behind you. 

you tune back into the service as he continues to talk about how the shepherd welcomes back the sheep who has been missing. 

how it is just as important as the other sheep, if not more. 

you can’t help but feel like it’s targeted.

“believe that god rejoices when his followers return.” he looks at you. “for your sins will be forgiven once you have agreed to follow christ again.” 

you face starts to flush red.

his gaze on you feels almost intimate. it has you feeling like you’re about to come undone.

you stand as arthur delivers the benediction, your head bowed in prayer. 

after the service ends you have many people coming up to you. 

you entertain the conversation, knowing it’s what your parents would have wanted. 

you accept their condolences, answer their questions about your life, asking them about theirs. 

they tell you that it’s good to see you. that you should come back. isn’t the reverend just amazing?

you nod along. at this point you’d have to come back, no matter your opinion on god. it would be expected of you.

eventually arthur himself approaches you.

“hello again.” arthur takes your hand in his own, shaking it.

“hello father arthur.” you smile up at him. 

“this may seem a bit strange, but i wanted to extend my condolences about your parents. they told me so much about you.” his smile is warm, inviting.

“i appreciate it. it’s hard to be here without them.” you look at your shoes.

“well i’m sure they would be very proud of you for coming here, especially your mother.” arthur continues to look at you. “i can tell they are smiling down on us.” his hand still on yours.

“thank you father.” you look back up at him. 

“how are you coping with everything?” he asks sincerely. “if you need any help with the grief process, please know i am always here for you.” 

“i appreciate it reverend. thank you for your service today. i’m sure i will see you soon.” you take your hand back, walking passed him towards the door.

you couldn’t stand that look of pity anymore. you’d dealt with it far to much.

but you knew you’d be back. there was something about him. 

but you didn’t need help with the grief process, it was getting over your sins that bothers you. 

you’d felt like, well, a sinner in church.

you felt like you weren’t meant to be there. you needed to work through your problems and go through the process of reclaiming your faith. 

you felt like you had betrayed god, and in turn, your parents. you knew that meeting with father arthur was the only way you could work through it.

-

it was wednesday evening. you’d finished work, and you walked through the doors of the church again. 

“hello father,” you seek him out immediately.

“i’m glad you’ve come back.” he takes your hand. “why don’t we go to my study, and you can tell me what’s been bothering you.” 

he leads you through the church, taking you to his study. you go willingly, trusting him blindly. 

he sits down at his desk, gesturing to the seat in front of him.

“so, lets start with the beginning. what made you come back to church, and why.” his hands are clasped together in front of you. 

“well father. i’ve been missing my parents, and this had made me feel closer to them. but i don’t know if i, belong here.” you’re fiddling with your thumbs, avoiding eye contact. 

“of course you belong here, everyone is welcome.” he reaches his hand towards you as a gesture of reassurance.

“but i’ve been sinful, in the highest degree.” you shake your head.

“god has already forgiven you.” arthur continues. “you now must forgive yourself.”

“i don’t know how. i feel as though i have violated myself, my parents, and god. i don’t know how to continue in the church if i can’t move passed this.” you make the mistake of looking up. 

arthur is looking at you sincerely. god he looked good. it made you feel disgusted with yourself. how on earth could you think that, while in church?

“it seems like to me like you might need help with this. if you were able to repent, for yourself, would that help you to move on?” it’s like he’s staring into your soul. 

“yeah. that could work. what do you think i should do?” your eyes widen.

“you need to open up more. to understand why you sinned, will help you move passed it.” arthur looks at you. “once you understand yourself, and why you know you won’t do it again, that should help you move on.” 

you nod at him. 

“can we start now? i really enjoyed your service and i hope that i can focus on it on sunday rather than myself.” you look down again.

“that is what i’m here for. so, why was god no longer a part of your life.” his head is tilted. 

“i. i’m not sure. i think it was a rebellion against my parents. a way for me to push back against authority.” you shrug. 

“that’s very good. do you realise now that god is there to help you? that this is about your relationship with the lord, rather than your parents?” he speaks with his hands, outstretched as he talks. 

“i think so.” you look at your lap. there was something else on your mind. something that left you feeling uncomfortable at the very least. 

“what else is upsetting you?” his head is askew, an eyebrow raised. 

arthur knew what else was on your mind. he wanted you to talk about it. 

he needed you to.

the way that you looked at him through your lashes. to get you to talk about your body was just what he wanted.

