#sage's asks

you had chatted him up after a particularly stirring sermon, when everyone had already left, and then relished in the flush of his cheeks that had been so deep in color it almost hid his freckles completely. you’d touched his arm and smiled all sweet, your poison seeping into his frame from your fingertips. he tried to resist, he really did.

if temptation was a monster trying to fuse to his spine, it was certainly your henchman.

now you’re sitting beside him in an empty pew in the empty building. heads turned toward one another as shared, heavy, stuttered breathing echoes out into the spacious church. despite it being a peaceful place, it’s beginning to smell of nothing but sticky immorality. it’s easy to pick up on the scent of sweat from warm bodies and faint musk from the fluids involuntarily spilling forth.

his hand is shoved down into his unzipped jeans and past the elastic of his boxers, pumping himself shakily as he watches you play with yourself at the same time. your fingers rub quickly at the sensitive spot that makes you feel hot all over. patrick spares half a glance to your hand’s movements as you shift it underneath the shielding fabric, and lets out a soft, strangled sort of sound at the sight.

“does that feel good?” he breathes out, his voice breaking around a moan as he accidentally thumbs his tip. it’s already covered in his fluids. slimy and lewd.

you nod quickly, your brow pinched up and your legs trembling.

“y-yeah, feels really nice,” you murmur, “how does your cock feel?”

immediately, his legs kick out in front of him and he sinks a little in his seat—his stomach flipping pleasantly at the sound of that vile word slipping from your mouth. cock. he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard to stop himself from saying something stupid like “please, say that again”.

this is the first time he’s ever seen someone else touching their body this way, let alone with him. this is all so new and thrilling and terrifying, but he can’t help but enjoy it—it’s ironically the closest he’s felt to salvation in a very long time. his hips feel floaty, his head is spinning, and his toes are curling in his shoes. he doesn’t quite remember how he let you talk him into this.

“.. aah, oh— it’s so good..” he shakes.

you swallow thickly and arch your pelvis into your circling fingers. you hump your touch, trying to get more friction. thrumming bursts of heat begin to burst in your lower stomach like fireworks..

patrick suddenly keens and cries out, pulling his wet palm from his bottoms in half of a second, like he just burned himself on a scorching stovetop. he pants raggedly and then looks to you with lidded, watercolor eyes. loose brown curls hang in front of his forehead as he parts his lips.

“i almost—..” he can’t finish the sentence, reaching his digits up to tug at his damp collar. it’s like god is actively punishing him by cooking him alive. he’s never felt quite so overheated. and he does feel guilty, more than he’s willing to admit to himself, but you’re all he can see right now. there’s no way he’s going to give this up. not a chance in hell.

he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until he’s doing it. his clean hand reaching for your occupied wrist, guiding you out of your underwear and then down into his own. he gives you a pleading look, a desperate one, and then his jaw slacks when he feels you instantly wrap your touch around his throbbing length. how is it that you know exactly what to do? have you done this before? with who?

he tries not to get jealous. he’s in absolutely no position to feel that way.

all thoughts melt away anyways when you begin to stroke him. up, down, up, down, up, down; the squelching of your tightening hold on him only further igniting his forbidden arousal. it’s hypnotic, and holy fuck, it’s so much better than doing it himself.

everything feels so sensitive.

“please, just touch me,” he shudders out, looking deep into your eyes as he instinctively reaches out to find your body. his fingers inch down past the waistband of your panties to brush over the swollen bud hidden beneath. just the feeling of your soft, squishy flesh sends him careening towards the edge. he’s losing it quickly. almost embarrassingly so.

your knee knocks into his as you whine, spreading your legs farther apart to give him more access. your own release only a handful of agonizing moments away.

you’re both filling the place with sounds filthy enough to shatter the stained glass. the fragments that would come down in the wreckage to slice at your bodies would be less painful than this act of teetering on the precipice of something so primal and grotesque.

he swipes his fingers awkwardly from side to side over your parts as he fumbles with the angle of his touch and his lack of experience. but despite all of that, it feels incredible. your legs clamp around him and your back arches up from the wooden pew. your fist glides over his frenulum as you jolt.

he leans in closer, almost close enough to kiss you, and chokes on a whimper.

“im think i’m about to— im ’bout to—..!”

his voice shakes the earth.

the waves of overwhelming sensation in your body start to flare; your muscles pulling taut as patrick’s do the same.

“i think im really gonna come.. i-is it okay if i come—?” he whispers, whiny and urgent.

like a plea. a prayer.

