According to Entertainment Daily UK and Charlie Murphy, the Damage series has a new name, Obsession. The series will have four episodes, and is expected to be released in 2023.
Relationship: Father Lorenzo Quart x Female reader
Summary: After a long time apart, you return home and are reunited with the man who has stolen your heart.
Words: 2,5 K
Warnings: 18+ Please don’t read this if the thought of a priest breaking his vow of celibacy might offend you.
A/N: This is a sequel to my previous fics about FQ, but it can also be read as a standalone. You can find all my FQ fics in my masterlist.
Sometimes a month can pass in the blink of an eye, but when you are separated from someone your heart belongs to, a month can feel like it has no ending. And the last part of a journey is always the hardest, so close, but still not in the arms of your beloved.
As the plane glides through the thin clouds, I grip the seat’s handle impatiently. The captain has announced that we are landing shortly, but this feels like the longest flight known to humankind. I try not to look at my watch again and instead I visualize what awaits at the end of my trip and who I will meet very soon; Lorenzo. Just thinking of him makes my heart flutter and when I close my eyes, I can clearly see him before me. His tall and muscular frame, his dark hair, painted with a shimmer of silver at his temples, and his beautiful azure eyes. His prominent nose which he buries in my hair before he falls asleep. And his alluring lips that complement his expressive eyes in every shift of his mood. Lips I long to kiss and be kissed by. Everything about him feels like a blessing, and I shiver with delight when I allow myself to dream of his embrace. The way he smells when he holds me close, how his hands usually find their way under my clothes to caress my skin, and the closeness he always seems to yearn for, exposed during the early mornings when he sleeps close to me, often with an arm draped around me, as if he is afraid I will disappear into the dark shadows of the night.
When I am finally back in the familiar quarters in the city center my heart beats hard like a drum. Lorenzo texted me close to boarding and asked me to join him at home as soon as I was back in town. I have no intention of delaying our meeting so that is why I now hurriedly walk down the stairs with my phone in a tight grip. First I hear only signals but right before the call goes to voicemail, he suddenly answers, sounding a little out of breath. My name always sounds like an endearment when spoken by him and today is no exception. He demands my exact location and his eagerness warms me more than the sun, which has begun its evening journey and soon will disappear behind the old roofs.
”I see you!” His voice is filled with so much joy that my heart takes a leap in my chest and is ready to burst. I smile at his warm greeting, lift my gaze to his balcony and the sight almost has me tumbling down the stairs. On the slim balcony stands Lorenzo, in what I can only assume is his trousers, but with his upper body gloriously naked. Even from a distance I can see his gorgeous well-built shape and I cannot help wondering how many of the tourists and admirers of the stairs and the beautiful fountain will spot him in the sunlight. They would probably be shocked if they knew that the handsome half-naked man is the same man who has the authority to absolve them from their sins.
”I can see you, too. The whole piazza can!”
”They are not here for me sweetheart, besides, I do not care.”
I giggle while I cross the piazza and open the heavy door to the building where he lives. The usual scent of freshly baked bread hangs in the air, and I rush up the stairs to avoid the old lady on the first floor. Lorenzo has told me that she is kind and warm-hearted, but a bit nosy, and I do not want to run into her and be forced to come up with an excuse for my presence in the building.
A discreet click from the lock is heard as soon as I put my feet on the top floor and, if possible, it makes my heart beat even faster. He seems to be just as impatient as me and it feels overwhelmingly good. I quickly glance around and then open the door. Before I even get a chance to put my things down, I am being pulled into a kiss. With both hands, he cups my face and I let the bag slide off my shoulder so I can wrap my arms around him. His skin is covered in a thin layer of sweat and his hair is damp. The muscles on his arms and torso are tense, and when I let my hands travel over his back, I feel his strength under my fingertips. He breaks the kiss when my hands land on his well-sculpted buttocks, hiding under his black sweatpants. Then he releases me from his tight embrace with an apologetic look in his eyes.
”I am sorry, I was not expecting you so soon. I was just done with my workout and thought I had time to shower.”
”I do not mind your sweat. But I have been on a plane for over six hours and I would love to take a shower. Preferably with you.” I blink at him and a grin spreads on his face before he pulls me close again.
”Or I can make love to you right here in the hallway, quick and dirty.” His voice drops to a murmur when he grabs me and lifts me up. ”Do you really expect me to wait until you are pure and clean?”
”Says the man who spent most of his adult life in celibacy,” I tease him but when something dark shifts in his eyes, I bite my lower lip. I know that look on his face and I gasp as his fingers dig into my flesh.
”I must make up for lost time,” he murmurs huskily and carries me into his large bathroom.
Lorenzo’s newly renovated bathroom is a raw industrial dream with small elements from nature softening the hard concrete design. It never stops to amaze me how interested he is in technology and interior design. I have lost count on how many times my assumptions about him have been wrong. Lorenzo is not like any other priests I have met. Or maybe it is just the fact that I get to see the remarkable person behind the clergy collar. And sleep with him.
My feet land on the thick, luxurious white bathroom carpet and without even blinking he roughly pulls my sweater over my head. His swift fingers release me from my bra and then he eagerly moves his attention to my trousers. When they join my other clothes on the floor he watches my naked body with growing hunger. But instead of pulling me close again, he opens the shower doors and turns on the water. It streams down and soon the heat from the water creates mist on the clear glass.
I nod at his sweatpants and with a smirk he puts his thumbs under the waistband and pulls them down. His boxers follow and when Lorenzo straightens his back, a very promising erection stares back at me. I give him a smile but do not move. He steps into the shower and holds out a hand for me to take, and when I do, he pulls me inside and wraps his arms around my waist. The water instantly drowns my hair and when I let my head fall back to get it out of my face, he takes advantage of my neck. With a low groan he starts to assault my skin in the most delightful way. Tender kisses, nibbling at my skin and the feeling of his raspy stubble against my neck tease my already aching body and with an encouraging moan I urge him to keep exploring my skin.