“i suppose my broken promise of chastity.” you are squirming under arthur’s gaze. if anything, he makes you want to break that vow of chastity again.

“right. and why did you break that promise to god?” he can’t help but lick his lips. maybe that made him sick. but he desperately wanted you to talk about sex. 

“i thought he was the one. that we would get married.” you shrugged, but there was something more.

“i see. and this was the only time?” he looked over at you. 

“well. not quite.” your cheeks flush red.

“i succumbed to pleasure, even after he left, with other men.” you’re fidgeting with your hands again. 

“and why won’t you forgive yourself for this?” arthur looks sincere.

“i guess because i still crave it.” you feel so embarrassed. “i still crave temporary pleasure when i know i shouldn’t. if i went out tonight and someone offered to take me home, i doubt i could resist the temptation.” 

“i see. well what can i do to help you get over this temptation? perhaps you could find pleasure in other things, things that aren’t as sinful.” 

“i think i would still crave it. i’ve been trying, but i can’t help myself.” you can’t even look at him. you couldn’t believe you were opening up about this, to your priest no less.

“well. you could perhaps occasionally indulge in self pleasure.” arthur taps the table.

“oh?” you finally meet his gaze, blushing profusely. “i thought that was just as bad.” 

“not quite as bad.” arthur shrugged. he was just making it up as he went along at this point. “at least you would not be giving your body to someone who didn’t deserve it.” 

“but i’ve never. i mean i don’t know how to.” again your face is bright red. 

“i see. well perhaps i could help you.” arthur started. 

“oh?” you look up at him again. there’s something else in his eyes, a glint of hunger.

“i could help you find pleasure.” 

you were about to ask if that was sinful. but how could you question a priest? surely he knew what he was doing.

or maybe you were just feigning ignorance.

“come here.” arthur says as he stands up, pushing his chair back.

you stand up walking over to him. 

“kneel.” he says and you get on your knees in front of him. “praise be.” he muttered under his breath. 

“forgive me father. for i have sinned.” you say, looking up at him, your hands pressed together. 

“it has been one week since my last confessional.” you bite your lip.

“i have been struggling with impure thoughts. thoughts about you, father.” 

arthur peers down at you, his cock growing hard in his trousers. 

“rise. for you are forgiven.” he says, helping you to your feet. 

his hands wrap around your waist. 

“how can i absolve myself from this sin father?” you tilt your head. 

“oh but this isn’t a sin at all.” he chuckles warmly. “do you trust me? as your priest?” 

his nose is mere centimetres from yours.

“of course i do.” saliva is pooling in your mouth. 

“let me guide you. pleasure isn’t always something you should be ashamed of.” his lips brush against yours as he speaks. 

you close your eyes, waiting for further contact. 

and arthur doesn’t disappoint, his lips melt into yours, kissing you deeply. 

you accept it gratefully, hungry for him. 

he brings your hips closer, pressing your body up against his own. 

you can feel his bulge pressed up against you. 

you craved anything that he could offer you. 

“let me show you.” arthur breaks up your kiss. he lifts you up onto his desk after pushing the papers to the side.

he’s pulling your shirt up over your head, exposing your bare chest.

“so sinful.” he shakes his head, looking at you. “do you even try to fight temptation?” he asks.

your nipples peak in the cool air. you don’t know why you decided not to wear a bra, maybe it was wishful thinking. 

maybe you just wanted him to look at your chest. 

well whatever it was, it seemed to have worked. 

“i’m sorry reverend.” you look up at him.

“i doubt it.” he says before taking one of your nipples in between his lips.

and he was right. you weren’t sorry. certainly not in that moment when your head was thrown back, his lips attached to you. 

“oh arthur.” you throw your head back, baring your neck to him. 

“let me set you free.” arthur says, grabbing your waist. you wrap your legs around his waist, letting him pick you up.

he takes you into his bedroom, setting you on his single bed. 

“kneel.” he says again, unbuckling his belt. 

you get on your knees in front of him, looking up at him. 

he drops his trousers, leaving him in his boxers. 

you watch as he unbuttons his shirt, revealing his toned chest. he was in such incredible shape it has you salivating.

his shirt hits the floor as your attention turns to his erection. you tongue darts out of your mouth, licking your lips. 