“yeah, yeah, yeah.. me too..” it tumbles from your chest and stills the air around you.

everything stops for just a moment.

him gasping and squeezing his eyes shut. you gripping the edge of the wood below you with your free hand, nearly squealing as his thumb flicks messily over your bead of nerves. he jerks forward in his seat before seizing up at the sound of your strained little noise—toppling over the edge with a jarring finality that seals him in his shame and blinding pleasure. he all but wails.

wet warmth meets your skin and you touch him through the waves of orgasm that have him promising to repent. your own climax rips moans from your throat and forces you to gush into your clothing. patrick doesn’t even know what to think, not that he can, brain much too melted to salvage any coherency. the sound of bells and doves and the choir fills his head. ringing out deafeningly, like a sick joke. he can’t seem to come down from the high.

he trembles as he pushes down softly on your slick bud, then collapses afterwards into a heap of jelly-like limbs. you follow not a second later. you're both a mess of slick parts and damp faces.

he wipes at his upper lip and then his cheek.

“oh my-..” he trails off, knowing he probably shouldn’t finish the sentiment. he’s already on bad terms. no need to make it worse for him later in the confessional. he sighs, still feeling your hand resting around his softening dick. he tries not to think about the fact that he covered your fingers in his depravity, but the thought comes and goes without his permission anyway. his flesh twitches. he stifles a groan.

“yeah.. woah..” you smirk lazily,

he gets the urge to drop to his knees and pull you down with him. to press his lips to yours before bowing his head and asking for forgiveness. that would probably be the proper thing to do. the better thing. his dad always says that the harder something is to do, the more likely that it’s the right thing to do. he doesn’t know if that’s true, but.. holding himself back from kissing you while also grappling with the remorse has him struggling to maintain composure.

patrick vows right then to never repeat this sort of thing in the future, to refuse the clutches of temptation whenever it pricks his skin again, but the vow begins to crack the moment he feels your index finger lazily rub at the vein bulging from his shaft. he inhales sharply through gritted teeth at the sensitivity, and then turns his head to look to your expression. eyes glazing over with reigniting desire.

he can deny it no longer. oh, you are temptation in human form, flesh and bone.

Under you, Felix lays in bed, a pretty silk red ribbon wrapped around his wrists and tied off with an even prettier bow. He really looked like present, and even if it’s only 7 am, he’s already so eager to get fucked, legs all spread out while you stay settled between it, strap all ready to go with a matching red dildo just to stick to the theme. You even wore that lingerie he got you, red lace hugging your body and with an underwire on the bra just to give an extra push to your boobs because you know that he always loved seeing your tits jiggle, even more so when you fuck him with your fake cock during missionary. 

“Love, please stop staring.” 

There’s a tint of red in Felix’s cheeks when he says that, covering his face with his hands just to hide that shy smile of his. You didn’t even realize you were staring, got too lost in your head admiring what was in front of you. “Sorry,” you giggle out, a hand moving to rub his smooth stomach, feeling the way his abs clench under your palm. “You just look too pretty, couldn’t help it.”

If there’s one thing your boyfriend can’t handle, it’s taking compliments. His face turns even redder if possible, his blush reaching the tips of his ears as he whines and further covers his face as much as his tied hands could allow. But all that gets replaced by a sharp gasp, elicited by you pushing against the plug snug in his hole that’s keeping him open. 

You watch as the lines by his eyes crinkle as his face contorts to one of pleasure, his hands slowly lowering just so he could see the way you toy with the plug, pushing and tugging it against his rim, and wriggling it around just to see his chest heave as he lets out a groan.

“God, just take it out and fuck me already.” You almost break into laughter at his eagerness, a smile on your face as you push it in against once more, tilting it just a bit just so it could slightly brush up against his prostate. “You’re too impatient, Lixie. How am I supposed to enjoy my sweet present, hm?” Your boyfriend shivers at your actions, his eyes fluttering shut as a surprised moan leaves him. “You keep teasing me,” he huffs out in retort, shooting you a quick glare. “I can’t believe you expect me to be patient after all tha— ah!” His words get quickly cut off the moment you tease your thumb against his leaky slit, precum already dribbling from his cock. “I know, I know,” you coo before wrapping your hand around his shaft, giving it a few tugs in time with you moving the plug in his ass, sending waves of pleasure throughout his body. “I’m being too mean now, am I?”

When you stop your movements altogether, he whines pathetically, hips shifting in mid air as he chases your hand, but you shush him by praising him by the stomach against the mattress just so you could slowly pull off his plug.

His pretty hole winks at you as it gapes and clenches around nothing, the plug having done its job on stretching him open, but still, you push two of your fingers inside just to feel him, scissoring him open just to watch him squirm, his hips bucking into you in hopes that you’d press against his sweet spot. 

“Y/n, please,” he pants out. “Just– ngh— just fuck me already. I-I wanna feel you, please.” 