The smell of my favorite shower gel fills the shower and I briefly think of the first time he bought it for me. A small gesture, but it represented a big step in our relationship. He wanted to have something that belonged to me, in his home, and the small token of commitment almost made me cry back then.
”Turn around,” His voice is lower now and without the slightest hesitation I do as he wants. He rubs his hands together and creates a soft foam and then gently starts washing my upper body. His large hands work their way over my shoulders and down my back in small circles. I let out a pleased sigh as he reaches my lower back and starts giving my tired muscles a massage. Grateful for his treatment I place my hands on the tiles and arch my back. He groans when my bum brushes against his hardness and his pressure on my lower back increases, forcing me to arch under his touch even more. I moan as he moves his hands even lower, but suddenly he reaches for the shower gel again and pours what seems like a lot of it right over the roundness of my buttocks. It feels cold against my warm skin, but Lorenzo soon works his magic and lets his hands glide over my body, spreading the freshly smelling foam everywhere he can reach; kneading the softness of my hips and thighs, caressing my stomach and fondling my breasts. Every time I try to reach for him, he stops and reprimands me in that husky voice that never fails to arouse me beyond the line of sanity, and his next words only fuel my desire to touch him. ”Hands on the wall.”
Lorenzo sneaks one arm around me and pulls me against his firm chest so he can hold me upright. The water is pouring down like a waterfall from the showerhead in the ceiling, washing all the foam away and leaving only the lovely scent of lilac on my skin. His other hand finds its way to my breasts and when he lovingly cups them, one by one, as if they were treasures to worship, I let out a pleased sigh. But I need more and as if he can read my mind, he soon abandons the small, hard peaks he woke with his thumb and index finger. Agonizingly slowly, he lets his hand travel down my belly, and then moves to concentrate on circling the area which is my body’s epicentrum. I moan his name, a needy sound that makes him groan against my skin.
“Have you missed me that much?”
I want to reply with something cocky, but when he gently sinks his teeth into my shoulder, my words turn into a whimper. He knows so well that his harsh move never fails to get me dizzy with lust, and I grip his arm for support, leaning heavier against his body. Lorenzo is just as skilled with his long fingers as he is with his mouth, and when my core tightens to prepare me for the stream of pleasure that will soon flood my body, he stimulates all my senses at once.
”That’s my good girl. Let me hear what I do to you.” The dark melody of his voice is like music to my ears, and it sets every fiber in my longing body on fire. ”I feel how close you are, come for me.”
With only the tip of his fingers he pushes me down into the pond of seduction and I fall helplessly apart by his hand. The way he purrs my name with his lips pressed to my ear is overwhelmingly erotic and I lose myself in the sensation.
Before I get a chance to catch my breath, Lorenzo spins me around. He seizes my knee, lifts it up and a little to the side, giving him enough space to step close to me. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and tremble as I feel his smooth shaft press against my heat. With an alluring dark smile he uses his other hand to adjust himself and then, with a single hard thrust, he enters me.
I have waited what feels like ages, even if I know I have only been gone a month, to be intimate with him again. With all of his massive length buried deep inside me, I gasp and briefly close my eyes. The blessing that is the man’s girth never seems to stop taking my body by surprise and stretched over his shaft, I let out a throaty moan. Lorenzo presses himself against me, fully aware of how much it triggers my lust. I could never have imagined that a man who has spent so many years without the satisfaction of another body could be such a fantastic lover. He has a unique ability to read my body and he enjoys playing with all my senses in a way I never thought possible. The way he speaks, moans, and grunts fuels every part of my receptive body, and together with the rhythmic moves of his hips and sensual touches, he sets even my soul on fire.
The water pours down over us and the mist visually softens his hard shape. His hair is wet but his eyes are burning with desire when I meet his gaze. I can feel his hand gripping my leg tighter and I let him find the pace we both know will lead us towards our releases. Time ceases to exist and all our troubles are being washed away by the blinding heat building rapidly between our bodies. It is just him and me, lost in the endless sea of pure pleasure. I can feel he is holding back, waiting for me to reach the point where he can push me down the slope of satisfaction. When I finally do, he catches me and holds me while my body shivers uncontrollably and my climax starts to tear me apart. I feel him reaching his peak together with me, and with a sinfuI cry, I shatter around him as he gives me everything he has.
We pant as one when our bodies finally relax against each other, but there are no words to explain the intense moment between us. Lorenzo places both of his hands on the wall behind me and leans in to rest his forehead against mine. My heart swells when my gaze meets his. His voice is nothing more than an affectionate whisper when he eventually speaks.
”I am so glad you are back again. This month was as long as an eternity.”
I nod and wrap my arms around his waist. It was a struggle. But now everything is as it should be. Almost.
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Taglist and others who might be interested: @lathalea @legolasbadass @laurfilijames @i-did-not-mean-to @enchantzz @fizzyxcustard @middleearthpixie @xxbyimm @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @kibleedibleedoo @mariannetora @haly-reads @sunnysidesidra @rachel1959 @knitastically @jaskierthelover @quiall321 @medusas-hairband @fulltimecrazy
Please let me know if you want to be added or removed.
Warnings: ⚠️ Please don’t read this if the thought of a priest breaking his vow of celibacy might offend you. Smut, unprotected intercourse & emotional suffering.
Relationship: Father Quart x Female reader
Summary: A year after the events in ”Penance”, Father Quart finds himself once again facing the woman he can’t erase from his memory. The emotional struggle takes a new path when another threat appears and he learns what lurks in the depths of his character.
A/N: Father Quart’s POV. ”Seven” is the sequel to my first fic about Father Quart. You can read ”Penance” here.
