Someday this will probably be a series until then, here is another scene between Incubus Jack and Priest Rhys
Note: rhack. Trans Rhys. Explicit. NSFW. Dirty talk. Masturbation. Handsome Jack/Rhys. Every experience is different. Written on mobile.
Rhys liked the days he spent in the confessional booth. People would talk, sharing their worries and sins of their lives. It was a time of reflection, of quiet suggestions and gentle guidance. His morning had been fairly busy and as he checked his watch, he saw it was almost three in the afternoon. Time to end his session and spend his own time in prayer.
He would have had except the door in the booth opened and shut. Rhys turned an attentive ear as the person shuffled in their seat before finally settling.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been many years since my last confession.” The smooth voice began from the other side of the confessional screen.
Rhys frowned. He tilted his head, turning slightly towards the screen but unable to see through it. The voice was familiar, but he couldn’t place it.
“God is always here willing to listen,” Rhys said, his voice reassuring. “Is there anything in particular that had kept you away?”
There was a sharp breath before a soft, almost amused, huff. “God and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” Rhys folded his hands on his lap. “But you are here now, what is it you wish to confess?”
There was a pause before the voice began again, that same amused tone. “I am plagued by impure thoughts that I cannot control. They haunt my waking days and consume my dreams.”
“I see,” Rhys nodded. “And these thoughts, are they hurtful?”
“Oh no, quite the opposite. They’re filled with lust, and want, and pleasure.” The voice dropped in tone.
Rhys paused, his face flushing. He’d had some of these types of confession early on. Most of them wanting to get a rise from the young priest and see him embarrassed. He cleared his throat.
“I see. Perhaps prayer, or a change of routine would help with these thoughts.” Rhys suggested.
He could hear the smile in the voice of the man on the opposite side of the screen when he responded. “But, Father, I fear that God will not forgive me for these thoughts I hold, especially for the person that seems to be the focus.”
Rhys frowned. “There is someone in particular you dream of?”
“Yes, Father.” the voice dropped, soft.
“Do you know this person in your daily life?”
“We… Walk in different circles, but when I am with him, all I can think of are the dreams, of all the things I would do to him.”
“Have you confessed how you feel towards them?” Rhys ears burned but he was genuinely curious.
“No, not with words, but with actions.”
“Can I be honest, Father?” there was a note of honesty and Rhys sobered, his back straightening.
“Will you hear me out? Hear all I have to say?” The voice continued, the words earnest but there was something about them that made Rhys hesitate.
He shook his head. “Of course. I, and most importantly God, are here.”
There was silence before a pleased sound escaped the mans throat. “I want to steal him away, Father. The man in my dreams, I want to grab him and hide him away from the world.”
“A romantic getaway?” Rhys offered.
“Maybe. Have you ever been intimate, Father?” the voice asked.
Rhys hesitated before he answered. “Yes. Before I heard God’s calling.”
“Was it with someone you loved?”
Rhys squirmed on his seat. “They… They were someone I trusted. I felt safe with them. I knew they wouldn’t hurt me, but I was still scared the first time.”
“The first time?” the voice turned curious.
“I met them again, later in life.” Rhys cleared his throat.
“Did you miss them? Were you greedy for their touch?”
Rhys’s lashes fluttered, his priests collar suddenly tight around his throat. “Yes.” he whispered.
“When I awake from my dreams, I ache. Do you ache, Father?” The voice dropped and Rhys had to lean closer to the screen to listen, his ears burning.
“Y-yes,” Rhys flattened his hands on his lap. They twitched and he tried to ignore them. He squeezed his thighs together.
“I dream of the taste of the sweat on their skin, of the cum on their thighs, my cum on their lips,” the voice purred and Rhys squeezed his eyes shut.
“Have you tasted their cum?” the voice asked and Rhys found himself unable to answer. “I love the taste of my lovers. I’ve had so many over the years, but the one who haunts my dreams tastes the best. Do you know what I do to my lover in my dreams?”
“You-you hide them away,” Rhys whispered.