“Aww, poor baby.” You stop once again, but this time it’s to give his stomach a few kisses, trailing up to his chest and neck, goosebumps erupting on his skin when your teeth nips at his ticklish spots. “Love, please,” Felix whines out, breath hitching when he feels you lick at one of his hardened nipples, the desperation prominent in his voice. “Fine, fine.” You say, giving one last peck to his lips before sitting back on your heels and grabbing the bottle of lube beside you. “Want mommy to make you feel good, Lixie?” You ask, dribbling some lube on your hand to coat it on the dildo and his hole for good measure. All he does is nod, his blonde hair falling over his eyes as he does so, so you push it back for him before grabbing his tied wrists and place it above his head. 

“Alright, my love. I’ll make you feel good, hm?” 

Your hands caress his inner thighs as you spread his legs before guiding the dildo toward his hole, the tip slightly pressing on his rim. Before pushing in, you look at him one more time, gauging at his reaction just so you can watch his jaw fall open the moment you slowly slide inside up to the hilt. 

“Mmhmm, there you go. Biiiiiig stretch.” 

And a big stretch it is. The girth was just enough to have him clench around it and long enough to stir his insides. The toy also curves upward just so it could easily stimulate his prostate without needing to put too much effort on finding the right angle, hence the dildo easily being both his and your favorite to use. 

He feels like his breath keeps getting knocked out of him everytime you push back inside, starting out slow just to help him get adjusted before you fuck his brains out, and once he gives you his nod of approval, you give him what he wants. 

The bed creaks in time with your thrusts, fucking him in a way you know he likes. Both of your hands keep his legs open while you work your hips, a few beads of sweat already gathering by your temple from your effort. 

“Is mommy making you feel good, baby?” You ask breathlessly, now holding him by his hips to fuck him even deeper. “Y-yes,” he moans out weekly, finding it hard to keep his arms above his head because all he wants to just wrap it around your neck instead to pull you closer, to feel more of you, but he knows better than to disobey you. He wants to cum so he’s definitely not risking his chances. “Feels— feels so fucking good–ngh— l-love your cock so much.” 

“Yeah? Love it when mommy fucks you with her cock?” There’s a proud smile on your face when you said that, loving the way his eyes are starting to gloss over with unshed tears of pleasure, even more so when you hear him say “Mmhmm, feels s’good. G’nna eat you out later, promise.” 

With that, you let a glob of your spit drop to his hard cock resting against his lower abdomen before wrapping your hand around it. “Yeah? You wanna eat mommy out after I fuck you?” He lets out a strangled moan the moment you start to pump him, mainly focusing on his sensitive head and frenulum while you continue to fuck him silly. At this point, Felix thinks his brain is gonna fucking melt out of his ears, his hands moving to grab the pillow under his head. 

“Yes, yes! I- shit– wanna taste you, show you how g-good I am— ah!” 

“But, Lixie,” you coo, “You’re always so good to me, darling.” He hisses when you press your thumb against the slit of his cockhead, eyes shut tight as he arches his back toward you, a silent curse falling from his lips. “You’re such a good boy for me and an even better present for Christmas.” 

“I-I’m good?” he shakily asks, lips trembling as tears start to fall from his eyes which you wipe away as quickly as it streams from his face, your thrusts faltering to a slow grind. “Mmhmm,” you huff out, leaning until you’re chest to chest. “So, so good.” 

Your lips finally meet his and you moan into the kiss, tongue dancing with his fighting for dominance before going back to kissing him with so much desire until you ran out of breath. When you pull away, admiring his fucked out state and spit-slicked lips, you start fucking him again, this time with a goal to finally make him cum.

It didn’t take much effort to make him slip over the edge, not when you’re fisting his cock at the same time your fucking him. When he cums, he cums hard, white ropes spilling into your hand and his chest, and there’s so much of it, it almost coats his cock enough for it to be his own lubricant. His high pitched whines sounded like a beautiful melody to you as you milk him through his orgasm, finally slowly your thrusts and the movement of your hand. His cock twitches as it pumps out nothing at this point but the waves of pleasure still washes all over his body, leaving him a panting sweaty mess. 

“Good boy, Lixie,” you tell him, cupping your free hand over his face and thumbing at the skin. “You did such a good job for me, baby. Open.” Felix’s eyes flutter open as he leans into your touch, parting his lips just like what you asked so you could put your soiled fingers into his mouth. The taste of his own cum making him moan, his spent cock jumping in surprise, arousal pooling once again in his belly. 

You pull your fingers off his mouth with a loud pout before licking at what’s left of it, making Felix curse at the sight. 

“Fucking hell, you’re nasty.” He jokes with a tired chuckle and you couldn’t help but giggle. 

“Face it, love. We’re both on the naughty list this year, just be thankful you’re getting fucked and not coal.”