@lathalea & @laurfilijames I’m so grateful for all your feedback!! ❤️❤️❤️
Warnings: ⚠️ Please don’t read this if the thought of a priest breaking his vow of celibacy might offend you. Smut, unprotected intercourse, slight asphyxiation & angst.
Relationship: Father Quart x Female reader
Summary: You need to see Father Quart one more time to know if he feels the same as you, but things only become more confusing when he gives in to your sinful seduction and his own urges before letting his true feelings become known.
A/N: This is the final part. You can read the previous parts here. This fic doesn’t follow book canon.
@laurfilijames & @lathalea Thank you so much for all your support and feedback.💙💙
“This is the point of no return.” He had said those words while his emotions still raged inside him and fought a battle for his soul. On one side stood everything he up to this point believed in and never questioned; his faith, his vows and his calling.
On the other; the woman with the sparkling eyes and alluring lips and in her hands she held out all the things he had forsaken; the comforting warmth of another body, pure lust and maybe even a chance to fall in love. Like a devastating hurricane she had torn down his defenses and he had eventually allowed himself to touch her. No, punish her, he corrected himself. But she had touched him. Like the people he met every day in church, he too had fallen into the darkness and committed a sin. On her knees in front of him, her eyes had taken a pleading shape and the trust she so willingly gave him, was indeed irresistible.
He shook his head. Even now during this late hour that vixen haunted him and when he closed his eyes he could still perceive her scent. She smelled like flowers during summer evenings, innocent but yet seductive, and it had gone straight to his head. The memories of her scent woke his body with a longing roar and in a desperate attempt to take control, he made a promise to himself. He was not going to succumb to the feeling. Instead he would pass the test given him in the loneliness of his bedchamber. He sighed. It was going to be a long night.
For three days I lasted. Buried myself in work, focused on everything else I could come up with to keep the memories at bay. But on the fourth day, my body and brain joined forces and betrayed me in the early morning light. Somewhere in the land between sleep and wakefulness he came to me, vivid as in pure daylight and in his presence I was helpless. Still panting and very confused by my own dream I made a pact with my fragile heart. I needed to speak to him one last time.
The sun sets early in November, but on a clear day like this the sky shifts in all the colors of a fire. Not a single cloud prevents the sky from burning bright in the west and as I marvel at its beauty I think of my own burning desire for a man that I know I can’t have but nevertheless desire. Something is in motion in my body and I can’t seem to stop it. He is like the sun, reviving and essential, but I feel like Icarus every time I think of him.
When the sun comes to rest and darkness wraps the city in its cold and silent grip, I still stand outside and cast longing looks over the square. The Cathedral seems less friendly in the dark and, illuminated by cold spotlights, its beautiful stone walls reflect all the light and give the church an even more unapproachable look than usual. Clear weather brought a cold night along and soon the brisk wind finds its way under my jacket, leaving my skin chilled and exposed. After an eternity I muster the courage to walk over the square but stop at the bottom of the stairs. My feet feel heavy and the merciless beating of my heart tries ferociously to stop me. Invisible hands grab my wrists and hold me back while the doubt in my chest grows, the voice of reason trying to be heard.
”Don’t do it. He’ll break your heart.”
Suddenly the door opens and the steps bathe in light. I’m blinded by the sharp contrast between dark and light and the face of the tall figure in front of me is temporarily hidden. But I don’t need my eyes for this, my senses are telling me everything I need to know. It’s him. No one can look like that. No one can make me feel like that. When he closes the door behind him, my eyes just need a short moment to adjust again. For a few seconds I wish that the ground would open up and swallow me whole. His eyes lock with mine and in that second I understand that the power he holds over me might be too much.
”What are you doing out here in the cold?” His voice is concerned but his tone holds a slight accusing hint. A strong blow of the wind makes my hair dance in the dark and Padre pulls the collar of his coat up for protection against the cold. I try not to shiver but his eyes register my body's involuntary movement.
”You look cold. How long have you been standing here for?” The power he exudes as a man of God makes it impossible to resist an answer.
”A while, Father.”
We stare at each other while the cold November night penetrates deeper into my body. In an attempt to get some blood flowing in my system, I bite my lip until it hurts and his gaze drops to where my teeth sink into my flesh.
”Don’t do that. Don’t hurt yourself.”
I fold my arms around my body, hugging myself tightly.
”I’m on my way home. I live just around the block.” He hesitates and casts a glance around us. Then he mumbles, ”I could make you some tea. I don’t like seeing you freezing like that.”
”Wouldn’t that be highly unseemly?” I ask while trying to hide the effect his very tempting but also frightening suggestion has on me.
”I think we passed unseemly the first time we met, don’t you agree?”
I simply nod, offering no other answer to his question but somehow he also picks up my silent agreement to his invitation.
We walk over the square in silence, respectfully distanced but on the inside my feelings are raging.
Thankfully we don’t meet anyone who could recognize Padre well enough to stop him for a small talk and within minutes we stand in his hallway. He offers to take my jacket and when he takes off his own coat an involuntary sigh slips from me. He’s wearing the same sort of outfit as last I saw him. When he turns from me, I glance at his upper arms and shoulders. Surely there must be some rule that prevents servants of the church from looking like this?
”Come, let’s get you warm.” He says with a nod towards what I assume is his kitchen. Whatever I had pictured a priest’s home like, it’s nothing compared to this. Tasteful design and hidden technology meets warm, earthy colours and the whole place breathes relaxation. He puts on the kettle, takes two cups and places them on the counter. Then he turns to me again and looks at me with concern in his expressive blue eyes.
”Your home is beautiful,” I say honestly.
”You sound surprised?”
”Maybe a little. I thought… I don’t know.” My voice trails off, leaving me embarrassed by my own assumptions.
