In the Open relationship au at one point maybe Art actually asks her to help him out, he’s been aching so much since the talk with Patrick and seeing reader with Tashi didn’t help at all, so she gives him a hand (literally 🫣) and as he is close to reaching his high she makes him pray to god for forgiveness for that sinful act or else there’s no release 😩
ohhh wait yes
because art's been like this for a couple weeks now. needier than before, even after his composure started to slip. genuinely needy. waking up to his hard-on pressing into you, he's half-asleep and he's still needy, still gagging for it, because he just wants you so, so bad. and eventually, he caves. reasons it away to himself, thinks that it'll be alright if it's just your hand, that much he and his god can forgive him of.
you play off your immediate excitement. act concerned - is he sure? you don't want to take advantage of him, is he sure he really wants this? - and when he finally "persuades" you that yes, this is what he wants, you finally get to see his cock for the first time.
and it's pretty, a nice girth, long and very quickly going red at the tip. you were right, you think, he does flush all over. and you kneel in front of him, tell him he needs to spit on your hand so you can stroke him.
"you want me to... spit on you?"
"just on my hand, artie, right here."
he won't admit he enjoyed it, likes the idea of you so sweet and pliant he could spit on you and you'd take it - want it. but you feel his cock throb nonetheless.
he doesn't last very long, but you don't expect him to. you're on your knees, revert, beautiful, and he thinks for a moment about how much like prayer this is, how much like your god this would make him. it's a sinful, prideful thought, and he pushes it away in favour of bucking up into the warm, slick grip of your hand. he's never realised how wet things could be before, his cock rapidly leaking precum, leading to a mess of wet shlick, shlick sounds as you fuck him with your fist.
"fuck, fuck, oh god, baby, 'm close," he whines, "please--"
"don't ask me," you say, slowing your hand, drawing it out. "ask him."
you jerk your head up to the ceiling. he stares at you, eyes wide, cheeks flush, pupils blown, cock throbbing in your hand. even his balls twitch, as if to win your sympathies.
"you're being so bad, after all," you continue in a low voice, giving him a rough stroke, root to tip. your thumb swipes over his slit and he whines. "you should ask for a bit of forgiveness. tell him you're sorry, and ill let you cum."
like art isnt sorry every damn day. like he isn't plagued by sin every time he looks at you. he doesn't have to try to come up with the right words.
"f-forgive me, heav-- ah -- heavenly f-father," he chokes. "for i ha-ah-ve sin-sinned."
you resume your torturously slow hand job. all the breath leaves arts lungs in a single, shaking breath.
"i- i've had lustful feelings and--" his voice breaks. "god, oh, god-- ive been bad, ive been so bad, im so sorry, 'm sorry, im sorry, oh god, please, please, 'm sorry--"
it's like his brain is broken. he knows the words, but his mouth can't form them. he knows this prayer back to front. this very confession. but his tongue is tied, everything lost somewhere on the path from his head to his lips. it's exactly what you were looking for.
"that's a good boy. cum for me, artie."
and he does. all over your hand. his stomach. it's sort of beautiful. take that, you think vindictively. i made him like this. he's mine, now. im his fucking god.