“Do I get pussy too?” 

he looked like a kicked puppy.

or maybe just a really over-worked man.

but that was beside the point.

you ushered him inside, cupping his face and cooing at him in all the ways you knew that he needed you to. he pouted. he whined. you could practically imagine a tail tucked between his legs. his coach must have really chewed him out during practice. he had been on a downward spiral in terms of his ability to win for the last few months. it had been rough, to say the least.

he kicked off his shoes and stumbled over to your living room floor, sitting down on the carpet where he opted to stretch his hamstrings. you sat in front of him and ran a hand through his damp hair. he leaned into your touch instinctually, and then buried his face into your neck as his hands slid to hold your lower back.

you embraced him and rubbed his back, hearing him let out little noises of contentment as your palms caressed circles over his aching body. you pressed a kiss to his neck. he tasted like salt and self-doubt, which was not unusual for him after he had just freshly come back from the courts.

he moaned softly against you and then his lips were on yours with a tender ferocity that he always carried. his tongue was eagerly slipping past your teeth to lick at yours, and then he was pulling you closer and furrowing his brows.

"Please," he whispered against your lips as he tilted his head to change angles. his dick was already hard. that's how easy it was for you to get him worked up.

"What-" you pause, kissing him deeper, "What is it?"

his hands gripped your hips.

"Can you please just sit on my face?"

you felt your body warm up instantly at the sound of his whimpered plea, like a bucket of hot spring water had been dumped over you, and you nod slowly against his lips.

within thirty seconds, he was laying flat on his back on your floor, and the clothing on the lower half of your body had been removed and tossed aside to unknown places.

you crawled up his form, and he watched your every move with bated breath, letting his fingers ghost over your body as you inched your way up to his mouth.

when you finally hovered above him on your bent knees, pussy just inches away from his desperate tongue, he immediately shuddered underneath you and looked up to your eyes with a look that begged you before he could even get the right words out.

"C'mon, please.." he moaned pathetically, hands now grasping at your torso and trying to pull you down to him.

you smile, biting your bottom lip.

"Ask me again."

his hips lifted up from the carpet, bucking into the air and affectively jolting the both of you. it was an accident; he didn't mean to. it was just that his mouth was watering and he was too fucking aroused to think properly.

"Will you sit on my face? Please?"

and with that, you lowered your wet core down to his mouth and relished in the way that he immediately groaned into you. his hands tightly held the back of your thighs as his lips suckled on your clit and his tongue lathed sloppily over your slick folds. his tongue darted in and out slowly from your hole, trying with everything in him to taste all that he possibly could.

you rocked your hips over his face, smearing his chin and the tip of his nose with your slimy arousal, but he couldn't have asked for anything better. he loved this. he craved this with everything in him. he wanted you to sit on him like this for however long you could stand it. he could die like this and be happy.

your orgasm built quickly thanks to his expert knowledge on what and where you liked to be kissed and tongued, and he let you gush over his face until you were shaking like a leaf. he gulped every drop down.

at the tail end of your climax, you felt his body shake below you, his eyes rolled back into his head as he gasped and murmured muffled words into your sopping cunt. you arch your back and pivot your body to look down at his form, and your eyes are instantly drawn to the wet patch soaking and growing over the fabric of his gym shorts.

he made you cum a second time after that. and then a third. and a fourth. your hands stayed tangled in his hair through each one, and you called out his name every time the waves of pleasure rushed through you.

i dont think they see each other outside of services/the church b/c they dont want to risk drawing attention to their "special, secret relationship". but! he does give her his phone number and she calls him sometimes when she thinks too much about him and gets wet :( he has talked the reader through touching herself on multiple occasions. tons of verbally guided masturbation over the phone as she lays on her bed, her hand between her legs, with an opened bible next to her. yeah.

he had gifted her that bible after the second time they had sex. not necessarily to indoctrinate her into the religion, but to give her a representation of something that was important to him. it was his subtle way of trying to connect with her. but it kinda backfired b/c now she gets hot and flushed when she reads the words "God" and "peace" and "faith". he basically pavlov's dog'd her. classically conditioned.

because she lost her virginity to him, she's definitely very attached. she tells him that she isn't, but its a total lie and he knows it too. she gets jealous when women, young or old (doesn't matter), come up to him after services all smiley and ready to talk to him about their problems. reader usually gets red in the face and pouts in the back pew as she watches their interactions closely. she worries a lot that she isn't the only person in the town that the priest is intimate with, but she is. he's fairly attached to her too. and because she's a pretty young woman, divorced dads and older teen boys will often try to flirt with her before the priest's regularly scheduled homily, and he has to gather all the restraint in his body not to insert himself between you and them.