”I wasn’t born a priest, you know. I was over 30 when I took the oath. I had time to develop a taste for…nice things.” The way his voice drops at nice things makes me weak in my knees and I can’t help but shiver again when he takes a step closer to me. This time it’s not from the cold, but he seems to interpret it so and closes the distance between us. He’s standing so close I can feel the slightly spicy fragrance of his cologne and it blends with the comforting unique smell that is only his. My senses remember him and his scent wakes the caged fire I try so hard to control inside me.
”Are you alright?” Warm hands softly caress my upper arms and it feels so wonderful and tender that my skin tickles. I swallow hard and resist the urge to throw my arms around his neck. The clerical collar glares back at me and I avert my gaze.
”Yes,” I breathe, unsure if it’s the truth. He continues to gently rub my arms, following his own movements with his eyes. A deep sigh leaves his chest.
“I can’t do this. I shouldn't be doing this. And yet for some reason I can’t stop doing it.” Then he looks me in the eyes again and in that precious moment I see a glimpse of the torment he suffers in silence.
Slowly he places a brief kiss on my chin. His stubble softly scratches my skin and my heart almost stops as he moves his lips and gently presses them against mine. One of his hands trails my arm up to my neck and follows the line of my blouse. His delicate thumb caresses my chin longingly and then he leans in and rests his forehead against mine.
”I can’t,” he whispers. ”I can’t resist you.”
Unable to move or say anything, I just wait for him to either continue or back away from me. I can sense the conflict in him. It’s visible in his handsome face and it makes my heart ache, but suddenly both of his hands cup my face and his mouth covers mine. His lips are soft and warm and when I let out a pleased sigh, he advances and intensifies the kiss. Seductively his tongue seeks mine and together we dance a sensual dance, leaving us both out of breath. He folds his arms around me, pulling me close and finally I feel like I’m allowed to wrap my arms around him and let my hand run over his neck.
When he breaks the kiss, his eyes are filled with the glowing darkness of lust. He runs his hand through my hair and when I tilt my head just slightly to the side, he gets the message and lets his lips form a pattern down my neck.
”Oh Lord,” I sigh without control over my words.
”Don’t use His name now, use mine… Lorenzo.” He purrs against my skin and the vibrations make me crumble.
”Lorenzo,” I taste his name expectantly and it rolls on my tongue like a fine piece of chocolate. ”I like your name.”
”I like yours,” he murmurs with his lips still on my neck. I am stiffed by his words, rather certain I never told him my name and as if he can read my mind he adds; ”When you stopped coming to mass, I noticed. So I asked around. Your name is beautiful, Y/N.”
He nibbles at my sensitive skin and when I reward him with a moan he hums approvingly. Then he takes my hand in his and like I’m floating on my own stream of passion I let him lead me to his bedroom. I’m feeling just a bit insecure when I enter this private space of his. The bed is neatly made, the lights are dim and in front of the large window, long beautiful thin curtains partly block the city light. He pulls me close again and in his touch an eagerness that I haven’t felt before sparks my skin. Exploring fingers finds their way under my blouse, smoothing the skin on my back, tracing my body's curves and when he reaches the cup of my bra, he strokes the fabric softy.
Too impatient to wait for his next move, I release him and take a small step back, creating just a tiny gap between us. Holding his gaze I start to unbutton my blouse. I feel a small tremble of excitement in my hands and when it’s done, I let the blouse fall off my shoulders. The thin emerald lace covering my breasts seems to enchant him temporarily and then, with an unnoticeable move, he opens the clasp and soon a moan slips from me as he cups his hand over my bare skin. He smiles at me, a warm heated smile and if he wasn't holding me I would probably fall to my knees right there.
I tug at his shirt and pull it out of his trousers just enough so I can slip my hand underneath and touch his bare skin. He sighs longingly as my palm caresses the smooth skin covering the ribs on his side. Hesitatingly, I finger at the hidden buttons on his shirt, but he stops me with a small shake of his head and one of his hands catches my wrist in a firm grip.
”I need to do this myself.” His husky voice holds determination and a warning shifts in his fiery eyes. So I watch him as he slowly opens his shirt and when he snaps off his collar I stop breathing. The way he places the collar gently on the dresser and hangs his shirt over a chair looks almost like rituals. With the visible evidence of his status removed, he turns to me again. I have never seen a more exposed man, in the deepest meaning of that word. Not even during my darkest fantasies did he look like this. His chest is broad and generously graced with soft dark hair with grey strands. On his forearms, the veins form a pattern and my fingers long to trace them. His intense blue eyes, now roaming my body and taking in the sight of me, are dark and lusty and I’m simply drowning in them.
With a groan his lips crash against mine and the force of his body makes me almost lose balance but he secures me with a strong arm around my back. While kissing me eagerly he pushes me towards the wall, capturing me with his body and when I groan into his mouth he places his hand over my throat. He strokes the delicate skin affectionately and rasps ”I love the sounds you make. Do you trust me?”
”Yes,” I pant honestly, feeling his fingers adding just enough pressure to keep me still.
”Good girl.” His praise sets deep in my core and the heat bubbles under my skin. His warm chest presses against mine and when he releases me I take a deep breath allowing his scent to knock me over. Dizzy and wanting, I feel him unbutton my pants and pull them off me. His large hands spread on my behind, kneading my flesh as he whispers more words of praise. I melt under his touch, and when he slips his fingers under the lace of my panties to seek the hidden treasure of my body, I give away a throaty moan. My slickness makes him groan with lust, a wonderful sound that sends shivers down my spine. Using his foot he gently kicks my feet further apart, making me more accessible to him, allowing him to cover his fingers with my sweet nectar and as he gently starts rubbing my sensitive peak I grab his shoulder. Working with skilled fingers he quickly has me whining and meeting his hand with my own movements. His face is so near mine and with fascinated eyes he watches me coming closer to my release.