“eager?” he says, smiling down at you. 

you nod, watching as he drags his boxers down his thighs. 

his cock hits his stomach. 

you grab his thigh with your hand, your nails digging into his plush skin. 

you wondered if he’d ever had his dick sucked before. maybe he’d just seen it in pornos. 

maybe he was a virgin. 

you lick the underside of his cock, watching for his response. he throws his head back. 

you take his cock in your mouth. 

a groan leaves arthur’s mouth. your mouth felt amazing. it had been a long time since he’d had his cock in something other than his hand. 

your tongue runs down his shaft as you bob your head up and down. 

he can’t help but look at you. the height of sin. he had been thinking about this since he’s seen you last week. 

there was something different about you. 

he has the sudden urge to grip your hair, dictating your speed for himself. 

but he refrains, watching as you hold onto his thigh. 

he was in such amazing shape you couldn’t help yourself.

tears start to well in your eyes as you gag around him. 

without warning, he takes a step back. looking down at you.

you sit there on your knees, looking up at him, wondering what he wanted from you. 

“this is about you.” arthur says, bending over to pick you up.

he gets you to lie down on his bed. 

“what do you want?” his head is cock as his eyes rake down your body. eyes ok your chest. 

“i want you to fuck me.” you lick your lips, maintaining eye contact. 

arthur smirks, moving to undo your pants, dragging them and your panties down your legs. 

he scrambles in between your legs, leaning down to kiss your lips. 

he runs one of his slender fingers through your slick folds, finding you to be dripping wet. 

he pushes his finger into you, drawing a moan from your lips. but you wanted more.

arthur was going to give it to you.

he breaks up the kiss, lining himself up with your entrance. 

he slowly slides into you, your eyes rolling back at the contact. 

“oh god.” you whine as arthur pulls back out before pushing into you again.

he maintains a steady pace, rocking you against his single mattress. 

arthur is savouring it. this was the first time he’d had sex since joining the priesthood. he didn’t know how he’d went this long without it. without you. 

he tries hard not to cum, but it’s a losing battle. 

he makes it a few more strokes before finishing inside of you. 

“shit. sorry.” he says, emptying himself inside of you. 

“s’ok.” you look up at him. “first time?” 

“in a while.” he chuckles, slowly pulling out of you. 

he watches as his cum drips out of you. he coats his fingers in it, bringing them up for you to suck on. 

you take them into your mouth, lips wrapped around the digits seductively.

before you know it arthur is in between your legs, lapping at your pussy. 

is lips wrapped around your clit, sucking hard. 

you grab his hair, holding onto him. 

he looks up at you through his lashes, gauging your reaction. 

your eyes are tightly shut, trying to focus on the sensation. 

he eats you out like a man starved. which to be fair, he kind of was. 

he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done something like this, not that it mattered. 

he gave you more attention than your ex boyfriend ever did. 

he adds his fingers, curling them into you. 

it’s not long before he has you coming undone, finishing on his tongue. 

but arthur doesn’t stop, you grip his head trying to move him away.

“too much.” you whine, quickly finding yourself overwhelmed.

“you can give me more.” arthur says, fingers still inside of you. 

he adds a third finger, stretching you out around him. 

“please arthur. i can’t take anymore” you’re whimpering, shaking under him. 

his lips leave your skin. but he kisses your thighs. 

you’re still shaking as he takes his slender fingers out of you. 

as soon as he looks up at you, you’re hit with clarity. hard. 

you’d just had sex. with your priest. 

“shit.” you say before covering your mouth, like swearing was the worst sin you committed.

“what?” arthur titles his head, looking up at you.

“we shouldn’t have done this.” you stand up, searching for your clothes, remembering your shirt is in ten other room.

“don’t you trust me?” arthur says, still

shamelessly ogling your bare chest. 

“of course i do! but we can’t. you of all people should know that what we did was wrong.” your arms are outstretched. 

“maybe.” arthur shrugs. it’s hard for you to take him seriously while he’s still naked. “but maybe it was so so right.” he smirks.

“i have to go.” you shake your head, leaving his room to find your top in his study. 

“you’ll be back.” arthur calls to you as he puts on his boxers. 

a bit presumptuous of him. 

but you knew he was right, now that you had a taste, you would never be able to get enough. 

something about the situation. the fact that it felt so wrong. the way he looked at you. it was inevitable. 

but you leg yourself believe the lie you told yourself, that you’d never do it again.

-

you sit in the garden in your backyard, sipping a glass of water.

“how are you doing?” arthur comes out, kissing you in the forehead before reaching around you to rub your swelling belly. 

he’d switched denominations a while ago, joining another sector of the church. one where the priests don’t have to be celibate.

eventually you’d gotten married, settled down and were expecting your first child together.