#kuyoli

Kuya folds his arms and raises his eyebrows,  leaning back against the oak beam in the center of Olivine's study. There are many like it in the temple's lecture rooms and study nooks, which are quite dim and different when compared to the blinding white marble walls of the sanctuary. 

“Have you learned nothing about situational awareness? Where are your wards, your alarms?” Kuya fiddles with his nails, painted blue today. “You just let anyone walk in and out of your study?”

“Yes,” Olivine huffs. “When my door is open, anyone from the temple can come looking for me. That is the point.”

“Oh?” Kuya purrs. A tiny smirk touches the corner of his mouth. “Then why are you looking at me like I'm unwelcome here?”

“Because you are not a temple attendant, and I'm certain you don't have any theological questions for me,” Olivine sighs. He throws an arm around the back of his chair and crosses his legs, smoothing out his dark blue trousers. 

Like a cat put outside against his will, Kuya summons his pipe and quietly pouts. He does not, however, take a step toward the door. “I see. What a pity; I would've hoped your ears were open to the queries of believer and non-believer alike.”

Olivine sighs and lays his palm flat on the thick stick of papers in front of him. “I'm sorting through the temple's financial statements for the yearly review, due to the capital by the end of the month, so perhaps I'm a bit less… gracious, than my usual.”

“Sounds desperately boring, Father.” Kuya takes a drag from his pipe and blows a ring.

“You're… correct. It's maddening.” Olivine pinches the bridge of his nose and stands up, leaning over the desk to push the completed pile back and reach for a new folder. Behind him, the floorboards creak.

“Care for a distraction?” Kuya's voice is close now, inches behind him. Smoke washes over his shoulder,and he hears the door swing shut and lock of its own volition. When Olivine tries to look, a soft, cool hand slides over his mouth and twists it to face forward again.

“No words please… just a nod will do.” Kuya's hold on his face is firm, and his middle finger slots between Olivine's lips to tease it open.

“Ha, ah…” A horse-like toss of his head does nothing to deter Kuya, whose free hand slides around his waist and tugs his tucked-in button-down out of his trousers. He reaches for Kuya’s wrist, but finds his arms promptly and magically bound behind his back.

“A nod, Father. Come now.”

Kuya’s voice is sultry smoke, like a fine intoxicating mist sneaking into the crevices of his body. Olivine can't stand that he's weak to it, but the hand at his waist unbuttons his slacks with a seductive click, and the finger in his mouth is joined by another, pressing his tongue down and out of his mouth…

He nods, almost without thinking. Kuya’s lilting chuckle vibrates against his back. “So eager…”

As Olivine’s trousers fall open Kuya retrieves the priest’s half-hard cock and squeezes. The hand in his mouth digs deeper, until the slide of Kuya's fingers squelches and Olivine can taste the bitter herbal flavors of his pipe under his fingernails. Then, once he's properly drooling, Kuya switches hands.

“Filthy little thing you are. How delightful…” Kuya's soaked palm slides easily around Olivine's cock, falling into a casual jerk. The other hand is in his mouth now, thrusting two fingers deep in exploration. The priest strains in Kuya’s grip but can't find leverage, or maybe doesn't want to, it's–

“When you want me, do you know what happens? Every part of your body drips for me. Here–” Kuya shoves his fingers even deeper and Olivine gags, sputtering wetly– “And here.” A tight fist squeezes and presses on the head of Olivine’s cock, milking shiny precum from the slit and swiping it away with a thumb.

The dirty words make Olivine’s insides turn. His eyes roll back, nearly into his head, and his moans turn loud and high-pitched around Kuya’ fingers.

“Not too loud now, Father. Unless you want the whole of the temple to know what kind of shameless little toy you are for me.” Kuya’s hand is molten and iron-tight around Olivine’s cock, unforgiving in its swiftness. Olivine tries to swallow his shouts and only barely manages to stifle them. Panic at the prospect of discovery blends easily with his excitement, and it's all he can do to stay standing.

“Kgh! Hgh!” Olivine bucks his hips and tries to warn Kuya that he's close– but when Kuya notices, he redoubles his efforts. The old fox points the priest's dick at his desk and pumps him for all he's worth. Before Olivine can twist out of the way, white-hot pleasure rocks his body from belly to knee and his cock spurts, his screams gagged by Kuya’s fingers while he fucks Kuya’s fist like he's lost his mind for it

“There now,” Kuya muses. “Distracted?”

When clarity falls over Olivine again, for just a moment, the bottom falls out of his stomach. He jerks his head to look for what his orgasm might have ruined – he was standing right over the desk – and heaves a sigh of relief. His mess destroyed a blank balance sheet, but nothing else. Kuya doesn't miss the look on his face.

“Should've let you ruin the whole stack,” he sighs, directing Olivine’s softening cock at the pile of papers to the right. He pulls his fingers out of the priest’s mouth and retrieves a handkerchief to wipe up some of the mess. “Maybe I'm growing soft…”

“...”

With a swift and strong jerk of his arms, Olivine elbows Kuya in the sternum and knocks him backwards. Olivine turns, still bound by his wrists, and sends Kuya the rest of the way to the floor by sweeping his ankle. The fox lands in a heap, on his ass and hands, already spitting mad. But as soon as Kuya looks up to snap and hiss, his lap is filled and his vision obscured by bulk and flushed skin.