”I can smell your arousal, Y/N. It’s the most alluring scent I’ve felt in a very long time.” His voice is thick with lust and the words push me right over the edge, letting me fall into the bottomless pool of my sins. Panting, I rest my head against the wall trying to control the stream of emotions overwhelming me. As he can sense my emotional state he pulls me in for a warm embrace.
His heated body sparks my gleaming passion and I guide my hands to his belt. With my eyes I silently ask for permission and he grants it to me with a single nod. Slowly I undress the rest of him and when I pull his trousers down together with the boxers, it’s clear to me that the biggest salvation is yet to come. A glittering drop of arousal greets me and it makes the muscles deep inside me clench.
With a firm grip of my waist, he pulls me with him and we fall down together on his bed. When he rises above me with his hands on either side of my head I spread my thighs for him. I want him, need him. His eyes are blazing with desire as he lowers himself on me, pinning me down with his weight and I gasp hoarsely. His girth stretches me in a heavenly way and I feel every inch of him when he moves.
”I’ve dreamt of this every night since I heard your confession. To have you like this.” He thrusts deeper inside me, drawing another moan from me. The pace and intensity of his movements increase and my body tenses in anticipation.
“You’re such a temptress,” he hisses and restrained whimpers fall from my lips as his fingers carefully clasp around my throat. The heat of his naked body against mine, the ferocious but precise maneuvers of his hips mixed with the rough feeling around my neck makes me tremble under him. Finally stars explode all over my skin, creating an avalanche of pleasure that rolls over me and drags him with me into another blissful relief. His name leaves my mouth with a cry as I shatter around him.
Heavily panting, I look into his eyes and find tenderness. As he collapses beside me, a wave of guilt washes over him, I see it clearly reflected in his honest eyes. I lift my hand and softly caress his cheek and let the gentle touch say the things I don’t dare to say. He places his large hand over mine and holds it still. I wait for him to speak, to bring his feelings into the light, to let me know and understand what he’s thinking of. But he does not.
”I promised you tea,” he murmurs.
”I am warm now.” I smile softly. ”But I’d love some tea.” When he doesn't reply the insecurity stirs inside me. He looks troubled and all I want to do is to hug him and tell him it’s alright. But I don’t. Instead I watch him rise from the bed and pick up my clothes. He hands them to me with a weak smile.
As soon as we are dressed, the little knot of doubt in my stomach expands. Something just changed between us. It’s like the clothes on his body shields him off, protects him, makes him more remote and unattainable. He’s silent like the cold stone wall, distanced in both body and mind and in my heart I start to understand. Regret. The word punches me in the chest so hard I almost lose my breath. The impenetrable wall he rapidly builds around him prevents me from reaching out and touching him. I swallow hard. I need to know. Need to ask. I stare at the window where the silhouette of the Cathedral’s towers can be seen through the thin curtain. I can almost feel the judging looks it gives me.
”What happens now?” The words fall quietly from my lips as I turn my gaze to him. He looks at his bed where his sheets bear the clear marks of our sins. ”I'd like to see you again,” I try hesitantly.
”I can’t see you again. Not like this.” His words smack me right in the face. ”This,” he motions at his bed, ”was never meant to happen.”
”But it did.”
”Yes,” he sighs. ”You have too much of an effect on me. I can’t allow myself to feel this way.”
This is what I feared the most. Rejection. It hurts more than I ever expected.
”I can give you time.” Desperately I search his face for any sign of hope. My treacherous tears burn in my eyes and threaten to spill over my cheeks when I recall my own warning. ”He’ll break your heart.”
My voice sounds hollow when I continue.
”I understand you can’t have both worlds. For you it’s about a choice. A calling. Vows you’ve made.” My throat closes harshly, making it difficult to speak. ”For me it’s easy. I want more.” The last words come out only as a whisper.
I feel the tears on my cheeks and I wipe them off with the back of my fingers, taking a deep breath and bracing myself.
”If you need time, I’ll wait for you. Weeks, months. Maybe even a year. But I will not wait a lifetime.”
And with those words, I leave him. Ignoring the devastated expression in his eyes.
On the street, the dark November evening surrounds me with it’s cold and unwanted embrace. But I can’t feel it anymore, I only feel an emptiness.
I have lost.
~~~THE END~~~
Did you like it? Please like, comment or/and reblog!
Tagging just a few people who might be interested @laurfilijames @lathalea @i-did-not-mean-to @legolasbadass @middleearthpixie @xxbyimm @legolaslovely @kibleedibleedoo @fizzyxcustard @myselfandfantasy Let me know if you want to be added or removed.
Warnings: ⚠️ Please don’t read this if the thought of a priest breaking his vow of celibacy might offend you. Smut, masturbation (F), oral sex (M receiving), light spanking.
Relationship: Father Quart x Female reader
Summary: After Sunday mass, reader gathers her courage and seeks out Father Quart on his office, but nothing could have prepared her for the punishment he administered.
A/N: This is the second part of this fic. You can read the first part here. This fic doesn’t follow book canon.
The Cathedral’s bells are ringing, calling me home like I’ve been on a long journey and finally arriving at my port. I leave the foggy cold weather and step inside, where the soft and friendly light fills my soul with warmth. Behind me, the heavy wooden door closes with a dull thud. My sinful heart is pounding hard in my chest when I once again walk over the beautiful old stone floor, the sound of my steps now mixing with others. People of all ages talk quietly around me and I follow the flowing stream of bodies to the center of the church and gratefully find myself a seat on a pew placed somewhere in the middle. I nod at the mother and daughter next to me. Just a short greeting as my nerves will not cope with small talk today. The girl looks at me with her big brown innocent eyes and I offer a small smile. Then I avert my gaze and let it wander over the rows of people in front of me, quickly filling the pews. The rich tones of the organ fills my ears and the crowd silences. I close my eyes to block everything out except the music, and it does wonders to my tense body.
