Looking back and reflecting through prayer and journaling, Steve realizes it was his fault.
The long looks that could have easily been interpreted as yearning, the unsuitable timing of said looks, the tone in his voice when he knew for a fact it was Bucky on the other side of the confessional and he did nothing to shift said tone of his voice to a more appropriate one.
It’s his fault and he’s admitted it. He’s spent his evenings praying—begging— for forgiveness, spent his nights on his knees until they’ve been left bruised, ruined the pages of his Bible from the tears he’s wept over it.
None of it has come close to quelling the consuming feelings he has for Bucky Barnes.
Bucky Barnes has ruined his goddamn life. He’s made Steve question his purpose, his past, his life, his future.
Everything. He’s ruined it all.
But Christ, Steve can’t stay away.
The feeling he receives from being the reason such a beautiful being cries from pleasure or otherwise make him feel like—
Like God.
Like God.
Steve was horrified when Bucky dropped to his knees in front of him in his office that fateful evening, couldn’t believe his eyes when Bucky began to weep and grab at the obvious bulge at his crotch and fist at his hair.
“I don’t know what to do, Father. It hurts. It has to be a punishment for the things I can’t stop thinking about. Please, help me. Please…”
Steve may have been possessed.
When he reached for Bucky, out of his own mind and unable to grasp reality or his purpose, he knew the moment his fingertips came in contact with the moist skin of Bucky’s cheek he was about to enter into a world of inevitable and eternal damnation.
“Tell me where it hurts, son. Tell me what you think about.”
An entire life dedicated to God couldn’t stop his own traitorous cock growing so full, so painfully fast that he nearly doubled over when Bucky uttered the words—
“I can’t stop thinking about y-you, Father.”
And then Bucky had shuffled forward on his knees, letting out a pitiful noise with each jerky movement, and pressed the bulge of his crotch against Steve’s shin, through his robe.
Lucifer was described as beautiful, the seal of perfection. He was an angel before he was cast out.
Bucky is Steve’s personal Lucifer.
“I want to know everything you think about. You kneel here and tell me. I will help you, my son.”
Steve had never heard such filth, such utterly disgusting filth:
“I can’t look at you without getting hard. I look at you and I want to let you inside of my body, want to put you in my mouth. I come to service and look at you and listen to you and get so hard I have to go to the bathroom to…to touch myself. I’ve never done anything, nothing– I swear I’m a good boy. But I look at you and I want to be so so bad, Father. What am I supposed to do? How do I…do I stop feeling this way?”
It was seeing the young man’s tears that made Steve feel the most arousal, he realized. Not that Bucky was sobbing as he spoke and practically humping Steve’s leg; it was the tears. How beautiful he was when he wept before Steve, on his knees.
Steve reached for his rosary the moment he came back to his body enough to realize he too was hard.
“You must repent, Bucky,” he heard himself say, tone hushed and reverent. “You must ask for forgiveness.”
And God damn him, God damn him, he closed his eyes as he laid his hand in Bucky’s hair, softer than silk, and whispered, “You must give into temptation to be forgiven in full…”
Steve never stood a chance against being faced with his own temptation.
Neither did Bucky, it seemed.
Weeping while he rubbed his erection against Steve’s leg was nothing compared to weeping with his mouth stretched lewdly around Steve’s cock.
Steve had not once felt pleasure like this in his life, had never come close to experiencing something of such bliss. Feeling the inside of Bucky’s mouth, his tongue, was otherworldly.
His pleasure growing tenfold hearing and watching Bucky struggle to take him, to suck on him, made him question whether or not he was made for a secular life instead.
Steve prayed for their two souls anyway.
“God the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son…”
Bucky sobbed and sputtered, gagged and sucked, whimpered and sniffled.
“...has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins…”
When Bucky’s hands came up to grasp Steve’s hips, when he leaned forward to shove Steve further into his mouth as if he were starving and desperate, Steve fisted the hand that held onto the rosary into his hair, holding Bucky in place as his hips took on a mind of their own.
“...through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace…”
Bucky’s sobs blended with moans as Steve fucked his mouth, noise so sweet Steve closed his eyes once more to memorize the noise of it.
“...and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit…”
Steve’s last bit of self-control was used to not let out a ferocious groan as he came down Bucky’s throat, teeth gritted as he forced Bucky’s mouth further down on his cock, until he felt Bucky’s tongue on his balls.
“Amen…”
It pulled Steve back to reality, that amen. He shoved at Bucky’s shoulder, pushed him back and away from his still-twitching cock, from his trembling body.
The sight of a dizzy and hungry Bucky, mouth slick with cum and lips and cheeks cherry red, rubbing pathetically at his crotch from the outside of his pants while crying out, “Amen! Amen!” as he obviously came in his pants on the floor of Steve’s office is an image that will be branded in Steve’s brain until the day he sees the pearly gates.
That’s if this doesn’t send him to Hell instead.
Bucky leaned down then, pants wet and still sniffling, and pressed his lips against Steve’s shoes. His feet.
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I have high hopes for myself and my writing goals this year. I've decided to not pursue self-publishing and to put that eventual goal on the back burner; it's just not in the cards for me right now and it doesn't spark joy.