“And then, once we’re alone, I strip them of their clothing. I want them naked beneath me, their legs spread wide, their hands bound above their heads. Helpless and squirming.” the voice continued.
Rhys bit his bottom lip. He swallowed as he slipped his hands between his covered thighs, pressing his fingers against his crotch and feeling the sheer heat radiating out. He squirmed on his seat, glancing at the screen door as the voice continued.
“Then I’ll touch them. Tease their nipples until their hard and stiff. I’ll suckle them while my lover pants and squirms until they’re too sensitive. Only when they start whimpering do I stop.”
Rhys swallowed. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, but he was only human. He would beg and pray for forgiveness later, but he couldn’t hold back anymore. As quietly as he could, he unbuckled his pants, pushing them down to his thighs. His fingers sunk between his thighs and Rhys let out a soft sigh, resting his head against the wall as he slipped his fingers into his soaked curls, stroking his clit.
“Then I’ll move down their body. It’s so pretty. I want to leave it bruised, I want them to feel my touch for days.”
Rhys licked his lips, letting the voice carry him as he spread his lips and rubbed himself, his back arching slightly as little tingles of electricity curled through his body, his belly warming.
“And then I reach their core. They’re so sweet. They get so slick and dripping. I love eating their cunt, listening to their wanton cries.”
Rhys froze, blinking dumbly at the door. “W-wait, you said your lover was a man.”
“They are.” the voice was dripping with arousal and amusement.
“Then, what, wait,” Rhys grabbed the screen door and jerked it open. His face flushed crimson at the pleased smirking face. “Jack!”
“You okay, Father?” Jack nodded at Rhys hand buried between his fingers and Rhys squirmed.
“Jaack,” Rhys whined softly. He glanced at the door. As if Jack could read his thoughts, Jack spoke.
“I already locked up before I entered, kitten. You want me to fuck you in here?” Jack purred.
Rhys shook his head, resuming stroking his clit. “N-no.”
“You want me to keep talking?”
Rhys nodded, shutting his eyes once more.
“You’re such a greedy little thing. I’d love to see you go wild; fuck you beneath the full moon. In a field of wildflowers or maybe in the wet mud of a dark forest, watch how it clings to that pale skin of yours,” Jack purred.
Rhys made a soft murmuring sound, pulled into Jack’s words.
“The forest, under a cloudy sky,” Rhys agreed.
“Oh, Kitten,” Jack’s voice held a note of wonder. “The end of summer, after the first rainfall when the soil is greedy for water and clings to the chill of the night. The air tastes better, sweeter. That’s where I would have you, spread beneath me, shivering against the cold and mud, clinging to my body for warmth.”
Rhys nodded, mouth parted, panting as he rubbed his clit faster, his fingers slick. He heard Jack groan as he slipped his other hand between his thighs, spreading his legs; the jingle of his belt painfully loud with Jack’s voice and his own panting gasps. His fingers found his lips, teasing his wet cunt. He shifted on the bench as he eased one finger in. It wasn’t enough, but it felt good and Rhys curled his finger as best he could, pumping and rubbing that one spot that made him shiver and moan.
“Oh, you are a sight,” Jack’s voice seemed far away but close to him at the same time and Rhys sped up his hands, feeling that sweet liquid curl in his belly. “I would ease my cock in you, tease you with the head until you begged for it, then inch by inch push into your hot little cunt until I’m balls deep, and you, you moaning for more, for my cum.”
Rhys gasped, his body curling as his orgasm hit him hard and long. He bent at the waist, frantically rubbing his clit and fucking himself on his finger as that white hot heat swept through his body. He moaned low and long, drool dripping from his chin as he rubbed harder, clenching on the finger buried in his cunt until he stopped and sagged against the wall, gasping for breath.
His fingers felt stick and hot, his heart pounding against his chest, the priests collar a weight against his throat. He rolled his head to the side, his eyes opening to see Jack watching him, a pleased and heated grin on the demons face.
“Come out, Rhysie, and let me have you,” Jack purred.
Wordlessly Rhys nodded and pulled his hands free from his pants, opening the door of the confessional.