My heart leaps in my chest as I hear Padre’s voice. His deep and full baritone wraps around my soul and warms my skin. Slowly I open my eyes and see him standing at the altar, wearing the green chasuble that makes him look even more unattainable. A shiver runs over my deceitful body when the memories of our meeting yesterday wash over me. I didn’t dare to look at the confessional booth when I entered, afraid that my sins would be written in my face. Now, seeing him only meters away, I know for sure my eyes would betray me if anyone cared to look close enough. So I lower my head and try to focus on my own hands, slightly trembling in my lap. As I try to breathe deeply I suddenly know he has found me. I can feel his gaze on me and the sensation makes my heart pick up speed. When I lift my head and meet his eyes, heat spreads on my cheeks and all along my neck, but I can’t tear my eyes away from him. His voice remains the same, but he holds my gaze steadily and it makes the skin on my chest flush under the fabric of my dress. Then he finally breaks eye contact and I let out a soft pant, realising I was holding my breath.
He proceeds with grace and gives a wonderful sermon and I lose myself in his voice again, listening to the enchanting melody that seems to float between the massive stone walls of the Cathedral. I find it impossible to not get affected by his voice and I squirm in my seat every time his gaze briefly lingers on me.
After giving The Dismissal, Padre leaves with a final glance at me. All around, people stand and head for the doors in small groups. I’m in no rush so I remain seated for as long as I can. When I finally stand up and walk, I move slowly along the pews. I find it hard to meet people's eyes and the color of shame is visible on my cheeks. With every step I take, it only seems more clear to me that I’m standing out from the rest of the good people in this crowd. Not only am I a sinner, I performed a sin right here in our beautiful Cathedral, and yet I’m willing to succumb to my lust again.
The administrative part of this huge place is surprisingly easy to find. A golden plate next to the door tells me I’ve come to the right office. Father Quart’s name is written in traditional italic. My heart threatens to escape my chest and I have to take a few deep breaths before I quietly knock on the door.
”Enter,” the answer comes immediately and I push the handle down and open the door. Nothing could have prepared me for the sight in front of me. I have only seen him in his formal clothes before, but now he has changed to a dark blue shirt and a pair of well fitted black trousers. A black leather belt accentuates his hips and the clerical collar signals his status.
”Father,” I greet him softly and close the door behind me.
His office is modest, with a desk, chair and a huge bookshelf. On one of the walls hangs a stunning painting of a landscape that reminds me of the Alps and on the opposite, a big wooden cross.
”You came back,” he says with a questioning tone in his voice and the look in his eyes is so intense I have to lower my gaze to prevent him from setting me on fire.
”Yes,” I confirm, suddenly feeling a hint of insecurity.
He slowly takes a few steps closer to me and he catches my gaze again and scans my face, searching for my feelings, I’m sure.
”Why are you here?” The tone in his voice shifts and he sounds more like the priest I met yesterday. A stern shadow falls over his beautiful face and reflects in his voice. It does sinful things to me and my body answers his question for me with a wave of arousal that causes the skin on my cheeks and chest to blush once more. He notices it of course and his stare falls and rests on the visible evidence of my response.
”Say it. You need to say it out loud,” he demands and is immediately rewarded with a restrained sigh slipping out of my mouth.
”Please forgive me Father, but since yesterday you’re all I can think of and you even came to visit me in my dream.”
”I see.” He takes the final steps and is now standing close to me, invading my personal space in a very inappropriate way and I shiver in his presence. I want him to touch me, I need to feel his hands on my skin.
”And I sinned again last night when I was alone,” I whisper.
He circles and stops behind me. A click from the door's lock is heard and the sound makes my mind fuzzy. It takes an eternity for him to speak, but when he does, he leans in behind me. His lips are just inches from my ear and the husky voice makes my body tremble. The intimacy of the act awakes every longing part of my body.
”After you left yesterday I had to pray for myself, to refrain from taking action on my sinful thoughts. Today I could see fire in your eyes when I spoke and I had to force myself to not get trapped by it.”
He takes a deep breath, filling his senses with my scent no doubt, and his lips brush gently against my earlobe when he continues.
”You make me question my choice to live in celibat. I don’t like that. It makes me want to… punish you.” The last words slip from his tongue barely audible.
His threat makes the spark of fire inside me fully ignite and the ground sways when the blood in my veins turns to lava. It’s almost painful. I close my eyes, and without even thinking I say,
”Please do.”
The sharp inhale between his teeth sends another shiver down my spine and it lands deep in my core.
”Do you really want me to punish you?” He hisses and his warm breath teases the sensitive skin on my neck.
”Yes,” I breathe shortly.
The silence is so thick around us, I’m convinced he can hear my heart racing in my chest. I can feel his fingers tremble when he very gently strokes the side of my neck and pushes my hair to the side. When he spreads his warm hand over my skin he swallows harshly. He adds pressure, then a small push, and when I don’t immediately move, he speaks with a voice that has dropped to a dangerously dark murmur.
”I want to bend you over my desk. That is your penance.”
The surface of the desk feels cold against my skin. My elbows rest on the desk and I place my hands flat down on the smooth surface. I can feel the heat radiate from his body against my leg. With an agonisingly slow movement he grabs my dress by the hem and pulls it up above my thighs to let it rest at my waist. My exposed flesh makes him moan. The sensual vibration dances with the tortured sound from a man who still battles with his feelings and determination.
”You came here without your underwear.” It’s not a question, more of a statement and his voice is thick with want. The universal language of lust is ringing in my ears, even Padre knows it.
”This is the point of no return,” he says quietly as he runs his fingers over the curve of my bum and the anticipation makes it impossible for me to form any type of answer. The skin under his hand stings as he delivers my first punishment. I bite my lower lip hard to prevent myself from moaning his name in the most inappropriate ways. Panting, I feel his slaps bite at my skin, making me susceptible, sensitive and hungry for more. When a loud moan escapes my throat he stops and caresses my flesh gently.