Instead, I'll be posting my original work here and on Ao3, which I am very excited about. There's no use in keeping all of this work and ideas I have to wait for the "right time". That is a mindset I am ready to leave behind in 2024.
I'll be posting the first chapter of A Race You'll Never Win soon. 🥰 I'm so excited for you to meet Sebastian and Malcolm.
But the instinct to run in the older man’s direction, to stand toe-to-toe with him and look up at him, to feel the warmth of Malcolm’s body pressed against his own once more, is much stronger than the urge to run. It’s more than tempting– it’s his intrinsic nature. His body leans in Malcolm’s direction, so much so he has to take a step to balance his form back out.
His mind suddenly feels void of its every-day worries: money, rent, paychecks, laundry, bills.
Suddenly, his world is quiet, peaceful. It almost feels like he’s home, a feeling he hasn’t felt in a very, very long time.
Just like that.
All because of Malcolm.
A Race You'll Never Win is a fast-paced, high spice debut work written by Elizabeth Ray. It includes delicious tropes such as Age Difference, Love at First Sight, Grumpy Sunshine, and Rescue Romance.
The first chapter will be shared soon, but stay tuned for more moodboards, playlists, snippets, etc.! 🥰
I thought I would share my Patreon link again because I'm having to start over after it was accidentally deleted and because of some changes. And after some setbacks, I'm still trusting my intuition. She says this is the path we should continue to take and we trust her.
If you choose to support me on Patreon for $3 a month, you will be given the following in return from me:
Early access to any writing I post online
Access to serialized original work, WIPS as I edit, and past writing
This includes my old Senator & Intern series as well as my fic you're the light, you're the night that I am planning on editing into original work
Input on writing decisions or questions I have in the process of my various writing endeavors
Moodboards, playlists, headcannons, yapping, etc. posted regularly
Patreon has been a learning experience for me and I'm sure it will continue to be a fluid journey for us all.
I never wish to pressure anyone into supporting me monetarily, I just feel I have something to gain from this as a writer and person. Support, whether it be monetary or not, never goes unappreciated. If you can manage it, come be a part of what I'm hoping will be a cozy community full of Daddies and spice.
Link to my Patreon and link to my existing work to get a feel for my writing if you're unfamiliar with it.
Probably over a month ago I asked my patrons for any sexy writing ideas and they came through for me. I smushed some ideas together and the arrogant Price James and his personal beast of a Knight Steven was born. I've shared the first part on my Patreon, but this excerpt is from the second part. ❤️
“If you’re feeling so generous,” his knight breathes as he easily lifts James from the tub with very little effort, reaching for a towel and haphazardly drying him off once his feet land on the floor. “Let me put my mouth on you. Let me eat you. Please.”
Oh.
A request that goes right to James’s balls, twisting at them pleasantly at the thought of Steven’s bearded face between his legs. He reaches for Steven’s face now, reaches down for his cheeks and cupping them as he allows for his fingers to dig into Steven’s jaw.
“You dirty beast.”
“I cannot be blamed. You make such pretty noises when my tongue is on you. In you. You’re the reason I’m considered feral.”
“Steven.” It’s meant to sound chiding, but it comes out sounding much more pleasurable than intended.
“It would be a waste of a bath, my Prince,” Steven pushes, this being his turn to know what James’s answer will be as he moves towards the bed. “You haven’t let me in days.”
“Do not attempt to make me feel guilty,” James weakly accuses as he’s settled onto his plush and overly large mattress, Steven’s lips all but attaching themselves to his skin, settling pleasantly between James’s spread legs. Steven fails to answer with his own retort, his lips busying themselves on the warm and tender skin of the prince’s neck...
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Today's W.I.P. Wednesday is a teaser for what I'm about to post in a few days.
He flexes his fingers and straightens himself to standing in full instead of being pushed against the counter.
“I told you to quit,” he murmurs to Steve, not stopping himself from being pulled back against his Daddy’s chest this time. “We agreed I would decide and I would lead. How am I supposed to lead when you won’t listen?”
Steve lets out a noise similar to a whine, maybe a huff, and Bucky bites back his smile into the kiss Steve takes from him.
“I know what you’re doing; you’re trying to test me. Whether you realize it or not, you’re trying to see how far you can push, trying to see how you can still guide when we’ve agreed you won’t. And that stops now, Daddy. That’s not the point of this. Do you understand?”
Bucky swears he can feel Steve’s cock jump between their bodies at those words. “My clever boy,” Steve all but slurs, humming into his words. “I understand, sugar. Fuck, I understand..."
Does anyone recognize it? 🥹 Four years later and I'm about to complete it thanks to the support of my Patrons. ❤️ I'm very excited.
“I feel crazy,” Malcolm admits softly. “I’ve seen you twice, twice. I come across hundreds of different people every day. Why can’t I stop thinking about you?”
It’s like music to Sebastian’s ears, a deeply sorrowful tune, bittersweet even. But he can’t resist when people are vulnerable with him; vulnerability needs to be met with vulnerability.
“I’ve missed you too,” he whispers, voice cracking with the emotion he feels being somewhat truthful with an understatement. “Why can’t I move on?”
“Is that what you want?” Malcolm asks, pulling his head back, his warm breath fanning across Sebastian’s mouth. “To move on?”
Tumblr, the soft spot in my writer heart, is deserving of a juicy quote directly from the WIP. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