”It’s enough,” he rasps and lets the soft fabric of my dress shield me from him. How I long for him to open the buttons on my dress with his long, delicate fingers, and let it fall to the floor. Just like he did in my dream last night. Slowly, I rise from the desk and turn to face him. He doesn't back away from me, and I meet his glare. Those beautiful blue eyes, that I’ve never before have been allowed to look at from this close a distance, are darker now and the battle inside him is on full display. His gaze drops to my mouth and when I wet my lower lip expectantly I can hear his breathing hitch.
”May I kiss you, Father?” The question falls from my lips before I can stop myself. I want him more than anything and the electrifying tension between us now is more than I can take.
”No.” His answer confuses me deeply and yet he keeps staring at my lips. I open my mouth to question him, but no words come. His large hand lands on my shoulder and I flinch by the unexpected touch. It rests heavily and burns my skin through the fabric. He meets my gaze again and in his eyes I now see determination and he gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze.
”Kneel.”
I drop to my knees in front of him and bend my head down. When he places his hand on my head I clasp my hands.
”What is it that you want?”
”I want to taste…you,” my voice sounds restrained. I don’t really recognize it myself but his reassuring hand makes my body melt.
Without a word he lifts his hand from my head and I follow it with my eyes to his belt. The huge swelling under his trousers makes my heart skip a beat as I realize that he is just as affected as I am. Patiently I wait for him to unbuckle his belt and open up enough so he can reveal the most secret part of him. My eyes widen when I finally see him. Large and smooth like a perfectly carved marble statue. I hold my breath and just wait.
”You may.” The words echo in my ears and I can’t hide my smile as I lean forward and let my lips greet him. His scent fuels my arousal and I’m helplessly lost when I taste the leaking evidence of his state. The heated skin against my wet lips and exploring tongue makes me forget everything around me. My inner fire begs for attention and finally I can’t ignore it any longer so I give in to the throbbing feeling, pull up my dress and let two of my fingers slip between my folds. Slickness covers them and I know I will not last long. I drag a dark moan from him when I intensify the pace and tighten my lips around him. The sound of my sinful actions is more heavenly than the organ playing before and it pushes me to go deeper. I can feel him getting closer to his relief when he unexpectedly drives his hand in my hair, twining it around his fingers. Effectively he has taken control over me and when he tilts my head further back I meet his eyes. Lust, pure and raw as well as fire dances in them but he waits for me to spill the rest of my sins into his divine goblet, and then he will make me drink it. With a muffled moan I come undone and he follows me quickly, his hand grabbing my hair tightly.
Panting and with his taste on my tongue I remain on my knees, watching him adjusting himself and pulling the zipper up. He extends his hand and I take it, letting him help me on my feet. My face feels flushed and I’m certain my hair is a mess after the rough treatment of his fingers. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering at my cheek. Then he speaks with a voice much softer than before.
”You are a good girl, aren't you?”
”Yes, Father.”
”Then you understand that you can never speak of this. Not even during confession.”
”I understand, no one will ever know.” I utter the words slowly and he nods approvingly.
”You need to leave now.”
”Goodbye Father,” I say with a hint of sadness in my voice. Why does it feel so final? I turn and walk with hasty steps to the door. With my hand on the handle I turn to face him.
”I’ll be in confession service next week, if you want to lighten your heart for me.” His voice holds a softness but in his eyes the small fire flickers again.
”Thank you, Father.”
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Tagging just a few people who might be interested @laurfilijames @lathalea @i-did-not-mean-to @legolasbadass @middleearthpixie @xxbyimm @legolaslovely Let me know if you want to be added or removed.
Warnings: ⚠️ Please don’t read this if the thought of a priest breaking his vow of celibacy might offend you. Smut, masturbation (F), confession.
Relationship: Father Quart x Female reader
Summary: After avoiding church for a year, reader is returning for her first confession with the unattainable Father Quart.
A/N: When the first pictures of Richard Armitage as Father Quart appeared on social media, I couldn’t resist writing this. This fic doesn’t follow book canon.
The pavement glitters as the sun breaks through the heavy rain clouds. The reflections sparkle like diamonds and my eyes tear up from the sudden bright light. With hasty steps I walk over the big square and when the wind catches my scarf I pull it tighter around my neck. It’s November and chilly, but the sun graces me with an unusual intensity.
The large shadow painted on the asphalt in front of me bears a very familiar silhouette. I step into the shadow and suddenly the little warmth from the sun is gone. I take a few more steps before I stop. With my heart hammering hard in my chest, I slowly lift my gaze and finally see the impressive stone building. The Cathedral of my hometown. It’s been so long since I last set foot in this place. Too long.
The large steps leading up to the heavy wooden door are wet from the rain and I carefully place my feet on the dark stone slabs to prevent myself from slipping. The beautifully carved iron handle on the door feels strangely warm in my hand, despite the slightly cold weather. I take a deep breath and pull the door open.
My steps echo on the massive stone floor as I walk inside. I forgot to wear more quiet shoes and my high heeled boots are not very forgiving in this environment. Thankfully the church looks almost empty so I can easily avoid people's looks as I slide down on the pew closest to me. I check my phone and find it muted, as it should be. I feel nervous. My heart is beating fast, my hands feel sticky even with the coldness that still lingers in them. In my belly, a little anxious ball of nerves rests. I rub my hands along the outside of my thighs. I can do this. I want to do this. I need to do this.
This will be my first confession, ever. I’ve been to mass, of course, but never have I dared to actually meet the Padre for such an act. I’ve dreaded this moment since I decided on coming here. Still, I know it will be good for me. I need to say the things occupying my mind, preventing me from having good thoughts. Ever since that day, almost a year from now, when I first experienced the dream, it has haunted me in the most alluring way. But I know I can’t give in to that desire. I need to lighten the burden in my heart. I will tell Padre, and ask for forgiveness. He will know what to do; I’ll be safe in his hands.
From the corner of my eye I see an older lady leaving the confessional booth and my heart picks up speed. It’s time. I try to smooth out my skirt as my hesitant steps carry me trembling towards the wooden booth. I take a deep breath, reach for the handle with a small tingling feeling in my hand, open the little door and enter. I sit down silently and then I close my eyes and wait, breathing slowly.
He is there, I can feel his presence before I see the contours of his face. With my eyes closed my other senses become sensitive and more susceptible. I can distinguish the faint smell of him and I can hear his soft breathing as he waits for me to start. Opening my eyes I look at the profile barely visible on the other side of the partition. As if he can sense my gaze, he turns his face to me. I greet him, respectfully.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. This is my first confession,” the words fall from my lips, barely more than a whisper.
“I’m listening,” his voice is just as firm as I remember. But it also holds a gentle and comforting touch and with only those simple words he encourages me to continue.
So I do. Stumbling on my words at first as I tell him about the tall, dark haired man that visits my very vivid dreams. Not every night, I assure Padre, but often enough. I clasp my hands almost as I would do in prayer, and to my surprise, it comforts me, and my voice is no longer failing me.
“I never see his face, Father. But I hear his voice inside my head. He talks to me, tells me things. It all feels so real.”
“What kind of things?”
“Things he… wants to do. To me.”
“And what is that?”
“He wants to feel my bare skin under his hands, taste all of me with his mouth and take my body as his.”
“How does it make you feel?”
I pause and think of a proper answer. Of course I know the answer. It makes me warm, aroused and I replay his voice in my head late at night when I slip my hand under my duvet and seek the longing heat of my own body. The air suddenly feels very heavy around me. Guilt. I taste it in my mouth as a sour lump I just can’t swallow down.
“It makes me feel...bad,” my voice hitches.
“Why does it make you feel bad?” His voice gives nothing away, but a strange feeling of heat spreads over my neck as he utters the words.
“Because I like it,” I whisper.
He is silent. So very silent. I know what I need to say next. I have it on the tip of my tongue. This is why I came today. People claim they feel relieved during confession. I do not. Instead I close my eyes again, so hard I see stars. I breathe in, fill my lungs with air and by some miracle I force myself to say the last of my confession.
“The man in my dreams, he has your voice, Father.”
The sound that escapes him is something I can’t really understand. It sounds like a silent tormented mixture between a gasp and a moan.
I can hear him taking a deep breath and I bite my lip, bracing myself for what I suspect will follow next. But he doesn’t speak. Not for a while. Seconds go by, and the knot in my stomach stirs and the sound of my own heart beats painfully loud in my ears. When he finally speaks, it’s not the words I expected.
“And when you are awake. What do you think of, then?” His voice is lower now, much darker than before, like he’s trying to control himself, and it sends a shiver down my spine. My answer rests on my parted lips.
“I think of you, Father.”
”What do you do, when you think of me?”
”I do...this,” I whisper, and let my fingers glide along my skirt, slowly all the way up to the apex of my thigh. I open my eyes, and he seems closer now. It takes a moment for me to realise that he has moved closer to the partition. His head is turned to me now and I can see part of his beautiful face.
Heat spreads rapidly over my body. It pushes all my guilty feelings to the side when the dam breaks and a flood of lust washes over me. My hand moves over my thigh and I dig my fingers into my flesh in an attempt to keep myself calm.
“Show me,” he murmurs.
His words set my skin on fire and heat licks my most sensitive parts. His stern voice hides a longing that makes my body ache for him. In my dream, his voice always wraps itself around me, and there is no escape from it. His voice becomes his hands and he touches me, guides me into blissful relief.
Now infront of him, I whimper as my blood starts to boil. I feel his gaze on my face and slowly I lower my hand to the hem of my skirt, pulling it up and revealing my soft pale skin and the lace of my panties.
“Continue.”
Just a single word, but that word alone makes my legs part on their own. As if in trance I feel my own fingers slip under the soft fabric and I gasp when I feel my own wetness. With small circular movements I give in to the wonderful feeling of pleasure. A soft moan escapes me, and I bite my lower lip hard in an attempt to keep quiet. I hold my gaze fixed on him, partly shielded from me, but even so I can feel how intensely he is watching me.
Finally my treacherous body surrenders under his burning gaze and I come undone right there, on the hard wodden chair, pleading for his forgiveness. Panting and with my head spinning, I try to collect my thoughts and save some dignity. My skirt falls softly over my thighs as I straighten my back and pull my knees together. My fingers are slick, covered in traces of my arousal. With a blush of shame I lower my head.
”I am sorry for this and all my sins. I ask pardon of God, penance, and absolution of you, Father.”
Again I’m met with silence. I don’t dare to look at him so I just wait in stillness.
“Penance,” his voice sounds distanced, almost like he is talking to himself. Then he clears his throat in a discrete cough.
“Tomorrow is Sunday. I expect you to attend mass and I will see you in my office after. There we will talk about penance. Until then, you must think good thoughts and do good deeds.”
“Yes, Father. I promise.” I hesitate but then I add softly, “Thank you, Father.”
“Go now, God be with you.”
When I rise, my legs shake and I need to steady myself. I push the door open and look out over the beautiful church, now bathing in sunlight shining in from the large windows beneath the ceiling. I pull my scarf tight around my neck and cover as much as I can of my flushed cheeks and then I step out in the light. When I turn to close the door behind me, a restrained growl suddenly reaches my ears. Quietly I shut the door and smile.
Sunday can’t come soon enough.
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